Things that make me go "grrrrrrrrrr"

It's a normal occurrence for my stepkids to request strange and unusual things from Hubs or me. Like the time my youngest SD asked if she could go an entire two weeks without bathing because it was better for the environment. Or that time my oldest SD asked us to let her have chocolate as an every day after school snack because it helped her "concentrate better" on her homework.

As any normal parent, step or otherwise, we take these requests with a grain of salt. C'mon, they're kids. Of course they're going to ask silly favors to see how much they can get away with. I know I did. One year for Christmas, I tried to convince my parents to buy me a TV for my room so my siblings and I could watch television and "not distract my parents from 'Cheers' or 'MASH' when it's on." I'm sure Mom and Dad got a kick out of that one.

Hubs and I always look forward to what harebrained ideas our young girls will try and pass by us next, but it always comes as a surprise when a grown woman (Mama Ex) wants to join in the fun, too.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who experiences this.

Every now and again, a request (or I dare say demand) comes from Mama Ex that I can only assume was cooked up under the influence of heavy narcotics and maybe a bottle of cold medicine. There was the time she told me I couldn't photograph the kids on their first day of school because that was Hubs' job, and he needed to be behind the camera. Or the weekend she texted Hubs to request that only he hold back the girls' hair when they were vomiting into the toilet because that's his job, and not a stepmom's. Most of the time, we react to these requests exactly like we do to the girls': we laugh, pour an alcoholic beverage, and toast to it all being over someday.

Just last week though, a doozy request came through. Hubs and I had just informed Mama Ex that we are planning to take the girls to Cancun on a family trip in November of 2014. The trip doesn't impede on any of Mama Ex's time, except for the night prior to departure. The flight is super early Thursday morning, so we asked super politely (these things must be handled delicately) if Mama Ex would let the kids come to our house Wednesday night so leaving for the airport would be easier in the morning.

You would think we had asked her if she was okay with us covering the kids in pig's blood and letting them swim with sharks.


Her email response took three days and when it was received, I literally sat in the kitchen with my jaw on the floor. Mama Ex replied, "How dare you do this? You're asking for me to give up my time for a trip to God knows where, and let's not forget they have to miss Thursday during school..which is also my time. You don't get them legally until 2:20 PM on Thursday."

She continued, "Because you have so rudely already told the kids about this trip, I will go ahead and allow it this one time. But in the future, I prefer that you inform me of any kind of trip you and your wife are considering taking the girls on before you share it with them."

Hold. The. Phone.

We now have to run all our potential trips by Mama Ex before we can even tell the girls about them? Mama Ex must not realize that I have, on any given Tuesday, 17 vacation ideas saved on my computer and ready to book. Shall I send her each idea I have? Some of them I haven't even run by Hubs yet. (We're going to Paris soon, he just doesn't know it yet.)

Why on earth would we ever tell Mama Ex about a trip before asking the girls how they felt about it? How ridiculous. 

The real problem here is control. Mama Ex is well aware that if the children already know about a trip, they're going to be pissed if she vetoes it. (We went through this last year with a Disney Cruise. The judge had to step in and force her to let them go.) Therefore, she feels out of control of the situation. Mama Ex enjoys her perceived rein of power over the "non custodial parent" and wants to flex that muscle whenever she can. 

I think what bugs me the most about all of this, is that Mama Ex's Nazi interpretation of visitation come at the expense of the children. Does she legally have the right to keep them from leaving on a trip until 2:20 PM on Thursday? Yep. Is it really necessary to do that? Hell no. But does she want to do it anyway just to stick it to me and Hubs? Duh. And the kids get to suffer.

Here's how I look at it and wish Mama Ex would, too. Co-parenting, just like life, is not fair. Yeah, we can afford to take the girls on an awesome trip and Mama Ex can't. (At least not with a 3 Starbucks a day habit, she can't.) That sucks for her. It really does. But hey, there are times when it really sucks to be us, too. Mama Ex has a friend who takes the girls to almost every single pro baseball game in town during the summer. Often the games land during on our time. Do we have to let them go? Of course not, but it's good for the kids. At the end of the day, if you're keeping your children from fun and unique opportunities for no reason other than bitterness about the unfairness of it all...then you're just bitter. And that gives you wrinkles.

No thanks.

