The setting sun allows the stars to shine

So here I am, it's Sunday and I've spent the most part of my weekend in tears.
I would need to elaborate on the last two months of our lives, nothing less than a living hell with a boy (the eldest) who has gone out of his way to make his personal misery known to all, by means of dishonesty and deceit. Our home has been disrupted, our health affected and joy sucked from each day despite our efforts.

The darkest hour of night is just before the dawn

Thursday evening we receive a video clip from their mother. My fiancee had been in touch with her to request funding assistance, a continual game of smoke and mirrors from her side. Her aim was to take a stab at us, as she does, highlighting just how miserable her eldest, golden child is living in our home. As if he's subjected to anything other than a normal, balanced household that includes routine and structure, chores and discipline. It's all the opposite he would receive from her, during their weekends he thrives on 8 hours of tv games and rules the roost. 

As the video played on, we watched this 9 year old boy face down on her bed, wailing muffled words to the crowd of family members on her side who lapped up his apparent agony. His eyes were dry and his words were forced. You don't have to be a biological mother to know when your child is pulling a fast one. 

Well I know him, and he was milking the attention. He's always been a manipulative little individual. His mother's voice can be heard in the background, pacifying him through his performance. It's all so transparent and predictable, we're not wounded by this apparent attack from her side. What she didn't realise when sending the video, with claims that her son hates "everything about living with us" was that we wouldn't be denying it.

Funny she should video record this all too, right? A little strange and equally as deceitful, as if these children are a prize and the winner takes all. 

Let me tell you that we have sought counsel from the school, from professionals, from anyone who has problem children of their own (apparently there aren't many) as well attended life coaching for kids as per my previous blog post. We have watched the eldest pull his brother down, 'throw him under the bus' at every opportunity and manipulate everyone around him with no regard for the rules. We have had meetings with the teacher, found out that he's not being bullied but in fact, is the bully at school. We have talked, bargained, incentivized, reprimanded and timed out to no avail. Every day it's the same thing, disruptions and anarchy from morning till bed time. This isn't living. 

We've dealt with sulking and tears, insubordination and his disregard for authority, at the school and at home. This child, aged 9, is a law unto himself and all this time, we've been trying to teach him between right and wrong, trying to prevent him from being with his mother and her toxic energy for long enough to infect him with the same. But children go back to what they know, and we've grown and he wants what he knows. A space where he is revered and the rules are few. The youngest is treated poorly, disciplined and spoken down to by her, but not the eldest. He's her golden child.  

Recently we implored her to sign consent forms for the children to attend therapy based on our medical savings. Her nonchalant response included an attack on our judgement and a suggestion to take them for ice cream and talk to the children about their problems. 

I'm sure you can imagine my personal resentments. I've wiped those children's tears, their cuts and grazes. I've ironed school uniforms, danced with them through the house, played hide and seek, disciplined them, imparting wisdom and guidance. I've purchased step parenting books, searched the internet for answers, met with the teachers and principal of their school. I've purchased lunch boxes, school stationery, snacks and treats. I've spent money on clothing, shoes, bedding and toys. I've planned Christmases and birthday and traditions. I've paid for school photographs, times table posters and assisted with school projects.

 I've tucked them into bed, bathed them, helped them when they've been sick. I've taken them to their first dental appointments and check up's thereafter. I've scheduled doctors appointments, gone to sports and cultural events at their school and hugged them before bed and every day before they leave our home. But ice cream will solve these problems, as if we haven't already tried to speak to them and make our intentions to help known. Why didn't I think of the ice cream!

Their mother recently took him out of detention where he was meant to serve a Friday afternoon for bullying another child. Her immediate reaction to this news was that the school was to blame and she "wouldn't accept it". He's been failing school, skipped homework at aftercare to attend an unauthorised Judo lesson because he "felt like it". Perhaps ice cream would solve these problems?

Out came the stars

Friday morning, en route to school, their dad asked the eldest what was so bad about living with us. The tall tales and roundabout answers started with "My brother is the reason I hate living with you", followed by "I don't know" and "It's the shouting". 

When he was showed the video, his final response was "I don't know, it's just everything" and so we went home, got them to pack their bags and granted him the desires of his heart. They were delivered to their mother, with all their things in hand, no animosity, no resentment on our part, but supported this decision for the sake of his sanity and ours. 

The sun set on that traumatic Friday evening, both dad and I crying big tears with heavy hearts. Mixed feelings of relief, disappointment and affliction for the almost 2 years we thought we could 'save them' from negativity and plant seeds of wholeness and goodness. 

Just like that, they were out of our daily lives. The eldest jumped into his grandparents car, having being reminded to say goodbye to us. Our hearts heavy, yet our minds at ease knowing this is their path and we've done our best. The youngest oblivious to what has transpired and the fate that lies ahead of him. 

