A comedy of errors

So we have this painter, Igor, who the Mr. thinks is great. I believe that Igor grew up under the Communist system and feels that whether he works or not, he still gets paid for showing up and standing around. Igor makes me crazy. He gets to the house at 9:30 or 10, walks around for a while, leaves, comes back and paints or primes and leaves at about 3. Very little gets done.

Today, brilliant Igor decided to stain the door to the powder room. He removed the door handle to do so. My autistic stepson, David, who will happily carry on a phone conversation no matter where he is and what he's doing, wandered into the powder room and shut the door.

It's unclear how long David was stuck in there. The Mr. heard him banging on the door after coming home from a business dinner. David wasn't upset; he was still on the phone. Picture this: David on the phone, the Mr. -- who is normally great with tools, fumbling with a screwdriver to undo the door (a few cocktails at dinner, dear?) and the other boys crowded around the door laughing. Yours truly finally got the door open.

At long last, a moment of levity, making it infinitely easier to choose happy.

Home again, home again, jiggety jog

Hello friends, back from the first vacation with three of my kids, the Mr. and my 15-year-old stepson. I'd love to report that it all went swimmingly. That we soaked up the Mexican sun, played and laughed endlessly and generally spent 7 wonderful days enjoying each other's company.

That's what I'd love to report. The reality was sadly much different. It was one of the most difficult trips I've ever taken. Too much togetherness, perhaps. It felt as though a magnifying glass was held up to each of us and what we saw wasn't pretty. Frustrating behavior (two of the four boys), impatience (me), indecision (the Mr.).  Not to mention that the Mr. and I were each getting over wicked sinus/ear infections that not even liberal doses of tequila could conquer.

Two days home and it feels like we're still rebounding from the tension -- the adults more so than the kids. Somethings need to change, and that feels kind of scary. I'm not sure how that's going to look or what that conversation is going to sound like. But something very clearly needs to change or I worry about our ability to successfully, happily and lovingly move forward.

Working hard to choose happy.

And We're Off....

Today the Mr. and I leave on our first woven family vacation. Me and three of my kids, plus the Mr. and one of his boys (calendar conflicts precluded three of the kids joining us and a beach trip isn't a good fit for my autistic stepson).

Fingers crossed that all goes well. I'll report back in a week or so.

Until next time, choose happy.

Lurch

Sometimes it feels as though the Mr. and I lurch from one mini-crisis to the next with my freshman-in-high-school stepson, awkwardly rebounding and not really regaining equilibrium before the next incident. He can be so sweet when it suits him, but man, cross him and tell him it's time for homework or to quit his gaming at dinnertime, and he can grunt and snarl with the best of them. (Believe me, one of my boys can be as nasty as they come, so I know what I'm talking about!)

It's exhausting. Just when the Mr. and I think he's over the hump and things are improving, another call from school comes in. Having been there with my biological kids, I know how it eats a parent up. So, I get to watch my stepson and my husband struggle - big fun.

I get that this is all part of the package and that neither marriage nor parenting is always easy or entertaining. And we do get glimmers of hope, we know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. But when does the struggle stop?

Until next time, keep on choosing happy.

Damaged Goods

Ok, friends, this is a tough one to write. As adults, we come out of our marriages damaged -- some a little more than others. Generally speaking, we have access to resources (financial, emotional, etc.) to help us along until we regain our equilibrium.

But what about the kids? I know mine were hurt, sad, mad, anxious and maybe a little relieved when their dad and I split. Still, three of my four boys took years to get over the fact that their dad and I weren't going to reconcile. As to other folks' kids, it's hard to know how they experience divorce or separation from a parent because we weren't there from start to finish.

So, we struggle to figure out what the voids are in our stepkids' lives and hope to heal them, maybe a little. My eyes are tearing up as I write this, because one of the Mr.'s boys is so desperately struggling and we don't know how to help him. I don't know how to help him. And as a mom, it breaks my heart. Part of me wants to steer clear of the whole thing, and part of me wants to jump in and just take over. Part of me tries to empathize with my stepson, and part of me is so pissed off because it seems like he's not trying, not asking for help or accepting it when offered. Unwilling to even recognize that there is a problem.

There are no drugs or alcohol involved, no pregnant girlfriends, so for that I'm grateful. Just a sweet young man who's been emotionally and academically whipped around so much he can't find his way.

Today, I am truly a tormented stepmom.

All the more reason to choose happy.

Crushed Cookies and Dirty Socks

My 20-year-old stepson came for a visit during his spring break. He's a good kid, slowly finding his way in life. His two brothers who live with me and the Mr. adore him, so it's always nice for the bros to have some quality time together.

After Spence* left for the airport, I went to his room to strip the sheets, correctly suspecting that it wouldn't have occurred to him to do it. But what I found rather surprised me. Ok, so maybe the garbage on the floor from a few shopping trips shouldn't have thrown me. And the CDs scattered around, those are his Dad's. But what about the cookies and the socks?

Per Spence, "Oh, yeah. The socks are dirty and I didn't want to pack them. And the cookies got kind of crushed while I was traveling so I just left them."

Typical guy stuff, I know. But really, leaving your dirty socks and trash for someone else to clean up? Hmmm. I could be perturbed, but better if I choose happy.

Who's Calling the Shots?

Just read an article in OK magazine about how LeAnn Rimes was going to attend her fiance's son's Career Day at school. The mom, Brandi Glanville, tweeted her outrage: "It isn't ur place. You are not his parent."

Here's how I score this:

LeAnn: 1 point for agreeing to participate in her future stepchild's school activity. The boy -- who looks to be about 8 or 9 years old -- must have asked her or how else would she have known about it, right? And the article states that she often takes the boy to school.

The Dad: minus 2 points. Sounds like he didn't give the mom a heads' up and put his fiancee in a difficult position. He's either totally tone-deaf to the interest in his high-profile relationship or he's a twerp who's too intimidated to man-up and handle things the right way between the women.

The Mom (Brandi): minus 1 point - seriously, you had to Tweet your dissatisfaction? How about working it out privately? Boorish behavior isn't attractive. We get it -- he's your kid, you get school activities.

No matter who was right/wrong, the kid loses -- angry mom, incapable dad, and seemingly caring step-mom who erratically gets pulled in and out of his life. Grow-up, grown-ups.

Until next time, choose happy.