Little arms around my neck

This evening as we said our goodnight's, my little people came and hugged me as they usually do before bed. I've been waiting impatiently for them to get home all afternoon. Every car that drives past my kitchen window is followed with the turn of my head, where are they and why aren't they home yet?

I'm full of expectation, waiting for that initial burst of jubilant hysteria that I've become so familiar with. 

The last 4 hours have consisted of the usual dinner preparations, homework and shower marathon that usually ends in a dramalama between the two kids as they wrestle for the soap. 

We have a tradition that we've started that I borrowed from a Jewish lady who does my Reiki sessions with me. "Spend one evening a week with your family, light a candle and say prayers." she advised. To be honest, it's not a weekly thing but now a daily event that takes place. 

We light a big red Balsam & Berries candle and take turns sharing our highlights of the day, lessons we've learned and things that have made us happy. The rules: No one is allowed to interrupt (challenge accepted) nor to rush the person sharing. In short, we reconnect every night, and then it's back to the chaos and madness that drifts us apart from one another as soon as we're excused from the table. 

Being consistent helps

I mentioned in a previous post, that there is no manual to this thing called Parenting. There is no manual for life, no amount of preparation for the challenges we may face until we're in the situation. This has been the biggest lesson and test in the area of self discipline for me. We tend too often to let go and give up too easily, coming up with an easier alternative. Take your challenges, make them your own and then conquer them through perseverance. 

Tonight my little people hugged me tightly. Their bodies didn't move away as quickly as they normally do. My hands stroking both their backs as they rest their little heads on each shoulder. Tonight something is different. I jokingly ask if they are still awake, "Oh yes." they reply, clearly compos mentis enough to retort with a response. My hands continue in a nurturing fashion up and down each back, my arms shaking slightly from the position I hold. 

I won't let go until they do. 

It's in the small things

This isn't an easy job, this raising children thing. I've felt an assortment of emotions within an hour that I would typically only experience in a week. Eldest smacks his brother (frustration) followed by youngest wrapping his arms around my waist as I cook (love) followed by dad reprimanding both for fighting in the shower (agitation) then hearing grace being said with gratitude to me for making dinner (appreciation). 

Then it's back to those little arms around my neck. A huge sigh of relief knowing I can catch up with myself, my outstanding sales report and time with daddy as they drift off to Dreamland.

A time, when silence fills the house until one of us cracks a joke and giggles follow, it's adult time. I'll miss them, a little, and then tomorrow morning we start again. The balancing act, bickering and squabbles over toothpaste and the case of the missing sock/bag/jersey/lunchbox. 

This evening as we said our good nights, my little people came and hugged me as they usually do before bed - and I'm grateful. 

The Lies We Tell Ourselves - Then Believe

I sat with my mother in law on the couch, I've been blessed with such an amazing woman to share my life with,and as usual our home is full of laughter and playful jokes. 

I've had my fair share of scary mother in laws, but this one I would say this is the closest I've come to the real deal FairyGodMother type. Recently I recall finding a plaque that read, "If I didn't have you as my Mum, I'd choose you as my friend." 

True story!

I'm a little fibber

As we sat chatting on the couch, I found myself talking about the way I've managed to 'accept the hand that has been dealt' in the form of taking on two kids and trying to fit into their lives. I try and keep my conversations open and frank no matter whom I'm trying to impress, believe me I don't hide my emotions - never have, never will. Being transparent has this cathartic effect on me, my mom had always said that you "can't get any higher than the truth", so here I was sharing mine. I was sad, deeply sad.  

While talking about my apparent lot in life, I'm taken aback by the deadpan stare I'm receiving back from my mother in law. "You see", I continue, "I realise that I'm not going to be able to have those two kids I've always wanted, I'm going to have to sacrifice my happiness because of finances, no one can raise 4 children in this day and age. My dreams have all been shattered" (someone que the violin) The deadpan stare continues on in  my direction, followed by a wail of "Said whooooooooo?" from a now, almost giggling, in-law. Her eyes wide with investigation.

"Ummm", I manage to reply, "Well, I did". 
Mother in law parts her lips with steady focus, as if she's about to pounce on me like a cat stalking it's prey. "There is no fact is what you're saying, you have no idea how your life is going to turn out or what God's plan is. You have limited yourself to your beliefs!".  Her face now stern with conviction. 

Penny dropped, famous "Oprah Winfrey "Aha" moment follows suit. 

Change Your Dialogue

This candid conversation hits home like a ton of bricks. Yes, I've been feeling as if my mental monologue has been accurate all this time, because my conditioning has dictated that 2.5 children and 2.5 Labrador's are standard ambitions in one's life. 

With 2.5 step children and 1.5 cats already in the equation, my averages for having 2.5 of my own biological children just seemed too low to dream about. The truth is, no one knows!
Not me, not you - only God/Higher Power/Insert Holy Deity here.