Our response to Mama Ex was, of course, gratitude that she is "allowing" the kids to go have an awesome time. And we tried to keep the disdain hidden between the lines. Moving forward, we now have a new system for ridiculous requests:

Requests by children : 1 drink per child
Requests by Mama Ex: Shots until at least one of us passes out and forgets all about it

What requests does Mama Ex that make you go "Hmmmmm, where did she come up with that?" How do you handle the most outrageous ones?

don't shoot the messenger (but don't let her off the hook either)

Every step parent knows you aren't supposed to use your stepchildren as a messenger with Mama Ex. And really, why would you want to? I mean, what stepmom wants to hear all the awful things Mama Ex thinks about them from the voice of their your adorable stepkids?

No thank you.

I myself do all I can to refrain from even mentioning Mama Ex's name when the kids are around. Our time with them is precious and over too quickly; the last thing we need to do is wonder about her shenanigans. In fact, if one of the children brings her up, our response is typically, "I'd much rather hear about you, sweetheart. When are volleyball tryouts?"

Generally it works. Children have the attention span of a hyperactive squirrel hopped up on Red Bull, so it doesn't take much to shift the topic of conversation to something that really interests them.

The problem arises when I hear a story about our home relayed back to us by Mama Ex. And it's completely false. Here's an example:

Less than a year ago, my two stepdaughters, M and T were playing in the basement. After a short time, the "playing" turned into systematic torture of one another, as is pretty par for the course. This was around the time that the entire nation was obsessed with vampires. M thought it would be hilarious to turn the lights off and pretend to be a vampire. Our basement has no windows so it is completely dark and quite scary for a 9-year-old kid. As Hubs and I sat upstairs listening, it became apparent that T, the youngest, was not enjoying this game at all. Hubs and I told M if she continued to scare her sister in this manner, we would give her a taste of her own medicine.

And did she listen? 

(That's a rhetorical question.)

Eventually, enough was enough. T was in tears, M thought it was the greatest thing ever. Making a command decision, I brought T upstairs. As M followed a few steps behind her, I quickly shut the door to the basement and turned off the lights. M was downstairs alone in the dark. 

She lost her friggin' mind. 

Screaming to high heaven and bawling like John Boehner, I let her stay in the darkness for exactly 10 seconds. (I counted.) When the 10 seconds ended, I opened the door and told her, "that isn't very fun, is it?" In dramatic teen fashion, she ran upstairs crying and didn't speak to me or Hubs the rest of the night. 

The following day I had a calm talk with M and told her that there are consequences to being cruel to someone, and to remember that it's best to treat others as you wish to be treated. M sniffled and pouted, but the point had clearly been made. I thought that was the end of it.

A few weeks later, Hubs got an email from Mama Ex demanding to know "his wife" was locking M in the basement for hours at a time without food or water or lighting.

I'm not kidding. It basically sounded like this is what we'd been doing with the kids.

My first reaction was to get angry at Mama Ex. She had clearly blown this way out of proportion. Our basement door doesn't even have a lock on it! How could she be so ridiculous? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I started to pen an email back to Mama Ex telling her exactly what she could do with her questions...and then I had a thought. This wasn't Mama Ex's fault.

My stepdaughter had gone home and told her mother a warped version of the story. Where else would Mama Ex come up with these ridiculous accusations? 

I'd been played by a 13 year old.

My SD isn't stupid. She knows tensions are often, at best, strained between me and Mama Ex. So, while she sat up in her room stewing that I had reprimanded her, she hatched a plan that she knew would work. She could simply trump up the story and re-tell it to her mother, thus getting me in trouble. Thankfully, as the brilliant person I am, I saw through it and immediately deleted my email to Mama Ex that defended my actions. And really, why did I feel the need to defend myself anyway? Mama Ex has no power over me. When the kids are here, the kids are here, with our rules and our discipline choices. Unless I'm beating them with a Louisville Slugger and waterboarding them in my spare time, I only have to answer to one person: Hubs. Okay, and maybe the court if the waterboarding is really happening.

Which it isn't.

Though sometimes...the temptation is there.

What stories have you heard back from Mama Ex that are totally off base? Did you figure out you were being played?


 

crossing the (boundary) line

Becoming a stepmom is inherently full of challenges. As if it isn't hard enough to deal with the fact that you've magically inherited the responsibilities of being a parent (while enjoying the rights of only a babysitter), you're also soon required to learn a new language.

