Great Article

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-t-pisarra/the-y-factor-gender-bias-_b_838631.html

All I can say is wow!!! I can soooo relate to this whole thing.

Making hard decisions

So hubby has tried to get information out of TM regarding what is going on with the child's grades and appointments that require her to miss school even though we find out that the child is actually not going to school because she is not ready for tests and TM allows this. So now is the hard decision on what to do. Counselor said that if we pull the child back to our house she will hate us and resent us more, if we do nothing she will more then likely end up failing her classes and go no where with her life, and because of what TM says it will all be dad's fault. So here we are, to the right is a rock and to the left is another rock. So we are going through all the emails and printing them out and making sure we have the time line and trying to get the documentation from others regarding PAS and head back to court. Fun times.

Where I am today

Today I feel thankful for the fact that hubby and I have gotten better at communicating our needs to each other. We went to parent teacher conferences and we were able to learn a lot of things that are going on in the child's life, sadly the teachers have to let us know instead of TM, but if that is what it takes then that is what we will do. Two of her teachers agreed to keep up in the loop with weekly updates on her progress, as she is failing these classes and hubby and I were talking about pulling the child back. At least we are open to talking about it and listening to each other. We started this through counseling and have continued this to regular nights at home. I never though we had a problem with communication, but the fact that a lot of things I didn't say were eating at me it has been a very good thing. I guess sometimes these bad things that happen in our life open us up to good things coming out of it. Learn from life and change what isn't working. Anyway, just want to stay thankful today and love my hubby.

How much influence do steps have?

I have to say that I am a part of an amazing group of stepmoms. I have made some friends that I feel really close with. It's like we have been in battle together and have made friendships from that trama. My question is how much influence do we really have as stepmoms? I feel that I came into the life of the child to late to really influence her and her actions. She knows what she can get away with and not get away with when it comes to my expectations and reactions. I feel I have been very good with consistency. Manners are a must with me, when she doesn't say please of thank you she doesn't get it again. I have a LONG memory and find that I can remember last week when something happened, even if the child and hubby cannot, which they HATE. I can say that friends and co-workers have told me how improved her behavior was according to what they had seen before. Teachers and counselors have told us that she has improved behavior and habits the more she spends time with us. Life at our house is hard, we have expectations and rules and she knows this and she has proven that she can tow the line. The problem is the fact that TM does not make her tow the line at her house and actually lets her out of school when she has a french test, so she can make it up when she is more prepared, and excuses her from school. TM also allows SD to go out late at night, TM works late hours and does not supervise her child, so of course the child wants to be at moms. I don't know. I wish I could say that of course steps have influence, but all I can see from my end is the only influence I have is showing the child how she needs to act differently according to the different situations.

15 Things Moms want to say to Stepmoms response

I know others have talked on their blogs regarding this article and yes, I have to add my two cents. I can say that almost nothing in this article pertains to my situation. I loved this response: http://www.thepsychoexwife.com/15-things-stepmoms-not-so-secretly-want-to-say-to-moms/

http://www.ivillage.com/15-things-moms-secretly-want-say-stepmoms-im-happy-you-love-my-child/6-b-258394#258398

I'm Happy That You Love My Child
It’s only natural for a mom to get jealous over a stepmom’s developing bond with her kid. And deep down, I do want to remain the only mom in his eyes. But I love him enough to want him to be surrounded by many people who care for him, too. I thank you for being one more person who thinks he's the best kid on the block -- and for loving him (nearly) as much as I do.

Really, happy are you. So why do you tell your child that I am the reason for the divorce and she doesn’t have to listen to me or her dad. Why do you tell her that if we have a child that child would not be her brother/sister? Why do you lie to her and tell her that her dad doesn’t love her anymore and all the other crap? Why is this all about your feelings and what you want?

I'm Happy That You're Involved

It’s no longer possible for me to be with my kid every moment of every day. But knowing someone else is there to help with school projects and homework gives me a sense of relief. I like knowing that someone else is motivating him to the best he can be. (Hey, if he gets a scholarship to Yale, we’ll both save money!) And it’s great when we’re both there for piano recitals and sporting events. That means the world to him. It’s wonderful that you’re committed and take an interest in his life.

Don’t make me laugh. You tell me I’m not allowed to participate in Parent/Teacher conferences and I shouldn’t show up at competitions and you tell the child that I don’t know anything so I shouldn’t help with homework. I’m the one with the college degree, just because I’m younger then you does not mean I don’t know as much or more then you do. In addition, is hasn’t been that long since I’ve been in school.

