What Hollywood taught me about being a Stepmom

In the early stages of my relationship with my kids, I frequently solicited points of view from Stepmothers I knew.  I wanted to hear their stories.  I had unwittingly become part of this club where the first question for initiation is almost always, “How is your relationship with their mother?”.  Depending on your answer to that question, the conversation could become negative quickly or take a positive turn where we would both be beaming with pride. It was rarely the latter.  Many of the women I connected with had major issues with their husband's ex or the kids hated them.  One woman actually told me to "run" and find a man without kids.

One negative war story in particular inspired me to hunt for examples of positive stepmother experiences. I turned to Hollywood to make it all better.  I longed for a story where the other mother role and the benefits of stepmothering was portrayed in a positive light.  I hoped I would find that in the film Stepmom starring Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon.  I popped in the DVD, crossed my fingers and watched anticipating that I would be gently tucked in by the storyline and kissed on the head by my fairy Stepmother as the credits rolled. 

Now, I am BIG. HUGE (get it?) fan of Julia Roberts (“I have to go shopping now…”) and her character Isabel's New York wit, youth and style I of course could relate to, right?  What New York woman couldn't?  It was even better once I saw the opening scene where she is struggling with Benjamin’s pajamas because she clearly was new to this whole parenting thing, but she was trying.  She was involved.  I thought I had found my example to rival the ugly, mean stepmother personas projected in Disney movies across time.  I mean more often than not in her movies, Julia Roberts comes out smelling like a rose. The problem was that as the movie unfolded, Julia was portrayed as an irresponsible and sarcastic woman who was, using a Lion King reference, Scar to Sarandon’s Mufasa.  Sarandon was Mother Earth and Roberts was the groundskeeper.        .

Now, at the end, Julia’s impact becomes more apparent because Sarandon allows it by asking her to take photos of her and the kids because Sarandon is dying. The kids begin to lean on Roberts, but only with the unspoken permission of the first mother. Unfortunately in the few, if any films I have seen with a Stepmom present, the only time where stepmothers are recognized as a characters with impact, real impact, in the lives of the children is when the mother is out of the picture or headed out of the picture or has a drug habit or mental problems.

If I had to rewrite the script in a way that would inspire other mothers and first mothers on their journey, both women would have been smart, assertive women who were successful in their own right and both would have been beautiful and approachable.  If the story played out as above and Susan became ill, Julia would have helped the kids through the experience and kept enough distance where Susan would get the time she needed with the children.  I mean, honestly, if you were dying and were the first mother would you want the other mother around all the time???

It would have been very interesting to see Julia performing well as a stepmother and having both strong and capable women influencing the children, play out on film. It would also have been interesting for the audience to be exposed to when both women would question themselves or fail and contrast that with the perfect face they put on to the other woman.  What would have been even more interesting would have been for Sarandon’s character to actually die and see what would have happened between Julia and the kids.  Now, I would never wish death on anyone’s mother, but the emotions there would likely be rich and honest.

I think the core here is that there are few, if any, accurate and honest portrayals that I have seen of the relationship between other mother and first mother nor one where the other mother is a strong force in the lives of children when their first mother is STILL ALIVE and relatively normal. Hollywood just remade Cinderella when it should be rethinking the portrayal of Stepmothers and the relationship dynamics with the first mother.  Today, with the divorce rate where it is and the rise of blended families, there are certain to be more women with full popcorn buckets on their laps ready to experience a candid and realistic portrayal of the Stepmom.  The occasional facebook post of a real "letter from a mother to a stepmother” is really light and contrived.  We want reality.  Please fairygodmother, make this “ugly stepmother’s” wish come true!   

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.

The top 10 reasons why top 10 parenting advice lists are RIDICULOUS

Working in marketing and creating content every day, I understand why the Buzzfeed type lists called "listicles" (article meets list) exist, but it doesn't mean I have to like them, especially when they are about the complex and sometimes crazy world of parenting.

The top 10 reasons why top 10 parenting advice lists are RIDICULOUS

1.       There is no silver bullet - Kids are all so different, just like you and me, and advice must be tailored to the situation.

2.       Relevancy of parenting stories is like astrology – they all kind of sound like they could be you depending on the day.

3.       The amount of parenting advice that is possible to give is likely infinite and impossible to abridge into “top” anything.

4.       Most are filtered for proprietary. Where’s the raw reality? Where is the advice about how to help your kids with bullies, if they hear you arguing about finding texts in your husband's phone from a hottie at work, when they catch you having sex.  I would take anything but the mundane! 

