E and I are approaching our first year anniversary. We are celebrating by attending a friend's wedding and staying at a downtown hotel. How lovely to be able to remember our wedding while watching another one.
This has been an arduous year . . . the stepfamily taking up most of our time and energy and creating almost unbearable stress; however, they say the first year is the worst . . . the second marginally better, then things begin to settle down, if you survive.
I've been reading every stepparenting guide I can get my hands on. Two favourites are Stepmonster by Wednesday Martin and Surviving and Thriving in Stepfamily Relationships by Patricia Papernow.
The surprising thing that you learn after you marry a man with children, is that stepfamilies can never be like normal families. They are far more stressful and problematic than you might expect and there really is no easy way to blend. Good intentions get in the way. Low expectations and professional help are perhaps the best way through.
I thought marrying E would make life better . . . often, I wonder if that's true. I love being married to him, most of the time, but the stuff around that makes it hard to appreciate.
Anyway, as the book The Stepparents' Parachute by Brit Flora McEvedy reinforces - get on with it.
Speaking of getting on with it . . . I have been obsessed with the Royal Baby. Don't know why exactly . . . A asked, "Are you more excited about the Royal Baby than you are about me?"
. . . I am rather, at the moment, but that will pass. I'll never have another baby, so I can live vicariously through it at this safe distance . . . and hope that George and his parents will be happy.
God save us all.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Happy 40th to Me!
I'm lying. I have A in on the act. The other day in the car she turned to E and said,
"E, aren't you excited that mommy's going to be having her 40th Birthday?"
I was pleased. I'm not forty. I'm beyond forty, but I'm not telling how far. Far better to keep turning forty. E thought I'd prefer thirty-nine, but forty is the new thirty and I'm content with that.
E took me out to Les Fougeres for my birthday, which was lovely. I had a rich French meal, chicken stuffed with cheese with mushrooms and rasberries and beets, two glasses of Chardonnay, and lavender panna cotta, my first dessert in 2 months. (I have shed 20 pounds in an attempt to recover myself after having gained that much over the last 4 years with E). I felt great initially, then suffered one of the most painful and disorienting headaches I've ever had. (I worried I was having a stroke, my mother died of a stroke while dancing after a rich meal one New Year's Eve. I'm feeling my age . . or worried about my mortality . . . or something.)
Too much is going on . . . still. I keep hoping things will calm now, but they don't seem to. So an update for Sandwitch . . .
My life's pace has slowed considerably and I'm still trying to determine what it is I'm meant to do. Meanwhile, things in second-marriage-ville are complicated. E's teenage daughter is resentful and clingy, his son remains rude and wrathful, and his ex-wife just attempted suicide, which may explain the kids' problems, and seems more of a misguided scream for help than a desire to end her life. Still, it is awful and E's in denial and I'm beside myself with worry.
This came on the heels of a complicated month of court actions and revelations from my ex-files, but this is too much to explain. Suffice it to say . . . .he didn't stop with me . . . and it wasn't me . . . finally, I see that, which is, in itself, a relief, even it it means more suffering for someone else.
A also had a rough year to date . . . being bullied at school by a frenemy and losing interest in school as a whole as a result. I decided to have her switch schools, which was sad . . . but I am hoping it will help. The decision came on the heels of this frenemy's mom asking to talk to me and explaining that her daughter was feeling bad about herself because A cried all the time . . . WHAT? This spoiled little hellion was bugging my daughter and then felt bad and blamed her for crying. I was furious. These had been "family" friends. I listened and then decided talked to the teacher, and decided, based on my observations, A's history at the school, and her obvious disengagement, that A was not spending the next 6 years with the same 12 kids and teacher in this dysfunctional class dynamic. Blah.
Oh dear, E is home with kids in tow after a 3-day baseball tournament. Gotta run . . . and I'll recommit to more blogging, let's say daily blogging, as part of my 41st year resolutions.
"E, aren't you excited that mommy's going to be having her 40th Birthday?"
I was pleased. I'm not forty. I'm beyond forty, but I'm not telling how far. Far better to keep turning forty. E thought I'd prefer thirty-nine, but forty is the new thirty and I'm content with that.
E took me out to Les Fougeres for my birthday, which was lovely. I had a rich French meal, chicken stuffed with cheese with mushrooms and rasberries and beets, two glasses of Chardonnay, and lavender panna cotta, my first dessert in 2 months. (I have shed 20 pounds in an attempt to recover myself after having gained that much over the last 4 years with E). I felt great initially, then suffered one of the most painful and disorienting headaches I've ever had. (I worried I was having a stroke, my mother died of a stroke while dancing after a rich meal one New Year's Eve. I'm feeling my age . . or worried about my mortality . . . or something.)
Too much is going on . . . still. I keep hoping things will calm now, but they don't seem to. So an update for Sandwitch . . .
My life's pace has slowed considerably and I'm still trying to determine what it is I'm meant to do. Meanwhile, things in second-marriage-ville are complicated. E's teenage daughter is resentful and clingy, his son remains rude and wrathful, and his ex-wife just attempted suicide, which may explain the kids' problems, and seems more of a misguided scream for help than a desire to end her life. Still, it is awful and E's in denial and I'm beside myself with worry.
This came on the heels of a complicated month of court actions and revelations from my ex-files, but this is too much to explain. Suffice it to say . . . .he didn't stop with me . . . and it wasn't me . . . finally, I see that, which is, in itself, a relief, even it it means more suffering for someone else.
A also had a rough year to date . . . being bullied at school by a frenemy and losing interest in school as a whole as a result. I decided to have her switch schools, which was sad . . . but I am hoping it will help. The decision came on the heels of this frenemy's mom asking to talk to me and explaining that her daughter was feeling bad about herself because A cried all the time . . . WHAT? This spoiled little hellion was bugging my daughter and then felt bad and blamed her for crying. I was furious. These had been "family" friends. I listened and then decided talked to the teacher, and decided, based on my observations, A's history at the school, and her obvious disengagement, that A was not spending the next 6 years with the same 12 kids and teacher in this dysfunctional class dynamic. Blah.
Oh dear, E is home with kids in tow after a 3-day baseball tournament. Gotta run . . . and I'll recommit to more blogging, let's say daily blogging, as part of my 41st year resolutions.
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