Certain Milestones Should Be Reserved for Me

When my daughter turned five, you took her to have her first manicure/pedicure. She felt so grownup and special. But frankly, that moment should have been with me. My kids are growing up fast, and I have rare opportunities for mother/daughter bonding. I know that you may want to replicate your own favorite childhood memories, but this was a huge one. I feel that you stole my chance to create a lasting memory. A better idea? Ask me if a certain milestone activity is important to me first -- and then think about how something seemingly small, like a manicure, could still be really significant

Now why is this comment about how you feel? Isn’t it about what is best for the children? Lets see, I’ve stopped doing things with the child because of your insecurity. We cannot even shop together, as that is something you do with her. When I get my nails done I make sure it is during a time she is with you, just so I don’t have to say no for fear of hurting your feelings. When I took her shopping for her dad’s presents for Christmas you were happy because you didn’t have to spend money, but complained that I took her. You want everything your way, who cares about the kid. Right!?

Discipline: Stick to the Plan

All parents understand that the occasional time-out may be necessary for children. But how and how often you discipline my kid needs to be on my terms. Back when my ex and I became parents, we made a discipline plan and stuck to it. You need to agree to that plan, too. What my ex and I feel is appropriate, is appropriate. P.S. Don’t even think about raising a hand to my child.

Again, it’s all about you. If you would discipline you child and allow the child’s father to discipline her then this wouldn’t be an issue, but you have to be the kid’s best friend and undermine everything her dad tries to teach her. That’s okay, when she is hell on wheels and ends up damaging your house like she did ours you will know who to blame (but of course you will blame us because you are the perfect parent.) As for the plan, you can’t even tell hubby when parent teacher conferences are or when the child goes to the doctor, how the hell do you think you two can come up with a plan?

But I’m Glad That You Set Limits for My Kids

I know that many kids try to use the two-household scenario to their advantage, and I don’t put it past my own kid to use classic lines such as, “You’re not my real mother and I don’t have to listen to you.” But, yes, he does. He is in your house, and I’m raising him to respect adults. As long as discipline doesn’t go beyond what his father and I feel is appropriate (remember: no hitting!), I’m all for rules, limits and standing your ground as a (step) parent.

I’m not even going to touch this one, as you do not appreciate the limits we set for the child and undermine every boundary we set in place.

Even When I Don’t Show Up, I Still Like to Be Invited

When you’re having a party that involves my kids, and you send me an invitation, it truly means a lot to me. It may make me uncomfortable to actually attend, and because of that, I’ll probably decline, but it’s the effort that counts. So keep inviting me. I’ll be happy to do the same for you, and I promise not to take it personally if you choose not to come. Who knows? Maybe one day it won’t feel so awkward.

This one is really funny. We would never invite you and you would never invite us, so no issue. Of course you don’t even tell hubby when the child has something going on, so I guess it’s a non-issue.

Don’t Badmouth Me and I Won’t Badmouth You

Please, please, please do not complain about me or talk negatively about me in front of my children. No matter our relationship, the kids do not need one mom ridiculing the other. It makes them angry, and they usually tell me about it. And because they love us both, they feel caught in the middle. Let’s make a pact: I won’t whisper nasty remarks under my breath about you if you don’t whisper about me. Hate away, but no negative talk about each other in front of the kids!

Since you are not badmouthed in our home how about you do the same in yours. We have tried to teach the child not to talk badly of others, but since it’s okay in your home she thinks it’s okay. How about not bulling people in front of your child and actually disciplining her when you get called by the school and are told she is the #3 bully in the whole school. Since you are a bully and this is how you teach your child I guess we can look forward to the complaints and possible law suits from her bulling, which will go straight to you.

Please Don’t Spoil My Kids

Remember when you gave my son “Guitar Hero” for his birthday? Well, he asked me for it first and I told him no. I get that you may not have realized that, but buying wish list items that I can’t afford or have otherwise refused undermines and embarrasses me. It makes me feel like you’re trying to buy my kids’ affection. So let’s agree to keep spoiling to a minimum by discussing big-ticket purchases in advance. And no, my kid doesn’t need Paris Hilton-style Gucci sunglasses at age 12. Plus, I may actually have said no to it for another reason, like the C she got in Algebra.

Here is another one that is completely opposite. Oh, and since you decided that the last time you and hubby would buy something together to not honor the splitting of the costs, this will never happen again.