I've realised that my sanity has been tried and tested over and over again. There was a time when I doubted myself. I've realised that I haven't failed, it's not that I cannot handle children being in my space, but our peace, cannot be compromised to the point of self destruction. There had to come a time when we chose peace over doing what was right. That day came unexpectedly sooner than any of us realised. Just like that, the battle between what those children know as normal and where we were going on our path, were conflicting and couldn't be done simultaneously. 

I thank my earth angels, friends, supporters, family and my partner for all their counsel, care, encouragement and guidance. I thank my Higher Power and all my Heavenly Angels for support and strength. For those who told me I was 'crazy to accept the baggage', you helped me realise what I was fighting for and the true meaning of commitment. 

In closing, their mother has never contributed a single cent. She's done absolutely nothing to contribute toward their welfare, their education, their livelihood. Our hearts are at peace knowing that in choosing to respect the childrens wishes to be with her permanently, giving them what they want and honouring their decisions, we have granted ourselves serenity. We will always be there for them and we've reminded them too. They may have hard lessons to learn living with her, perhaps they will thrive. Perhaps we just have to continue to be the best versions of ourselves in order to carry on being the light in their lives. Who knows. 

Now it is time for us to heal and regenerate, without guilt, without disruption and with our own permission to let go, and let God. 

It's over and that's okay. 

All this baby babble

A typical day in my life finds me on the phone to my mother at least once, let me elaborate, a minimum of once! The distance between means nothing when we're constantly on the phone, although meet up's and dinner dates are left for special occasions. 

So today during a typical chit chat and small talk about the weather and work and life, she brings up (wait for it) babies, pregnancy, marriage and of course my biological clock which (as per my last post) is apparently working overtime. 

"Just take the plunge", she said

As we discussed my meltdown (see the last post about the Jeep) I found myself listening to a woman who, for the lack of better judgement encouraged me to terminate a teenage pregnancy, now tell me to just have a baby. You know, just have one and not think about the consequences. 

Now my mom has always been my role model, but this left me feeling quite stumped. Should I be praising her for the sound advice or should I be mad at the irresponsibility of the notion. 

Everything is about babies these days. The kids and I went to go see a puppy and when I told them I had a surprise, the eldest says, "I hope it's a baby sister." 

Then last week I went to a client who asked if I was pregnant, I assured her that my IBS was in full force that day. 

Following that it's just been one thing after the next, the children can't stop hugging and kissing me and people keep joking with me that it's time for me to get married and have kids. 

So is this a societal pressure or perhaps the Universe poking fun at me? 

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. 

Mr N(ASS)ty and the idle threats

I won't lie, it's been a difficult couple of months - hence my absence. 

I'm at the point of no return with my nonchalant and completely blatant discontent with my life. I wish things could have been different, why can I still not see the blessing in this situation. Why does it feel like I'm being punished.

Parenting is hard, and off-putting

Someone asked me the other day if I was still interested in having children of my own. Of course I'm wanting my own children, but raising a pre-teen and a 9 year old is hard, and off putting when I think that I may need to do this all over again. I know they say it's different when it's your own children, but gosh, this is a constant battle between cooperation and defiance. The latter dominating at the best of times.

Mr N(ASS)ty was introduced to me a couple of weeks ago by a client of mine. "It's time to step up and hand out some good old fashioned discipline", she said "it's not always easy dishing out hidings, but we all grew up with them and we all laugh about it now." 

She was referring to Mr Nasty as if he was the benchmark of parenthood, as if, when you're at this point of idle threats, Mr Nasty is at the top of the list when it comes to distributing physical reminders of who is boss. Today the kids met Mr Nasty, although, as you would imagine my luck, it was a giggle session between them while I sampled some Mr Nasty to their backsides. The introduction was futile as the youngest scoffed at my soft and harmless blows. "That wasn't sore", giggles the youngest, "do it again". 

At this stage I'm over it, I'm also considering taking an online mental wellness quiz to check that I'm not, in fact, losing my mind to the insanity I call my afternoons. 

Maybe it's not meant to be

Today, for the first time, I questioned whether or not I should walk away. I wondered what it would be like to just say, 'Sorry everyone, I'm done, I need a permanent time out in a remote location with a couple of cocktails around an adult only pool', but I know I could never, I don't want to. 

Every fibre of my being is battling through this challenge of acceptance. It's not them, it's me. It's my frustration and my resentments and my regrets. I love their father, and they are good kids, but I'm selfish and I wish they hadn't been born. There. I said it. I wish, they hadn't inconvenienced my life. 

If that makes me a bad person then I'm a bad person. But the fact that I'm still here, still committed, still doing my all for them with no expectations and no return on investment is a very clear form of love. Love isn't a duty, it is a privilege. I choose to share my home, money, time and knowledge with them. I choose to give of myself even when it means I'm near tearing out my hair and making idle threats with a bamboo spoon that I brought for a couple bucks at the local store. 


I love them, I love him, I just don't know how long it's going to be before I can accept them in all their humanness. Perhaps I've just forgotten how to be patient, tolerant and accepting of others. Perhaps they are my reminders that all things, including love come at a price and mine is loving their father with the burden and privilege of raising them at the same time. 

C'est la vie.