Princess pointed at me and said, “She’s not really my mom. She’s my stepmom. And that’s just my stepbrother (pointing to Superman). HE’s my real brother.” (pointing to Wiley)
Ouch. Comments like this have been made before, and although I realize that they are true, they still hurt.
This summer has been really hard for me. I’m feeling the division in our families more than ever. It seems like Superman and I are on one side, and Best Fella, Wiley, Princess, and Their Mother are on the other. This is not a good way for me to feel, but I don’t want to say anything, because I am trying not to be the shrill harpy bitch that I
The truth is that I am sick to death of Their Mother. I hate her never ending phone calls, text messages, photos when we have the kids. I hate how she quizzes them on the phone about what they did (or didn’t do) and what we had for dinner, and the leading questions that I know she is putting to them. (Example from Wiley’s side of a conversation the other night: ‘Oh pretty good. We just played. No, we didn’t have a field trip today…Yeah, that’s all we did. We had chicken pizza. It was good. No, chicken on pizza. Yeah. I had never heard of it either…)
What the fuck, whore? I don’t make deep fried fat and lard gravy every night like you do, okay? I actually get off my ass and go to work every day, then come home and get something on the table so we can get into bed at a decent time. I know you don’t know what ‘bedtime’ is, but we do. And just because I made the food doesn’t mean it was wrong. Bitch. (Who me? Bitter? The hell you say!)
So anyway, I’m still feeling like a pretty horrible person, and knowing that she’s driving home the point that Superman and I are LESS THAN Princess & Wiley’s ‘real’ family just drives me over the edge.
I guess that’s probably the hardest part of being a stepmom. You still have to do all of the things a mother does (and more, because you are trying SO FUCKING HARD to be perfect) but you get no return on it. Oh sure, you get the return of knowing that you’re doing the right thing for these children who deserve it, but you don’t get the love that you get from your own child. Superman thinks I’m awesome. He is happy to see me, happy to spend time with me, wants me near, loves everything that I do for him (with the exception of that idiocy I call ‘being responsible’…he could definitely do without that!) But with the other kids, no matter how much I do, it’s usually just wrong. Because I’m not Their Mother. And I couldn’t be more different from her if I tried. Thank the Sweet Lord. Ahem.
So the other night Princess was being a major…um…princess. Best Fella had sent her to her room for whining and griping and (fake) crying about everything from the moment we sat down to dinner she wouldn’t eat all the way through after dinner TV. Then Their Mother calls, and Princess has a tearful extended conversation with her in her bedroom with the door closed. Afterward, T.M. talked to Best Fella. Princess had told her that her daddy was mad at her because she wanted to see T.M. To his credit, Best Fella did not raise his voice or even get angry. He calmly told her that that was a lie, that had never been brought up, and the real reason(s) that Princess was in trouble, which he had also explained to Princess when she was sent to her room. This bothers me to no end, because I feel like the kids have picked up on the whole playing sides against each other, and that is horrible. However, Best Fella said nothing about it, and for me to ask about goings on with T.M. pretty much makes him uncomfortable, so I am holding it all in. Wonder how many calories internal seething and turmoil burn?
Whew. I sort of opened up a floodgate there, didn’t I? My blood pressure is high just thinking about all of this again, but I feel a little better. Hopefully I will hold onto my sanity, and count days off on the calendar until school starts (twenty). ARRRRRGGGHHHH.
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