I Am Completely Over My Ex

Don’t be insecure about the fact that I’m in your husband’s life. Because we are parents together, we have to communicate. Believe me: I’m not trying to win him back. Good riddance to all his fantasy football and computer poker, and more power to you for dealing with it. He and I are divorced; it’s over. And now, it’s all about parenting.

So how about you stop talking about the times you made love and how good it was and telling hubby that if he ever wants to come back there is a key under the mat for him. Stop telling him how much you love him and how much you miss him and in the next breath telling him you are glad you divorced him as he is controlling and abusive. How about you keep it to parenting?

But I’m Still Licking My Wounds

As much as I’m over my ex, it will take me longer to get over the fact that you started a relationship with him before he was my ex. I also wonder about the morals being taught in your home because of it: How will my children learn not to cheat to lie, knowing that you two did? I know that I need to get over it, and I promise to try, but you should know that it hurt me deeply.

This is so funny. Since you were divorced when we got together but will NEVER believe that I guess it’s just another reason to play the victim and get support and sympathy. Oh, and telling the child that you are “dating” several men at one time and then telling her you are sleeping with them, yes, you provide a good role model when it comes to morals.

I Get Mother’s Day. Period.

Yes, you are a mother and the kids may want to shower you with gifts and treats on Mother’s Day. But as biological mom, I get to spend this day with them. Yes, the entire day. This is when I get to pull this trump card: I carried them for 9 months. I suffered through labor, nursing and midnight feedings. I get Mother’s Day.

Yes you do, so don’t back out on it. And Dad gets Father’s Day, PERIOD!

I’m Not a Moneygrubber

If I call asking for help paying the orthodontist bill or for pricey lacrosse gear, I’m not trying to nickel and dime you. I’m just trying to taking care of our kids. Your husband still has to support his children, including when they are in my custody. Yes, that means you’ll see my name in your checkbook, but remember that that’s what a court has decided.
Yes you are. When you don’t bother to consult the father on the decisions you make regarding spending his money he doesn’t have to split the costs with you. It’s called communication and parenting. If you want to sign the child up for everything under the sun then be prepared to pay for it. A court order is not an open checkbook. Please, take us back to court and tell the judge that you made the decision WITHOUT talking it over with dad and just expect him to pay whatever you want him to pay. Also, there is a 30 day notice for a reason, per the court order. You are not allowed to hold all the bills for doctors and such and then turn them into us and expect payment. Sorry, when the child went into the doctor’s in February do not expect payment for that bill in December. I’m sorry you cannot keep track of your expenses, but that is your problem. Also, hubby is to pay the provider, NOT YOU!!! If you have a problem with that, talk to the judge. This is funny because hubby is to support the child while in your custody, but what about when she is with us? We pay for 100% of her costs and yet you make over $30K with child support more then hubby does.

Please, Put Some Clothes On!

I understand that you and my ex are head over heels for each other. But your heavy petting and running around the house in sexy lingerie is making my kids -- and me -- uncomfortable. I know you’re great at keeping the PDA to a minimum outside the home, so please confine it to the closed-door bedroom when my kids are there. That way, I only have to worry about them asking me uncomfortable questions about the things they see at school, not at their dad’s house.
Why in the world would the fact that hubby and I have sex make anyone uncomfortable except for the fact that you never taught you child to knock on closed doors and she feels it’s perfectly okay to walk in on us doing our heavy petting (having sex once or twice a year is not a normal healthy sex life and now she does have to get use to the fact that her dad and Stepmom have a normal healthy sex life). BTW, if she didn’t go through my drawers she would never know what kind of sexy lingerie I have.

I Hate When You Compare My Child to Yours

We all think our kids are the best, but making my kid feel second-best in your home can hurt her self-esteem and damage her relationship with her father. Sometimes, she says she feels she’s not as good as his “new family.” You’re a parent to my child now, too. Please treat her the same as you treat your own child. And praise her for jobs well done.
Yes, I compare your child to the children (normal children) that I know in my life, and you know what, how can you say in one breath to treat her like the other children but tell me to not treat her like the others. You can’t have it both ways.

There’s No Need to Ignore Me

Sure, lots of bio moms and stepmoms fight, so not speaking to me or avoiding me might seem like a good defense. Like when I call and you just hand the phone to my kids without any pleasantries. But if you’re going to be in my children’s lives, I’d appreciate you making an effort to be in mine. I don’t need anything spectacular. Just smile, be polite and say hello. We may not be friends, but we can be civil.
I don’t need to be in your life just like you don’t need to be in mine. I can be civil, but it also works both ways. You screaming at me in the school hallways is not civil. I am taking my cues from you, if you want a change, then make a change.

