the sum of our parts...

When you marry a divorced parent (previously owned?), what you get is the sum of all of their broken parts, plus the sum of yours. In other words, a lot of baggage. So, while you may be working on your "stuff," that doesn't necessarily mean that they've figured out that element of their "stuff." Frustrating, to say the least.

Until next time, choose happy.

I am the Stepmom, Koo Koo Katchoo

It's fair to say that never, in my wildest imaginings, did I ever think I'd be a "stepmom." Something about the word and all it's implications is so -- I don't know --maybe not negative so much as amibivalent regarding the care and feeding of a new spouse's kids. And yet ... here I am, regularly hearing myself referred to as "stepmom." Which I suppose is better than Stepmother. Deep sigh....

Until next time, choose happy.

The Beginning

This blog is meant more of a means for me to vent that which should probably remain unsaid, unshared and, in an ideal world, unthought. However, the world isn't ideal and I'm fairly certain that there are a goodly number of stepmoms -- and stepdads -- who share the ups and downs, highs and lows, joy and anger of stepparenting.

Let me start by saying that it is NOT my stepkids who torment me. I do it to myself. With every shrugging off of a hug, not making eye contact or resentfully providing a ride, I later guiltily beat myself up for not eagerly offering or sharing with my stepkids what I so generously and unbidden give my own.

If any of this sounds like familiar territory, I invite you to join me for this little memoir/expose of my tormented life as a stepmom. While intellectually I do know (really, I do) how very lucky I am to have happy, healthy biological kids, a generally smooth blending of families, a great husband and genuinely nice stepkids, it's still way harder than I ever could have imagined.

Until next time... choose happy.