5.       They do not really make you feel good. I would love it if these lists were written by terrible parents so all parents could feel better about themselves instead of comparing themselves to a list made by a parent who is likely as average as them.

6.       They are written mostly by Moms and women see things very differently from men.  Would be great to see a list written by both parents.  Parenting is a group effort.

7.       Kids change.  Advice that did make sense and work for a five-year-old may fail miserably when practiced on a kid who is 7, 9, or 11.

8.       Parenting is complex and warrants discussion. A finite direction could really only be recommended after crowdsourcing input from other parents (including the crazy ones) to shape it to fit more people.

9.       Who are the parents who make the lists and who said they were awesome? Many are bloggers. Well, I write a blog, but blogging does not an expert make.

10.   I hate lists. It reminds me of how many errands I have to run this weekend for my kids and the house. Now a "Top 10 Most Annoying Errands List", I can get behind.

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.

Finding empowerment in string beans

We all know that getting kids to eat their veggies is about as hard as teaching my 98-year-old Grandfather how to use Twitter.  You try to hide them in baked goods a la Jessica Seinfeld, tell tales of their virtues and give examples of tall and strong people in hopes they will want to model their behavior when it comes to the green stuff. My kids were chicken nugget connoisseurs and pasta with butter proficient when I met them, but according to their Dad it was difficult to get them to eat more adventurous things like salad.

There are times when being the other mother feels like second place, but there are also times when only you can break through where the first Mother and their Father cannot. Those are the moments when you truly relish the role. You are loved like one of the most important people in their lives, but they listen to you and approach you differently from their Mom and their Dad.  It was that advantage that kick-started my kids' vegetable-eating futures.

It was one of my first dinners together with the kids. My then boyfriend T had made the equivalent of a kids menu at a restaurant for the kids. Now, I am going to pause here for a brief soapbox moment...

Kid’s menus suck. There is nothing redeeming about them. Kids do not live on chicken nuggets and carbs alone. Let's get it together restaurant owners and serve some good balanced food. Kids DO eat things other than the five food groups of burger, fingers, fries, pizza and pasta. Serve some vegetables and at least expose them to good food! 

 Okay, so back to T cooking the kids menu. I took one look at the carb fest and said, "Don’t they eat vegetables?" I grew up in an Italian household and fruit and vegetables (and pasta of course) were staples. He looked at me and laughed. He said, "If you can get them to eat them". Not one to ever back down from a challenge, I silently accepted and the next time, I came to his place armed with string beans.

Here's the thing with kids. If you don't make it fun, they won't try it the first time. Would you? There's got to be something in it for them. So I made the green beans with a little butter and salt and told T to act like he was running out to get milk while I focused on getting these 6-year-old twins to eat green.

Once T left, I saw that Tia had tried her green beans and because she pretty much always did what she was told, she ate them. She didn't really like them, but ate them. As for TJ, his mouth was closed tighter than a disapproving mother-in-law at a wedding. There was no way that green was going in his mouth. So I decided to make it a game. I said, "I know that your Dad would be so proud of you if you were to finish those green beans. He thinks you won't do it, but I do. So, he will be back in 5 minutes. Do you want to prove him wrong? Do you want to show him what a big boy you are?"  To be clear, I said this in an Apollo Creed talking to Rocky tone while jumping up and down. He screamed "YESSSSS!" And the race was on. In five minutes, he ate a portion of green beans and beamed with pride of his accomplishment when Dad came home. Now granted, he guzzled lots of milk with the beans, but he did it.

What I realized right then was that this was about more than food.  I could be a new voice motivating him and his sister to try things. I did not have to follow along with the established perceptions of the kids' abilities Mom and Dad had of them that were grounded in their experience with the kids as babies or toddlers. Kids easily get labeled as a result of childhood behaviors – “Oh, he's always been this way" or "She's that way.” And I totally get that.  But, as the other mother, because you are new and have no preconceived notions of their potential, you see only possibility. Kids want to stretch from those labels as they are growing up and you can help them to surprise their Mom and Dad and themselves with what they are capable of. So take pride in that advantage and be the voice of adventure in the lives of the kids. Stretch them to try new things and show them the way and once they trust you, you can work on getting them to try spinach. 

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.

What's in a name?

