Blending is not my favorite thing--unless of course it involves ice and lots and lots of tequilla.... The art of blending a family is complex and takes the finesse of a virtuoso combined with the hardiness of a pirate. Usually I simply get that deer in the headlights look and freeze until just the right moment and then run.....smack dab into a Mack Truck!
Mateys.....We need Rum!!
Blending is much harder than I anticipated. Teenagers love me.....my own kids typically love me.....well....typically..... I am fun....really.....I promise!!! I cook!! I listen....usually. Blending is like living in a foreign country---everything I need, I have to go through my translator.....(Hubs) and everything they need, they go through the translator (dad). I feel as if I must sit back and watch and wait for the pieces to connect----excruciatingly painful for a woman of action----and divest myself emotionally from the outcome. I have to be the grown up....I can't get my feelings hurt....I have to keep waiting and waiting for that moment where I get some sort of "tada!" moment. Did someone say Rum?!?!?!?
I am not sure what exactly I envisioned----maybe the Waltons.....or Little House on the Prairie when they adopted Albert.....or.... I just want to hit that little button that says Blend------I want to make it happen instantaneously!!! I want them to be comfortable....I want me to be comfortable......I want The Man to be comfortable.....I want Junior and Chickadee to be comfortable......mostly I just want to have a family that loves each other and engages with each other....creating a new living breathing organism.....a beautiful blended family.
The problem is that I get my feelings hurt......they get their feelings hurt.....The Man gets his feelings hurt.....and we all compartmentalize and talk to our translators. Sometimes it feels as if I am on a reality tv show---negotiating back and forth....making alliances....and plans.....and super secret alliances....and super secret plans.... Rum! We need more Rum!!!
At times, I feel caught in the middle in the fray between exes.....at times I feel left out...in my own home.....because this is a family that is not mine....they have a history I don't share.....I feel like an intruder....an interloper.....watching something beautiful from the outside. It's a club I can't join......I'm not really even a step-mom.....I am simply Becky. Some days I am okay with that.....and some days it just really sucks.
It's time to re-evaluate......to step up to the plate......to risk something in order to gain something. In my fears that they won't like me, I have become something that is not quite myself. In the words of Ray Hunt, "If you do what you always do, you will get what you have always gotten." It's time to return to me......learn the language......ditch the translator....and take a risk.
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