And this insures your child has a relationship with her father?

Last night hubby was telling me about a phone conversation he was having with an ex-niece-in-law. She was telling him about Christmas when TM and SD go to someone in her family’s house to celebrate. I don’t know why TM is invited, it is actually her sister’s in-laws, but ever since the divorce she has latched onto that family because she knows that they are still on contact with hubby and have a good relationship with hubby and have started a relationship with me. We try so hard not to put them in the middle and to leave them out of the drama; it’s not worth losing the relationship with them. We will call her Sam, Sam and hubby were talking and it seems that Sam and her dad were telling the child how much her dad loves her and that the divorce didn’t change his love for her. TM comes up and tells them not to talk about hubby or me to SD as it only stresses her out. Sam asked why, and TM said she (meaning the child) doesn’t need to hear the lies and she (the child) knows that her father left her and married a whore (me). Talk about not interfering with the natural development for affection between the child and the parent.

Sam is really upset with the fact that she has to listen to TM at all the holiday functions talk crap about hubby and I and the child is always there (and the fact that her aunt is TM’s sister and they feel so sorry for TM for the divorce as she is such a great person…pfff). Sam understands that kids sometimes fight with their parents but with what is going on she sees TM pushing the child away from her father. Sam told TM that hubby was being a parent, something she might want to look into being. Sam and her dad are actually the best people in the world and they accept people for whom and what they are. They don’t put on airs and they are always there to help out. Sam was snubbed by TM and most of her family when she got married, as they did not approve of the man she was going to marry. It doesn’t matter, they have been together for years, have kids, and honestly, are the most amazing couple together. You can just see how much they love each other if you bother to look. Hubby and (we will call Sam’s husband Bob) Bob are friends and do a lot of things together. Bob would gladly tell TM off because of the things she says (mostly lies) and the things she does, but Sam will not let him. I honestly believe if Bob never saw TM again for the rest of his life he would be okay because of the way she has treated him, his wife, his mother-in-law, the child, and hubby. TM also accused Sam of having an affair with hubby because they were close (yes, being around someone since they were small and them growing up seeing you as a favored uncle means you want to sleep with the person). Sam was also recently in the hospital and no one knew but hubby and I. We were talking to Bob the whole time, asking if they needed anything and how Sam was and if we knew how bad things were we would have gone to see her, but when aunt and TM found out NOTHING was said. Sad really. But I’m the one that is evil and wicked. Pfff.

A different perspective on a fairy tale...Cinderella by Not the Wicked Step Mom

This was written by an online friend and stepmom that I know.

