A story of a boy torn between two worlds

It's that nine-year-old boy, Sean Goldman, who's living in Rio with his stepfather and his mother's family. His dead mother. I'm not sure whether this current event has caught the attention of others as much as it has ours here at my household. (For those of you who don't know, my husband is Brazilian and our younger daughter has dual citizenship.) If you don't know about the story, here's the latest on the story as reported by cnn.com.

I started thinking, what's my take on this? Do I go with the biological mother (who's now dead) and her family since I'm a biomom myself? I go with her because she's someone like me who braved the storm of being a single mother because her spouse was doing things she thought were bad for her child? Or do I take the side of the biodad, thinking that a biological parent should always have custody before a stepparent? But then it gets complicated, see, because I would want my husband, my oldest daughter's stepfather, to have some say-so in her life should (God-forbid) anything ever happen to me.

(Don't even tempt me for a second to go into the issues of international affairs between the US and Brazil because I will not go there.)

So. Lots of you out there have been a single mom. Or you're a biomom who's been remarried and have watched your spouse and your child have to navigate the treacherous waters of establishing their relationship. Or you're the stepparent to a child you care deeply for, and maybe your bio-counterpart isn't so happy to have you in the picture. I want to know what you think about this whole thing.

My deep hunch, from the beginning, is that this American father will regain sole physical and legal custody of his son, leave Brazil for the US immediately upon gaining that physical custody, and never travel south of the border again. So the kid loses the relationship he has with his now-deceased mother's family. And the stepfather will be left way out in the cold. Because legally...whether you're in the US or in Brazil or in China or wherever...stepparents don't have the right to step over the wishes of biological parents.

Think long and hard about it before you answer. As you can tell, I'm torn. If something happens to my ex-husband, I would never be obligated to explain my actions as a parent to anyone ever again. I could tell Grace's stepmother to kiss off and that would be the end of the story. The down side to this, of course, is that my ex-husband could legally do the same to Grace's stepfather in a similar circumstance. So I'm finding myself back to the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

I'm not sure how the Golden Rule applies in the case of Sean Goldman's parents.

As a last word, I'm going to check out the Brazilian news sources when I get a chance today. I'm curious to see how this whole story is being reported there. If I find out anything, I'll include more here. But until then, chew on this and give me your comments to chew on as well.

About that toxic letter to my ex-mother-in-law

Last month, I wrote about Grace's grandmother and why I allowed my toxic feelings towards her stemming from events in the past continue to haunt me. I had written a letter to her spewing my frustration, only to throw it away.

That sounded very dramatic, didn't it? Like I penned a letter on expensive stationary in a Jane Austen-esque fashion and then, in a fit of frustration, crumpled the sheets together and threw them violently into the trash. Or perhaps I threw them directly in the fire to burn away forever.

Come on, it's the 21st century.

I wrote it in plain text, saved it while pondering whether I should send it by email or snail mail, then when I decided to scrap the idea, I threw the file in my trash bin. Where I could retrieve it later.

I got so many comments and emails about the posting that I put up a four-day poll on whether you all thought I should post the contents of the discarded letter here for you all to read.

7 ayes, 4 nays. I'm going with the nays. Sorry, y'all, no toxic letter will be posted here.

Here's why:

This past week, out of the clear blue, two people from my real life found my blog. One didn't recognize me and the other recognized and was offended. (Big surprise, I know. What blogger hasn't been misunderstood when someone from their real life found their blog?) But neither of these people are part of my daily life. And neither are people that I care deeply for. They are just people that I know. But other people in my life will read this stuff too, I presume.

Enter Grace and how my blog affects her.

I have been blogging for almost two years, always keeping in the back of my mind that I would let Grace see the blog at some point. It's only fair. I'm writing a lot about her and I want her to read it. Now, imagine for a second that you are Grace. You are reading along and suddenly you find a completely toxic missive directed to your dying grandmother by your mother. Words that your mother wouldn't actually deliver to your grandmother, but words that she was willing to put up on public display for anyone to read and comment on.





Yeah, I have a feeling you are coming to the same conclusion I did. There is no way I can put that up here. It would be really, really bad.






But it's not all disappointment for you 7 aye-voters and those who didn't vote but also wish you could read that letter. I will give you the biggest realization I had out of writing that letter and rereading it and then digesting it. I wrote one paragraph with an imagined tone of tongue-in-cheek sarcasm in my head, only to discover later that what I had written was absolutely true. Here it is:

"When your son and I separated and filed for divorce, I spoke to you and your husband on the telephone twice. What I understood through those phone calls was that you both knew everything that was going on and were praying. Your son also communicated to me during that time that you and your husband were entirely supportive of him and his decisions at that time. Nothing I saw then or since has contradicted these facts. So I trust by this that you and your husband stood solidly behind your son and I in ending our marriage immediately. Further, it should be clear to anyone by now that your son and I should have never married. After searching for so many years, he finally found his soulmate in his current wife, and I am more than blessed in my marriage to my husband. Your son and I were a mistake, two people who should have never been together."

A mistake. Two people who should have never been together.

It's true. After I wrote that and pondered the thought, I realized that one and only one good thing came out of that relationship: my daughter, Grace. I wouldn't give her up for the anything. Just the other night I was feeling sick and the thought crossed my mind (as it does all mothers once and awhile), 'what if I get sick and die?' The tears immediately came to my eyes as I thought of leaving Grace without me, as I thought of her going through life without me anymore.

It's difficult when two people are so wrong for each other and they have a child. Though I don't have the experience, I'm guessing it is most difficult for the child themselves. But as one member of the relationship, I can say that I have struggled with how to separate the child I love from the relationship I hated. I can reflect on my whole experience as a mother with Grace and realize that I have fallen short of being the best mother I could be simply because she was her father's daughter. It grieves me. Worse, it grieves me and I have no idea how to make it right.

And yet, it happened again

Grace was away for the weekend. She spent it with her father and his family.

Her younger sister, her father's daughter, turned three years old last Tuesday. Grace spent that evening with her father's family to celebrate. Then this weekend her father and stepmother decided to travel north, 150 miles, to her stepmother's parent's home to celebrate again. They left on Saturday morning around 10a and returned Sunday by 8p.

When Grace came in the front door last night and said hello, it was apparent she was sick. Not only did her voice sound like a frog's, she was coughing and then said her nose was stuffed up.

Over the weekend, she had taken cough drops from Friday night until she came home and she took an allergy medicine (given to her by her stepmother) on Sunday morning. Then she rode home in the car for 3 hours in a t-shirt and short shorts...when the temperatures were dropping and well into the low 50s already.

Once I had assessed the situation, I gave her a cough suppressant and a mild decongestant. Then I told her if she felt sick in the middle of the night to come tell me so she could take more medicine. This morning at 5a when she woke up for swim practice, she asked for more medicine. I told her that if she felt sick when it wore off to call me from school and that I would come get her. At 11a, she called from school. I went to school immediately and picked her up. She came home, put on her pajamas, and got in bed. She's sick.

The last four times Grace has been sick, this has occurred immediately upon her return from her father's house. In fact, I can't remember the last time she fell ill while being at home. Neither can she. In longer than the past two years, since she started eighth grade, I can't remember a time she was sick and missed school or anything else due to illness when she was home with me. But I can remember many times she missed school in that time period. Each one of these times immediately followed a visit with her father.

I spent the entire hour I met with my therapist this afternoon unloading all my frustration about this. Now that I am finished with that, I have only one question left. What is her father doing in the 48 hours she spends with him that gets her so sick so fast? I mean, this is a kid who never gets sick in any other situation. My God, how oblivious do you have to be as an adult in order for a teenager to get sick so often when she is in your care?

For those of you who (rightfully) give me the following advice every time I broach this issue, I talked with Grace last night about how she can take care of herself. I told her that since she is the only person looking out for her health when she visits with her father, she needs to start paying attention when I teach her about monitoring her own symptoms and about over-the-counter medicines. And I told her that whenever she feels sick, she should call me and ask me what she should do. The last thing I told her was to try and figure out what the factor is that causes her to get sick when she visits with her father (some ideas: not wearing warm enough apparel? not eating well? not getting enough sleep? sleeping on the floor? inhaling second-hand smoke nonstop?)

I wish the courts would mandate that non-custodial parents parent during visitation, not just visit. Maybe they should rename visitation 'parenting time.' Just an idea.

Stepfamily Day

This past Sunday afternoon our stepfamily had dinner with another stepfamily-in-the-making. Actually, that's simplifying the situation. Let me explain.

My friend Frieda has three children. When Frieda and I met, we were both married to our first husbands, the father of our respective children. Since we met, I have been divorced and remarried and she has gotten divorced and is now engaged. We are both in a much better place today than we were then.

