It's not them, it's me.

This week, we attended the children's Christmas function, the eldest rocked his moves on the dance floor, the youngest was very attentive and focused. They are both doing so well, have improved so greatly and the confidence is evident that we are doing something right.

Great apprehension

A couple hours before our arrival at the school, we are informed that their mother (who has been M.I.A to date) will be in attendance, personally I'm impressed she's making the effort. Although I'm happy for the children that their mother is showing support, I try my best to mask my anxiety at the thought of our first encounter. There is a tangible agitation between us as a couple, we both don't say it, and he even denies it, but we're both walking on eggshells, poised and in our seats. 

The eruption within

Naturally, any woman who has walked my path would want to make sure that the kids are protected from any drama, that as a woman, one looks and feels confident and at one's best. As far as flawless is concerned, I've nailed it, however, within me is an unnerved shambles, hoping for the best. 

The kids come off the stage, they've done so well. I'm so proud and they run into their fathers arms. Straight past me. Dagger in the front. I shrug it off. 

Typically I would be the recipient of such hugs, but I suppose this is their night, it's their father and they know that mom is around. Suddenly my insecurity starts to charge from the top of my solar plexus and wants to spew out through my throat and out of my mouth, a familiar and nagging sequence that has been the cause of my disdain all year. The resentment is real and so is the rejection.

Nothing compares to the pain 

The evening comes to an end, mom doesn't bother to greet me and I'm not surprised. I don't really care either.  Her hair is an unkept bed of two tone outgrowth and her tiny figure swims in the jeans that carry her legs. I pity the her, but she made the effort and it's applaudable. 

The boys throw themselves into her arms, and then we all say goodbye. An unfamiliar pang gnashes at my heart. Those are my boys, I seethe, and then quickly remind myself of my place in this family. I am the 5th wheel, fiercely protective over family that is both my own and by definition not. I'm torn. What is this I'm feeling? 

As we walk to the car, I trail behind. The high heels I'm wearing command my steady pace. They all leave me in their hurried path as I try and keep up without really wanting to either. I feel like less of a priority and then prompt some rationale into my head with a reminder that it's very late and the traffic crazy. He's not leaving me behind on purpose, hundreds of parents and children flow toward their cars and it's way past bed time.  

It's not about me and it's eating me alive. I feel rejected, excluded and unwanted. I call out to their dad to wait, a snigger can be heard behind me, it's her, great! I wanted to be this bold and united family and I'm embarrassed and deflated, caught out like the fraud I feel I am. Perhaps my ego is at play because non of this really matters, yet I'm absolutely devastated. 

A fall from grace

We get home and prepare the children for bed. It's an hour past their regular bed time and so much still has to be done. I prepare their lunches as dad starts packing their bags. We've also just been informed (not consulted with) that they will be collected from their mother a day earlier from school and we are to pack up their clothing for the weekend plus one day - at 9pm in the evening. I feel left out from that decision too, it's not even important but for some reason I'm jaded.  

I'm livid, but at the same time, I'm forced to know my place. I fail to keep my irritation at bay, my face is an open book and my eyes give away a story of their own, wild with annoyance. She's not here, doesn't contribute and yet I'm feeling like I must just fit in.

As we go to bed, an immature blurt of frustration comes out of my mouth, "I hate my life!", and he goes cold with shock. Personally I can't even tell you where this came from, just that it pretty much summed up the last year we have been together. I love him, I love our bond, I love our connection but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this. Surely it's meant to get better with time? 

An avalanche of emotions start to surface, I feel like a failure, a fraud and a fake. I battle every single day at the thought of sharing my life with this extended family. There is judgement from my side, a reminder of his mistakes and my own. 

I'm stuck at 17. I'm stuck at the hospital where I'm terminating my pregnancy all those years ago. Is this my punishment? Should I have made a different decision? Why didn't I just do the opposite? I'm living with so much regret, such a void and so many unanswered questions. 

This is my life, with no family of my own, no children, no husband, just an observer and participant when I'm required to be and then I need to back off and allow the family to sort out their issues when needs be. The family that reminds me that I'm the outsider. It doesn't help that at my age, people judge me, I've had people tell me I'm a fool for taking on this mess, but I'm still here. Two days ago a girl I used to au pair told me she's seen on social media that I'm "still avoiding the marriage thing". Well I can assure you I'm feeling so much less than a winner right now. 

I'm hurting, badly, wounded by the fact that I chose this. I chose this life because of a love for a man that I've never shared with anyone. I chose this life and yet I feel as if I'm failing at it. I chose this life and yet I'm resentful. Would it be better to just walk away? 