Our Words Have Power

I won't lie. I felt really stupid in that moment, an adjective I seldom use to describe myself at the best of times. An invisible load lifted off my shoulders in a couple of seconds as I felt the information penetrate my cerebral cortex (particularly my frontal lobe where decision making occurs) and all the cogs literally turned at the same time. No one, not one person on this planet, has the power to decide how my life pans out. No one, not even myself, has the knowledge of how many children I will conceive, birth and/or love in my lifetime - present step children included.

In fact, all of it became so clear in the moment that I, in turn, realised that none of this was part of my plan, nor was it foreseen this time last year. That's right, only God Himself could bring someone into my life that I could love so easily, so hard and so true. Someone so compatible, who makes me laugh and sing and be my 'Authentic Self' with. Someone who does in fact come with 2 little humans that now share a household with me and my 1.5 cat's. A reality I never, ever dreamed of. A reality only God Himself could have conjured. A reality that I would have laughed at a year ago, yet here it is. Who says I can't have the same reality I've always dreamed about.

If God can bring me to it, surely He will get me through it. Time will tell, until then I choose to trust in the process. You never know, until you know. 

When discussing this new-found knowledge with my partner, he replied with, "You've been talking about having one child for so long that I've made it my reality too." 

Just goes to show, that as women, we need to be strong and focused. Know what you want and go for it, don't waiver! Know that a good man, a really, genuinely good man, will in fact follow your lead if it makes you truly happy.

The challenges are real

It's 18h31 on a Tuesday evening. My head is pounding and it feel's like flu or a serious head cold is looming. It doesn't matter though, regardless of how I feel, the little voices will not be silenced. They tear through the house full of energy and gusto that couldn't be found some two hours ago when it was homework time, funny that.

There is always something that needs attention, always a demand of some sort. I've filled their cups with Oros but of course they want my Woolworths Litchi that was gifted to me by my visiting mother just yesterday. The empty carton stands on our kitchen counter. So much for that. It's very hard not to growl, roll my eyes or erupt with a sarcastic reply - but just then dad steps in. Thank God for grown up's, perhaps it's time for me to grow up, perhaps it's time for me to set boundaries? 

Story time on the couch and I'm sitting at the dining table with earphones in my ear. I've turned the meditation music up so loud that my ear canal's are quivering, but I'm trying to drown out the chatter - just for 10 minutes please. It's not that I want to distance myself from their fable fun time, but this is the first break today and I'm embracing it. Call me antisocial, I feel feathers. 

"Parenting is hard!", they said

My day has consisted of a balancing act of chores, children, collecting and dropping my helping hand, reports, calling cycles, a pounding headache, a sick partner, a needy cat that follows me around the house and an impending business trip that needs my attention. I cannot connect to the VPN and my computer has just crashed. Roadworks, a burst water pipe in our complex and the next thing that happened.

I had just collected a whole jumble of school uniforms from the school. Yes, I was that parent digging in the lost property bins under the sick bed, in the hopes that I could find something that I could claim and that would fit them both. In all my years at school, no matter how much I thought we had suffered at the 'hands of poverty', I never saw my parents do this. 
Yet, here I was digging through paint splashed shorts and holey vests to try and find a set of winter replacements for the kids - because neither of us have money to replace an entire wardrobe of clothing that they've both managed to lose. 

Unclaimed jersey's, long pants and winter jackets now in my possession, I pay and leave the school with rosy cheeks and a sheepish look on my face. If circumstances were different I'd pay for their uniforms myself, but then again, these little people don't understand the meaning of money and they don't realise the value of the items they wear. Besides, this is a challenge their parents faced, I'm here to step in remember? So on instruction and came and we leave. I pop all into the washing machine, I'm feeling all proud and accomplished. Look at me, look at me!

It's how you handle stress that defines your character!

Eldest and I have gone through spelling, maths and reading homework. Dad will be home soon. "This wasn't so bad", I thought. I felt quite proud of myself for sharing a second 'first' with said eldest child. The first 'first' we had was a trip to the dentist a couple months ago and today was the second 'first' - learning to spell the word because. "Betty eats cakes and uncle sells eggs". Eldest is most impressed, I high five myself for a well executed win!

And then it hit me, the washing machine seemed to be carrying on a little longer than the usual 30 minute 'econo' cycle. To my horror 1 hour has passed and I can't get the machine to switch off. All I see is a spin cycle of Rand's before me, I cannot switch this bloody machine off at all!

I also notice that it's so incredibly hot inside there, that the heat is emanating off the front glass cover toward me. I've pushed every button, turned every knob and turned off every power source and still this machine won't reset. As if the demon of parental nightmares has taken hold of my machine, I stand before it staring at the blue coloured water and realise that life at this exact moment has an infinite amount of suckage attached to it. A blue shirt has run due to the hot water molten lava within the machine and all the kids clothes are stretched, blue and beyond recognition. 