Frieda's fiance, Henry, has two children of his own, a son in high school and a daughter who finished her first bachelor's degree a few years ago. Actually, his daughter is his stepdaughter, the daughter of a woman he is no longer married to. Henry and his daughter were there at dinner on Sunday. He told me while we were grilling meat for dinner that it was about 20 years ago he met his first wife and wonderful daughter. I would have never guessed the details of their familial relationship if he had not been forthcoming with them. She responded to him like any daughter would respond to her father.

It wasn't until I got home that I started thinking about the complexities of all the relationships present. Freida's kids interact happily with Henry's stepdaughter. When Frieda and Henry do get married, what is the relationship of these stepchildren of Henry? I don't even know. Are stepchildren from two different marriages related? Does it matter given that they all interact with one another as family?

Many times I look at my stepfamily and I think things look complicated. My older daughter Grace has to divide her time between our family and the stepfamily her father built. I suspect she has her share of tense moments since few members in either family behave suitably in this circumstance. As far as my husband, the stepparent in our family, goes, he faced how to build a relationship with a girl from a country that he had no childhood experience in. He had no idea what American girls are like and what they do when he met her. The whole thing has been an involved process to say the least.

But we are as simple of a stepfamily as you can get. One stepparent, one child, and these two connected by the biological parent. Now we have one more member, the half-sibling of the first child. My friend Frieda has a more complex stepfamily involving not just her children, but her fiance's biological child and his stepchild from his first marriage. And yet, this doesn't make the two families better or worse than each other or any other family. What matters is the family members and how they treat each other.

I've been very hesitant to say what I'm about to say, but since it's Stepfamily Day, I'll go for it: A stepfamily is at least as good as an intact family. See, stepfamilies get a bad rap. People who have experience only in intact families don't hesitate to say that intact families are better than any other family structure. Some people in the media go so far as to say single mothers and stepfamilies are flawed and are to be blamed for many of the ills of our society. But I've never heard anyone in a stepfamily be so bold as to say that a stepfamily is better than an intact family. I think it's time for those of us in stepfamilies to stop acting like it's a flawed structure and stand up to say what a great thing it is.

I don't know what the statistics are as to how many families today are traditional intact families versus stepfamilies. I don't even know how one could reliably calculate such a number. I'm not sure it matters. What does matter is that for people like those in my stepfamily, our family is the best one we have been in. That includes intact families we have each been in. So I am grateful to say, we are and always will be a stepfamily. Thank goodness for it.

The beginning of Stella

Yesterday Stella turned one month old. I haven't said much about her. So here's a tidbit. As usual, it's really about me.

Lately I've been telling stories to Stella as she is nursing or is falling asleep. I started with telling her about the day she was born. That was when she was two weeks old. It was inspired by my neighbor who came over to visit a few days earlier with her two kids, 8 and 6. As we visited, she asked how I was and how Stella was at birth. Her kids chimed in and asked their mother, 'how much did I weigh, momma?" and "what was it you said the first time you heard me cry, momma?" It was clear that each one of them had heard the story of their birth over and over.

Then I moved to telling Stella how much her daddy loved her. I told her about how much we wanted to have a baby and how long we waited and how, the entire time I was pregnant, we were careful, and a little nervous that something would go wrong, and a tad scared that she would have a problem or not be healthy and that we worked so hard to make sure she was healthy and happy and safe.

And then I realized, part of the story goes back to when my husband and I first started seeing each other. He told me he wanted to have children. Like, in week two of dating. And I said something like, I don't believe you, or, you needed to explain what it is exactly about children that you want. It was only after much time had passed that he told me how much my response revealed about me. He told me I was seeing him as just a typical man and that I assigned all the stereotypical values and perspectives to him without ever even probing to see if those were valid assumptions.

See, I had accidentally gotten pregnant with Grace by my first long-term boyfriend. I thought he was great. I was in love, as they say. I thought, nothing can stop us now. We'll get married and be together forever. We can survive. It was like that country song by Trisha Yearwood, "She's in Love With The Boy."



God, when I hear that song on the radio it makes me sick to my stomach. I wish I could grab every young girl who's fantasizing while listening to that song and shake her up and say, 'for the LOVE OF GOD and all things holy, LISTEN to your father for half a second and don't even THINK about marrying that boy some day!" As you all know, things did not work out with my boyfriend in the way I envisioned. Yeah, once Grace was born, he thought she was cute and all. And he played with her. On some days he got inspired and planned a whole day of fun with her. But...

Parenting is hard work. It's not all fun and games. He didn't like the hard parts. So he got to do all the fun stuff and I ended up with the rotten stuff like changing diapers and giving time outs and staying home while he went out (with who?) and working on homework. At the tail end of our relationship, he would want to have fun with me alone and would get angry if I didn't find a sitter at short notice, saying it was like I didn't even like being with him (well, truth be told...). I haven't even touched whether my job or career was as important as his; suffice it to say, mine was a needed source of income, his was the one that mattered. When push came to shove, I needed to work, and I was the one who needed to figure out childcare and everything else. After we divorced, it was clear who was the "fun" parent and who was the "disciplinarian." I made up my mind then and there, I'm never having kids with anyone again.

I admit, it was a completely sexist decision. I actually always wanted to have a big family with lots of kids. Four sounded perfect to me. Sure, a lot of work, but if there's two people who love each other, two people who are really invested in a family and committed to making it work, then a big family can be joyful even though it is a bit hectic. But through the course of my first marriage, I decided that men are not prepared as people to take on the commitment of parenting in the way that I envisioned they could. They wanted to have a healthy sized progeny in order to ensure that they passed on their genes and their name. I wanted my kids to have a father who was involved in their lives, one who would love being with them as much as I did. One who felt like they were a part of him, not just an extension of his life. By the time I was separating from Grace's father, I had had enough of it. I wanted Grace to have an awesome dad and she didn't. I had tried to make a family work, it didn't work, and now I was 30 and didn't want to try and fail again. And so I let the dream that I wanted, the dream of the big, happy family, die.

Enter my husband-to-be and his comment during our nascent romance. He wanted to have children. I had been divorced long enough to know it wasn't easy to rebuild a family, that is, to create a stepfamily. In fact, it was a hard thing to do. And I already had a daughter who was nine and I was starting a 5-year PhD program within months. There would be a big age gap between my only child and her next sibling. Was it possible to build a family?

After two years of feeling each other out and making sure this was the 'real thing,' we got married. See, along the way to marriage, my husband convinced me through the ways he treated me and cared for me that he valued me as an equal in our relationship. I also saw how he cared for Grace, Grace, who wasn't making forming a parent-child relationship between the two of them easy. Once we made the decision to get married, we immediately started thinking about another child. But within two months of our wedding, we were seeing a reproductive endocrinologist at the infertility clinic because me, I had some bad symptoms and some bad family medical history. It took a little more than four years and a whole lot of medical treatment for me until we held our baby Stella in our arms.

I tried to tell Stella the abbreviated version of the story a few days ago. It wasn't easy. I don't think it ever will be. But I did manage to tell her that we were very, very happy to finally have her in our lives. I hope that I can explain the story to her in a way that she can understand while she is young so that she can grow up knowing that her parents longed for her more than she can imagine.

Facing your demons: Part 2

The first half of the story is here. And now we continue our story...

...And so it came about at 4:30p on the afternoon of Saturday, July 25th that Grace's father came by to pick her up. It's a month later and I cannot remember anything about the actual picking up. She was home on time at 7:30p.

The on-time pickup and the on-time return are something that hasn't happened, well, ever, I don't think. So what's a woman to complain about? And I was already feeling like an ass for hating my ex-mother-in-law for relatively minor offenses. I felt...unevolved...unrealized...emotionally immature.

After Grace had gotten in from the evening out and had had a few minutes to collect herself and relax, she came downstairs to the den. I asked her how dinner was. She said it was nice. I asked her where they went for dinner and what else had happened.

Grace told me that first they went by the hospital to visit Amy, her stepmother.



[insert the sound of screeching brakes here]



I involuntarily interrupted Grace. 'You went to the hospital to visit Amy?'

She explained, Amy was there for at least a week. She had been admitted a few days earlier because she was feeling down. A few seconds of explanation later, I understood. Her stepmother had been admitted to the psych ward for a week, probably because she attempted suicide again or told someone she was considering it.

It's not the first time it's happened. When Grace was 9, just after we moved away from her dad in Michigan and moved to the DC area, her father had planned a trip to come see her. He wanted to do it within a few months of us moving because he felt it was important to be part of Grace's life right away. He also had proposed marriage to Grace's soon-to-be-stepmother a few weeks earlier. They were deeply in the midst of planning a wedding.

