Stepmonster

Nobody wakes up one day and says, "You know what would make my life complete? I think I should become a crackhead, a garbage man, a substitute teacher OR a step-parent." I've been a substitute teacher, thank God I haven't been a crackhead or a garbageman and I'm soon to become a step-parent. The question that is surely on every one's mind (including mine) is, "WHY?"

As far as I can tell it is a largely thankless job that includes all the same duties and tasks without the influential decision-making power of a "real" parent. Other added "perks" include your being the scapegoat to blame for the parents not getting back together and the extreme awkwardness of all school plays, soccer games, graduations and weddings. And then there is always the fun of the influence of the "baby mama or baby daddy" on your family. Somehow a person who was once the love of your partner's life magically transforms into a heinous troll whose main goal in life is to make everything complicated and everyone miserable.

That said, at nearly 40% of weddings at least one member of the bridal couple has been married before. Furthermore, 70% of marriages that involve stepchildren fail. So why do we do it? Sentimental saps and wise sages will likely say the same thing.........love, hope and the human tendency toward coupling. We all know from the moment that we engage in any relationship with another human being that there are infinite possible outcomes. A stranger on the street could be a serial killer or a saint, a potential friend or foe. Every interaction shapes who we are and how we behave in our world, and yet most of us are likely to hope that the person has the potential for good. As creatures humans are actually quite hopeful and I find that to be our most fascinating trait.

People aren't numbers or astrological charts or actuary tables, they are complicated, intricate and infinitely variable. Thus, human relationships are difficult to isolate statistically. My ex-husband and I passed all the "tests", we were a statistical marvel. We were spaced appropriately in age, had dated for the optimal amount of time, had compatible personality types, and astrological forecasts, passed premarital counseling with flying colors and we even married under nearly optimal religious and astrological circumstances and our marriage still failed. It just isn't a numbers game. The heart and soul of the whole thing gets lost sometimes in the aftermath once the bomb goes off.

Marriages don't fail because someone was too young, or because it was a "shotgun wedding" or any number of other over-simplified excuses. The truth is that at some point, for whatever combination of what are most likely a series of overlapping and complicated reasons, one or both people give up, check out, quit or run away. It's easy to pass judgement, assign blame and assume the position of martyr, victim, or hero, but at the end of the day, for those of us who've lived it and are honest with ourselves we know it simply isn't that simple. When it comes to divorce everyone loses................and maybe that is part of why we remarry. We all want to win, we all want to love and be loved, and on the whole humans are at best serial monogamists.

I have no data to support my belief that I can be a good step-parent. My parents were married and still are and all of their siblings are the same. There had been no divorce in either side of my family for over 2 generations prior to my divorce, therefore I have no frame of reference for stepparenthood whatsoever. I liken it to moving to a country where I am unfamiliar with the customs. At times I commit serious infractions without ever knowing why or how. I always feel as if I only knew the customs I would have been able to blend in just fine, but sadly now I have just made a mess of things.

My aunt once lived in Indonesia, where it is customary to shake hands using your left hand rather than your right. This doesn't seem like such a complicated thing, but Americans are quite accustomed to our right-handedness with this custom. So what if one forgets and offers the wrong hand? The problem is that manners and customs are usually not without reason. In that country toilet paper is a luxury for affluent families and thus the custom is to wipe oneself in the bathroom with your right hand. Even though the hand is washed, it is understood that the left hand is decidedly cleaner and more appropriate to offer to a friend. Imagine the horror if someone were to offer their right hand! Thus, in the country of Stepmonsterland a simple photo with Santa or a trip to the zoo could be unknowing cause for great horror and offense.

Thus I have decided to accept that I am an immigrant in a foreign land. I will try to learn the customs of the people here, but I also know that I have a contribution to make. I may never be able to join the DAR, but really, what have they done for the common good anyway?

Love on a Bicycle

I've never believed that we only have one love in life. I just don't think it's possible, in part because I don't think love stops when life moves forward. I still love everyone I've ever loved no matter how great or small that love was. The love may have shifted and changed form, but I think love is like matter. It can't really be created or destroyed. I suspect that when we "fall in love" we are just becoming aware of something that has always been and always will be. I've fallen in love in kindergarten, in History class, in marching band, on vacation, at a kitchen table and most recently on a bicycle.

I suppose my first love (if you want to call it that) was in kindergarten. I was so smitten that with some spelling advice from my mother I wrote the poor chap a love letter. Of course I failed to consider that he might not be able to read the note and much to my horror he took the letter to the teacher to read it to him.

In eighth grade there was a boy with unnerving confidence and floppy blond hair who sat near me in history class. I LIVED for history class, I was in awe of everything about him, even though I knew absolutely nothing and as best I can recall never even spoke to him.............

My high school sweetheart was in the marching band with me, and a talented musician and songwriter even at the age of fifteen. He saw (and still sees) the world through different eyes than the rest of us and his creativity and quirky sensibilities were absolutely intoxicating.

I met my ex-husband on a family vacation. He was the first person I'd met outside of art class who had ever heard of the Pieta and actually loved Shakespeare. We were the best of friends and had the most amazing conversations from the moment we met and for 10 years after that.

I never dreamed the story would continue, but divorce has a funny way of opening the heart to new loves and so I fell in love over dirty dishes and half empty bottles of wine sitting at a kitchen table.

Then one day I started biking with a new friend I'd met along the way. We rode 22 miles round trip every Monday for weeks on end and we talked and laughed about everything. Somewhere along the way we fell in love, and my dear friend became so much more to me. We became so close on that bike path, he is the only person I've ever known who I trust enough to share everything without reservation. I can say anything at all and it will be okay. It all sort of snuck up on me and was even a little startling. And then, even more to my surprise, I fell in love again, this time with his daughter. This past Christmas he asked me to be his wife and I said, "Yes."

So, of all the places to fall in love, so far a bicycle has been my favorite :-) And although I believe that we have many loves in our lifetime, I also believe that there can be one who holds the special distinction of being the love of your life. I hope that the new loves in my life will all grow out of this love, and that is what makes this one the love of my life.