Stepmom Speak.

From child support to parenting plans to holiday schedule, you will find yourself using words and phrases that you never would have before becoming a step parent. And then there's the big one. The mother of Stepmom Speak words that will follow you from now until the end of your days.  The "B" word.

(No, not that one)
(Well, okay, maybe that one, too.)

Boundaries.

Before I became a stepmom, the only time I used this word was in middle school when we learned about how states were divided - and even then I wasn't listening. I very rarely came across this word in any real-life situation.. And now it shows up more than herpes at a whore convention.

This is, by far, one of Mama Ex's very favorite words to use (along with the other "b" word too, don't kid yourself). I hear it about everything.

Ruby let the girls watch a movie I don't approve of. That is clearly outside her boundaries.

Ruby told the girls they might have to get braces someday. This conversation is not within her boundaries.

I just saw your email that Ruby is picking the kids up for parenting time tonight? She's stepping outside her boundaries.

On occasion, the term  has been used so often that I've been tempted to approach Mama Ex and quote Mandy Patinkin's famous line from "The Princess Bride." 

"Why do you keep using that word? I do not think it means what you think it means."

To Mama Ex, "exceeding boundaries" is a catch-phrase that essentially means, "I'm not a fan of something Ruby is doing and I don't know how to articulate that."

But by definition, boundary simply means this: a line that marks the limits of an area; a dividing line.

Obviously, there's no way to draw that line into what I can and cannot do as the girls' stepmother. There'd have to be some sort of legal document or printed stack of papers that both parents would have access to that would establish what's appropriate for a stepmom to do.....

Oh wait. There is. It's called a Custody Decree. 

Hubs and I just spent a huge wad of money to draft the longest, most unnecessary document in the history of mankind that literally spells out the boundaries between parental parties. They're even easy-to-read sentences like "both parties will respect the others opinions and rules within their own separate houses."  Or, "only a biological parent shall sign legal documents related to the health and well being of the children." Or even, "if a parent is unable to pick up their child for visitation, a responsible adult maybe be sent in their place provided the other parent is notified."

So...does me picking up the kids from school qualify as a boundary violation?

No.

Does me taking my eldest stepdaughter for a haircut equal a boundary violation?

Hardly.

Does me signing a paper that says the girls can have a boob job at 13 qualify as a boundary violation?

Why yes, yes it does.

The problem I'm actually facing is simply this. There are very few legal boundaries established when it comes to step parents. And it drives Mama Ex bonkers. There is no law that says I can't take my stepchild to a horror flick. There is no law against me giving my stepkids a virtual gluten explosion of spaghetti and hot dogs for dinner.

But guess what, Mama Ex? That drives-you-bonkers door swings both ways, and it isn't doing me any favors, either.

I can't prevent Mama Ex from telling her daughter that skipping breakfast and lunch is a great way to lose 10 pounds fast. There is no law preventing Mama Ex from telling her children that college is a waste of money and a manager at McDonald's makes "really decent money." Mama Ex is not violating boundaries by doing any of these things.


Hello, Bonkers? I'd like to join your club.

At the end of the day, both Mama Ex and myself must realize that we have different ways of raising the children. What would be super great and boundary-riffic is if the three of us (Mama Ex, Hubs and myself) could all sit down together like the 33-year-old adults we are, and have an open discussion about issues we might have with one another. But that would require a very important word. 

Maturity.

I'm pretty sure that one is out of bounds.

don't hate the player...

I'm no stranger to bizarre questions in my household. Two step daughters at the ages of 13 and 10 are bound to ask some zingers that leave my head spinning. And most of the time they're questions that I should really know the answers to.

Like how to divide fractions.
Or multiply decimals.
Or what phase the moon is in. Yikes.
  
But every now and again, a question comes out of one of their mouths that is so random, I don't really even think twice about the question behind the question. It happened last night. Hubs, the girls and myself had just sat down to dinner at one of our go-to restaurants. We chatted about where we should go for our Thanksgiving trip this year (we decided somewhere with a beach; that's all Mid-westerners think about) and how excited we were that winter would soon be giving way to spring. Just mindless chit chat. Then, out of nowhere, my youngest stepdaughter turned to me and said, "Ruby? What's a player?"