He arrived in town as scheduled and called our house to let us know they would be coming by soon. Or rather, he would be coming by soon...alone. Because his girlfriend wasn't with him. Because she had attempted suicide and had been admitted to the psych ward for at least a week. Grace's father wanted to tell me this because he wanted to clear it with me. See, he wanted to explain to Grace over dinner what was really going on.

Good lord. I was still reeling from my divorce from the guy and poor decisions on his and his girlfriend's part. I thought they weren't wise in their parenting choices. (For more details, you can read this, this, and this.) And then, my worst fears were confirmed. This woman that Grace's father had hooked up with was psychologically unstable. To the point where she would take her own life. The only silver lining I could see was that if this guy ever sought joint or sole physical custody of Grace, this episode would be a severe dent in the whole 'happy family' picture he had been trying to create thus far. Worse, I was faced with entrusting my ex-husband to explain suicide to my 9-year-old daughter. In terms of someone in her family. Whoa.

I just took a deep breath and told him fine. I can't remember whether I asked Grace about it when she came home.

Fast forward to Grace's recent pre-dinner visit to the psych ward at the hospital. When you're 15 and your stepmother is admitted to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation, what do you say? What is appropriate to say? When this is the second time it's happened in your childhood, how do you react to this person in the long run? How do have a relationship with them? WHAT IS MY CHILD FACING?

She explained to me that her stepmother is sick and that sickness requires her to stay at the hospital sometimes. When I looked confused, she insisted, 'No, really mom, she has a serious illness, it's not funny.'

THAT'S what my daughter is facing and how she's dealing with it.




Talk about something that causes me to introspect. My kid is fine. She knows what is up with her stepmother and she can deal with it fine. Her stepmother is not ok. I've been expecting she and her husband to act like responsible, active parents and take good care of my daughter when she is in their care. During that week, Grace's stepmother couldn't take care of herself, much less her own kids or her stepdaughter. Under what pretense would it make sense for me to expect her to live up to all the high standards I have laid on her in my mind?

Grace's father called me a week ago to set up visitation for her now that the school year is starting. He said it would be too difficult to have weekly visitation with Grace. He's just going to have her to his house every other weekend now. I presume that holidays are also times he wants to have her at his house. I suspect life is getting heavy on his shoulders. So what can I do other than have compassion? His life is stressful, as is the life of every member of his immediate family. He's cutting things out that he thinks he can in order to get a handle on the logistics of daily life. How can I react any way other than to be understanding and compliant?

So there you go. I still regret that Grace's biography includes a scattered relationship with her father. She doesn't get to see him much and it's unclear that they have ever gotten past a level of superficiality in their relationship. But at least she has a father who likes her. She's learned to accept his limitations, both emotional and logistical; I can accept them too.

Facing your demons: Part 1

Grace is leaving this evening to spend the weekend with her father.

Since the last time she saw him, I've gotten a double-whammy of What-I-Never-Would-Have-Expected. It has created such a shake up in my perspective, it's taken me a month to write anything about it here.

Here goes.

The last time Grace saw her father was Saturday, July 25th. I begrudgingly listened to her earlier in that week when she told me he had called and wanted to have her at his house for that weekend. See, our family hadn't had a weekend together since long before Memorial Day. After the weekend requested by Grace's father, all hell would break loose and we wouldn't get another weekend as a family for quite some time. My mother was coming in town, and then a baby shower, and then the week of the baby being born (count 'em, 9 medical appointments that week, not including the actual cesarean delivery itself), and then baby, and then aftermath....

I just wanted one uninterrupted weekend for our family. And Grace's father called to tell Grace he wanted to have her come to his house that weekend. Because it was his mother's birthday on Saturday.

AAAAAAArrrrrrrrgggggggggg.......

It didn't help the situation that I deeply despise the grandmother, my ex-mother-in-law.

I found myself telling Grace that the whole situation frustrated me. I mean, sure, it was her grandmother's birthday, but we also hadn't gotten any family time together. My father-in-law had just died days before and my husband wasn't even back from Brazil yet. Grace had been at her father's house for four weeks and just come home only one week before. Yeah, sure, she's supposed to see her father every other weekend and that Saturday would be two weeks since she came home, but shouldn't I get four weeks of uninterrupted summer vacation time too? (Never mind that, indeed, Grace had come home for a weekend during her four weeks with her father and had also spent two other days at home because she wanted to.) I mean, really, this whole thing came down to whether Grace's father or I could convince the other that our family time was more important than the other's.

And so it came about that I talked on the phone with Grace's father about the weekend in question. I can't remember who placed the call. I listened to him. I heard what he had to say about how important is was to his mother for her to have Grace at her birthday celebration. I listened to how they hadn't really made any plans yet for the birthday.

I told him how important the weekend was for our family. I didn't tell him about my father-in-law dying and my husband going to Brazil. I just didn't want to go into it.

The last I had heard about my ex-mother-in-law was that she was lecturing Grace about how it was about time for me to give up my grudges. The context of such a bold suggestion from this woman? She asked Grace whether Stella would be friends with Grace's other siblings, her father's children. Grace immediately recognized the awkwardness of the question and told her grandmother it would probably never happen. She explained to her grandmother something like, 'my parents are very different from each other, you know? They wouldn't exactly hang out together or get their kids together to play.' And then the comment came. Her grandmother told her enough time had passed and I should just get over my grudges.

I heard this story the same week my father-in-law fell ill. I thought, why on earth should I spend any time worrying about family of MY EX-HUSBAND when the family of MY HUSBAND are suffering? Why is she trying to tell my daughter that I am a spiteful, vindictive, vengeful ex-wife? I wrote a long letter of retort to this ex-in-law in my journal then threw the journal entry into the trash.

During the telephone conversation with my ex-husband about Grace going to visit him that weekend, he asked if Grace could just come out for dinner with them to celebrate his mother's birthday. I sighed, thinking, I can't believe we're going to have our family weekend interrupted so that woman can have a birthday party.

And then my ex-husband told me, she has lung cancer.

I couldn't say anything.

He went on explaining, you know how she is, she's sentimental and she's thinking this may be the last birthday she'll celebrate and...

I didn't hear much else of what he had to say.

My mind was racing. Lung cancer? What's the survival rate of that? She's not a smoker, but everyone she's ever lived with was, so secondhand smoke...and she's already survived breast cancer 20 years earlier...

I told Grace's father, of course, dinner, Saturday, what time will you pick her up and get her home?




I faced a situation I have thrown in people's faces for years as a hypothetical one. Whenever someone gets completely worked up over some menace in their life, I say, "What are you gonna do when this person is dead?" The idea of my comment is, is it really the person who's getting you all worked up, or is it just nice to be able to bitch about something? If it's the person, then their death will be a welcome relief. But many times, the bitching continues long after the menace is gone. At that time, I think it becomes relevant to ask, what is the real source of your demon?

I faced my own demon. The demon I had created. This woman wasn't worth me getting worked up over. Sure, she'd done things in my distant past that were hurtful and rude, but she's not part of my life anymore. I'd seen her maybe two or three times in the past year. Less times than that in the previous five years. What kind of an effect could she really have on me? And now, now she's dying.

Truthfully. She's dying. I was suddenly relieved I had thrown the letter I had written to her in the trash rather than addressing it and mailing it to her. I found myself asking, should I attend the funeral of this woman, even as difficult as that would be for me?





And that's not the end of the story of Grace's dinner with her father's family on the night of Saturday, July 25th...

The most amazingly mature thing Grace said this past week

Given the post I wrote the night before my cesarean last Friday, it could be surmised that we are having some extended family conflict in our household for the last few weeks. This would be an understatement.

My mother has a very clean, white, polished picture of the world and how things should run. It's best for a woman and man, both virginal, to meet and fall in love, get married, have children, and live happily ever after. I think the "happily ever after" part is optional, whereas the other parts are essential. Also I'm not sure the falling in love and staying in love is important either. What is important is the loyalty, the longevity, and the lack of variability in what a family constitutes.

Grace was talking with my mother the other day while they were preparing dinner together. The topic of one of my close friends came up. Grace has known this girlfriend of mine since she was born. She has been married and divorced twice. As you can imagine, these ups and downs in her personal life were something she never would have imagined. Grace has known every husband and watched both divorces. She's also watched and experienced the divorce of her own parents and my remarriage. In all these circumstances, she's had the opportunity to ask honest questions of both me and my girlfriend.

When my friend was divorcing for the second time three years ago, she came to visit Grace and I in order to get a weekend away and just recharge emotionally. Grace asked me privately during the weekend, "Why does your friend always get married and divorced?" I told Grace that I wasn't sure but that Grace was welcome to ask my friend. And she did. And they had a heart to heart conversation about how life sometimes turns out differently than you imagine, no matter how much you work for things to be otherwise.

