WILL THE REAL PARENT PLEASE STAND UP?
Yesterday Blueberry had a flu, so Alan and I arranged for me to wait
with Max at his weekly counselling appointment. The two of us walked in
together and I explained to the counsellor that Alan had gone home with a sick
Blue, and that I’d be here for Max if they needed anything during the session.
The counsellor looked surprised and said, “Oh! Thanks for bringing him in!”
This irked me because the woman knows me and I’ve even sat in for some chats with
her. She is familiar with our family structure and that I’m involved in
decision making about the children. I don’t like that her tone implied it was
some kind of freaking miracle that the non-biological guardian was bringing a
kid in for an appointment.
This is just one example out of a half-dozen that happened this week
alone.
PARENTAL STREET CRED
I’m incensed that the adult with the fertile sperm or womb is always
given top billing, and those of us who make the arduous decision to embrace
these little creatures are somehow seen as ‘lesser’. Yes, I’ve only been around
for a year now…okay, fine, but that’s 30% of Blueberry’s life, and 90% of Max’s
life because even though he’s older, his concept of time works much like a dog’s.
You, you segment of the adult population that thinks biology is the definition
of motherhood, are dishonoring my role in the lives of these children. You are
devaluing our affection for each other and trying to define it by a certain set
of tasks or checkboxes, though your list is ambiguous and highly subjective.
Stop it.
DEFINING MY ROLE
All this being said, it’s no secret I’m not a kid person and I’m not
interested in making babies, and I had no intention of allowing children to
live with me if I’d been left to my own devices. So now I’m facing a new kind
of dilemma: exploring the unexpected—though often intriguing—introduction of
two mini-humans into my world, while still maintaining the goals and plan I had
for my life pre-kids.
First step: establish goals
The first step was to figure out what those goals and plans really are.
I’m still figuring that out, frankly, but that’s understandable. Until
something large comes along that is totally off-script, like the introduction
of step kids, we often don’t stop to really define the original plan.
Next step: establish role with kids.
The next step was to really explore what I wanted my role to be in the
lives of these kids. As mentioned earlier, there is apparently a ‘choice’ to
make about whether, as the partner of a parent, you do any parenting yourself.
I am absolutely incapable of standing around and not getting my hands dirty
with the kids’ upbringing, so making myself into a parenting Switzerland was no
option. But Alan and I are still defining where my role starts and ends.
For
instance, I bring a wide array of knowledge about nutrition, behavioural
problems, and wellness issues, so I offer that into the mix. On the other hand,
I’m a career-focused woman and I like travelling with Alan, both for business
and pleasure…so I’ve put my foot down that I will not be playing
stay-at-home-mom when he travels for work; I’ll either be by his side and
working, or working my own job/career/blog. I’m comfortable at this point with
guardianship duties when we’re practicing them together, but I’m not prepared
to be sole caregiver on my own. Alan is the Kid Manager, and I’m Assistant to
the Manager. We’re both comfortable with this arrangement.
I’ve gotten raised eyebrows on this decision, which is stupid. Many
couples with kids will establish roles they do and don’t fill; for example, my
mom has a vomit phobia so when we got the flu as kids, Dad was the
bucket-holder. It’s the same idea: I am willing to work within my comfort zone
while maintaining my sense of identity and direction. And frankly, the only
reason I get the raised eyebrow is
because I’m a woman. Much fewer people raise their eyebrow at a man saying he’s
got a career to think about.
Anyway.
So I’m establishing what I want for my own life and ambitions, I’m
defining what I feel capable of handling in regards to childrearing, and I’m
trying to find peace between these two (sometimes warring) worlds. It helps
that I have a long-standing and fathoms-deep love for my partner born from
twelve years of friendship, and loving on the kids feels like a natural
extension of loving him. Here’s the hitch: the difference between making room
for a childless partner in my life versus making room for Alan is like the
difference between bringing home a puppy versus bringing home a giant squid:
puppies do require some changes and accommodation, but an octopus requires way
freakin’ more: a tank, salt water, gallons of krill, and toy ships to chew. They
also take up a lot of space, their tentacles knock things over, they’re always
hungry, and they leave everything a bit sticky.
Where was I? Oh yeah:
DEFINING MY ROLE. TAKE II.
I am making room and making time for the kid thing. The difference
between myself and a more estrogen-laden female is that I am not yearning to be
called ‘Mom’, I am pragmatic about my skill level and my interest level, and I
don’t suddenly feel like my whole world revolves around the little people.
There’s no easy way to say, “I’m not a kid person and I find this all
extremely taxing but I totally love these little mongrels, too.” People tend to
fixate on one half of that sentence and come to their own conclusion: that I’m
finally feeling maternal, or that I want all children thrown into a T-Rex
paddock. Well, I guess I’m saying it’s a little from column A, a little from
column B.
I eschew the word ‘step mom’, but I do like ‘guardian’. It sounds like
I have wings and a flaming sword. That’s more my style.
