First and foremost, I would like to know how in the actual Hell does that happen 👆? Socks are not sold separately. They are a pair, but I’m pretty sure the sock divorce rate is double that of adult humans. Maybe half of all of these socks are with a new family just trying to blend in somewhere. Who knows?!
Raising a blended family is sometimes like having a basket of mismatched socks. Relax. Hear me out. I love all of my misfit sock children, and happen to be one myself. We are all so different but, in our case at least, want so badly to navigate this journey called life as one unit. From the very beginning of our relationship, “step” and “half” have not been words that we use often. Our children are siblings and we have three of them. We don’t hide the fact that our kids have “other parents”, but most don’t assume that, because of the way we interact with one another. “They” are “our” responsibility and that is the key to keeping our unit strong.
Nothing grinds my gears more than to see someone expecting to have a happy blended home life with young children, and at the same time drawing a line in the sand regarding whose is whose and what’s is what’s. My “stepfather” is my dad. He raised me to be the parent I am today to ALL of my kids. Blended families are WORK. Rewarding work, but work nonetheless. I feel the same way about marriage, but that’s another blog for another time, my friend. Maybe a day when I’m not annoyed at SP Fox for training our four year old to remind me every day how shitty of a driver I am. Kidding, SPF (oh man! I just realized his nickname initials are the same as sunscreen 😊 I like it even more now.), I would agree you are just a hair better than I, but only because I am unable to back in a trailer. Now THAT was a disaster! When a perfect stranger has to get in your truck to back a trailer in the water, perhaps you should try another part of the boat removal process. I digress.
It is difficult to explain to the tiniest terrorist why her sister has a different mom, or her bubs has a different dad. I’m still working on how to make that make sense in her oh- so-distorted little brain. Judge me... go ahead. If you’ve ever met that little crazy pants, then you would agree that some of the shit she says is off the wall and she could very well be a real live Boss Baby. We cross our bridges when we get to them, but one thing never changes... our bridges always go the same way. When blending a family, there is NO room for doubt. If only every parent really took that into consideration when walking down the isle, then the stigma that is a wicked stepmother or an asshole stepfather would be almost no more. There’s a bad Jell-O shot in every batch (usually the last one IMO).
I am not tooting my own horn, or even saying that we are doing it exactly right, because Lort only knows what that means. I am just saying that in order to make this CRAZY life work, we have to be all in. Unlike all those damn socks that I can’t part with that have been single for at least a year now! Get on Match, bitches! Aren’t you lonely?!?
#theanxietymom #coparenting #stepparenting #blendedfamily #thingstoworkon