We, err.. I got a dog. Apparently I don't like sleep.

After 5 years of asking for a dog for Christmas, my loving husband gives in.  "I'll take care of it, 100% responsibility, you won't have to do a single thing." I said.  Little did I know how much work a puppy is!  I've had dogs before, but nothing could have prepared me for the terror of an 8week old canine disguised as an adorable little fur ball.

Before I start, don't even harp on me about the "adopt, don't shop"... I have had nothing but rescues in the past and loved them dearly.  I went with a reputable breeder this time because I have a young child and I didn't want to risk getting an older dog with a bad past.  Selfish maybe, but that's not what this is about....

This incredible little creature was so sweet and timid the first 48 hours.  And then...

The teeth! Those razor-sharp tiny slivers of enamel do nothing but bite/gnaw and scratch EVERYTHING.  Not just my hands, but articles of clothing suddenly have holes in them, there are scratch marks on every stool/table legs, and more.  I couldn't pet him calmly for the first 2 weeks because he would go for the kill every time.   I tried everything from bones, chew toys, plenty of exercise and bitter apple spray that claims to be a bite deterrent.   He would sit by the fireplace and file his teeth on the brick!  The sound is cringeworthy.   Poor thing had major teething issues.  I have to say it took a good 4 weeks to get him to stop the incessant biting.  At least with me, the girls still have problems with him just wanting to nip at them all the time.  

I slept on the couch the first week or so while crate-training him but he's still a morning dog.  And I mean 5am barking until I get him outside kind of morning dog.  So after years of sleeping in and loving my beauty rest, I am now completely surrounded by early risers.  From my husband who is up at 6am to my daughter who follows him downstairs, my dog and I are the only ones walking the streets of my suburban SoCal neighborhood at sunrise.  I keep telling myself he's just on Eastern time, and so I make all my calls to friends and family on the East coast and enjoy the rest of the calm before the storm of daily life begins.

Did I mention we got the dog a mere 3 months after my 4yr old finally started sleeping through the night?  Yes, that's right.  I've had over 4 years of interrupted sleep... only to extend it further.  Willingly, this was my idea!  WTF?   I guess I'll keep saying "I'll sleep when I'm dead".

In the meantime, I'll keep drinking my coffee and my wine to get me through.  In my defense, here's an article on interrupted sleep. Interrupted sleep led to 31% reduction in positive mood

EXTRA! EXTRA! I have 3 children!

As it turns out.. I continue to struggle to accept that, despite living a lifestyle parallel to Carrie Bradshaw's less than 5 years ago, I now have a husband, a 17, a 14 and a 3 year old. My issues range from toddlers wetting the bed to drama surrounding college applications and first periods.

Not only did I relocate to a mostly un-diverse, practically rural town, in a new country, on the opposite side of the continent, I also inherited teenage angst and was catapulted into motherhood.  Obviously, with this and other step parenting blogs/books/information exchange, I expect to have this mastered by the time my bio-daughter reaches puberty.

Recently, I read somewhere about how my bio-daughter doesn't distinguish between her brother & sister.  She would never refer to them as half-siblings and so why should I?  She adores her older siblings, as they do her.  We have seen sides of these teenagers we never would know if it wasn't for my littlest one screaming "I LOVE YOU" repeatedly until she gets the response she wants every morning.

Why can't I just accept the same theory.  And so that's what I'm working on lately.  It hasn't been easy.  The fact that they have a bio-mom always affects my quest to being the maternal representation in their lives.  Is it the stigma attached to trying so hard to not become the 'wicked' stepmother that I've lost my way?  Perhaps.

At the end of the day, all 3 of these children will grow-up, move out and start families of their own.  They will likely have blended families, and I want ours to be the example of a well-functioning one.


Below is part of an article I came across today, some parts helpful, others not so much; read on for more @ www.winningstepfamilies.com

Have Realistic Expectations

• Instant love and adjustment is not realistic.
• It may take 4 to 7 years to go through the stages of stepfamily development.
• Step relationships will never be the same as biological relationships.
• It's OK not to love your stepchildren. 
• Do not compare family success to a first marriage model.

This being my only marriage, I can only approach with nothing but love and devotion.

I think I can.. I think I can.

Many supportive friends say I'm a great stepmother and that these kids will appreciate it some day.  I fear not.  I believe they will only truly understand my position/effort/love/dedication if they become a stepparent themselves.  Which doesn't usually qualify as what one wants to be "when I grow up"...

A savings account of love? Say what?

