The 9 Commandments for Meeting Mama Ex's Kids

I've been single. 

It wasn't fun.

Okay, I take that back, it was fun for awhile. I mean, at ages 18-24, it was a lot of Coyote Ugly moments with brief glimpses of "maybe this guy could work if I work on him a little." 

I actually cringe just thinking about it.

I was lucky that at the young age of 26, I found Hubs. He and his two girls changed my life in so many positive ways and I am eternally grateful. We were lucky - Hubs' kids pretty much liked me instantly. They were 3 and 6 and ready for Daddy to find someone that he loved. I fit the bill pretty well...and I loved to play with Barbies. 

10,000 brownie points to Ruby, please.

When I met the girls, their mom was married. She seemed relatively happy, but a year later we were told that she was splitting from her husband. They separated and now, six years later, Mama Ex has yet to find someone to settle down with.

Here's the problem, though. Dating when your kids are 3 and 6 is different than dating when your kids are 11 and 14. The rules change. When children are still young, you can shift reality a little. It works to say, "this is mommy's friend Dave" without having to follow up with any other pertinent info. They couldn't care less. Does Dave smile at them? Great. Does Dave do a great Donald Duck impression? Even better! WE LIKE DAVE!
But the tides have changed. Hubs' girls aren't little girls anymore. They are wise, (like, scary wise) mini-adults who have seen their mom go through several relationships, and they have expectations for the type of guy they want to see her end up with. 

So, here are some basic commandments that I think men (or women) should consider before they "meet the kids" for the first time.

But Ruby, you say, you aren't an expert on this!!

Aren't I? 

I'm pretty sure I dated Hubs, a guy with two young girls. I went through this first hand and learned the hard way on a few things. So yes, I have self-qualified myself to give some advice. So there.

(But if you mean a licensed expert, no I'm not. That's what the OWN network is for.)

1. Thou shalt not bring gifts.

You may think I'm crazy, but I'm seriously not. You are meeting the children of the woman you are dating, not your future mother in law. (Potential mother-in-law's love gifts.) You might think "this gift will set me apart," but it's just showing the kids that you hope to buy their love. The first time I met my future stepdaughters, I came with myself and an open heart. I looked in their eyes and listened with my ears. I was present. After a few dates, sure, bring a little gift if you'd like. But don't use a gift to set an impossible precedent.

2. Thou shalt wash your hair.

Would you go to an interview in sloppy jeans and a t-shirt? No. Same goes for meeting the kids. I'm not saying you need to rent a tuxedo, but how you dress is saying something about you. Do you care enough to dress nicely for this woman? I would hope so. Believe it or not, kids notice everything. Holey jeans and a Metallica tank top circa 1996 may be your go-to chick magnet attire, but these are different kinds of chicks. These are little chickens that need to feel they are as important as the hen. You probably dressed up for your first date with Mama Ex, right? Follow suit with the kids.

3. Thou shalt not drink.

Think this rule is ridiculous? Then you aren't ready to date a man or woman with children. If you can't say no to booze for three whole hours while you meet her mini-me's, just move on. Nothing says, "I hope this is over soon" louder and clearer than ordering a double tall whiskey tonic. You never know what the kid(s) have seen before your time. Maybe their mom's last boyfriend was an alcoholic. Maybe their DAD is an alcoholic. Maybe the smell of beer makes them queasy. It doesn't matter. If you're nervous, just tell them that. 

Liquid confidence and children do not belong in the same sentence.

 4. Thou shalt not stay over.

I know it's early and you have googly-eyes for Mama Ex. I know she's the hotter than doughnut grease and you're having mind blowing, amazing sex when the kids aren't home. Let's keep it that way. Come over, stay for a bit, and then leave. This is especially true if you are meeting children of the opposite sex. Imagine you're a 10 year old girl and you wake up in the middle of the night and need to pee. What if you run into that big guy you just met tonight on your way to the bathroom? 

No thanks, I'll just pee myself and blame it on the dog.

Let's be honest, it's not like you're in Mama Ex's bedroom playing Monopoly (unless it's strip Monopoly). And the kids know that.

Think of it this way...you don't walk into a gym after a four year absence and run three miles, do 40 minutes of the stairmaster and then 600 crunches. You ease into it. Ease yourself into this home. There's a right time for, "Mommy's friend is going to stay over." 

So when is the time right for a sleep over? A good indication is when the kid says, "Mommy, can Jack stay over so we can eat pancakes with him tomorrow?" If you hear that, you're golden. 