I'm just so sick and tired of getting all this flack from the world. Even now in your modern times people just sit and pass judgement on me, calling me "mean" and "wicked", but has anyone ever asked ME what happened? No way. Why, you ask, haven't I stepped forward until now? The truth is that I'm not bitter about Cynthia's gain. I can't say that I think she deserves it, but why wouldn't I want the girl to find her happily ever after? 
What you need to understand is that back then things weren't the same for women as they are now. For one, I didn't have the greatest relationship with my mom. I am what the world refers to as "a woman of breeding", which really means that instead of being able to go out and play in the fields picking wildflowers, I had a strict curriculum of "womanly arts". I was forced to learn to sing, do embroidery, and learn different languages for no other reason than to be a more attractive asset once I was sold off to some man in order to heighten my family's lineage. While other girls without my responsibilities got to wear loose fitting, albeit rough textured, dresses, I had to wear corsets and drown myself in itchy, stiff, hot gowns. It's not like I had some extravagant childhood either. My father was a landowner, which did give us lots of benefits, like a hot meal every night, and silverware, and I'm not complaining about never having had to do laundry or wash dishes, but it was all glamour and glitz either. I was brought up with the full knowledge that I would never ever make decisions for myself. I would go from my father's house to some husband's house, and love wasn't even something I could consider. I wasn't even allowed to read romance books about people falling for one another, because my mother refused to allow her children to entertain such nonsense. 
In fact, my mother and I had quite a terrible relationship according to modern values. Women back then weren't really required to spend much time with their kids. I didn't even start eating at the table until I turned 13, and even then it was only so she could monitor my manners. The most affectionate thing she ever said to me was, "Margaret, we bring the spoon to our mouths not our mouth to the spoon." When I was 17 I was married off to a Baron named Walter. He was barely older than I was, so I counted myself lucky that I didn't have to marry an old man. All the same, Walter was just a kid himself, and after the first couple of nights we were married, he took to spending the night in another room because he liked to get up bright and early to play with his beloved horses. All that education was to make me a proper hostess when we had company. I was like a trained monkey who sang and played piano on command and was dismissed to my quarters when they had tired of me. Still, I did my duty, silently and obediently. It wasn't my fault that I only had daughters, but back then they didn't know that it wasn't the woman who determined the sex of the baby. So I was deemed a failure. Maybe I could have been a better wife to Walter, and been more inviting to the bedroom, but they didn't have things like epidurals in my day. Having kids was a dance with death, and the havoc it wreaked on my lady parts was barbaric. Could you really blame me?
 Walter and I were married for five years before he died. I was just 22, and had two daughters 3, and 4. For the first time in my life I was free, and I loved it. See, while women didn't really have rights back then, widows were a different story. We could own land, and spend our own money, and as Walter was the only person to inherit his fortune, and his parents were gone, it all went to me. It was the most awesome time in my life. I had the best tutors for the girls, I got to do whatever I wanted. I started reading books about love and learned how to manage my own land. My tenants were well treated and quite happy with the turn of events. I even began to travel. I went all over the place on holiday, until finally I came to Paris and met the most charming merchant, Marc. 
 Marc was wonderful. He'd been all over the world and had the most amazing stories. He too had been widowed, and even had a daughter of his own living at his chateau in the country. He wasn't a man of title, but had his own wealth, he claimed, so I was pretty sure he wasn't after my money. It wasn't hard to fall in love with him. He was so wonderful with the girls, and told me he wished his own daughter could be more like them. He said without a proper female figure in the household his little Cynthia had unfortunately become a bit rag-tag. In hindsight, I should have asked more questions. I should have been more shrewd, considering the fact that I'd only just gained my freedom not even a year before. I guess it was a mixture of being swept of my feet and needing a little bit of direction. I didn't really know what I was supposed to do with myself, and found myself idle most of the time. I thought having a husband might give my life a little more structure, and Marc was willing to love me and let me into his life as I was. He didn't expect for me to sing or dance, or speak Latin for him. He talked to me and dreamed with me, and I fell for it hook line and sinker. 
 We had a modest wedding attended by a priest, my girls, and one of Marc's partners. He sent word to his staff that he would be bringing a small household home with him, and within 2 weeks I arrived at his little chateau. It was so wonderfully charming! I adored it instantly. There was a decent parcel of land that was worked for produce, there was livestock, and the smell of fresh bread was heavenly after all the travel we'd been doing. I'm sure we looked quite absurdly overdressed in silks and taffeta on such a rural plot, but the truth is my girls and I didn't own anything else. We tried to be warm to everyone we met, and perhaps the girls were a bit more stand-offish, not really having a say in this sudden transplanted life, but all in all we weren't at all cold or mean or snobbish, the way the story says. 