The bottom line? This friend of mine has been one of the kindest and most honest and most nurturing people to my daughter that exists.

Back to Grace's conversation with her grandmother. My mother was asking Grace about my friend. She wanted to know from Grace if the friend was planning on marrying her current beau, a man who Grace met for the first time a few weeks ago. I overheard the conversation at the point my mother said (approximately) this to Grace:

"Once someone gets married and divorced, they are probably going to never get married successfully again. Every time they get married and divorced, it gets worse. If she gets married again, it will end in divorce." She then went on to tell Grace that this is why it's so important that you get married to the right person and stay married, because if you get divorced, it's nothing but difficulty from there on out.

Grace didn't miss a beat. She replied, "that's not true." Her grandmother immediately contradicted, "yes, it is, it is a well documented fact that you can read about." Then Grace retorted, "No, you're wrong. Look at Mom and my stepdad. Mom got divorced and she has a great marriage now."

I won't try to summarize in one sentence how amazing that made me feel. My heart warmed to an orange heat and I smiled more broadly than I have in months. When I related the story to my husband later that night, he said he loved that kid and was impressed with how mature she had become.

Maybe, maybe, she's getting the whole picture in a balanced way. Maybe it's starting to make sense to her in a real way. I love her so much.

What's best for a child?

Grace is sick. Again. Well, not really, she's not really sick. My best guess is that she's temporarily anemic due to poor diet and starting summer swim team training. She had dizzy spells for three days until she told me about it over email. I told her to eat more meat. By day four, she skipped swim practice. She said she woke up late, decided she was too sick to go, and slept in until 10a. Now she says she's fine. She was convinced this was a side effect of starting birth control pills, which she started the day before the dizzy spells started. That's possible, I suppose. I told her to try eating meat or some other iron-rich protein for breakfast, I would call the doctor, and asked her to keep me informed. As I said before, she's been eating protein in the morning (eggs, ham) for two days and she's fine now. I'll take that as a sign that my best guess was right and that the birth control pills aren't having any negative side effects worth noting.

Ooooooooo kaaaaayyyyyyyyy. I'm going to try and make this a productive post, one that doesn't just turn into an ex-husband-bashing-fest.

Last week Dragonflymama and I co-hosted a discussion between biomoms and stepmoms. Her question to me going into this discussion was, how much do I worry about Grace when she visits with her father and stepmother. The honest answer is, quite a bit. I worry not because I think her father is intentionally harmful or awful, but rather because I think he is ignorant. He's ignorant about things that are important for basic quality of life. His younger kids are chronically ill, so I hear. And Grace is frequently ill when she returns from his house for weekend stays and for longer visits. For more about this, you can read here, here, and here. I don't even waste my energy talking about her stepmother on this issue; clearly her father is somewhat inept, and her stepmother either isn't able to help or isn't willing to help.

The most serious thing that's happened regarding this matter occurred just before I started blogging. In the fall of 8th grade, Grace was at her father's for the weekend and he called Sunday afternoon to say she was sick and could I come get her because he didn't want his other kids catching whatever she had. She had starting vomiting that morning. When he called, she was resting and drinking liquids. Bad, bad, bad. See, she has a chronic condition that is serious but manageable through lifestyle choices. The just-letting-her-drink-liquids-and-rest remedy is bad news for Grace. I drove to his house immediately to pick her up, only to find myself at the ER with her for the next nine hours. All night long, I watched her slumber in fatigue. She was woken up after every 1000 ccs of fluid to have her vitals taken. Three times she stood up, they attempted to take her blood pressure, and she subsequently passed out as I was holding her. Needless to say, she needed a few days to recover. (No, he didn't call that night or in the next few days to find out any news of how she was feeling. She didn't call him either.)

I could seek to stop the risk (that is, the risk as I see it) to Grace through legal means. I could just ask the court to cease all overnight stays with her father and let visitation be limited to day visits. I hesitate to do this. Though it would solve her health risks, her father wouldn't stand for it. When I was divorcing the guy and asking for no overnights, citing potential health risks, her father came at me like a bat out of hell. So did his attorney. I realized, I'm losing this one. No matter how much I think this guy is potentially harming his daughter, the court doesn't agree. They think this guy needs time and opportunity to parent his child, including doing so overnight. So that's it. His right to try and parent in a less-than-optimal way is more important than the potential risk to the child.

He was court-ordered not to smoke in confined spaces with her, nor put her in the situation where anyone else would. Like that piece of paper made any difference...

Next, if I did this, I'd get painted as the evil, evil, evil biomom. Really, I would. Can you imagine what this would come off sounding like? I just don't want to deal with the aftermath. And it's likely that the aftermath would come without any improvement to the situation.

Worst of all, Grace would be furious with me if I tried this. Though of late she's shown somewhat of a cooling off in her affection for her father and her eagerness to be with him, she definitely doesn't want to stop seeing him. Or rather I should say, she doesn't want to stop seeing his family. Over Memorial Day weekend, he and his wife hosted a big bonfire party with his friends. Grace and her two toddler siblings were the only children in attendance. (Bonfire? Children? Am I the only one who finds this odd?) Anyways, she willingly attended and, when it was quite late (11p) and the younger children could stay awake no longer, she took them home, put them to bed, and that was that. When she related the story to me she said it had been a great weekend. She said she thought her father and stepmother came home about 3a, though she wasn't sure. She just knew she woke up at 2a and they weren't home. But she was clear to tell me that they weren't drunk. Yeah, of course they had been drinking but they weren't drunk, she was sure of it...

I feel like I'm allowing Grace to continue staying at a friend's house for sleepover while the friend's parents aren't providing a safe environment for anyone in their home. Yes, the friend may be very sweet, and I don't doubt that Grace is having a good time while visiting, but it just isn't safe. The obvious difference, of course, is that I have (as of now) no right to limit the sleepovers, uh, I mean, overnight visitation with her father so he can have an opportunity to parent.

And really, what am I going to tell the courts that's going to justify my concerns? That my daughter eats too much junk food at her father's house? That she's taking care of younger siblings when her father and stepmother want a night off? That she's not getting enough sleep? When I think about how the affidavit would read, it's a weak case at best. And then there's the expense, both financial and emotional.

I know I sound like a broken record. I keep saying, this co-parenting thing is complete shit and I'm tired of compromising just because the courts say I have to. I am tired of sending my daughter off to this household and hoping she's ok. I want better than that for her. I want her to be healthy and calm. I want her to avoid unnecessary stress. Sure, she can have a relationship with her father and his family, but can't she do it without all the excess trouble?

Aaaaah, summer.....visitation.

I got a call last night at 10:30p from Grace's father. She has been with him since last Saturday, the 13th. Today is the first day of "normal" summer schedule [read: not on vacation out of town]. He called to ask if I could pick up Grace to accompany her to a hair appointment she scheduled at 4p and then bring her to his house, 20 miles out of town.

There is such a long and convoluted story that leads up to this late night phone call, you would either be snoozing or checking your email in another window before getting through half of it. I won't torture you. Many questions ran through my head after his phone call.

• Is it really so hard to keep up with your child's schedule that during the mere four weeks she visits with you during the summer, you can't figure out a way to make the schedule work?
• Why didn't he tell Grace that this time wouldn't work and tell her to reschedule the hair cut appointment for a more convenient time?
• Why did the guy wait until 10:30p at night to call and ask me about this? Who calls their ex that late at night?

I think this comes down to a personality difference between Grace's father and me, or maybe just a skill difference. It's that ability to problem solve, or the ability to see the plan that you are formulating is a poor one and you need to rethink the whole thing. I've written here before about how much this guy is really poorly skilled in this area. It's why his plans fall apart and why problems seem to always be landing in his lap and why he can never seem to show up on time. Everyone around him picks up the slack. Or everyone doesn't pick up the slack and just accepts that the chaos that may ensue is just part of the normal ebb and flow of life.

So, there we are. Ten days into summer break and I realize that this guy is lacking in an essential skill for parenting. He's so lacking that at some point calling his ex-wife at 10:30p to get her to pick up the slack seemed like the best option. My thought is, if he can't take care of the kid and her schedule, a schedule he enthusiastically embraced and assured everyone that would work, why not just let Grace come home and see him when he can work it out? Is it really necessary for Grace to live with him for four consecutive weeks during the summer, what the courts awarded him seven years ago, if he's really not up to the task?