It is always a hassle when you have to explain something complex. Being a stepmother is not complicated to explain, except that IT IS, especially when you are trying to live as a family and no one else knows that who isn't your friend or relative. Even when T and I were not yet married, and the kids were around eight. I remember when Tia first started asking me, "what should we call you?" Seems simple, but it is a loaded question with feelings in the crosshairs. So I saw her question and raised her one back, "What do you want to call me? You can call me whatever you want." The brainstorming made for a fun walk up 2nd Avenue to our Manhattan apartment. We explored Mamma (the cooler version of Momma), Llamma (my name and Mamma combined), LOLO, Lala, lerfetta, Lamom and I believe at one point TJ just stopped the madness and said, "I like your name like it is. That is what I'm calling you." That was fine with me. It was as though the gavel was slammed and name court, adjourned. You know what they say about nicknames after all, you can't force them to happen. So they call me by my name and likely will forever. 

With MY name settled, I thought we were good, but eventually I started to get corrected by Tia when I would introduce her. I assumed that she wanted it to be clear that she was my stepdaughter. After all, she has a Mom and I wanted her to know I respected that entirely. What I did not expect was that she wanted me to call her and introduce her as my daughter and not my stepdaughter. It made her feel like I cared about her more. There was permanence. "It feels like we are more of a family," she said. So I always call her my daughter and TJ, my son. We are aligned, but it gets slippery with strangers.

When I talk about my family to new clients, friends of friends, at parties or on a cross-country flight, I refer to the kids as "my kids". Now, when that conversation happens with a man, I am all good. It is quick and easy because they don't ask any questions. When it happens with a woman, and worse a Mom, it becomes a social experiment. Usually the conversation starts something like, "Do you have any kids". I say yes and tell them I have two and they are 14-year-old twins. They say something like, "Twins! How wonderful!" That is precisely when I feel like I just lied at confession, but I move on.

Despite the fact that it IS true and I do have two kids, I feel the need to explain on the off chance that they find out I did not give birth to them. So I have my spiel. “I call them my kids because they are to me, but I am their stepmother, yada, yada, yada. The purpose of the spiel is twofold. First, it confirms that I am indeed in my 30s and not 40s.  I mean, I want to stay in my 30s as long as possible. There is something about saying you have 14-year-olds that automatically has the other person assuming you are over 40. Second, it makes me feel like I have not lied.

When I don't give the spiel and they find out that I am the stepmother as conversations naturally progress or should I refer to "their mom" watching them, seeing them this weekend or calling etc. in the conversation, I see the confusion spread across faces like they pulled the mask off the Scooby Doo villain and it wasn't who they thought it would be. They realize I am the stepmother, not the real mother. And without fail, instead of keeping that ah-ha to themselves, it just oozes out of them like venom into freshly pierced skin. "Oh, so they aren't yours?" Imagine the tone being a perfect combination of smarmy and overly fake and nonchalant.  

Our personal naming mechanics are our choice and I do what we feel comfortable with. Why? Well, because our opinions are the ones that matter. So they call me my name and I call them “my kids” because they want it that way. I do recommend having a spiel and to prepare for the reactions, but use whatever descriptions or terms you and the kids want to.  

My spiel lives on even after almost ten years and every once in a while, I change it up just to keep it fresh. But on behalf of all non-nuclear and non-biologically connected families, a word of advice to all those who have an opinion about nomenclature - keep it to yourself.

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.

To "Step" or not to "Step"

When I met my husband "T", the father of my stepkids, I was 29, living in Manhattan, partying all the time into the wee hours of the morning and I hadn't seen 7AM since high school.  We had only known each other as friends, I knew he had kids and was divorced and because of those facts, I had no designs on dating him.  There were too many single men in New York City without kids and an ex-wife to get involved with him.  Too bad I didn't know how amazing he was and quickly, after hanging out with him for a few months, all of those single guys didn't matter anymore.  I was dating a divorced man with kids.

When we started spending more time together, I noticed very quickly he suffered from MWKS or "Man With Kids Syndrome." Some symptoms include, waking up at 6AM without an alarm, wanting to pour you water, soda, wine or whatever you are drinking and exhibiting visible restraint from portioning your food for you, sleeping so lightly that if a feather falls, it is like New Year's Eve, being more in touch with his feelings and becoming unavailable every other weekend and Wednesday nights. Aside from the waking me up before 2PM on Sunday, which we quickly remedied, it was great to finally meet a man who was responsible, mature and incredibly demonstrative with his love. He was on a different level. However, between the kids and him being divorced, there seemed like enough baggage to fill carousel 2 at JFK and my 29-year-old self only had room for maybe two or three bags in my 550sq foot apartment. I mean, my boyfriend prior to him was younger than me and his biggest responsibility was bringing beer and the funnel to the Memorial Day party at his friend’s beach house.