 The moment I met little Cynthia I fell in love. My daughters were of sturdy stock, which was apparent even when they were young. Their features were harsh and while I love them tenderly, and believe them to be beautiful in their own rights, they could never have been fawned over for their looks. Cynthia, on the other hand, despite her modest clothes, the soot that stained her face, and the rats nest of hair that someone had attempted to tame for my arrival, was the most angelic little creature I'd ever laid eyes upon. She had the most elegant bone structure with a flawlessly delicate angles and eyes that sparkled like crystal. Had she not been covered in muck I would have taken her into my arms and covered her peachy skin with kisses. Instead she reached out ever so gracefully and said "how do you do, Baroness," before kicking me in the shin and running off. 
 Understandably, my expectations were dashed by this kind of welcome, but I allowed Marc to comfort me. I agreed that she just needed to get used to my presence. He and I would be home for several months before he had to travel again on business, and by then we'd be the happiest family France had ever seen. 
 Of course, you know already, that's not how it went at all. Marc suffered some sort of heart failure the next day, and took away the last bit of happiness I would ever have. I grieved for a full week. I couldn't bring myself to eat. All I could do was weep until I fell into a slumber and then I would wake up and weep some more. It wasn't until my eldest daughter came to my chamber wearing the same dress she wore the day Marc died, her hair in knots, and her fingernails encrusted with filth that I realized I needed to snap out of it. My girls needed a mother, and this house needed management, and I was not going to let them down.
 So here is where the story starts to really villainize me. They say that I treated Cynthia cruelly. They say that I made her clean tirelessly whereas my daughters got everything they wanted. Well, let me tell you that is the biggest load I've ever heard, pardon my language. First of all, I got to work getting the girls cleaned up. I did things in age order so it wouldn't seem unfair. Brunhilda, my eldest, went first, then Cynthia, than Drusilda (please don't remind me about their names, I had nothing to do with it. They were named after Walter's mother and grandmother much to my own horror). I had them bathed, their fingernails cut, and their hair combed out and brushed 100 times. I even had Cynthia dressed in one of Hilda's best silks, just so she could feel special. Well, by the time I'd finished with Drusilda, I couldn't find Cynthia anywhere. We searched the house to find the girl reading a book by the fireplace, with her dress already stained and a long smear of soot across her forehead.
"Oh, my dear little Cindergirl," I exclaimed. My memory of that moment is filled with gladness that she could read already, than anger. In fact I was trying to hold back chuckles, as we mothers often do when we find ourselves having to parent a child that has done something wrong which amuses us. "What shall we do with you? Back to the bath you go." I pretended to scold, and took her upstairs to clean her once more in punishment. 
 That was only to be the beginning of a long life of struggle with the girl. I tried to get her to sit quietly with the tutors as I had done, but she would only cause trouble. I can't even count how many teachers she would run off with her terrible tricks. After she put a hot coal on her Latin tutors seat, did I begin to do what any other parent would have done.  I tried to discipline the girl's mischief. Now, I don't believe in beatings the way my parents did, but I wasn't above giving the girl tasks around the house which I monitored like a tyrant. It is true, she had to scrub floors and empty chamber pots, but had she decided to behave herself she would have been educated like my own daughters were. My girls weren't angels either, and they could tell you about their own adventures in shoveling manure in the stable, but you don't hear about that in the stories now do you? No all you hear about is how poor, poor Cynthia was made to be a slave. No one cares that the girl was a willful rebellious brat.  The only thing I could get her interested in was dancing and singing, and she was absolutely rewarded for excelling in those areas, although you must understand that when a child is so determined to be a terror those rewards don't seem as extravagant as the ones bestowed upon my daughters. She was uninterested in the gowns I had made for the girls, instead she chose to sit and read by the fire, which is how she got her nickname, Cinderella, and it wasn't one that was given to her in malice at all. It was an affectionate term I used for her during the sweet moments at bedtime when she let me stroke her golden hair. 
Time didn't wear her down either. She only learned to become more devious. She would escape her lessons to spend time in the stables with the stable boy, who was only after what was under her skirts. As a teenager she began to weave the most incredible lies about where she'd been, telling me she'd been picking flowers when a bear came upon her and she ran into the woods and got lost, all while standing before me with straw in her hair. I can't say I was the most pleasant mother to her, but no parent in the world could blame me. I was tired and exhausted and exasperated, and I didn't have any self-help books to guide me. I only did what I could to reign the girl in, and that tended to be housework. 