By coincidence, I read through our divorce and custody settlement a few weeks ago, which states explicitly that arrangements for this four week summer stay are to be settled no later than January 1 before the summer. I couldn't help but laugh out loud when I read that; he's never made that deadline. It has been four years since Grace spent this allotted four summer weeks with her father, mostly due to a fantastically awful situation that arose during the summer of 2005 when Grace's father left town with her and didn't tell me where he was or how to reach him. I called Grace's cell phone, no answer. I called his cell phone, no answer. Two days passed and I heard nothing. I got panicked. I called his parents and asked them how I could get in touch with them because no one would return my phone calls. His mother assured me that even though she had no idea where they were and had not heard anything from them in days, nor had anyone else, they were perfectly fine and there was no reason to worry. When he finally did meet up with his parents in Colorado at a mountain cabin resort (remember, he lives in Michigan and we lived on the East Coast at the time), he took the time to telephone me and to yell at me, saying I had no right to try and find him like that.

Um, well, actually I do. It's clearly spelled out in a court order that I do have that right, as does he, and it's a right of his that I had never violated. Oops. He was never very good at understanding legal documents. Ah, well, what are you going to do...

Since that time, I really haven't trusted him to take care of Grace for four consecutive weeks, nor have I trusted him to take care of her while I wasn't local to both of them. He never got his act together to come up with a plan for her to visit during the summer for that long, consequently, this is the first time that we've tried four weeks since the "Summer of 2005 Fiasco." For last summer's tale, you can read a brief recap here.

Grace is coming home this next weekend for a couple days. I worked that into the schedule because I wanted to give her 48 hours of recuperation time in the middle of this four week marathon of living with her father and his family. I also am, indeed, meeting her at the hair dresser this afternoon to see her for that brief hour and pay for her hair cut. July 10th, the day she is expected home for the rest of the summer, can't come soon enough. I'm so never agreeing to this again. He can sue me, but he won't. And frankly, I don't think he really wants the opportunity to parent for this extended time. I think he's always been relieved that I take care of all the difficult needs of this girl.

Stepmoms & biomoms - thank you!

Thank you everyone for your comments in the discussion of the stepmom-biomom controversy! It was very insightful to hear all the viewpoints, and also realize that each of us is in a different and unique position in our families. Please continue to comment on these and other posts if you like -- the ongoing discussion will be good!

And next, an update on my role as a biomom interacting with my ex-husband...

Keeping the conversation lively: I'm guest posting today

Where am I today? Not here. As part of our ongoing discussion this week about the stepmom-biomom controversy, I'm guest posting over at stepmama metamorphoses today.

So what are you waiting for? Head on over already!!

Guest posting - DragonflyMama!!

Today's post is a guest post by DragonflyMama. DragonflyMama blogs at stepmama metamorphoses. She is stepmother to her 11-year-old stepdaughter and also mom to her 3-year-old son. Her husband and she have been at building a stepfamily for five years now. She also deals constantly with her stepdaughter's mother who is, how shall we say, less than accepting of her role in the girl's life. As far as I can tell, stories like hers are par for the course when it comes to stepmothers' experiences.

Awhile back, I wrote a post about how it makes me feel when Grace talks to me about her father and stepmother's kids. DragonflyMama, who is a longtime reader of my blog, took notice and commented. This began a dialogue between us, one much more open and sincere than the one we had already had going. We realized through that correspondence that though we play different roles in the stepfamilies we are each creating (I'm a remarried biomom, she's a stepmother), we have one thing in common: lots of disagreement and friction with the other stepfamily. Though it would be nice to believe it is possible to have it otherwise, both of us have had to accept that this situation will probably never change and have leaned on each other in figuring out how to make it work anyways. We recently decided to have a joint guest posting venture, her here at Comparative Childhood, me there at stepmama metamorphoses. Her post below was a response to my questioning to her along these lines: "As a stepmother who also has a biological child, do you feel differently towards these two children? If it is different, how? Is it different like the way a mother says, 'You are all different and I love each of you in a unique way, but I don't love any of you more or less than the other,' ? Or is it different in some other way?"

I am deeply grateful for my friendship with DragonflyMama and how much I have learned from her perspective on life and circumstances. We both have a young woman in our lives, one we care deeply about. Having her ear and hearing her opinions helps me be a better parent. Enjoy!

Please leave your comments! We hope to have a fruitful discussion about how many of us feel. EVERYONE is welcome in the discussion! post script - I'll be guest posting at stepmama metamorphoses this Wednesday, so this isn't the end!

by DragonflyMama
The day my son was born I became a mom. Yet, it’s hard to define exactly when I became a stepmom. The process of becoming a stepparent has been a very hilly journey full of emotional challenges, and just exactly that, a process. Quite different than going through the physical challenges of pregnancy for nine months and then suddenly one day I was someone’s mother.

I met my stepdaughter when she was just 6, and I was 28. I remember the first activity her father, she, and I did together was make collages on my apartment floor. We sorted through magazines looking for pictures of dogs and cats, and popsicles and flowers. She shyly watched me, and I overcompensated for my own shyness by being rather excited about her creations. I remember that day being fun and simple and easy. As her father and I got closer and more involved, I became more and more unsure of how to be with the girl. My own shyness, jealousy, and fears held me back a lot of the time, but so did her mother’s dislike of me and disapproval of me in the girl’s life. I wanted a deeper relationship with this man I knew, but often his time and energy was directed at his daughter. I also could see throughout that time that the child adored me excessively, and I knew needed to live up to her praise. For about a year, we three sorted through our various relationships with each other and through all our ups and downs slowly came to a place of understanding. I guess when we decided to live together and move towards family life together would be when I would say I became a stepmom. Though my role continues to evolve as I learn how to stepparent well.

On the other hand, when I became pregnant and chose to have the child, there was much less confusion for me. I knew from the first second what a large commitment it would be. I had rights to be with this baby and teach him and enjoy him in a way that I did not have at first with my stepdaughter. My relationship with my birth child did not need sorting out, or lengthy conversations to understand, or asking permission from anyone. It just was, and is. Though it is fraught with uncertainty and fear at times, in comparison it is much, much simpler. Of course, this too I am still learning how to do well.

Being a stepmom is most certainly different than being a biomom. I have been stepparenting now for about 4 years, and bioparenting for 3. And yes, I do love them differently. In the most basic understanding of it, I have no choice as to whether I love my son. I just do, it is in my being to love him. I have never had to fight anyone over him, and birthing him was enough to make me love him forever, no matter what.

Like any relationship that begins with two strangers, I do have a choice to love my stepdaughter. I have had to fight my stepdaughter’s mother every single step of the way to be seen as a valid, equal, and involved parent. Though I wish it were not so, her mother’s negative behavior towards me does affect my feelings towards the child. It has been a long, hilly road for me stepparenting, one that sometimes I have wanted to get off. Yet, I have also found that this fight with the biomom continues to reaffirm in myself my commitment to my stepdaughter. In the constant reminding her mother that I am here, parenting, loving, caring for my stepdaughter, I remind myself too, and I remember why I do it. Everyday that I get her up for school, make her lunch, take her to softball practice, wash her sheets, take her for a hike in the woods, buy her new books, and all the other things parents do, I do not because I have to, but because I choose to.

I love them differently, but I do not love my son more than I love my stepdaughter. I simply have been down two very different paths to become a parent to each of them. I have more time, more freedom, and more responsibility with and for my son, and thus I think the love I have for him is more constant and defined. And the connection between a birth parent and child cannot be denied as extremely powerful and deep. My relationship with my stepdaughter has many more constraints, boundaries, and walls to alter and overcome. From her side as well as mine. My love for her changes and grows. Sometimes it feels fast and sweet, sometimes it feels slow and painful. More so than with my son, it varies from day to day, and month to month.

There has been one ongoing highlight for me in being a parent to these two kids. When I see the two of them play, bond, and love each other my own heart becomes more full of love than I knew was possible. Watching these two sweet young people laugh together I sometimes forget how or why I came to be here and truly just enjoy the moment. I think, it really doesn’t matter the roads we’ve been down and the hills we’ve had to climb. All that really matters is the love.

Upcoming attractions: Dragonfly Mama here, Monday June 15th!!

In case you haven't ever checked out her blog, you should read a bit of stepmama metamorphoses by Dragonfly Mama. She's a stepmom AND a mom. Talk about a cool perspective! Next week, Monday to be exact, she will be HERE, AT THIS VERY BLOG, to contribute some good chewy morsels of wisdom to savor! That's this coming MONDAY, JUNE 15!! I'm guest posting at her blog on Wednesday, the 17th.

I don't have any stepchildren, but I live in a stepfamily insomuch as my husband and my daughter are stepparent-stepchild. Also, my daughter has a stepmother and two other siblings in that stepfamily. So step-relations are very relevant to me to be sensitive to and understand. I read a lot of blogs written by stepmothers and remarried moms. Also, many of them stop by here (thanks, all of you!). What I'm realizing is that the world of family and parenting is filled with many stories unlike Ward and June Cleaver's life. It's more like the Brady Bunch without the groovy outfits and a loving Alice to help out. Oh, and one more difference -- the real world would be more like the Brady Bunch in which the boys' biomom and the girls' biodad come around once and awhile.