My problem is that, in my mind, this is failure. 
My problem is that, in my mind, this isn't the picket fence dream I deserve.
My problem is that, in my mind, I'm not their mother. I'm the stand in. Good enough for the most part, useless against the original.  
My problem is that, I want to be someones family. 
My problem is that, I want my own children, my own milestones.
My problem is that, I resent that this isn't the life I chose for myself, or rather, that I hadn't envisioned for myself. 
My problem is that, I am so resentful. 
My problem is that, I'm so angry. 
My problem is that, I wish I could undo the past. 
My problem is that, I will always wrestle with regret and judgement. 
My problem is that, I'm broody for the first time in my life. 
My problem is that, I'm an emotional wreck. 

My problem is that, I'm in a box, without a label. I give love, share joy and impart guidance, yet I'm not their mother. I'm expected to be detached, yet expected to love. I'm the fetcher and carrier during school rounds, the provider of clothing and stationery supplies. Their cheerleader and the nothing that compares to their mother whose done nothing but neglect them since they were conceived. 

I'm the cleaner of wounds, the voice of reason and the co-parent during their stay with us which is during the week, every day and on weekends. I'm at a crossroads of self acceptance and self persecution. I'm in a quandary over maternal instinct and duty. I'm struggling with blood bonds versus a couple months of cohabitation in this new role. 

I know I'm not their mother, but I feel like I am. I'm the protector, the cook and cleaner. I'm the one they turn to for good night kisses and giggles over Nae-Nae dance moves. 

My problem is that, I've taken on something greater than myself.
My problem is that, I want to and don't want to at the same time. 
My problem is that, all I can see are the con's and very little pro's to this situation. 
My problem is that, I used to be independent and free and now I'm bound and held to ransom by a broken family where I feel like the outsider. 
My problem is that, even if I have my own children, they will always be his first born. 

If you know what my solution is, I'd love to hear it. 
Until then, I better dry my eyes that have cried about a thousand tears since last night and do my best to pull myself out of this depression and into work mode before that too is jeopardized. 

My depression, my anxiety and my struggle this year, the only year we've been together, all started when I lost my identity and took this all on. I'm no hero, I'm just a woman in love with a man, who is really really battling to accept her life choices. 

Maybe I just need to grow up, maybe time will heal. Who knows, I don't. 

Raising Conquerors

I had made a deal with the eldest last night. He had boldly declared that he "couldn't wait to sleep in" with it being a public holiday the next day. So unusual for him to say that, yet I fell for it. Perhaps he just told me what he knew I wanted to hear. A part of me sincerely hoping he was going to do his very best to at least humour me by faking it, until you know, 8am. I would have settled for 07h30.

It was barely 06h15 as I lay draped over the edge of my bed in a final attempt to revel in what I refer to as a 'Dolce Far Niente day', a day of sweet nothingness as borrowed from the movie Eat, Pray, Love. I could hear the kids noisily making their way to the lounge area of our little 2 bedroom townhouse. You have got to be kidding me right now. 

In an instant I'm fueled with lessons from my mother dearest back in my day. Ignited with what would have been her very same loathing of screaming kids when adults are trying to sleep. The consequences back then were a lot more severe. My mother would fly through our childhood home, down the passage wielding slipper in hand. She was ready to dispense corporal punishment to the inconsiderate individual who had (knowingly or not) frazzled her from her slumber and gift them in return with embossed floral patterns on the back of our knees. No word of a lie. 

I get up and reach for (wait for it) my gown. I know, how bold of me. 

I make my way to the little cherubs, my great plan: promising them that tomorrow morning at 4 am I will grace them with the same regimen they had initiated this very day. Imaginary fist in the air as I gallantly open the bedroom door. I have no plans to follow through on that threat, but how do I teach them consideration if they haven't been deprived of the privilege of sleeping in?

As suspected they laugh off my bluff and continue on with their boisterous debate. Here comes dad and he's not having any of it.

Be impeccable with your word

Children are absorbent little creatures, they're listening even when you're sure you're on mute as you repeat the lesson for what feels like the 3rd time in ten minutes. I'm so blessed with a partner whose values resonate with my own and with whom I would raise my biological children with in the same fashion. We see eye to eye, on most things, which makes it that much easier to instill discipline and lesson's into his kids - and one day ours. 

One of the 4 agreements by author Don Miguel Ruiz, is to be impeccable with your word. This week I've learned the importance of following through on the things you say you're going to do. Children listen to what you say, how you moan, how you tease, how you love out loud. 