I looked at Hubs across the table, and he shrugged. I mean, this wasn't an altogether kooky question, but it certainly had nothing to do with the topic at hand. I kind of chuckled and gave her an honest answer based on my experiences.

"Well," I said, thinking of a gentle way to word my answer. "It's when a guy or girl dates or go out with a lot of people, but they are only dating them because they want something from them. Like sex or money or something like that. It's a form of manipulation. Remember when we talked about your friend J that was trying to manipulate you to do her homework? It's like that, but with boyfriends and girlfriends."

She sat quietly, taking in my response, and nodded. And that was it. I chalked it up to her hearing the word at school from someone and moved on. No biggie. A few minutes later, as I laughed at an amusing anecdote Hubs was sharing, she tugged at my elbow and motioned for me to come close. Somewhat distracted, I leaned down to her face and she whispered softly in my ear, "Is my Mommy a player?"

Whoa. She now had my full attention.

A number of questions went through my head, namely "how do I answer this?" I've never referred to Mama Ex as a player, and I know Hubs hasn't either. However, I do know that Mama Ex is notorious for changing guys more often than she changes her nail polish. In addition, she never, ever lets a guy go. One of her ex boyfriends from 5 years ago still changes her oil every three months. Another ex still takes her to the local NFL games during the fall. Her estranged husband pays for the girls' cell phone bills, baby-sits for the girls and pays dental bills. Mama Ex has a long line of men willing and ready to give her whatever she needs when she needs it. One can only assume they're being compensated...

After cleaning up the soda I spit all over the table, I finally responded as honestly as I could to my step daughter's very perceptive question. "Well, honey," I said. "I don't know Mommy terribly well, so that's not something I feel like I can answer. Do you feel like Mommy's a player?"

She simply shrugged her shoulders. Her 13-year old sister, however, had plenty to say."Ruby," she said with a mouth full of french fries and a scowl we've become accustomed to. "Just tell her no, that's what she wants to hear, even though we all know Mommy is definitely a player." Of course this started World War III at the table between the two girls, and we abandoned our discussion about Mommy and instead focused on using our words and controlling our tempers. But the question remained, hanging there. Even now, almost 13 hours later, it's still haunting me. 

Later on it was revealed that Mama Ex recently shared with the girls that she does, indeed, have a new boyfriend and they've been dating since October. I'm sure, since Mama Ex is actually still married (they've been "separated" for 5 years) my youngest step daughter is probably beginning to see the pretty obvious pattern of behavior that is indicative of a "player."

Regardless of my step daughters' figuring all of this out, I've decided it isn't my place to agree or disagree with them. I mean, I wasn't lying when I answered her question. I really don't know Mama Ex well enough to know that she is, in fact, a player. (I mean, two and two is four, but I have no concrete proof.) Even if I did, 100% positively know that Mama Ex is a player, what good will it do me to confirm this to her children? 

When I was 10, I remember my mother gained quite a large amount of weight unexpectedly. I knew it, my family knew it, and my friends knew it. But did I punch a girl in the face at school when she called my mother fat? Um, duh. Just because the girls have figured out a less than flattering characteristic about their mother, it doesn't mean I should be the one to validate the thought. True or not, it would still hurt to hear someone they love and trust (me), say something mean or hateful about their mom. 

I certainly wish I could say that Mama Ex is going to extend me the same courtesy...but you can't have everything.

What bizarre questions have your SK's asked you that put you in a weird spot? How did you respond? Would you have responded to the question like Ruby did?

 

Catty got your tongue?

Women are catty and competitive. It's a fact of life. It's built into our DNA. We check each other out at the mall, in the grocery store, at restaurants. We compare clothes, jobs and 401k's.  I mean, I love my friend Jenny, but I need to get the new Michael Kors bag before she does. I adore Katrina, but it has to be said that she has been visiting the Cheeto department at the grocery store a little too often. And don't get me started on Janelle...uh, those pores. She really needs a facial.

And these are the women I truly love.
 
So I'm sure you can all relate to the quiet, secret and completely in my own head competition to the 357th power that occurs when Mama Ex is concerned. It doesn't happen immediately, either. It's a strange phenomenon that occurs over time, whether you intend it to or not. One minute you're meeting Mama Ex for the first time and thinking, "She seems nice," and the next minute you're watching her pick up the kids and fuming, "Does she ALWAYS have to wear high heels? Cripes, it's Sunday afternoon."