Things are not easy when you've got two households sharing a kid. I think we'd all like to pretend like the Brady Bunch story can occur, but anyone who's gone through building a stepfamily knows that the Brady Bunch version of stepfamily is really nothing more than idealized fiction, kind of like Trixie Belden or Hannah Montana. The parents at two different households have lots of potential for friction and conflict, and thus the overwhelming number of blogs out there dedicated to venting on the topic!

For more than a year now, Dragonfly Mama and I have been emailing back and forth and talking about the differences and similarities between being a biomom and a stepmom. From my side, I have learned a lot. It helps that our two situations aren't entirely different either -- her stepdaughter is a tween and her son is a growing three year old, not unlike Grace's experience. We also both live closeby to the other stepfamily in the picture, something that can be a blessing and a curse.

After much heartfelt discourse, we decided that it would fun (and helpful!) to guest post at each other's blogs. We could each give space to another voice, one that comes from the other side of the picture. By doing so, hopefully we could both glean some morsel of wisdom from that voice. I'll be guest posting at stepmama metamorphoses next Wednesday. But first, tune in here on Monday, June 15th for...

Dragonfly Mama!

Letting the girl handle things

Grace spends every other weekend with her father. On Mondays that follow weekends she has NOT spent with him, she is scheduled to see her father for a few hours in the evening. We have a mutual agreement that he'll communicate with me by Friday afternoon/evening his plan for Monday. If there's no contact, there's no visit.

Last Monday night she visited with him according to their Monday-night schedule for the first time in several months. This is the story of how it went down.

No word was heard from him by the Friday before or throughout the weekend. No mention of the visit was made in our house. On Monday morning, about 10a, I got this email:

Heather,
I realized on the way into work this morning that I had not called this weekend to confirm plans to pick up Grace after school for dinner tonight. I apologize. At this point I am not sure what to do or how to follow up with Grace. I would still like to pick her up to come over to visit. But I guess I should ask if this still works for you following the weekend. As well, how can I contact her to let her know that I will get her from school? Again sorry for the confusion. Thanks for your help.

Hm. What to do, what to do, what to do.

It seemed like a step up from earlier weeks he missed in that at least an apology was included and the message came before 4p on Monday. Still, Grace was at school and I wasn't going to interrupt her school day to send her a message that her father would pick her up from school when he got off work and just to wait for him.

I replied to him that Grace usually called me after her after school activities were finished to ask when I would be picking her up. I would tell her then that she should wait for him. He sent a "thank you" and said he would be there at 5p (school is dismissed at 2:45p).

4:15p. My cell phone starts ringing. The call reads "Home."

I answered the call and got Grace, happy as a clam, telling me that she and her friend had come home together. It was at that moment that I decided to put the whole wrench in the works into Grace's hands and let her decide what she wanted to do.

"Did you think about seeing your father today at all?" I asked. She told me that because she hadn't heard from him, she figured not. She would like to see his family and all because she hadn't seen them in awhile, but there wasn't any plan.

I told her about the email correspondence in the morning and her father's subsequent plan to pick her up at school. She apologized for coming home early, explaining that she didn't know. I told her no apology was necessary; she didn't do anything wrong. Grace said she would call him so he wouldn't worry about her when he couldn't find her at the school. I asked her to call me back afterward.

When she called back, her tone of voice had changed. He apparently couldn't make it to the house by 5p, even though he had said he could pick her up at school by that time. Note, 5p at school would have been an hour of waiting for her after all her afterschool activities were done. She said fine, but told him that she would like him to buy her dinner out. And then she told me, 'he's going to make this up to me.'

I went home shortly thereafter and Grace was still at home waiting for her father. At 5:10p, she decided to start practicing her viola. When he rang our doorbell at 5:45p, she was still practicing and didn't stop. I answered the door, then told him to wait while I went to tell her he was there. When I came to where she was practicing, she acted as if she didn't know he was there and as if she had forgotten he was coming. She gathered her things slowly and took her time going downstairs.

Hm.

When she returned that evening at 8:30p, I asked her if she had gotten what she wanted for dinner. She answered with a steely, 'yes.' I told her sarcastically that next time she should ask for college tuition rather than settle for the small potatoes of fast food for dinner. She responded, 'good point,' and exited the room to get ready for bed.

ONE WEEK LATER (this past weekend):

Grace, for the first time, called her father and cancelled their assumed-to-be-scheduled Monday night visit. My husband and I were going out to dinner for our wedding anniversary. She said she'd like to come along with us. So she called her father on Saturday night (note, he hadn't called by the Friday afternoon deadline again) and told him she had other plans. And that was that.

Hm.

It's fair to say that Grace is thinking through some things. My gut tells me I should just let her work this out with her father and not get in the way. I'm not sure what the end result will be. I have a good friend whose parents were divorced throughout her childhood. She told me a story once about her senior prom. Her father was supposed to come pick her up and take her to the prom as her escort, as this was the tradition of the country she grew up in. An hour after he was supposed to arrive, she asked her brother to escort her instead. Her father arrived as they were walking out the door. She took the opportunity to let him know that it would have been nice if once, just once, when it really mattered, if he could have done something that showed that he cared about her. I keep wondering if in our family we're going to cross this bridge at some point.

How to develop pure hatred for stargazer lilies

Since Mother's Day yesterday, I've been noticing stargazer lilies popping up. At Dooce.com, and at Cake Wrecks. There may be more lurking out there. I don't go to church, so I didn't see whether mothers still wear corsages on Mother's Day. But if you went, were some of the mothers wearing stargazer lilies? I have one poignant memory from my past involving stargazer lilies, and it's amazing how from the minute I knew the name of these flowers I had negative associations with them. The event? My first wedding.

I was young, 21. I was pregnant, 13 weeks on the wedding day itself. And I had planned a wedding from start to finish in three weeks. I think I would have been happy to just have had a small wedding, family and a few friends, very low key. But the two mothers in the situation, mine and my ex-husband's, both had their reasons for wanting it big. They wanted the full scale thing, no matter how shotgun the situation. So I went down to the David's Bridal outlet warehouse in Hollywood, Florida and picked out a gown that fit reasonably well and could be altered in less than a week. We had 500 invitations printed in lickety split time and sent them out. My family, our family friends, and my and my ex-husband's friends were 100. The other 400 went to my outlaws' pared down list of must-invites (the first list that they faxed contained well over 600 names and addresses). The church and the minister weren't a problem; my ex-father-in-law insisted on performing the ceremony. Bridesmaids' dresses were bought off the rack at Talbots and sent to the relevant sisters and sister-in-law-to-be. My mother arranged for a caterer to put together the details for a reception. I drove from Florida to Texas with my dad and arrived about a week before the wedding. During that week, I found a photographer, a bakery who could whip up a cake and deliver it that day, and a florist. And it was the florist who suggested stargazer lilies.

A classic, he said. They will complement anything, and remain fresh all day long, no matter how high the temperatures reach (over 100F that day, as it turned out). Since the only color being used in the wedding up to that point was green (from the bridesmaids' dresses and the roses on the cake to the decorative ribbons on the rice pouches and the personalized napkins on the tables), the brilliant deep pink of the lilies would add a touch of warmth to the setting. OK, then, stargazer lilies it is. Everywhere. Bridesmaids' bouquets, floral arrangements for the church, centerpieces for the hors d'oeuvres only reception, and the cake topper. I didn't even knew what they looked like before I committed.

My consistent thought during the whole planning process was, just get it over with. How bad can it be? I was task-oriented, dealing with checking items off a list, not worrying about whether the best choices were being made.

Well, the day of the wedding came. The green roses on the cake matched the green of the bridesmaids' dresses. The green was actually teal. Teal roses on the wedding cake. I wish I had pictures left to send to Cake Wrecks. What the hell is a teal rose? My dress had been altered three inches too short and I had to run out at the last minute to a discount shoe store and buy flats. The program for the ceremony was embarrassing; my mother-in-law-to-be who had typed the whole thing up on her laptop and delivered it to Kinko's had included titles for all the family members on her side, but neglected to ask if anyone on my side had titles other than "Mr and Mrs." In addition, she assumed that all married women went by their husband's last name only, of course. My oldest sister was not amused. And then there were the stargazer lilies.

The first of the lilies I saw was the bunch on top of the cake. From a distance they looked nice enough. But as I got closer, I realized, there's some strange smell in the air; what is that? Then came the bridesmaids' bouquets. Stargazer lilies. Dozens of them. They were beautiful, make no mistake. But they were smelly. Really, really smelly. And then I realized, I have chosen to surround myself and everyone I know with flowers that stink. What a lovely aura to create. It got worse, though.