Two weeks ago we implemented a leap frog type of system that consists of 14 (hand cut out I'll have you know) lilly pads on the wall and 2 frogs with 2 x kids names on them. We were going to make it a race and have two rows of lilly pads but we felt it would cause the sibling rivalry to escalate, so we made one. If you're good, complete your chores in the morning and you're ready on time, you move one hop a day. If you help each other out, you both move two hops. The lesson being that by helping each other out, you get further. 

This week, we instated a temporary rule applicable to the upcoming, shorter 3 day week. If you're good and you help each other out you could move 3 spaces instead of the regular max 2. The incentive - a big surprise! 

Day 1 went well-ish, day 2 included some threats, with a blind eye to the fight over the hairbrush, and day 3 crashed and burned like a sad little paper airplane in a deep and murky pond. I could see my partners disappointment, he really, REALLY wanted to grant them their final 3 hops. That, and the fact that we had already committed to the delivery of Hammy the Hamster compliments of a friend whose immigrating. 

Yes, we would of course be able to come up with another "big surprise" incentive before Hammy made his debut, but the kids had failed to achieve their 3 day goal. Big surprise revoked. If one fell, the reward wouldn't be passed on to the individual winner, even though the eldest was ready daily. They would both have to suffer the consequences. The devastation and low team morale was tangible. We could have easily pushed them through, but we have to teach them about consequences. 

Hit them where it hurts the most

Another example of follow through is to withdraw privileges. I know this sounds like age old, common sense but we really started seeing the best outcome and lesson's learned when we got smarter. It's very easy to shout, scream or put them in Time Out - but do they learn the consequences of their actions? No. 

So we started to implement withdrawal of privileges after we had caught the usually manipulative and cunning eldest in a big fat lie (yes to me, you know the gullible step mother) after he claimed he had done all his homework at school. Initially dad scolded with his usual booming voice of disapproval, hoping that something would sink it and then he made his way to the Tellie to sit with the kids and enjoy their usual 30 minute bonding session. 

Realising the pattern of shout, scold, threaten and repeat, I called a Time Out with dad. We agreed that due to the severity of the crime, we would dish out an appropriate punishment close to his heart - no TV for 2 days. And boy did this child lose his cool. 

Let me tell you, we may as well have told him that Santa didn't exist because the moping, moaning, groaning, sulking and brooding carried on until it was nothing short of a series of pleas that I had never seen before. Ever.  

Then this happened

Sitting at the dinner table eldest pipes up with nothing short of a well versed epiphany. "Do you know", he starts, "that just because people talk, we don't have to listen. That just because people tell us to look somewhere, we don't have to. That just because people tell us to act a certain way, we don't have to." I realise that this could go either way, but being the idealist that I am, I saw the good in his statement and high-fived him in celebration.

Later on, at the same seating, I had encouraged him to look at the awakening that he had imparted onto us and apply it to certain circumstances, you know, closer to home (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

"If for example", I asserted, "someone told you that your daddy was a terrible daddy (or hypothetically I was a horrible stepmom, pfft as if!) you would then have to ask yourself if you believe that. If it's relevant. If it's harmful. If that person was around, would they feel hurt or happy by that statement." I could see the cogs turning as my little student fed on these tidbits with a keen ear and an open mind. Progress!

In closing, I told him that his new awakening could never been taken from him. He swelled with accomplishment, my little overachiever beaming with pride. I reassured him that most adults still needed to learn what he's learned and some of them never do. By elaborating on the importance of his new found Sitori, he too could use his intuition for the greater good of others. 

"You have been blessed with this new insight", I told him, "You may just help someone who is feeling down, or hurting at your school. You can choose to be a light in someone's life". I could see the discomfort spanning his little face, as we've ascertained, this is very deep and with his least favourite person too. But, I know he's listening and I've seen the change in his thinking already. The lights are on and I know he's home.

Living Consciously

Today I covered our whole fridge with affirmations, I'm talking over 50! 

I could hear him scanning through them breathlessly as he arrived at the dinner table, "Take time to relax dad" he retorted while we made dinner. 

It is a privilege to be a custodian of two individuals that drive me insane with frustration and at the same time fill my heart with purpose.

I will give them both tools to grow and be beacons of light in a very dark world and maybe, just maybe, he lands up helping a couple of stray family members become better people - if you catch my drift. 

I could be a sit-on-the-couch-and-scratch-my-backside kind of person, but I'm not. I will teach them, one day at a time, that love, is greater than fear! 

Please note I keep referring to the 'kids' as kids for their protection and safety, so gender and names have been withheld.

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.