I used to think that comparing myself to Mama Ex was completely my step kids fault. After all, when we pick up the kids from school, it starts immediately.

Mommy got a new purse from her boyfriend this weekend.

Mommy stayed up until 3:00 in the morning with us on Saturday watching scary movies! She is so awesome!

Mommy took us to the counselor when the scary movies scarred us for life. (Okay, this didn't really happen.)

Mommy is going on a date tonight and I think his name is Cristopher!

When the kids are spouting off the low down on what's going on with Mommy, it isn't like I'm going to ignore them. They want to share what their mom is up to, and it's only natural for me to listen, right?

Yes, to an extent.

The problem arose when I realized that the kids were no longer volunteering information about Mommy...I was requesting it. I didn't even realize I was doing it until the other day when I told Hubs that Mama Ex is going on a first date with a pilot tonight.  "How the hell do you know this?" he asked. "The kids told me." I replied. But did they tell me? Or did I pull it out of them.

Yeah, I pulled.

So what harm is this really going to do? Hubs and Mama Ex have a not great relationship, so it isn't like she's going to tell us about her personal life on her own. What if she's dating a total psycho and we don't find out until it's too late and he kidnaps the kids and moves to Montana? The truth is, there's nothing wrong with knowing what is going on with Mama Ex relative to what will affect the girls and their safety. But a first date is really none of my business. And neither is what size jeans Mama Ex wears. Or if she really is a natural blonde. (I know it's a home box kit, I just know it.)

Comparing myself to Mama Ex is actually indicative of a deeper problem. I simply want approval from my stepkids. I know they love her "to the moon and back" (a quote I'm so jealous I didn't think of using first) and I want them to love me that way, too. They look at her as if she's absolute perfection, so if I can get any tid bit of dirt that makes her seem human, it in turn makes me feel better. And there's a word for that.

Selfishness.

I should be glad if Mama Ex finds a new boyfriend that flies a plane and has a $20 million trust fund, because the girls will benefit from that. If Mama Ex bakes 50 cupcakes from scratch and become "Mother of the Year" at the school, I should be glad the kids have a mom they can be proud of. But constantly comparing myself to her is just as futile as when I do it to my own friends. I'll never be her, and she'll never be me. (And Hubs is just fine with that.) The kids love us both differently, so we should be proud of our differences and embrace them, not use those differences to keep score on who has the better earrings.

So the next time my step daughters jump in the car after school, I won't go fishing for the skinny on Mama Ex. Instead, I'll ask them how their Math test went, or what fun hairstyle I can help them try tomorrow. I'll focus on getting the good info on their lives...instead of hers. Asking about them will feel so much better than digging for dirt on her - and no amount of blonde hair dye can change that.

Do you ever compare yourself to Mama Ex? How does that go for you?

5 Lies I Will Never Tell My Stepdaughter

It's fairly customary for me to scroll through my Facebook feed at at least 10 times a day. Okay 20.

At most 30.

But yesterday as I sped past all the baby announcements, comments on the weather and post of self loathing, something occurred to me. My stepdaughters are growing up in an era where every person's opinion on every subject are available to them at any moment. When I was a child, I formed my opinions by listening to the grown-ups that I saw the most: my parents, teachers and religious leaders. 

So in an the age of constant information (or misinformation) overload, what truths and lessons do I want to make darn sure my stepchildren will take with them? It took several sleepless hours last night, but in the end, I decided it wasn't truths I'm worried about...but lies. Big, fat, dangerous misconceptions that have no business in my step children's heads. So I'm on a mission to never teach my stepdaughters (or any future children of my own) lies that could be the difference between a good life and a great life.

Grades are everything.

I'd be telling a big, fat lie myself, if I said I wasn't already kind of guilty of this one. So maybe I just promise to no longer tell this lie. It's a hard line to walk when you want to push the importance of grades, while simultaneously being aware that there's no way your kid is ever going to be asked to give a deep dive into why Romeo and Juliet were destined for an early grave. Grades do make a difference, yes. I mean, if kids flunk 8th grade English, then consequently, 9th grad English will be even tougher. But I grew up in a time where anything below an A was unacceptable. It made me crazy. Rather than listening to what the teacher said, I was thinking, "If I get a C on my next test, that takes my grade to a 89%, which is a B. And I'm dead."