I started sneezing. Yes, that's right, me, the girl who's had allergies and asthma her whole life ordered several hundred, maybe even over a thousand, dollars in flowers, without ever considering whether I might be bothered by their aroma. Or whether they might bother my very allergic mother as well.

Those lilies started looking like big pink spiders to me, crawling out from every crevice, waiting to suck the life out of anything foolish enough to come close. They were deceptively cutesy, what with their pink glow and yellow speckling. But don't you be fooled; these were creatures spawned by the devil himself.

I spent the day red-nosed with a handkerchief in my hand, sneezing every few minutes and trying to ignore the pervasive, stinky, stargazer lily aroma in between nose snorts. When we were outside, the aroma got even stronger, making me almost nauseous. Was it not enough that it was over 100 degrees F, I was in a synthetic floor-length gown, and I was PREGNANT? No, I had to add some horrible scent that I was also allergic to.

Needless to say, I was relieved when, 8 years later, I had a reason to purge my possessions of any sign that the day had ever even taken place. Every picture, every memoir, every gift list, every keepsake, every bit of it went in the trash.

I'm sorry if you are a person who loves stargazer lilies and finds them the most wonderful flower in the entire world. Because I will never, ever, ever enjoy even a photograph of a stargazer lily, much less approach a live one in real life.

As for the rest of the story, for my second wedding, I visited five florists before I chose one. We only needed a bouquet for myself and Grace and four small women's corsages, still, I wanted to make sure it was right. When I finally found the man who designed my bouquet, I knew I had hit the jackpot. Here's what he designed:




Orange tulips surrounded by yellow calla lilies with a hint of a burnt orange/brown edging, all tied up with an orange organza ribbon. Perfect, simple, brilliant.

GORGEOUS.

Marriage: Part Deux

Maine just legalized same-sex marriage. Even as their legislators were debating this briefly before they voted, the question of what impact this has on religious institutions was raised. On Wednesday NPR reported, "Republican Sen. Debra Plowman of Hampden argued that the bill was being passed 'at the expense of the people of faith. You are making a decision that is not well-founded,' warned Plowman."

This gets me thinking. What is it exactly that makes a marriage a marriage? There are so many possible answers to this question.

When I separated from my first husband and divorce proceedings were well under way, I told my dad I wanted to go on a date. He, being someone who believes strictly that marriage is an avowed relationship, the vows of which cannot be violated within that covenant, quickly replied that of course I wouldn't do that because I was still married. Huh? Under what definition of marriage? For him, the legal documentation of marriage was the bottom line as to whether one was married or not. For me, when the marriage vows of my first marriage were broken and both my ex-husband and I took action to sever that avowed relationship, it was done. I wasn't married anymore. I mean, for legal reasons, like whether I had health insurance I was married. But for purposes of fidelity? For issues that GOD cares about? No, I wasn't married.

This leads me to an interesting question: if you are a religious person and you think marriage has something to do with vows and God and sacredness and all the rest, what role does the state have in this? Does it even matter whether a marriage is legal with the state if the vows were true? And if there were no vows taken before God, then does that mean the marriage is real?

Some sects of religion are very clear on this. Take the Roman Catholic Church for instance. Either you are married in the church or you aren't. If you aren't, then you are not married in the eyes of God. It matters not what the state recognizes, no matter what state that is.

When my parents came to some important milestone in their marriage (25 years or something like that), they got talking about how they didn't have a copy of their wedding license. And then it occurred to my dad -- he couldn't remember actually getting it signed by the clergy who performed the ceremony or taking it to the courthouse. The consequence? They might not be legally married. He joked about it. They thought it was pretty funny. My mom decided to find out where it was and get to the bottom of the issue. She got a copy, framed it, and gave it to him for their anniversary. But my reaction at the time was, who cares? So, you might need to do some paperwork to make legal and documented what has existed for decades?

For the purposes of the relationship, I just don't think the paper trail is that important on these things. My husband and I were married in an episcopal church in the United States and filed it legally with a county in Maryland. Then almost a year later, we got married again in the Brazilian embassy in Washington, DC. See, we needed to have our marriage recognized in the country of my husband's citizenship, and a court document from a county in Maryland didn't cut it. In the end, it was less work to get married again at the embassy than it would have been to have the Brazilian Feds recognize the paperwork that existed from the United States. And then, as if that wasn't enough, my mother-in-law brought a copy of our wedding liturgy and our wedding invitation, all in Portuguese, to her priest and asked whether our marriage was recognized by the Catholic Church. Her priest is a good man, I tell you. He told her not to be overly concerned with the matter, that God sees true love. He also told her that if the two of us came to him, he would bless the union. We haven't done that yet, but we may very well do so in order to let all the friends and family in Brazil get to celebrate our wedding, as well as make it possible for our children to be baptized in the Catholic church. (More on that issue much later!) But you get the idea...being "lawfully and spiritually bound in matrimony" is taking years at this point. So when did we get married? Are we married? When will the marrying end?

For me it was when we took our vows in the episcopal church, the first time we did it. The second time we did it at the embassy, there were no vows, just a lot of paperwork and admonishment of what this meant legally for us both. If we get married again in the Catholic church and in Portuguese, that might be yet another meaningful event in our relationship. A way to say I still feel the very same way I did the day I married you.

So...what is your definition of marriage? Can you define it neatly and discretely? Or is it mushy and gray for you? I know that for people who do it once and it stays forever, and they only have one church and one court to deal with, it can seem like a very simple deal. But for me, when you get into the nitty-gritty of the whole thing, it isn't so clear anymore.

a brief update

I am such a slacker. I told you guys a Weekly Slug was coming yesterday, and then nothing. It's not like I don't have news to share, I'm just way too busy to get to write about it.

But back to my last post about forgotten or canceled visits of Grace with her father. Today is a scheduled day for Grace to see her father. He called last Wednesday to confirm that he would pick her up from school today. He said he would call her later in the week or during the weekend to find out what time, since she wasn't sure last Wednesday what all she would need to do after school. Last night I realized we never heard from him. And for the first time, Grace never even mentioned it. She just called me at 4:30p to say she was walking home from school with a friend and to confirm that this was ok with me.

Grace forgot about the visit, her father forgot, and most importantly for me and my self-improvement program that is this blog, I forgot. I think this makes the actions officially a trend. I'm not sure how to bring up something like this and talk about it with Grace given that she's not even mentioned it or shown any signs of even remembering there was something to be disappointed about in the first place. She's supposed to spend the weekend with him this weekend. I'm wondering when we'll hear from him again, and if it will be in enough time for her to actually spend the weekend with him.

Well, hello again.

So, sorry, that was a bit of a break, wasn't it? It was the result of a conspiracy of too many thoughts running through my head, too many logistical details making it difficult to post, and a difficulty putting words together that expressed myself adequately.

Where to start? I guess I should start with, nothing's wrong. The pregnancy is going well. We picked a name *I think.* The first name came quickly, but a second name was a pain. See, we have to pick names that not only go together, but that create a somewhat normal flow from surname to surname. My last name is about as English as you can get and my husband's is about as Latin as you can get. So our kid's name has to go first-name, middle-name, English-name, Latin-name. And it all has to be pronouncable (yes, I say that that's a word) in English and in Portuguese and is has to sound nice in both languages and it has to flow in both languages. Anyways, we seem to have met all those criteria and I think it's all good. More details on that little girl on Sunday for The Weekly Slug.

As for what's been going on otherwise, I'll just pick up with Grace and her father, my ex-husband. Easter sucked, as it always does. Grace always spends it with her father. As far as I ever knew, her father could care less about the holiday. But Grace's stepmother loves it. So for the most part, it's out of the question for Grace not to spend Easter with her father and stepmother. That led me to a couple realizations. First, I'm really sick of sharing my daughter's time. She's my daughter and I think it's normal for a parent to want to spend the holidays with their kid. Divorce screws all that up. I'm just supposed to accept that and get over it and just be happy. So is Grace and so is her father (who, remember, I don't think really cares that much about seeing his kid anyways; more on that a bit later). I guess this is why some couples figure it's better to stay together than split up. Whatever. It sucks. It really, really sucks. And I'm just tired of it. It won't ever get better with Grace, I'll just be sharing her with other people for the rest of my life. It's just part of the sucking suckiness that is the world I lived in long ago with my ex-husband. Sucks.

Then there's the other half of this. I've written before about how sick I am of Grace's father not calling and communicating about wanting to see Grace, and then expecting everyone to just drop everything when he does get around to placing a call. And I've had more than one person tell me it's my responsibility to make sure Grace sees her father no matter how much of a slacker he is. So instead of me waiting for him to confirm a visit and assuming it's off and waiting until Grace desperately calls him and asks if he's going to spend time with her and he calls acting like that was his intention all along, I should be taking care of everything and walking him through the process, and play like I'm still his helpful mate. Hm. I've finally put two and two together as to why this bothers me so much.