Chances are, you won't hear it on the first meeting.

5. Thou shalt not play touchy touchy.

This is similar to Rule 4, but on a more macro level. The kid(s) are watching you with their mom. Are you holding the door for her and easing her through the entrance with a respectful hand on her back? Or are you smacking her ass and saying, "Good GOD, woman!" as you walk into Applebee's? Both of those things are sending signals - make sure you're sending the right one.

 6. Thou shalt not discuss the kids' Dad.

I don't care what you've heard. I don't care what you have proof of. Daddy-O is off limits. If the kid(s) mention him, simply nod and change the subject. You have not been around long enough to give your input. Mama Ex may hate him. The KIDS may even hate him. But you get to be Switzerland - nice and neutral. Even if Mama Ex brings him up, simply quietly say, "We don't need to talk about that, I want to know more about these cuties!" Easy, simple, respectful.

Are you sensing a theme??

7. Thou shalt be interested in the kids.

This is as much an interview for you as it is for them. Children are not optional - they are the free (and amazing) gift that comes with mom. It's okay for you to wonder and discover if this is going to be a good fit. Ask about them. What do they love to do? What do they hate to do? What's their favorite movie? Who is their favorite singer? By showing interest in them, you are learning about your girlfriend's parenting style while at the same time learning about them. There's a lot to be gleaned from this first meeting if you pay attention.

8. Thou shalt be yourself

Kids have amazing bullshit detectors. And you can't beat them. So if Tommy asks you if you like to camp and the idea of sleeping outside gives you hives, don't lie. Try something like, "You know, Tommy, I don't really enjoy camping outside, but I LOVE to set up a good fort in the living room. Have you ever done that?" Boom.

Understand that there's a very good chance that, if the kids are in a stubborn mindset, nothing you say will be the right answer. And that's okay. This is an adjustment for everyone. If you spend the whole evening weaving a web of falsehoods to impress them, it's all for naught if you plan on sticking around for awhile. You can't be everything they want you to be. You can't be their dad. 

Be yourself instead - it's a lot easier.

9. Thou. Shalt. Wait.

Meeting the kids is not for date number two. Or four. I'm not going to tell you what number to pick, but it should be higher than eight. In addition, the children should already feel like they know you before you meet them. Trust me, it will make it easier. In fact, Mama Ex should have mentioned you in several light-hearted conversations before the meeting. It's not okay for the kids to come home after school and be told, " You get to meet Mommy's boyfriend tonight! YAY!" 

Like I said before, ease into it. This isn't an easy process and it takes time. Lots of time. If at first it doesn't go well, just regroup and try again. I mean, even Julie Andrews had to work awhile before those von Trapp brats liked her, right? And she's Julie friggin' Andrews.

(That was a joke, people.)

If you need me, I'll be sitting behind this computer, ready to give you my un-professional and often un-asked for advice. :)

look back, learn forward

I really fly by the seat of my pants when it comes to the subjects I write about on this blog. Sometimes it's about Mama Ex, sometimes it's about the stepkids, sometimes it's about my infertility journey relative to being a step parent.

I apologize if this gives all of you blogger whiplash.

Today as I walked my little wiener dogs all around the neighborhood, I did something I often do, which is to reflect on my life a stepmom and how far I've come. I enjoy looking back, not to re-hash what I did wrong, but to see what I have learned. It's impossible to grow as a stepmom (let alone a person) if you aren't retrospective about your journey along the way. And so, my friends, here are a few things that I felt worth mentioning as I've made the transition from single to stepmom in the last 7 years. Do you identify with any of them?

The Kids Grow Up

I'm not sure how in the world I didn't see this one coming. When I first met my stepkids, they were 6 and 3. Our relationship came relatively easily (Mama Ex's did not, more on that another day) and I loved everything about them. I loved that they listened to what I said, and most of the time, agreed with it! But a few week ago, I realized, these kids are 11 and 14 now. They're becoming actual people. The list of things to help them with is getting longer, more complex and more stressful. They're getting more expensive. They talk back. Somehow, when I got married, I naively didn't worry about "as the kids get older." It was just this ambiguous thing off in the distance that would show up someday and I'd deal with it then. I wish I had taken a little extra time to prep myself for the inevitable change in the kids. Physically, mentally, emotionally...it can be overwhelming when you aren't ready for it.