Eventually I get the machine open and the inner contents now so hot that I'm forced to remove them with braai tongs. Braai tongs. Braai, tongs! The kids white collared shirts are blue, I'm talking Smurf. "God I know you're there", I recall thinking. "I know you love me, but why would this happen to good people?" I pleaded. All that money and I'm standing here shaking my head wondering what the hell I did to deserve this, what the hell possessed my machine and why the hell I'm still here. 

And then I realised that I'm dealing with parenting problems. This isn't a personal affliction, this is a parenting one and therefore I need to find a parenting solution.  (Oh look who just became inventive and mature at the same time.) Bleach, bath and blue panties (that were once beige) and an hour later half my problems have been resolved, unfortunately track pants are longer than my own legs and jersey's look big enough to cover a small car.  


It's 19h56 and I'm ready for bed, so much still to be done. 
This is a thankless job this parenting thing. The challenges are real and every time, I question why I'm in this. I could leave if I wanted. I could leave, but I don't. And I don't because I'm invested. I've made a commitment not just to the man I love but to the children that are part of his life, part of the package, part of him, now part of me. 

Just when I question things for the millionth time, something special comes out of it. "We'll miss you while you're away aunty", "Love you lots and sleep tight aunty". Little arms around my waist, little hands with little fingers that glide over my knuckles while we say grace at the dinner table. Moments of awesomeness as I look over to the couch, little people listening intently to dad as he reads. Dad's facial expression as he giggles through the book with them. 

Tears that stream down my face as I type this, there is reward in the hard work. There are blessings if you're willing to see them, they are part and parcel, equal and opposite to the agony of raising a child. 

Biological or otherwise.  

Pretty sure I didn't sign up for this, did I?

I'm not a stepmother, I'm a step in mother. 
I'm a a woman that has taken on a role, which in my circumstance, is the easiest and most difficult role to fill. Let me elaborate.

It's easy to step in and step up in my case. I've got two little people that I care about. I'm concerned for their welfare and well being. I give hugs, help tie laces and while I "don't cook like mom does", I care. I care enough to steam those veggies because I want the best for you - that's why it doesn't taste like mom's cooking. The bloody veggies are steamed and I don't sprinkle 7kgs of sugar on them. Perhaps I should be more flexible. 

In contrast, their womb bearer (as I call her) drank throughout her pregnancies and has a history of drug and alcohol addiction which makes it easy for me to step in. The kicker is the latter part of my circumstance. No matter how dire the situation, I'll never be their mother (nor do I wish to) and children love their parents regardless of their flaws.  Here I am stuck between copious amounts of love and the red stuff with DNA that connects them to their mommy. 

Let me give you the short version of my life. 7 months ago I readily accepted a proposal to date a man with children. "I like kids", I thought. "I enjoy children (on toast)", I joked. 

I had my own reasons and rationale for taking on this role, journey, feat of all feats! What I didn't have though, was the resources to guide me through the many emotions, circumstances and thoughts that I would endure and try process alone in my efforts of being a stellar step parent. 

Yes, I've got friends to listen. Yes, I've got family to support. But no one prepares you for this stuff. There is no manual for the first time, never had kids, career woman whose trying to find her place in this world.  Go online and there are very few blogs about this kind of step parenting which is the exact reason I've started this blog. 

Help is at hand.

So here I am, for those considering dating a man/woman with children. For those, like myself, without children of their own. For those searching for a place to bleat and bitch, I'm here.

7 months into this, I'm happy to report that there are perks, benefits and even moments of reward. For the most part though, this mission is pretty much a hard slog (which I believe is the case for biological mothers too) with less glamour than a tossed out pair of soiled sneakers. 

I'm pretty sure I didn't sign up for this, did I? 
Oh yes, that's right - I did! Willingly no less and with the gusto of a rookie soldier on the brink of war. 

Walk with me.

Jokes aside, it's not all bad. But, if I had known then what I know now, I may be a little less jaded and a little more prepared. It's hard raising a family, it's even harder when they aren't yours. These little people, albeit innocent, came into my life as a reminder of a failed relationship. Bitterness and resentment follow not just their parents, but me too. This wasn't the picket fence I had planned for my life, love is blind. Love too, makes sacrifice and this is my contribution. 

This vivacious vixen has swapped her stiletto's and red lipstick for a life as a Prima donna mama. It's more than a status, it's a responsibility. 7 months ago I thought I was playing a part, 7 months forward I realise I'm more than that. I'm their step mother, more than 'daddy's friend', more than "the horrible woman that took your dad away from you." I'm the woman that listens when no one else will. I'm the mediator of fair play and the custodian of secrets and inside jokes. I'm the crazy aunty that they get to jump on and giggle with when everyone else says "no" - not because I'm a pushover but because it's genuinely fun for me too. I'm not the victim here, I'm the heroine of this story and I'm here to slay some dragons. 

I'll share all my demons and fears, all my challenges and triumphs. The greatest reward is the contribution we make to their lives, without even trying. It is the love we give and receive 100 fold that make all of this worthwhile!