 When the invitation to the royal ball arrived, I certainly did agree to allow the girls, even Cinderella, to go, so long as they took care of their responsibilities. I didn't even require Cynthia to attend her lessons, instead I told her that she needed to make sure she cleaned the floors in the hall. Now, there is this nonsense in the storybooks about a fairy godmother and the beautiful dress which is total poppycock. I had the dress made for her, to match the color of her eyes, and had shoes made to accommodate her very strangely sized feet, which were almost the size of a child's, a phenomenon that puzzled even the most educated doctors we could find. I hid the dress in my armoire to surprise her with on the day of the ball, but instead of completing her chores I discovered her in a very compromising dalliance with that wretched stable boy. What would it have looked like if I had allowed her to go? My own girls on the other hand had finished their lessons, and had ensured I would have no excuse to deny them. I considered staying behind to keep an eye on Cinderella, but, in all honesty, I hadn't experienced this level of extravagance since the days that I was married to Walter. A woman deserves a night out. Sure I could have sent another chaperone with the girls, but that would have meant a sacrifice for myself, when I'd spent years alone managing my home, and my girls without a night off for myself. I hadn't even taken tea with someone since Marc died. I deserved a night!
There was truth in the idea that the Prince was looking for a wife, but in those days a peasant couldn't very well marry a prince. However, since I'd been married to a Baron once, my girls, and Cynthia, were allowed to attend. Which was very exciting. The ball was lavish, even for me. I'd never seen such a variety of delicacies in one place. I was awestruck by the evening. Of course, I'd had a mother's hope that one of my girls would strike the Prince's fancy, but I was aware of the realities of their physical natures. My business there was of enjoyment of the evening's festivities, and perhaps to negotiate a union with some other nobility for the girls, if I got lucky enough. 
When Cynthia arrived at the ball, I must have looked terribly upset. It wasn't just that she'd been punished and disobeyed me, she'd also broken into my locked armoire for the dress and shoes, and convinced the stable boy to steal a carriage from our closest neighbor to take her there. Of course, she'd later tell people that some magic had turned a pumpkin into a carriage, but no one really believed  her. She did, however, look like an angel. I'd never seen her so clean and put together. I was impressed at her charm with the Prince, and was much too proud to make a scene at the ball. It was all I could do to get the girls not to run over to her and ruin her moment. They were, naturally, jealous of how beautiful she looked with little more than a dress to augment her appearance, whereas they had tied ribbons into their hair and worn their favorite picks from my jewels. 
 At some point, and I can't say for certain it was actually midnight, because these balls lasted long into the night and often into the morning, Cinderella did, without explanation, run off in a fright leaving one of her adorable little shoes behind on the steps. The shoe was not made of glass, but instead had a tiny jewel in the front toe, meant as a gift to her for doing well with her chores. The Prince did clutch this shoe as if had been a tiny darling of his. However, there was no weeks long search for his beloved. Instead, at the end of the evening I informed one of his groomsmen that the owner of that shoe lived in my house, and could be visited upon the following day. 
I said nothing to Cinderella when we arrived home. Frankly, I was tired and a little drunk from all the fine wine I'd had. The only cruel thing I did was not to tell the girl that the Prince, or some representative of his, would be visiting the next day. I set the staff to prepare the house for guests, and I went to rest for a few hours.
 When the Prince and his entourage arrived at our modest little home, I was beside myself with excitement. Our little Cynthia would become his bride. It was more than I could have imagined for her, and for us. In my mind it was a slight prank on the girl, who would soon enter a palace. I thought she would perceive it as a tsk-tsking for breaking the rules, stealing a carriage, and breaking into my room, which I was no longer even upset about since she'd successfully wooed the PRINCE OF FRANCE. I'm not even sure you could understand the awe I was in that day. I mean, things like this don't just happen to people. What luck that willful little girl had!
 In the end however, Cynthia was so afraid that she was being hauled off somewhere that she locked herself in the upstairs storage room. I was mortified, of course, because the Prince was beginning to get annoyed that the girl wouldn't come down, and saw it as a trick to get him to visit my own daughters privately. He was just about to leave when Cynthia's curiosity got the better of her, and upon seeing the Prince she bounded down the stairs.
 It wasn't the fairy tale moment you heard about either. The girl was dressed in servant's clothes. He was so magnanimous that these things didn't matter. In fact I was the one who had to bring down the dress she'd worn. I had to show him the partner to the shoe he held so dear. I did try the one he had on my daughters to illustrate the strange anomaly of Cynthia's foot size, before putting it on the girl herself, and I had to show him the papers which proved that I'd been married to a Baron, before he was even willing to speak to her. Only then did he laugh and take her in his arms and lead her away to her happily ever after.
 I don't know why people are so willing to believe that a stepmother is any less loving and proud of her stepdaughter. Sure, I didn't have that bodily connection with her, but had been made from my beloved, Marc, and I had a duty to her. I won't lie and say that I wouldn't have preferred one of my daughters marry a Prince, but I certainly would never have held Cynthia back without reasons. The truth is that I worked harder and more tirelessly with her than either of my own girls. I bribed, and begged, and yelled, and screamed, and pleaded, and cried more over that girl than both of mine combine. But because I wasn't her "real" mother, because she didn't come from me, SHE never loved ME. I guess that is the lot in life we take on when we marry a man with children. We have to be the grown ups and let horror stories be told about the mothers we were. We suffer in silence, finding respite only in the truths we know. I'm not trying to say we're perfect, just that, these stepkids aren't either. 