Mama Ex May NOT Grow Up

Call me optimistic, but I always just assumed that one day, the pettiness that we deal with when it comes to Mama Ex would just melt away. Eventually, she would really see that I am not here to cause her harm or steal her children. I'm just here to love her children the best that I know how. I saw us all getting together and having dinner together with the kids to show them a united front, laughing at how silly we have been over the years.

It hasn't happened. And I have to realize that it may never happen. I might have matured and grown less petty and selfish, but maybe Mama Ex won't. I might reflect on things I could have done differently, but maybe Mama Ex won't. As my fave basketball coach used to say, "You just play your game. Let them play theirs."

Thou Will Be Judged - and So Will Hubs

I really thought that by 2014, humans would have evolved enough to know that not every family is two parents, 2.5 kids and a Labradoodle. But there are those out there that still crinkle up their nose like they smell a rotten potato when I say, "these are my two stepdaughters." Like we're a bunch of lepers walking around infecting everyone else.

I remember when I first introduced my two stepdaughters to one of my aunts. She looked at M, then at T, then to Hubs, and back at T with a strange look on her face. Later, I overheard her talking to my mother and she actually said these words:

"Well, I can see the resemblance between M and Hubs. But, did you ever wonder if T is actually his? They look nothing alike. I know Hubs and Mama Ex were never married. Maybe he's paying child support for a kid that isn't even his?? Ruby should really think about that."

I was dumbfounded. This was coming from a woman with four children from three different men and a minimum of three divorces under belt. Where did she get off making judgments about my family? I've learned over the years that people automatically assume they have a right to say these sorts of things because those kids aren't your kids. It's like open season because the children don't share my DNA. And that is messed up.

The point is, as a stepmom, you and your husband will be judged by awful, ignorant people. The trick is to handle them with dignity and grace. Hold your head high. You are a wonderful stepmom and anyone who questions you can take a long walk off a short pier. And then drown. Which leads me to...

Don't Take it Lying Down

When my aunt uttered those words about my stepdaughter, I had only been a stepmom for about five minutes. I never corrected my aunt or stood up for myself and I've regretted it every day since. I have learned there is a time and place for silence, and a time and place to find your voice and use it.

No one is going to be your advocate except you. 

So...

• If a teacher mistakenly calls you Mom during a teacher conference, it's okay to say, "Actually, I'm the kids' stepmom. You met their mother Jane last week. I know it can be a little confusing!"

• If someone tells you - in person or via social media - that you don't have a right to give input regarding your stepchildren, (kindly) set them straight. Let them know that you share time with the kids and have a very vested interest in their well being and always share your input with your husband. Ultimately, the biological parents have the final word, but your input is expected and most importantly, valued.

• If a doctor asks you to sign a legal document, it's perfectly okay to say, "I would, but I'm Cara's stepmom, so I need to have her father or mother sign this. We'll get it right back to you." Don't do what I did three years ago and make up some lame excuse like, "I need to read the fine print on this first and then sign it later tonight, thanks!!" That's acting ashamed of being a step parent. You have nothing to be ashamed of. People are going to get it wrong sometimes and correcting them shows that you know yourself and your boundaries as a stepmom well enough to be honest. 
  

•  If you're at a school event/doctor appointment/music lesson/recital/whatever and Hubs can't attend, don't be a door mat. Let's say the music teacher gives Mama Ex a schedule of upcoming recitals, politely say, "May I have one of those as well? Bobby's father and I will want a copy for our records." No, you aren't being a bitch and no, you aren't violating your boundaries. You and Hubs are a team and you share your life with his children. Many times, if it's just you and Mama Ex at the event, people will make the assumption that you're Mama Ex's sister or a good friend. That's not their fault; they don't know any better. But that doesn't mean you can't correct them.

As a stepmom, you're learning new things every day, and it's not very likely that you'll get it all right the first time. If you make a mistake, brush it off and right the ship the next time. 

Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is a family. Give it time.

 

A Nanny I am Not

I'm pissed, yo.

And it's all Twitter's fault.

I totally <3 Twitter most of the time. Especially when it comes to #twitterstepmoms. Twitter is a place for me to share my bare naked, biased, ridiculous, sometimes witty but mostly just raw feelings about being a stepmom. (It's also a place for me to shamelessly promote this blog.)

I've virtually met so many people that have pulled me through rough times. We're all in this together, learning as we grow. I have grown strangely protective of you all. Every single stepmama I encounter on Twitter I can instantly identify with. You all are like a timeline of my own stepmother journey. Some of you are only in your first year as a stepmom. Some just got a ring on it and are looking forward to the journey down the aisle. Some of you have been at it for 20+ years and have helped me prep for what's coming. My point is, Twitter is a place for help, for venting, and for love.

