catching up on the history

December 29, 2009
Today, the I hate you’s started when I informed Gabby she was too young to sit in the front seat of the car. Tori was staying with a friend for a few days, and I thought maybe before Caleb’s dental appointment and Gabby’s haircut I’d drive by the kids’ new schools. Even though they were closed for the holidays, the kids could get some gist of their new environment if only from the parking lot. They had all agreed and were excited about our drive-bys until Gabby cranked up on the front porch. “It’s not fair,” she shouted and stomped down the stairs right behind me. “Then I’m not going,” she pouted, and I turned to see her standing flat-footed, legs squared, arms crossed. “Gabrielle, you don’t have a choice.” There was the one stern comment, but I followed with the excitement of the trip, “Let’s go check out your school.”

The boys were already in the car – Caleb in front and Jake in back – when Gabby walked around to Caleb’s side and slammed her fist into the window. I sat in the driver’s seat contemplating punishing us all by staying home. “Gabrielle, you just lost your DS until after dinner tonight.” She cranked up and screamed at Caleb to lift the sit more even though she had plenty of room to climb in back. She needed that added drama, that added see it’s not fair he won’t even let me in. I mouthed to Caleb first then Jake, ignore, just ignore. But when I mouthed that I had no idea for the next twenty minutes we would ignore her repetitious I hate you’s, her arms swinging at the back of Caleb’s head, her feet kicking his seat, and her boots flying past us toward the front window. “What should I do with this?” Caleb asked picking up the boot that flew past his head to the floorboard in front of him. I mouthed again ignore. I could not let her see me ready to turn the car around, ready to hit the martini bar about two blocks from our house, ready to pack up my bird and a small suitcase and run for the coast. I could not let her into that space in my head. That space that says, this ain’t gonna be easy. I might just check out. So we drove on. First past Gabby’s school which she refused to look at even though the boys and I were talking about how great it looked. She continued to yell, I hate you; you’re ugly and fat. She knows I am a woman, and this is my vulnerable-to-the-world spot. But I take the words knowing they come from a deeper spot than being denied “shotgun” on a Monday afternoon. So, we press forward to the boys’ schools. We circle the lots, and talk about this building and that building, and what time school starts, and what kind of clubs there might be. Gabby is mumbling this or that under her breath. We pull out of Jake’s school to the main road where Jake points out the cross walk hand is lit up, and several of the lights are out, so it looks like we’re being flipped off. Flipped off by this city or this day or just in general. The four of us burst into laughter. The kids at the blunt tasteless humor in it, and me at this fuck you sign from the universe.
2nd mom ~ t

Do you get to keep them?

Alex(12) and Autumn(11) came to live with Chris and I July of 2008. There mom(my cousin) has 7 children. Alex and Autumn are the oldest two. They are "technically" my cousins but as days, weeks, months and years have now passed, they are my children. The adoption process is insane so legally they belong to the state of NC but emotionally they belong to me. Yesterday I realized that emotionally, I belong to them too. I have had an extremely busy week and yesterday Autunm said, "you haven't spent any alone time with me this week!" It is amazing that that one sentence spoken aloud created a steel connection from my heart to hers. So when people ask about the adoption and I get the inevitable question, "do you get to keep them?", I always answered with a yes but today when asked, I answered with a mind, body and heart YES! 2nd Mom D

December 27, 2010

To say that this new family is bringing back strong OCD is an understatement. Today, I picked up a gold Christmas napkin soaked in some sort of liquid; I cleaned up a yellow puddle in the kitchen, and I took a cold shower because we’re washing the kids’ clothes in hot water to sanitize them after dumping out bags sprinkled with mouse poop from their mom’s. 2nd mom ~ t

The history of us continued: December 25, 2009

December 25, 2009

It’s only been two days since we told the two youngest kids, nine and eleven, that the court decided they should live here. Our one hundred year old bungalow is cramped but is starting to smell like a last minute Christmas dinner. Because of the chaos, the unexpected emergency custody of the four children, I haven’t had one minute to contemplate dinner until two days ago. I ordered a honey baked ham and two sides, but insisted when my husband and all my friends said, “just order everything from them,” that I must at least make a few homemade dishes, or it will feel like I’m cheating. After ordering the ham (and the two sides), I raced around town collecting last minute Christmas gifts to put under the tree. As if, for the two youngest, having more gifts might ease the pain of being yanked from their home. I know things don’t work this way, but I still buy a few extras.

Gabby stands on that old black bathroom stool wearing a little girl pink apron over the Christmas outfit I bought her a few days ago. She always insists on putting on the “good” clothes right when she gets out of bed. The purple sleeves are pushed up beyond her knobby elbows. I scoot between her and the edge of the tile counter top to her right. “I’ll just help get it started,” I say balancing the electric mixer in her hand. My hand is on top of hers, and as the cookie dough thickens and becomes unmanageable, the glass mixing bowl shimmies under the blades. It is silent in the kitchen all but that bowl dancing around the counter with both of our hands trying to hold it in place. Gabby leans her body into me as if this little job is wearing her out. “I’m glad I’m going to stay here,” she says staring straight into that bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough. I wish I could freeze the words in the air around me on this Christmas day because I know there will days that she hates me, days that she shouts, “you’re not my mom,” at the top of her lungs. And this is true I am not her mom, so I’ll never really be able to combat that. All I can do is pull those frozen words out of Christmas’s space and remember that chunky dough and how her hand was under mine so together we could keep things from becoming a mess.

2nd mom ~ T

2nd mom, t ~ A little history

When I met my husband in the winter of 2001, the youngest of his four children was not quite a year old and the oldest had just turned five. My two children were thirteen and sixteen; I had never really imagined myself returning to the little kid phase. Then again, I had also not imagined myself getting married again, but I loved this man. His four children already had a mom, so my relationship with them would be secondary – a friend, a supporter, the woman who loved their dad. I had no idea what I was getting into.

After my husband split up with the mother of his children, things for them got progressively worse. It became evident pretty quickly that what was “in the best interest of the children” was to be with us. As it turned out, these children were needy, and what they needed was a mom. So, a few months before our wedding, we started the legal process. This culminated in a week long custody hearing the week of our wedding. We lost.

Seven years of damage and investment and prayer and finally people in the community willing to speak up, we won.

My History (D)

I am writing this blog because a good friend had an excellent idea. She said, "we need to create a place for us, the 2nd moms". I agreed, and the fun begins. I am a
2nd wife and a 2nd mom. I am the 2nd mom to 3 beautiful(inside and out),challenging girls. Ages are 11, 12, and 12. The next 5-10 years of my life are going to be interesting or hell...or both. When I married my husband I became the stepmom. I hoped to be the Julia Roberts version...fun, cool, hip. I think I am but she tends to see it differently. This July will begin year 3 that our family grew even bigger with the addition of my two cousins. They moved in and I instantly was a full time mom to a 9 and 10 year old. I did not get any practice or prep time, from day 1 it was game on. In the last 2 years I have often wished for a manual. Just for a brief time, a manual that gives me step by step directions. They make them for everything else in life, why not this??? I have realized that my manual is my friends and family. I am learning to use that manual and the tools God has put in my life to navigate loving and caring for someone else's child. I hope that my stories bring comfort and laughter to other 2nd moms. Those of you who read this who are not 2nd moms, enjoy the hilarity and take a deep breath and say, "I can't wait for the next blog"! 2nd mom (D)

Coming soon...