I’m going to be the sweetest stepmother ever’

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While sighing and unclogging yet another dirty kid’s sock from the laundry basket, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I burst out laughing: was I seriously doing this on a Saturday night? The 27-year-old shot queen with a spontaneous, full agenda who was now doing her laundry very responsibly because her stepchildren had been forced to wear two different socks all week. How did I get into this?

That turns out to be easy to answer: love. I fell in love with M. (then 34) who already had two boys aged 7 and 10 from a previous marriage. Within a very short time I was catapulted from my party-all-the-time mindset into a family life. In which I suddenly also had to be a responsible kind of parent. And not to forget; a pedagogical sparring partner for my brand new friend.

Stepmother

Then suddenly you are a stepmother. An illogical route on your life map; one you never dreamed of as a little girl. Until then, the word ‘stepmother’ mainly loomed in my head with the nasty Disney version. Completely unprepared, I made the choice in good spirits: I’m going for it and become the sweetest stepmother ever.

“As if I had stepped into someone else’s life with a snap of my finger”

In the meantime, I knew a lot about what time a seven-year-old should actually go to sleep. Whatever fractions are. That a young child really can’t make a bed properly. That under a certain age they are not allowed ordinary Strepsils against a sore throat at all. And that you really need to stock up on new clothes for them every summer. As if I had stepped into someone else’s life with a snap of my finger. A transfer to a parallel universe where there is an alternate version of my stepmother.

Lifeswitch

The first months I approached this life switch almost project-wise. From my pink cloud, my new relationship with husband and children was built as successfully as possible. Of course, I was going to refute the statistics – two-thirds of blended families do not survive the first five years together. Traversing theme parks, impossible surprises, endless pillow fights and washing mountains of clothes was no problem.

“I stepped onto the schoolyard in huge heels and with oversized sunglasses”

On huge heels and with ridiculous oversized sunglasses I stepped like new kid on the block go to school with confidence. I just missed the wind machine. With love we plunged into this new life together. In addition, I am also very lucky with two incredibly sweet, quiet boys who embraced me so resiliently and lovingly in the family.

Pink cloud

Yet in the summer I thundered hard from that cloud. My boyfriend wanted to go on holiday with the boys and even though we hadn’t been together very long, they would love it if I came along too. Of course I wanted that! To start our first holiday with a low threshold, we rented a caravan at a park in Brabant. Switching gears after previous trips in which I went backpacking in Sri Lanka, for example. But this would probably be fantastic too.

After the fourth day I found myself sitting on a large stone just outside the park. With my head in my hands and those ugly, long screams I sat there crying. While we worked together 24/7, confrontational frustrations also surfaced.

So childish, but I also wanted to hold my new friend’s hand in the Efteling, for example. I missed the peaceful tea drinking in the morning, which was now shattered by the screaming screeches of YouTube. Spontaneous lunch suddenly cost a fortune. Spending another night on that wooden porch because you can’t go out when they’re asleep. And at night my head was tired of all kinds of new care thoughts: were they rubbed in well enough? Did we throw that extra swimsuit of theirs in the bag?

Forever

While crying I suddenly realized that this situation was forever. These holidays together, the concessions you have to make, the responsibility you have: they were not temporary. It was suddenly over with the non-committal life, because logically the family was now central.

My boyfriend lived in another city and would have been happy to move for me, but we decided together not to take the boys out of their familiar surroundings. So that became the scenario for me: it hurt to leave my beloved town, where I lived all my life, for the polder.

At the same time, you are also an outsider. Choosing a secondary school, for example, is mainly done with mom and dad. And while reminiscing about fond family memories from the past, you are strangely sidelined.

I felt a bit robbed of my old identity and I was very disappointed with that feeling. Wouldn’t I be that unconditional, loving stepmother? Get a grip! In addition, the contrast in this area between me and my friend was sometimes downright painful. I felt relieved during that summer vacation that they left for their mother on bicycles for the other three weeks, but my inconsolable friend’s heart broke into a thousand pieces at the same time. A feeling that I only understood better when I later became a mother myself.