It is not, my friends, a place for judgement.

I know there are Trolls out there. Nasty, Twitter Trolls that will say anything to get a reaction out of other stepmoms. They make assumptions and judgments about others. I try not to feed the trolls, or even acknowledge that they are there. But sometimes one of I want to eat Popeye spinach and get really big and virtually pummel them into Troll dust. I won't name names, but one particular Troll recently made a comment that took me to the bad place. The Troll basically said this:

If a stepmom is in any way acknowledged or celebrated on Mother's Day, then so should the nanny, because they're essentially the same thing. No #twitterstepmom can explain to me why that shouldn't be the case.

And I basically reacted like this:

 

SAY WHAT? As a stepmom, I'm the same as a NANNY?

Oh, hell no.

My first instinct was to write a scathing Tweet in response, spewing every naughty word I'm not supposed to say. But I stopped myself. I know it won't do any good. Nothing is going to change this person's opinion and responding will only feed the fire.

However, I do know that this misconception is out there in full force. And stepbloggies, we have to fix it. Not with anger and curse words and fits, but with information. So, here are the reasons that I, as a stepmother, believe I am not the same as a nanny or a babysitter. Feel free to share with others in your life that need some enlightening.

Nannies Get Learned Up

Nanny's are trained to watch over children. Hell, some of them go to school and get degrees for it.I received no schooling or help. No, I had to figure this shit out ALL ON MY OWN. No one gave me a course book on child psychology and calmly explained how to handle kids that weren't mine. No one patted me on the head and sent me on my way, telling me how great I was going to be at this. I just had to hope I would be.

Nannies Get Days Off

Do you really think nannies are taking their weekends off, sitting around worrying about how the kids they watch are going to do in college? Or how they're going to use their own funds to PAY for those kids to go to college? Do you think nannies are reading article after article on how make a lasting bond with these children without causing them any irreparable mental damage? Do you think nannies are spending their Thursday nights boiling over with anticipation for the weekends? Okay, maybe some are, but my guess is most are out living their lives and welcoming the break that they get from the kiddos. And they're probably looking forward to the paycheck that they expertly negotiated in exchange for for watching those awesome kids. Which brings me to my next pont.

Nannies Get Paid...Well

I do not receive, nor have I ever asked for, monetary compensation for my role as a stepmother. I accept payment in the forms of hugs, kisses, smiles and maybe an occasional diamond necklace (that was a joke). I took the role of a stepmom because I fell in love with a man that had children and consequently, fell in love with those children. Never once did I stop and think, "I wonder if this job comes with health and dental and a quarterly bonus if the kids get all A's this semester?"

I do not receive overtime if I stay up until 2:00 in the morning helping my step daughter with her Science project. I do not get an extra $25.00 to stay just a little bit longer and maybe start dinner if that's okay. I do this job because I WANT IT, not because it's helping me reach retirement sooner.

Nannies Get Respect From the Biological Mother

Do you know of a nanny who gets ridiculed and made fun of for JUST FOR EXISTING? Better yet, do you know of a nanny who is hated because she had the audacity to unconditionally love the children under her care? I didn't think so. Nannies are typically welcomed with open arms by the father and the mother. The nanny is viewed as a solution to a problem. An angel sent from heaven. A life saver. Nannies are celebrated for going above and beyond their duties. When I go above and beyond, I'm violating my boundaries and should probably be taken out to a field and shot in the head for our crimes. And I'll never be viewed as an angel sent from heaven.

For a nanny, the happy relationship with the parents comes easy. In fact, you probably wouldn't get hired if there wasn't an immediate connection with the children and the parents. Which brings me to....

I Earned My Job as a Stepmom - Nannies Interview for Their Job

I talked about this in my last blog entry. My relationship with my stepkids was earned over time. A lot of time. It didn't consist of me showing up with a resume in my hand, smiling and saying, "I've got credentials longer than the Bible. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Oh, and I don't work Friday's and I don't cook."

No no no.

I only had approval from one person when this all started (that would be Hubs). I had to twist and turn my thoughts, habits, values and morals to fit with what these children (and to some degree, their mother) needed. Because that is the role I chose. I love Hubs so much that I decided to throw away all of my preconceived and fairy tale notions of what a marriage would be and start on a very uncertain journey as a stepmom. I earned their love. I earned their respect.

