There's No Extra STEPS in Parenting....

SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself (PREVIEW)

Amazon-Kindle-soulparole.com MARCH-2012

Step Parent? Stepson? There Are NO Steps, Only Parents and kids...

Sometimes I think there should be a recovery program for being a stepparent, or the child of one. I am both. It has been both the most difficult and rewarding experience of my life, more so than my battle with addiction and recovery.

The word "STEP" in front of “parent” or ‘child’ is as ridiculous as the term "holy war," or "amicable divorce,” because it implies a barrier between the parent and child and sets up a preconceived notion of separation between the two. When someone mentions, “stepmother,” I remember poor Cinderella being run ragged by hers. As for "stepfather,” I think of those horror movies where the guy is all cheesecake and smiles when his wife is in the room and pure evil when he's alone with her child.

My first experiences with a "stepparent" happened when I was six. I thought my father’s new wife was pretty and polite, but she brought along three daughters. I was the only boy, so I was either the lucky one or the odd man out. There were feelings of envy and jealousy at the thought of sharing my father, but I think that is pretty normal for a little kid. I also had a "stepfather," for a short time, and he would be a good candidate for the nasty character I described earlier in this posting.

After enduring the loss of two children to miscarriage in my previously failed marriages, I was angry with God for not giving me kids of my own. I prayed over and over, but the answer was always, “No,” or so I thought at the time. Little did I know He had a plan for my life, and when he didn't follow "my" plan, I thought I was getting a raw deal. My father never called his new wife's daughters "step," just daughters. I noted that early on, and it made a lasting impression on me.

When I moved in with Squeaky, I became "instafather." The position has advantages and definite disadvantages. When things were great it was, "I love you DA!" When things weren't so good, the ever popular, "You aren't my Dad!" flew like death darts. I would be less than honest if I didn't point out I pulled the same trump card early in our marriage with comments like, "YOUR Daughter “and “YOUR Son...."

As a parent to my kids, I have made lots of mistakes, both when I was drunk and when I was sober, and I always will because I am human. However, there were benefits from my “dad once removed, DNA-free relationship with my kids.” When they were small, I told them they had a father, and I wasn't trying to replace him. They adopted an affectionate nickname the Irish use, “DA,” instead of the American "Pa.” I told them they could talk to me as a friend, rather than their dad, but that I wanted their respect as the man of the house and their mother's husband.

I have different relationships and memories with each of them. I was there for Bro's first day of school. I will never forget his adorable look of excitement mixed with a touch of terror as I left him behind on that first day of kindergarten. Bro has referred to me as his DA and stepdad, depending on his entourage, and I am comfortable with either title. I know he loves me.

My middle daughter, Sunny was, and is, close to her father. Once, when Sunny and I were at a doctor's office, a man commented that she "looked just like me." We smiled and thanked him for his kind words, then laughed our butts off in the car at the congenital comparison. We had many challenges during our years of growing up together. Now we are the best of friends.

Hemingway, my oldest, calls me, “Dad,” and that makes me feel good. I was proud to take Hemi to the "Daddy/Daughter" dance her senior year. Her father has little interest in her, but I hope that changes some day. I will be happy to share her with him, but she will always be “Daddy's little girl” to me.

Growing up, my relationship with my "stepmother" was up and down. She was patient and always cordial to me, but I could sense her frustration because I always ran to Daddy when I was in a pinch or needed money. She was the “tough love” type, so I’m sure my frequent requests caused disagreements between Dad and her. I am grateful my father assisted me, yet, in my addictive manipulation, I often took advantage of his willingness to help.

During my father's illness (He was in the hospital nine times during the last two years of his life), my second mom and I grew very close. We spoke freely of my addictions and the challenging personality my father brought to their relationship. She loved him, and I could see why he spent his life with her. Today we are close friends, and I love her deeply.

If you are a "stepparent" I feel ya! If you are not, please don't judge us until you have walked a block in our shoes. I do not see my biological daughter as much as I would like to, but that is a story for another day. That will work itself out in God's time. I have two mothers, four sisters and four kids. There are no "steps" between us.

God often gives us what we want; it's just not the way "we" want it. I am blessed to be a second father to my wife's kids, and I have adopted my father's policy of no "steps" when I speak of them. Dad, thanks for the life lesson. I miss you! God, thanks for giving me the children. I have given up on trying to figure you out, but am grateful you understand me….

Which Way is Up?

In every chapter that I post about my day to day life I try to keep it real. I have done a fairly good job of that. I have been very candid about my journey to today. I share my triumphs and tragedies, as well as the silly and the insane. In every entry I try to give a piece of myself that readers can identify with.

When addiction is active in a household roles are formed and the family adapts around the addict. The Mom or Dad step in and make decisions on their own to cover for the user. Enablers are confused when the user gets sober because they no longer have a codependent partner. Kids who had to be grown ups all of a sudden are given the chance to be kids again. The whole family dynamic is thrown into flux when sobriety is introduced. Roles need to be redefined and there are growing pains that go with that. The whole family dynamic has shifted on its' axis.

I am an alcoholic-addict in recovery. I have the emotional I.Q. of a young adult. I will be 46 in a few days. I began a relationship with a woman 13 years ago that came with three children. I instantly became a stepfather a word I loathe. I have tried to do my best with the job but quite frankly I don't really know what I'm doing.

When it comes to being a good husband and father I don't know how to do it very well. That is an honest assessment of myself. At least it is my perception. I didn't have a traditional upbringing. I grew up in a single parent home. My mother worked very hard. My father had a family of his own. My sister went her way. I went mine. My grandparents were our neighbors, so they were in the middle but from the teen years on we were pretty much on our own. That's not a knock on anyone. That's just the way it was.