Also read – ‘I think it’s quite a thing, taking care of children who are not yours’ >

Ups and downs

After the summer reality check, taking on the stepmother role went with ups and downs. Heartwarming highs (such as a Mother’s Day note with ‘I love you too’) alternated with frustrating lows where I sometimes fled into the car to cry a game. For a long time it was a top priority not to let anyone know about the struggles. The children had not chosen this.

I didn’t want to disappoint my boyfriend either, although of course he wasn’t crazy and listened carefully to my needs. My love for him made confirming that negative stepfamily prognosis an option never considered. It had to work.

My thought was reinforced by stories from fellow sufferers on the internet. There I mainly came across situations with complicated divorces, children who deliberately make life miserable for stepparents… An acquaintance said that her stepchildren ignored the repeated warnings and still started coloring on their beds. Her beautiful comforter was ruined by ink stains. My good guys would never do that. What was I actually complaining about?

Not only the boys, also my family had to get used to the new situation. Because suddenly Suus was always with four. Two teenage boys gazing wide-eyed at a birthday celebration for one of my hundred chatty relatives. And what do you actually call each other, your stepmother’s parents for example? To the great amusement of the boys, cards from my parents to them are now signed as standard: ‘Love, stoma and stopa’.

Head Start

Two years later there was a major game changer. The birth of a girl made us parents together and the boys brothers again. With a second mutual love in our lives, I no longer felt like a +1. The brothers’ love and pride for their sister also deepens our bond. And what a head start I had made in motherhood!

Saying goodbye to a non-committal life and the caring task presented itself as a shock at the time, but was already an ingrained pattern. I already had a parent lightversion in progress. My friend had of course already gone through everything twice and although I thought that was a shame at first, I saw this mainly as a victory in that rollercoaster of the baby time. His calmness and experience saved me a lot of stress. Due to the new dynamics, we have grown closer together.

Distinguish

But to be honest, I’ve also been aware of a sense of distinction since motherhood. I wish it wasn’t there: that I could be one of those stepmothers who loves every child as her own. Every child deserves the amount of love you have to offer. But my daughter, his and mine together, grown in my belly and under my wings from day one, still feels closer. I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all, although the challenge is of course in practice. You don’t want to (unconsciously) favor and leave a mark. This is not always possible to prevent.

“For them I will never be on the same level as mom or dad”

Incidentally, that feeling of difference is also mutual. For them I will never be on the same level as mom or dad and that shouldn’t be an ambition either. My friend will always be their first lifeline. That also sometimes produces some special scenes.

Once, in preparation for Father’s Day, the three of us went into town for groceries and gifts for an entire afternoon. Early in the morning we had a lot of fun making breakfast. We snuck upstairs and surprised Dad. A card the youngest had written herself read: ‘I hope that A. (his brother), you and I stay together forever.’ A little bewildered, I sat with his newborn sister on my arm listening to it, while my friend burst into laughter. How could I suddenly be invisible after all that effort?

Or that time when I transformed their brand new attic rooms into cool game palaces as a personal project. For days on end I and my mother were busy with hardware stores, we painted walls and ceilings and looted the Ikea. With a concealed phone camera, we filmed the boys’ reaction when they revealed the end result. Looking back later on the footage, we saw the explosion of joy, followed by, “Thank you so much Dad. You’ve made the most beautiful room ever.’

To balance

Oh well, I just have to laugh about it. Relatively speaking is the best strategy. And as the years go by, a lot goes by itself. We make new traditions as a family, such as celebrating Halloween extensively. We create new memories together and our characters continue to grow intertwined.

In not too long a time the tipping point will come for them: they will live longer with me than without. Once the boys and I gathered in that intimate circle of a household as complete strangers. It is still balancing, but the loving foundations for the future have been laid. I think it would be great if we ended up in the pub together in ten years’ time. Can they treat me nicely to a shot for every gag sock I’ve had to wash them out.

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