Nanny's Can Quit

If Little Timmy turns out to be a holy terror, Nanny Jane can tell the family to eff off and move on to the next. Not here. Not as a stepmom. I'm in it. All day, every day, for the rest of my life. Quitting isn't an option for me. If my stepdaughter decides to shave her head and pierce her nose, I'm here. If Mama Ex has a meltdown and is disrespectful or  insolent toward me, I'm here. There is no ejection seat. There is no collecting my back pay and showing the family my backside as I walk away. This IS my family now. In all of its craziness and awesomeness, it's mine. And I wouldn't change it for anything.

Does all of this mean I'm entitled to extra love on Mother's Day? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing it certainly does mean is that, at the end of the day, I am NOT a Nanny. I am NOT a babysitter. I am so much more. And to throw a label like that onto me is like throwing water on the Wicked Witch of the West. It defeats me. It melts me. It makes me less capable of doing a good job as a step mother. So just don't. You don't have to like me, but you do have to respect me and my family.

And I will do the same for you.

peel back the label

Hubs and I got engaged in a whirlwind. We'd only dated for three months, but we knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was "it."

Just one problem. He had kids.

Or maybe I should rephrase. The world at large seemed to think this was a problem. I just thought it was fantastic and couldn't wait to tell everyone. But I found that when I would tell people about my new love and his offspring, they'd knit their brows together in concern, wring their hands like a wet washcloth and gently prod, "are you going to be okay with an instant family like that?"

Or, in an only slightly more annoying scenario, they would use over-zealousness to mask concern, going completely insane at the news. There was a lot "OMG! NO WAY!"'s and throwing hands in the air shouting, "you're going to be an instant family!!!!! How amazing!!!" 

Both reactions bug me.

My family is not a box of mashed potatoes. We didn't become a family because you threw a cup of water and three tablespoons of butter on us. I realize I just sound nitpicky and combative. After all, what else are people supposed to call it when a person with a child(ren) marries someone without a child(ren)?

Oh, I don't know. Maybe just a "family?" 

Why do we need special words to describe my husband, his children and myself? If the divorce rate is still holding strong around 50%, I'd venture to say my situation is probably the norm rather than the exception. And you don't see me giving a special labels to families who aren't divorced, do you?

At the root of it, here is why I'm really opposed to the phrase "instant family." IT WAS NOT INSTANT. When I said my vows, it wasn't like some magical pixie fairy floated down from a cumulus cloud and bestowed stepmother love-dust on me. In the seven months leading up to my marriage, I worked my (quite firm at the time) ass off to be sure that my future stepchildren were comfortable with our marriage. More importantly, I worked hard to make I had earned a place in their family and their hearts. I didn't just expect it since Hubs had put a ring on it. 


I have seen my share of women who have married a man with children, and never taken the time to care about the kids or what their existence meant. Kids were simply an unfortunate reminder of their future spouse's past decisions - like a bad tattoo that you just pretend isn't there. And you know what? Even people like that are still referred to as an "instant family." Call me crazy, but I personally don't wish to be lumped together in a big, gigantic misleading label with people like that. 

Think of it this way. By telling me I have an "instant family," you are diluting what it really is - hard work. Relationships with two people are hard enough on their own. When you add children to the mix, that tough part gets even tougher. There is no instant about it. We have fought, cried, loved and laughed our way here. I will earn the privilege of being called a stepmom for the rest of my life. The job is never over. The work is never over. 

So, you ask, what am I supposed to say when a friend of mine is marrying a man that has kids?? 

I would suggest you get super excited, gush over her ring, hug her and tell her that you're excited for her and you will support her in her new marriage. Maybe even squeak a little. Tell her you're so excited for her and her new husband and they are going to make a wonderful couple and have an amazing life together.

But that just sounds like a "normal" reaction to an engagement, you say.

Exactly.

the naked truth

I love myself some Netflix. Like, an unhealthy amount of Netflix.

It all started with Breaking Bad, then morphed slowly into Sherlock Holmes (holy God, Benedict Cumberbatch is a delicious dish) and then, magically, I found myself getting into documentaries.

It's like a drug. I can't stop. They're just so damn interesting, and usually pretty harmless. I mean, it's cool to learn how coo coo some people are, in the case of "Jesus Camp." And a tornado wouldn't have stopped me from finishing "Man on a Wire." But at the end of the day, these documentaries are just interesting fodder to get me through a boring Wednesday night.