I understand the importance of the basic 3: reading, writing arithmetic. (And I think we should throw science in there, too.) But if my stepkid sucks at public speaking and bombs Speech and Drama, there's no way I'm telling her she's not going to get into college because of it. Which leads me to the next lie I won't tell.

College is a necessity

I'm just going to say it...I'm not 100% sure both of my stepkids will go to college for several reasons. The largest reason among them being that Mama Ex does not believe college is important, and would rather the children find a Sugar Daddy early on to take care of them. With that kind of mentality being pushed at them 65% of the time, it's a tall order to sway them the other way. Hubs and I continually push that college will make getting a well paid job easier, but even that's kind of a lie. Think of all the kids graduating college with $80,000+ in student loan debt that are moving back home and working at Kohl's. A college degree does not mean a well paying job anymore - and maybe it never did. I would much rather push working hard for your dream, whatever that may be. Maybe my stepkid has mad comedic talent and wants to write the next "Friends." Maybe an internship would give her everything she needs to make that dream a reality. Perhaps my youngest stepdaughter loves working on cars and wants to start her own detailing business, and an associate's degree is really all she needs. Bottom line, the "you must go to college" sermon is so 1996. I want to think bigger and differently, and that's what I'll encourage my stepkids to do as well.

Waiting for marriage is the best way to go

My parents' "sex talk" was pretty simple, and said with creased eyebrows and wringing hands. "Sex is when A goes into B, and don't do it until you're married or God will know and you'll burn in hell. Okay? Dinner's ready."


My approach is a bit different based on life experience. I dated the same guy on and off for almost 8 years. We loved each other and had a perfectly lovely relationship - for kids that were 18. But if I had held out on sleeping with him, I don't know that I would've have figured out that we were totally wrong for each other. Sex (or lack thereof) would have become the epicenter of our relationship at that tender age. Every move would have centered around "WHEN ARE WE GOING TO DO IT, ALREADY?" The fact that I broke my parents' rule and slept with him after waiting for 6 months was probably one of the scariest things I'd ever done, but looking back, I'm so glad I did it. It matured me. It made me understand what a real relationship involved. Before, sex was this sacred and scary thing that I could only do with one person. Ever. Once I did it with someone I truly loved and had a great experience, it was no longer scary or evil. I understood it was something special to be done with someone I loved. In college, the boyfriend and I broke up (several times) and when I dated other guys, I could take sex or leave it. It wasn't my reason for dating. I wasn't afraid of it, and I felt in control of it. That's how I want my step daughter's to feel: in control. I want them to understand their bodies and understand what sex is about, so that some a-hole with a red Mustang and a mustache can't use it to manipulate them and get them knocked up. Which leads me to...

You can get pregnant at any time, in any position, fully clothed and while on your period.

I know I wasn't the only one that was told this lie growing up. We all heard the story about the stupid girl that dry humped her boyfriend and somehow the baby juice went through his jeans, past her Z Cavaricci's, through her underwear and up into her vagina where a magical baby was made. IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU!!!

Nope. I won't do it to my stepkids. I am a firm believer in facts, not made up lies used to scare and intimidate rather than educate and empower. No one ever explained my cycle to me after 6th grade sex education class. And all I remember from that experience was trying not to laugh when the 65 year old lady said the word "penis" and "ejaculation." At that age, I was so freaked out about this impending period thing that could happen at any time that I wasn't even listening to how a baby is actually made.

(And for the record, it's way harder than they make it sound.)

As a woman struggling with infertility, I want to pass facts and information along to my step daughters. I want them to understand what is happening to their body each month, and why their boobs hurt and what could happen if they have sex at a time when they're ovulating. When I was 18, I thought ovulation was something the moon did around the sun.

I realize there are freak scenarios where people get pregnant on their period, and that is frankly, completely outside the point. If my stepchildren are comfortable enough talking to me or their mom or dad about sex and pregnancy, then they will likely be comfortable enough to talk to us about prevention when the time comes. I was terrified to talk to my Mom about birth control, so I just didn't get any and hoped for the best. I was fortunate that I didn't get pregnant before I was ready, but so many others aren't that lucky.


 If you get a job, you keep it. Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever...