Grace's father is not so bad. He's kept the same job for the last ten years. He's never been arrested. He doesn't gripe about paying child support. He isn't mean or abusive to Grace, nor is anyone else he's exposing Grace to, to the best of my knowledge. This doesn't mean I think everything he does is terrific, it just means he could be way worse. However, there's one very useful skill he's developed over his lifetime that is very clever, and one I'm not so keen on. He knows how to not lift more fingers than he has to and make other people do his work for him. And for some reason, many people, myself included, feel like it's no big deal to pick up the slack where he leaves off. I'll give an example to illustrate the point.

Last week while Grace was staying with him at his house, he called me at 10p. Everyone was up -- him, his wife, two toddlers, Grace, two dogs, the tv, you name it. I was surprised. Except for Grace, they all had to go to daycare and work the next day. The next night when Grace returned home, Grace told me that her plan for the day had been to sleep in and when she woke up after everyone else had left the house, she was supposed to call her grandmother to come pick her up and spend the day at her grandmother's house. But that's not what happened. Instead what happened was that the parents woke up late without time to get the toddlers up and ready, or time to drive them to school and make it in to work themselves. So Grace's father called his mother and asked her to come over, get the kids ready, and take them to daycare so he and his wife could leave for work right away. The inconvenience to Grace was that her grandmother said she wouldn't make two trips to the house, so Grace would need to get up and be ready to go for the day when she got there.

It might have been a one time occurrence, I agree. Maybe. But I've known the guy for almost 20 years. This is pretty much how he operates. He screws up, and then he calls on other people to help him out. Once in awhile would be ok, but all the time gets tiring. In my experience, he doesn't really reciprocate the favors.

So I was married to this guy for over 8 years. Did I put up with this? Hell, yes. Way too much. I learned to figure out how to get him to do what I needed him to do. And I never assumed he would do more. The week we separated, I had an a-ha moment of just how much I carried him due to his own negligence to keep track of stuff. The deadline for his financial aid form was due for his grad school tuition that week. I knew it, because I kept track of all that stuff. I always showed it to him, but he didn't keep track of it himself at all. I thought about calling him and reminding him, walking him through the process, coddling him as I had done for so many years. And then suddenly I realized, no, I don't need to do this anymore. He's a grown-up, over 30 years old. He can take care of his own grad school tuition. After all, I'm definitely not going to be here forever. I don't know what the result was, but I felt foolish at that moment realizing how much I had taken care of and looked out for. The guy didn't know much of what was going on at school with his daughter, didn't know about the maintenance on the only car we owned, didn't know anything about our finances. The only thing he did know was how to get cash out of an ATM so that his spending wouldn't leave a paper trail.

Back to Grace. Recently Grace's father has been less than able to keep up with his visitation schedule. In the last couple months, for the first time, Grace decided just not to worry about calling him and arranging visitation. Sure enough, we heard not a word from him until the evening of the first night he was supposed to spend with her. I don't know what he told her, but he assured her that he would be there to pick her up that Friday for the weekend. And that he did -- 3 hours late. The next weeknight that he was scheduled to spend with her, again, we didn't hear from him until late the night before. He talked to her first and gave her some explanation as to why he wouldn't see her. She said fine and handed the phone to me. I talked about Easter weekend and Grace's spring break with him and that was that. By the time spring break was over and the event of the "calling grandma over to pick up the slack" occurred, I realized what has been bothering me for so long. It's everyone around this guy, including his daughter, accommodating his behavior and acting as if it's acceptable. The everyone else is their own choice. But my daughter? No.

That's the core of it. I want my daughter to not accept that she has to give and give and give in a relationship, doing what the other person can't (or won't) do. Part of the reason she still sees him at all is because other adults in his life have carried him - his mother, his wife. But I think it has to stop when it comes to your kids. The bottom line is, I don't want my daughter to learn that a relationship is supposed to be one person giving and striving and yearning and desiring while the other person just treats the whole thing like easy come, easy go. It's dysfunctional, at best.

Imagine if this scenario was your kid in a relationship with a boyfriend or girlfriend. Your kid places all the calls, waits around for hours until the significant other bothers to show up, accepts every explanation imaginable for being late or standing her up, always expects that plans can be made at the spur of the moment...

Would you be happy? I wouldn't. I'd tell my kid to get out of the relationship because this person was completely walking all over them, taking advantage of their affections, and giving nothing in return.

But yet Grace's father is teaching her that it's ok for her to be treated this way. Yeah, I put up with it, and I learned my lesson the hard way. But you know what? I think that my gained experience should count for something in how I parent my daughter.

So I finally answered (a big part of) the question of why I dislike Grace's stepmother and why I wish she would go away. Because she's an enabler. She makes it possible for Grace's father to be in Grace's life, and for him to implicitly teach Grace that she should put up with his negligence and pick up the slack. And there's a good chance that if Grace puts up with his behavior, he won't be the last person she does it for.

Sorry to come back on such a sour note, but it had to be gotten off my chest.

**************

AN ADDENDUM

One more thought I had after rereading this. I ended this post sounding like I blame this whole thing on Grace's stepmother. Oh, no. No, that would get Grace's father off the hook far too easily. He's the one who's the big screw up, the one who's being a jerk in his relationship with his daughter. I'm just sick of other people around him (his mother, his wife) putting up with it and continuing the cycle of women who learn to tolerate this kind of behavior from a man. For my daughter's sake, I'd just as soon these women would wise up or move to a place away from influence over my daughter.

Parents' rights

This is going to be along the lines of setting a few basic things straight. Things brought up by the Palin family drama.

In case you haven't caught the recent news, Bristol Palin, teenage mother of 3-month-old Tripp, has broken up with Tripp's dad, Levi. Bristol, young and not yet in possession of a high school diploma or equivalency, is living at home and asking for help raising Tripp from her family. Lately Levi has been saying he's not allowed to see his child as much as he likes. And to add more drama to the situation, Bristol's mom Sarah not only backs up her daughter's decision not to let Levi see the baby more often, she says he's a liar about stating that the family knew the two teens were having sex and that he was allowed to stay at the Palin household in the days leading up to the birth of his child.

When I put it like that, it sounds like a great weekly drama series, huh? And think, I didn't even have to mention the part about how these people are getting their more than 15 minutes of fame out of the whole thing!

As I understand it, here are a few problems with the scenario from a legal standpoint.

• The father of this infant son, Levi Johnston, has a legal right to see his son. He has that right whether or not he is in a relationship with the child's mother and whether or not he is deemed responsible or honest by the mother's family.
• In fact, as many have pointed out incorrectly, he has a right to see his son whether or not he can afford child support. Family courts in the United States are quick to point out to those who don't understand this idea, the right of a parent to see their child is in no way affected by a non-custodial parent's ability to pay child support. The two are not contingent upon one another. Quite the opposite, a custodial parent (Bristol, apparently by default, in this case) can be held in contempt of court if they refuse visitation to the other parent on the basis of non-payment of child support. Don't get me wrong, parents should provide financial support to children. But this is not part of the picture when discussing whether parents should be able to see their children.
• The grandparent of a child has no pre-eminent right to decisions about that child's welfare over either of the child's parents. So in this case, Sarah appears to be overstepping her boundaries. It appears that she takes her own decisions and the decisions of her daughter, the child's mother, to outweigh the decisions of the child's father.

Hm.

Are we to believe that fathers are unimportant? That they should be kept out of sight? That they should only be permitted to see their children when a mother says it's ok? No, no more so than mothers should be treated this way.

Where are the pro bono family attorneys in Alaska? And why isn't one of them representing this father? A father who is being deprived of the right to see his child? A father who is being forced to allow all decisions regarding his child's welfare up to the other parent? Um...am I the only one here who thinks that most of the media is focused too much on who the players are and not enough of basic rights of parents, no matter how young they are? Why are the rights of this father, who is a legal adult, less important the rights of this mother?

Regardless of whether you think this family are a bunch of rednecks or the most moral family on the face of the planet, clearly they are in need of some intervention from the state family courts. Children's parenting should not be left up to their most wealthy and most powerful family members.

***A brief disclaimer - yeah, I'm a blogger, and yeah, I'm writing about Sarah Palin. That puts me at risk for being called a liar. But she's already called me and my kind a bunch of liars, so what have I got to lose? Nothing, but I think this young baby has a lot to lose if no one says anything. Since clearly no one in Tripp's family seems to understand the legality of custody, I figured someone had to say something. Hopefully even while Sarah's going around calling everyone a liar, she'll realize that her grandson would do best to have a father who's allowed to be involved.***