These last few weeks (months according to my husband) have been quite difficult on our marriage.  When we ask ourselves why, his response is that I need therapy or anger management, while my response is the (step) kids are driving me bat-shit-crazy.   The raising of teenagers is patient parenting X100000000000.  I love these kids, they're truly incredible and kind, but boy can I take them or leave them sometimes.
This holiday season was tough, lovely and wonderful in the way holidays are so much more fun with kids.  Except when everyone in the family gets sick.  Be it the common cold or the flu, there were 3 members out of commission.  Mix that with school break, and couch potato-ing becomes an olympic sport in this house.  I'm surprised there wasn't a champion for the one who used the bathroom the most.  It was painful to witness.

So I feel tremendous relief when I come across an article by Wednesday Martin Ph.D., author of Stepmonster (stepmonster I am not) that justifies my warp-speed anger/resentment about having to pick up another pair of shoes or 10 dirty tissues off the living room floor.  The article highlights the challenging personalities of teenagers and how, basically, if you didn't give birth to these angry little buggers, it's that much harder to keep your cool during adolescence.  As good as these kids are, they're still 13 & 17 years old and incessantly moody.

The bright side? Only 18 months before the first goes to college!

teens-can-drive-you-nuts-especially-when-theyre-not-yours

Serenity now. Praying for no insanity later...

Also, check out Mrs. Martin's blog for more information about raising these other people's children we get to call our own.  http://wednesdaymartin.com/blog/

Beware! New driver.

Recently, my stepson has come into his own.  In the past 4 months, he turned 16, became an all-star on his high school varsity soccer team (1 of 3 sophomores) and got his driver's license.
His new-found freedom has afforded him the luxury of driving himself to school & his infinite number of soccer practices. Hooray!  I think I was more elated than he when he got that sheet of paper allowing him to drive a vehicle sans adult passenger.   No more carpool, means I don't have to get myself and the toddler out of bed (of course she only slept in on the mornings I had to get her up), stick her in the car half asleep, drive around the neighborhood picking up 5 teenagers and driving them to school in rush hour.  I'll especially miss that brat of a kid who could never get his sh*t together on time, had 4 or 5 bags/shoes/books on the loose and always ran late.

So J has been driving himself around for nearly 2 weeks.  The other day when his alarm failed him, he panicked and asked for a last-minute ride to school.  Huh? What? Why?  Do I drive that much faster?  No.  He just figured it would be easier (which it would've been for him) to not have to worry about parking.  Easier for me?  Negative.  I was just waking up, still in PJs (aka no bra), changing my toddler's diaper and hadn't even started my caffeine ritual.  This could not end well.  Luckily he spoke to his father/my dear husband, who convinced him he was wasting time trying to get a ride when he could jump in his car and get there.  Which he did, of course.  Found a parking spot et al.  At the end of the day, I asked how he managed to get through the day without his 45minute shower?  He responded "My hair was all wrong".  LOL I can't imagine the horror he felt every time he saw his reflection with 'imperfect' hair.

So... I put a bottle of Dippity Doo hair gel in his car for such emergencies.

My stepson? He loves me. He really does.

Being one of three girls, I grew up with nothing but girly things, (sorry Dad).  Yes, one of my sisters ended up being a 'tomboy' but we definitely had more Barbie dolls than sporting equipment in the house.  And sure I played with WWE figurines just as much as the neighborhood boys with whom I traded my Macho Man Randy Savage for the newest British Bulldog (no brainer, right?).  

So when we got married, I had no idea what to expect from my husband's kids, especially then 12yr old boy, J.  He never says much, keeps to himself and his Xbox and frankly,  we don't have much in common.  I'm this outgoing, cheery and sometimes opinionated Canadian girl who works in the beauty industry,  in other words, I don't knew what a soccer ball looked like but rarely got passed the uniform colors.  While he is the calm, cool and soccer type.

I've been in their lives for nearly 3 years and it's been an incredible journey.  I've learned more from both of my step kids than I could have imagined.  It's hard to know if I'm doing a good 'job' with them... Not being their 'mother' but still playing such an important role at this insanely crazy teenage stage is a huge undertaking.  I accept I have my limits and I might not have all the answers but... I am doing my best.

So, despite this 15yr old man child's quiet and reserved existence, he made my heart melt when I opened my birthday card and read these 2 words, in his own handwriting... "Love you, J."

Hooray for me!  I'm doing something right by him.  According to my loving husband, the boy wasn't even coaxed/threatened/bribed into writing it.  Totally on his own volition.  And that, my friends, is good (parental) stuff. :-)