StepMom Magazine – The March Issue

I have to say I read the whole magazine in a few hours, every month I gobble up all the great articles and do a little soul searching. This month two articles really hit it for me are How and Why to Stop Blaming Yourself for Stepfamily Strife by Wednesday Martin, Ph. D. (the author of the wonderful book Stepmonster) and The Terrible Plight of the Childless Stepmother  by Mark Kelly-Williams M.A. Both women are stepmothers and both women have their own children. Mary merged her own family with her husband and Wednesday had a child with her husband, but they both seem to get it. First, Wednesday’s article really hit a cord with me. One point she made was the fact that there might be nothing that the stepmother may be doing or not doing that makes the child reject or dislike her. One part of it is loyalty binds. If mom says it is okay to like and/or (gasp) love the Stepmom then things seem to go a lot easier. The child does not act out to make you the bad guy. All adults act like adults to raise a child. Another part of the struggle is coming into a family with a tween. The child was not at the age where she could accept another adult in her life, which was fine with me. I was the wife, not the Stepmom. I got it; don’t try to parent her except when what she did affected me. I did that, and it ended up reverting to case on, she could not accept it because she was in the bind. Another strike is the fact that hubby was not always a stand up parent; you can’t be when your partner undermines your parenting at every turn. Yes, a lot of it is his fault for not standing up for himself, and it just caused tension and hell for the family afterwards. The child was mad she got called on her crap, why, because dad was never “allowed” to do it before even when it bothered him, but he started when he was a single parent. And guess what, it started BEFORE we married and BEFORE we were a couple. Not to the consistence it happened when we did get married, but it did happen.

As for the other article, it cemented my feelings. In the beginning hubby and the child would do so many things together that they use to do and they were use to doing alone, so I was the one left out. I would be told this was happening and had no voice. If I didn’t want to do it then I got left behind. If I wanted to do something I had to wait. We went to Disneyland together and there was one thing I wanted to do, just one thing. In the 5 days we were there it was the last day and I had a breakdown, as we had done EVERYTHING the child had wanted to do and I kept getting put off. Even the things hubby wanted to do got done, but the both “forgot” about what I wanted to do. Every single time we went to do what I wanted to do the child side tracked her dad into doing something else, since it was close. When I tried to do that she just took off to do what she wanted. It actually took her going off with her friends for me to do what I wanted to do. As Mary says, “While stepparenting is a truly thankless job, I think being a childless Stepmom wins the ‘Most Thankless and Most One-Sided Job Award.’”

Fear

Fear is a great motivator. In people fear usually puts them in a flight of fight mode, but what if you can’t fight or run? As a Stepmom I have figured out that my greatest fear is my hubby would choose his daughter’s lies over what he knew was going on. I knew I would be facing loyalty binds, I knew I would face TM doing everything she could to ruin any relationship I had with the child, what I didn’t know was the child would choose the easy path of hating me and making sure I knew I was hated. I had hear horror stories of Stepmoms not able to handle the hate, Stepmoms that are in therapy because of the trauma caused by the stepkids actions, I heard horror stories of marriages breaking up because of the stress. I didn’t want to be a horror story and I was afraid. I was afraid to stand up to a 14 year old girl because I loved my husband so much I didn’t want his love for me to turn to hate. You can’t live your life in fear. Now I am clinically depressed and have anxiety attacks at moments. There are days where I really don’t want to get out of bed and weekends where I sleep for 12-14 hours and it takes all I can to get out of bed. There are days where I can’t stop crying for no good reason. I cry because something sad happens in cartoons. The movie Bolt, yes, I cried when the dog was being sweet, how sad is that?!  There are days where my heart is pumping so hard in my chest I think it might just pump right out and I’m afraid to go to the store on the off chance I might see the child and her mother (I have never ran into either of them, but this is the extent of my fear).

So now the child doesn’t come over anymore and I am afraid of what will happen when she decides to come back. I know I can’t live with this fear, it is not good for me or my marriage, and slowly I am opening up to hubby about what is going on. Last night we were driving and he asked why I was angry. I wasn’t angry, that I knew, but once I got talking I found I was angry. I was angry because of the mess his child left in the house that I was cleaning up. I was angry because I worked side by side with him on the child’s room to make it a nice safe place for her and here I was doing all the work again (yes, he offered to help) and finding things written on the walls and other things damaged and broken. A freaking expensive faucet that was in the bathroom is broken and needs to be replaced and it’s only 2 years old. I explained that I trusted him to stay on top of his daughter, I trusted him to watch over her and to make sure she was doing what she was suppose to be doing. I trusted him to teach her respect and watch over her so she wasn’t damaging the home. I blasted him because of the fact that he raised her to be like that. It was his fault and TM’s fault and my fault was not standing up for myself. My new realization, I don’t want the child in my home that I share with my husband until she is sorry for what she does and she works to repair the relationship. I am willing to forgive, but I won’t forget. The child will have to accept responsibility for her actions and accept the consequences for those actions.