Until I watched "Talhotblond."

You guys.

Watch it. And then go find your teenage SD (or biological one) and super glue her shorty-short wearing booty to the couch and watch it with her. I'm not kidding. Pry her eyes open with toothpicks if you have to. If you can get Hubs to watch with you, even better, though it will probably disturb him even more than you. And if you have a teenage stepson? Let him in on the action, too.

"Talhotblond" is the true story of how the internet, false identites and chat rooms can go terribly, terribly, wrong. I'll be honest, there are some cheesy reenactments that could have been handled better and it drags a bit in the middle. But stick with it. It's an important film, and one that will be sealed into their brain forever.

(In the same way that "Requiem For a Dream" kept me from ever, ever, ever trying drugs. Or diet pills.)

Look, we live in a very new and different world. (I've talked about this before.) It's still even new to us as adults, so imagine what it's like for the younger generation. As teens, they think they have the internet/texting/social media all figured out. I mean, how hard can it be? 

My 13 year old SD, M, always laughs when I ask her, "Do you know every single person from your Instagram?" 

"Of course I know them all," M replies, rolling her eyes and texting furiously. "I'm not stupid enough to accept a request from someone I don't know."

"You know them, as in, you've personally met every single person on your Instagram account? Every single one? All 579 of them?" I ask back, doubt in my eyes. 

(Incidentally, I knew maybe 65 people when I was her age. And I'm including dead relatives and teachers. And my Sunday School teacher.)

"YES, RUBY!" she responds, then shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, some of them are just from other schools, but I still know who they are through friends. And obviously I don't actually KNOW Katy Perry, but it's her Instagram account."

Boom. 

She doesn't know them. She probably hasn't even laid eyes on over half of them. And quite frankly, who knows if Katy Perry is really Katy Perry? Maybe Katy Perry's Instagram is run by some beer guzzling, 49 year old man with an erectile dysfunction and a complete set of Star Wars action figures. My stepkid would never know.

(No offense to Katy Perry, I'm sure she runs her own account. It's just an example.)

My point is, kids do not think the way we do. And they shouldn't; that's our job. Kids aren't wired to see all the angles because they've never been exposed to them. Here's how I explained it to my SD that I think finally made sense to her:

Ask a three year to count as high as she can. She'll tell you, "egg."

Ask a 7 year old, and they'll puff out their chest and be all, "Ready? The answer is fifty nine billion, six hundred zillion, four thousand and one billion and six. OOH! And one!"

Ask a 15 year old to name the biggest number possible and they'll say, "Duh, there isn't one. Just infinity." And then they'll flip you off and ignore you until they get hungry.

My point is this. As a teen on the internet, you're still in the "egg" phase. You can't comprehend what exists out there. Teenagers don't fathom that sick, twisted people exist and create fake identities and prey on ignorant children.

That's why movies like "Talhotblond" are so important. Hubs and I can preach to M all day long about the dangers of letting strangers, specifically online strangers, into her world. But we're her parents. What the hell do we know? At least through a documentary, M knows we had nothing to do with the information being presented. She knows that this actually happened. And it's served to her on an easy-to-understand and relatively interesting platter. 

With even some curse words thrown in.

DISCLAIMER: There is sexual content in the film. Not visual at all, but it is written. But really, do you think your teenager hasn't heard worse on the school bus?

Give "Talhotblond" a try and let me know what you think. Will you watch it with your SD or SS? I know I am. 

spontaneous combusion

I'm a spontaneous person. Always have been. Sometimes I spontaneously buy myself a new pair of earrings. Or decide on a whim to go to a movie by myself. Sometimes I even book Hubs and I trip to a unique different just to keep things interesting. And this is a good thing. Spontaneity is important in a marriage, in a family, even for an individual. Life can be a series of long repetitions, so breaking that monotony up is vital to keeping us from spontaneously driving off of a bridge.

But as with all things, there are exceptions. Spontaneity is no different. So, are you listening? No, of course you aren't, you're reading. But do I have your undivided attention? Cuz this one is a doozie. And if you let me enlighten you, you don't have to learn the hard way like I did.

Never. Spontaneously. Engage. Written. Contact. With. Mama. Ex.

Ever.

Now that's a broad subject, so let me narrow it down. Clearly, you are going to have to communicate with Mama Ex at one point or another. But, never, ever, under any circumstances, should you ever communicate with the mother of your stepchildren in the following ways without thinking it all the way through:

• Texts
• Emails
• Social Media
•  Reviews of her business/job
• Handwritten anything

I could tell you some really interesting stories from each of those categories, but today I think we'll stick with numero uno. Texts.