My father worked at the same company for 15 years right out of high school, and only moved on because the company went under. Hubs' father has never worked anywhere other than where he got his first job post-college. He's been there nearly 40 years.

Me? I got a job out of college and moved to another one three months later. Than, nine months after that I moved again. Then two years after that. Then two and a half years after that. I've now been with a company I love for over two years and have no desire to go elsewhere. But it took me 7 years to get here. Now, before you go ballistic and call me a job hopper, I'll do it for you. I was a job hopper out of college. I had a degree, and as soon as I got to my first job, I realized I hated it. I hated being behind a desk 40 hours a week making meager money for a boss I hated. My parents all but flipped out, saying, "But they have dental! And 401k! Don't you dare quit!" So I quit and found something else that had dental and 401k.

My point is, if I had stayed at that job I hated, I never would have to do better for myself. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with longevity at a company. It certainly looks better on a resume. But if you're miserable, aren't you doing yourself and the company a disservice? Yes, you are. I will teach my stepchildren that the first isn't always best. (That lesson works with sex, too, by the way.) I want to challenge my step daughters to keep pushing, to keep looking for the job that will make them feel proud and excited and motivated if the one they have isn't holding up its end of the bargain.

It wasn't easy for me. I was fired from one job and laid off from another. I struggled. I cried. But I learned a lesson from each employer I worked for. And looking back, each one of my jobs prepared me for the next, culminating in a career I actually look forward to every day. And if, someday, the job I currently hold fails to stimulate me the way it does now, I'll be on the search for something that does. If my step daughters land one job that lasts them 50 years, I will be just as proud as I would if it takes them 15 jobs to find what makes them happy.

And that's the truth.


What lies will you never tell you children or stepchildren? Do you worry about the lies they're learning from other kids and adults? How do you handle it?
 

Warped Reality

My hubby and I never thought we'd utter the words "Why can't she just like One Direction?". But we did.

Somewhere in the last thirty days we've gone from having a british obsessed laughy happy teen who is O.B.S.E.S.S.E.D. with the likes of Harry, Nial and some other names I do not know but adorn the walls of her bedroom (every squre inch to be exact) to a girl with tears because she wants to attend some all day shindig with bands who look like miniature Marilyn Manson protégées and her parents are not super excited about it. What the F??

Now, I'm perfectly sympathetic to changing the tone of your tunes as a teen because some boy you have the latest crush on totally wants a chick who knows all the words to Ruby Soho but wanting to dress up like this guy:

for Halloween and calling him your "hero" has struck a not so happy nerve in our house. Oh and don't say that he looks like a guy from Kiss because that will also create a hysteria fueled, eye rolling arguement you don't want any part of. We aren't sure what is driving this change but we're willing to do what we can to curb it -- and quick.
....
A couple of weeks ago ago hubby and I were sitting on the couch, enjoying a perfectly relaxing evening when we noticed a new post by B on her Facebook.

"OMG..My parents are SO MEAN!! I'm probably going to be in trouble for posting this but they don't understand my EnTirE world revolves around (insert band names). They won't let me go to Warped Tour!!! Who else is going?? MY LIFE IS OVER!!! I'm going to be 14 and a half when it's here!! This is DUMB! They think there will be smoking and drugs and fighting. They don't know anything about concerts - I'VE DONE MY RESEARCH"

Naturally we ignore the rant and keep an eye on the comments. It seems little Miss Drama-Never-Been-to-a-Concert's friends weren't piping up about how awful we were in a timely enough fashion that the post was hastily removed after a few minutes. Oh the need for likes and social gratification. Even with the post missing the hint dropping over tickets for Christmas kept up over the next week or so. This wasn't going away and we needed a plan.

While most parents would stick to their guns and decide the all day band fest is no place for their kid, we chose another path. We have called her bluff. We have now offered to take her and ALL her friends (because EVERYONE she knows is going) that want to go as long as she pays her own admission. All the headbanging, face painted, ear wrenching jam fest she can handle -- as she sits next to her dad and me. For us, we think this phase is about the attention she wants or some boy she's crushing on rather than the true desire to attend this show. Only time will tell if she will back off this or not but in the mean time - we're planning our outfits and stocking up on studded collars -- and ear plugs.

Have you ever been tested by your teen? Did you pass the test or get schooled?

To be continued....

 

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