My first 3 marriages were not even marriages. I was so far gone. I was barely human. Now I AM a husband and stepfather. Some days I am a champ and on others am clueless, jealous, thoughtless and selfish. I often wonder if I'm fit for either job at all. I am just learning what I am all about and I seem to make mistake after mistake in the "other people" category. I don't do it intentionally. It just happens.

I have grown in my relationship skills over the last 33 months but I still have gaping holes in my "big boy" abilities and growth. I see my wife with the kids and feel left out sometimes. I understand they are her babies. They will always be held in a different light as they should. When they disrespect me because "I'm not their Dad" it burns me up when she says nothing to them about me being her husband. She just lets it go. I feel she should demand respect for me from them. It is beginning to wear on us, her and me. She says it's me. I say it's her and them. I don't know where it's heading but I pray to God for direction and correction. It's definitely not funky town.

She has expectations. I don't meet them. I don't know how to quite honestly. I know I have a big mouth. I need to learn to keep it closed more often. It doesn't open as much as it used to.  I have said and done many stupid things as a husband and stepfather. I will again. This is new to me. Each day I learn positive and negative things about myself and the world around me. Being sober is truly like being reborn. It is like I have had amnesia and am being reintroduced to my family and friends. I really don't know how I feel or which way is up. The old me says run. Just run. The new me says go ahead you will be waiting there when you get there.

Step Parent? Stepson? There Are NO Steps, Only Parents and kids...

'Hi, my name is Tommy and I am a STEP PARENT!' "HI, TOMMY!" Sometimes I think there should be a recovery program for being a stepparent or the child of one. I am both. It has been both the most difficult and rewarding experience of my life, beyond my battle with addiction and recovery.

The word "STEP" in front of the word parent or child is as ridiculous as the term "Holy War," or "Amicable Divorce." The word implies a barrier between the parent and child. It sets up a preconceived foundation of separation between the two. When the word "stepmother" is mentioned the first thing that comes to mind is poor Cinderella being run ragged by hers. As for "stepfather" I think of those horror movies where the guy is all cheesecake and smiles when his wife is in the room and pure evil when he's alone with her child.

My first experiences with a stepparent was when my father remarried when I was 6. I thought his new wife was pretty and polite and she brought along 3 daughters. I was the only boy so I was either the lucky one or the odd man out. There were feelings of envy and jealousy at the thought of sharing my father but I think that is pretty normal for a little kid. I also had a stepfather for a short time and he would be a good candidate for the nasty character I described earlier in this chapter.

After enduring the loss of two children to miscarriage in my previous failed marriages I was angry at God for not giving me a child of my own. I asked over and over and the answer was always no, or so I thought at the time. Little did I know that he had a plan for my life, and when he didn't follow "my" plan, I thought I was getting a raw deal. My father never called his new wife's daughters "step," just daughters. I took note of that early on and it made a lasting impression on me.

When I moved in with Squeaky I have stated that I was "instafather." The position has its advantages and definite disadvantages. When things were great it was, "I love you DA!" When things weren't so good, the ever popular, "You aren't my Dad!" exclamations flew like death darts. I would be less than honest if I didn't point out that I pulled the same trump card early in our marriage with comments like, "YOUR daughter and YOUR son...."

As a parent to my kids I have made lots of mistakes, both drunk and sober. I always will. I am human. There were benefits from my dad once removed, DNA free relationship with my kids. When they were small I told them they had a father and I wasn't trying to replace him. They adopted an affectionate nickname the Irish use instead of "Pa," like we say in America. It was "Da." Any Mick will tell you they are familiar with the term. I told them they could talk to me more like a friend than their dad, but that I was to be respected as the man of the house and their mother's husband.

I was there for Scott's first day of school his first 3 years. I will never forget his adorable look of excitement mixed with a touch of terror as I left him behind on that first day of Kindergarten. My middle daughter, Amanda was, and is close to her father. We had a lot of challenges during our years of growing up together. Now we are the best of friends. Andrea, my oldest calls me Dad and that makes me feel good. Her father has taken little interest in her since she was young. I hope that changes some day. I will be happy to share her with him. She will always be Daddy's little girl to me.

Once Amanda and I were at a doctor's office and a man commented that she looked just like me. We smiled and thanked him for his kind words then laughed our butts off in the car at the congenital comparison. Scott has referred to me as his Da and stepdad, depending on his entourage, and I am comfortable with either title. I know he loves me and I went through those same situations growing up. I was proud to take Andrea to the "Daddy/Daughter" dance her senior year.

Growing up, my relationship with my stepmother was up and down. She was patient and always cordial to me but I could sense her frustration with the fact that I always ran to Daddy when I was in a pinch or needed some money. She was more of the tough love type and I am sure my frequent requests caused disagreements between my father and her. I am grateful that my father helped me and I certainly took advantage of his willingness to help, over and over in my addictive manipulation.

During the time of my father's illness, and the 9 times he was in the hospital the last two years of his life, my second mom and I grew very close. We spoke freely of my addictions and the challenging personality my father could bring to a relationship. She loved him and I could see why he spent his life with her. Today we are close friends and I love her deeply.

If you are a stepparent I feel ya! If you are not, please don't judge us until you have walked a block in our shoes. I do not see my biological daughter as much as I would like to, but that is a story for another day. That will work itself out in God's time. I can say that I have 2 mothers, 4 sisters and 4 kids. There are no "steps" between us.

God often gives us what we want, it's just not the way "we" wanted it. I am blessed to be a second father to my wife's kids and have 2 mothers and 4 sisters. I have adopted my father's policy of no "steps" in between when I speak of any of them. Dad, thanks for the life lesson. I miss you! God, thanks for giving me the children I always begged you for. I have given up on trying to figure you out but am grateful that you understand me.