The invention of texts was great. It made quick, easy communication simple and quick. Unfortunately, it also enabled every passive aggressive person on the planet to become even more passive aggressive-ier.

At the beginning of my marriage to Hubs, texts from Mama Ex were few and far between, and mostly short and to the point. Little things. "Pick up the girls at 5 instead of 5:30", or, "remember to bring their soccer clothes on Monday," etc. But, when it was discovered by Mama Ex that we were indeed asking for more time with the children through a change in the parenting plan, the nice texts dissolved into a barrage of mean, nasty, passive aggressive texts that left very little to the imagination in regards to how Mama Ex felt about the situation. And about me.

Hubs was always very good about staying above the fray. Mama Ex would text something horribly mean and cruel, such as, "The girls hate going to your house because you don't feed them for two days straight and they starve at your house." Clearly, a lie and clearly, a taunt to get a response back. No matter how many times I begged Hubs to respond with something - ANYTHING - his reply was always, "there is no use arguing over texts. She just wants a response. I'm not giving it to her."

I thought he was nuts. 

Why on earth wouldn't you DEFEND yourself against such accusations? I mean, this person is making up blatant lies about you and telling them to God knows who, and you don't want to at least tell her she's wrong? 

This went on for many months. Mama Ex texting mean and hateful things, Hubs ignoring her. I don't know if she got bored or just tired of the non-replies, but eventually she tried a new tactic. She attacked me in her texts. One day, Hubs received a text from Mama Ex, basically saying, "My girls hate Ruby. She is a terrible stepmom, blah blah blah." Nothing I hadn't heard before, but still, it hurt. I, like so many other stepmoms, work very hard on establishing a great relationship with my stepdaughters, and have never heard one word of complaint from their mouths. I waited for Hubs to reply. Nothing.

Okay, not cool.

I could deal with Hubs letting texts about him fly, but this was different. I'm his wife and this woman is attacking me! Why wouldn't he stand up to me? I won't lie, this was the subject of many fights in our household, but Hubs stood strong. He reiterated each time that replying with a retort would just stir the pot and make things worse. He would reply to her sane texts, and nothing more.

I kind of wanted to strangle him.

So, fast forward to about 9 months later. We're in court, and evidence is being sifted through, bit by bit. I couldn't be in the courtroom (look up the witness rule if you want to be ahead of the game on that one), so I had to hear about everything second hand after the whole debacle was complete. 

And one thing blew my mind. Hubs was right. All along. 

His philosophy on return angry messages to Mama Ex, spewing back her own venom, would have done nothing to help our case. In fact, once, as Hubs read from the vile laundry list of texts he received, the judge sat, shaking her head. She let him finish and then said, "and what was your reply to all of this?" And Hubs could say, honestly, "there is no reply from me." He could even show 7 or 8 texts in a row of Mama Ex's verbal diarrhea, with nothing negative back from him. He never gave into her goading or taunting. He never said one bad word about the mother of his children.

When it was all said and done, we didn't get half of what we wanted in court (ah, the "justice" system), but imagine if Hubs HAD replied the way Mama Ex wanted him to? Even just once. Imagine if he had given in and spontaneously, in (justified) anger, called her a terrible name? Think about it.The family justice system isn't exactly kind to fathers to begin with. They already have more of a "you're guilty until proven innocent" approach to Dads (at least in the midwest). One bad word from Hubs about Mama Ex could have easily been spun into a "potentially abusive man" case by her lawyer. It wouldn't have taken much. And who knows what then? Maybe our custody would have been reduced. Maybe it wouldn't have. The point is, he never responded in spontaneous anger, so she had nothing to hang him on. And, in the end, she just looked angry, desperate and mean, while he looked calm, collected and sane. He looked like the ADULT. Court is all about what's best for the kids, right? So shouldn't one of the parents be an actual adult about things? Mmmm hmmm. 

Smart man, that Hubs.

My point is, in split family situations, you are always under the microscope. Even if your case has been settled and you think there's NO WAY you'll ever end up in the courtroom, always remember that anything can happen. You will be scrutinized even harder because of your "step" status. Don't ever give anyone ammo to make you look bad, especially someone who may really be looking for it. Be strong, be kind and be professional. 

Be spontaneous about those new Michael Kors pumps. Don't be spontaneous about Mama Ex.