Putting the divorced thing aside, the kids were living, breathing things that needed care and attention and commitment that I didn't think I was up for.  I mean, I could hardly get myself to work on time or pay all my bills! I hesitated to get involved with him. He recognized the fear and offered to take everything slow. We had been friends for years before we dated, so I had that luxury. Although he talked about the kids all the time and I felt like I already knew them, the ultimate reality check would be seeing these twin six-year-olds in the flesh;  prove that they existed. I wanted to take some of the pressure off myself for the first meeting so I decided to visit T on a weeknight when they were staying over and come by once they were sleeping. The best kind of first meeting. One where they don't know I am there and I can react without them seeing.

"TJ", the boy, had a blanky and a pacifier with his arms in the air snoring and "Tia's" little face just barely peered above her blankets. There they were. It was real. They were so cute. I actually became very excited to meet them and I felt more in control of our first meeting. There would be less build-up and fewer nerves for me.

When I finally met the kids when we were both awake, it was like jumping in a pool thinking it would be cold and it is warm - unexpectedly comfortable, disarming and relaxed. Their energy surrounded me and my inner child wanted to come out and play. After the first few times, I would take the train to T’s apartment and the three of them would be waiting for me; the kids more excited to see me than I would have ever expected. It was then that I recognized the mutual impact. My ability to mold them and theirs to push my clay around too. This relationship with the kids, no matter how long it lasted, was in motion and they were in it. Funny enough, so was I. Immediately. By visit number five, I was mushy clay and almost sand. They were re-working my mold.

What I learned is that there is never a good time to invite kids into your life. There is no guarantee that they will like you no matter how much you give them, play with them, and hug them. They are their own person and they get first impressions too - even at a young age. What is also a guarantee is that you never know what will happen, but it will indeed change you. You will feel younger, laugh more, dance and sing more, feel more, go to sleep earlier and find yourself being less selfish.

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.

Redefining "Stepmother"

When you are a stepmother, who are you really in the eyes of your husband, your stepchildren, your extended family, friends and strangers? My experience is that everyone defines your role as a stepmother differently. Most of the time, their perspective varies by their age, whether or not they have children, are mothers or fathers, have stepparents themselves or how close your relationship is with that person. Over the years, I have heard people, to whom I consider myself quite close, try to define my role as a "friend", "mentor" or "coach" to my two wonderful stepchildren.  After cringing at those words, I think to myself, "How many of your friends, mentors or coaches would voluntarily live with you more than ten days out of the month, cook and clean for you, help you with your work or financially support you?"  If that's crickets you hear, it is because the answer is none.  

After being the every-other-weekend and Wednesday girlfriend and later wife to their Dad, I now live with my two stepchildren full time.  I have to say that the only difference in my relationship with the kids as a result, is the face-time. The role is the same. I love them just as hard and unconditionally, seeing them in-person 22 days out of the month as I did 8. I still teach them values, guide their decisions, hear their problems, ground them, challenge them and functionally care for them; although I can make a bigger impact now.  I fully acknowledge that I did not change one diaper nor endure pregnancy, but it is really the actions beyond those that are the core of what mothering is to me. Over time, I've started to define the role as "the mOTHER". Little "m".  I am the other mother. I am not their first mother, but I am a mother to them.

This idea of first and other mother is inspired by how mother and stepmother are literally defined in the dictionary. One meaning of mother is "giving birth" and the other is "bringing up a child with care and affection." I recognize myself in definition number two, (which was also likely lobbied for by adoptive parents everywhere at some point).  What I find incredibly startling though is how the word stepmother is defined in such a functional way - "a woman who marries a child's father after divorce or death of the mother." My intention in this blog is to challenge that notion as incomplete. I want to use stories of my journey to inspire stepmothers in the world who want to be or who are more than that; to jolt those who may have resigned to define themselves in that way;  and to reassure those who have others in their lives who define them as Merriam Webster and society has, that they are so much more because they are mOTHERs. 

To reach me for questions, to provide suggestions for new posts or just to chat, email me at othermotherblog@gmail.com.  I would love to hear from you.