Full steam per head

Last week I shared with you the joys of having a moody teenage stepdaughter living in the house, and how, with a little perseverance, I was able to strategically coax her into telling me all about her life at the moment. I considered that a win.

But you can't win them all.

More often than not, that little teenage stepdaughter of mine is tolerable. Sure, she sighs a lot and has a perpetual bug up her ass scowl on her face. But every now and again, she does curl up those corners of her mouth into a Wednesday Addams-like grin, and the whole family celebrates with chocolate and polka dancing.

 And then? Sometimes? She does things that make ZERO sense to me.

So get this...

Last Thursday we had the two girls overnight. As per usual, I informed both of them that they would be taking showers before bed that evening. This was not an option. They moaned and groaned, but knew there was no getting out if it. The 10 year old, smart kid that she is, took her shower immediately after dinner, letting her hair air dry so she could sleep on a somewhat water-free pillowcase.

Such was not the decision for M, the 13 year old.

The child tried to outsmart me. She "did her homework" until 9:15. And when I say "homework," I mean she sat in her room texting while one of her textbooks sat open to the same page for 2 hours straight. 

At 9:45, I headed to my bathroom to begin my nightly routine of makeup removal and counting my gray hairs (which are multiplying by the second). As I passed by M's room, I stuck my head in and said, "Do you realize it's 9:30? You still have a shower to take."

OH MY GOD, stepbloggies. The fit that this kid threw. Huffing, puffing, snorting, snarling, stomping. It was better than a Lady Gaga concert. Unfortunately for M, her plan to make us "forget" about her shower didn't go over like it does at Mama Ex's. I remember things, yo. I'm like a very fashionable elephant. 

She begged us to please consider letting her skip the shower. No dice. I reminded her that the longer she stood whining about it, the later it was getting. That seemed to work.
She got in the shower.

If your teen stepdaughter or daughter is anything like mine, there is no such thing as a "quick shower." No, no. At 10:00, she was just getting out. My eyelids were drooping so I laid in bed, half-listening, half sleeping. You know, just making sure she didn't slip and hit her head on the sink.

The house was quiet. All was calm. And then I heard it. 

Pssssshhhhh. 

Silence.

Pssssshhhhhhh.

Silence.


Psssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Silence.

I looked over at Hubs who was flat on his back, eyes closed and doing a super awesome impression of a saw mill. By the 8th pssssshhhhh, I could take it anymore and dragged my very relaxed ass out of bed and down the hall to the girls' bathroom.

I'm not quite sure how to tell you what I saw next, because it's haunted me for a week. My lovely, smart, 7th grade educated stepdaughter was standing in the bathroom, in a robe, looking in the mirror as she flat ironed her

SOPPING. WET. HAIR.  

Well, actually she was burning the ever living shit out of her hair. Over and over again, she took piece after piece of wet strands, and used her $200 GHD flat iron (which gets cray cray hot), and running it over the follicles until they were straighter than...I don't know, something really straight. 

The steam coming off of the straightener as it pulled through her hair rivaled this:

                                        

I immediately grabbed the iron out of her hands and asked her what the hell she was trying to accomplish. To which she calmly replied, "Well, Ruby, you made me take a shower. I need to straighten my hair before bed or it will be wavy. So that's what I'm doing."

Duh.

Sensing she didn't really understand the magnitude of the damage she was doing, I said, "M, honey. Your hair is wet. That straightener is for dry hair only. You are literally setting your hair on fire. That's what that steam is. Remember how when you microwave corn and all that steam comes out when it gets hot? That's what is happening. I mean, I have a hair dryer you can use that will make this go a lot faster."

And do you know what she had the kahunas to say?

"My friend Maddy says steam is good for your hair. So, yeah."

And then she followed that little sentiment with, "and I wouldn't have to do this if you didn't make me stay up this late to take a shower."

I don't remember a lot after that. Hubs tells me I came back to the bedroom and woke him up rambling something to myself about boarding school.

But this is parenting right? (Sorry, step parenting.) Kids know better than adults at this age. Quite frankly, I could have had an entire manual entitled, "500 Reasons NOT to Flat Iron Wet Hair" and M would have found a reason to ignore it. It's just what they do. This all falls under that category of "she'll figure it out someday."  Besides, after 18 years, I finally understand the pain and sheer disgust my mother felt the day I walked into the kitchen with both of my eyebrows plucked like this:                        

I guess Cosmetic Karma is a beeotch.