It's a small small world...

Hello. Remember me?

I sincerely apologize for the two week sabbatical that I took – but things have been crazy! We have just returned from our 7 day trip to Orlando (Disneyworld), and before that I was up to my ears in work – trying to tie up all the loose ends before I left.

Oh. Yes. There was also that huge urge to choke every time I thought of our Disneyworld trip. Why? Because it wasn’t just a trip with Mr.Brady, the kids and me. It was a trip with Mr.Brady, the kids, his niece, Mrs.Brady & Mrs.Brady’s boyfriend.

:: crickets ::

It wasn’t as horrible as it sounds. We obviously stayed in different rooms, and we rarely saw them except when we met everyday at 3pm to “hand-off” the kids. But it was still…weird. The important thing here is that the kids had a great time, except maybe the little one. Jan hated the rides, and refused to go on any. She warmed up as the days went on, but it was impossible to get her on Splash mountain, or Buzz Lightyear. Instead, she would rather take a few roundtrips on “Small World”.

Sweet Jesus. I forgot how much I hated that ride. Even as a kid I disliked it. That song. That horrible horrible song. I close my eye and all I see are kaleidoscope images of animatronic puppets from around the world, swaying to that evil 2 verse theme song.

Other than that – I thought the other rides were great. There were tons of learning stations for the kids, and so many interesting attractions to wonder through. Epcot was by far my favorite part.

On a more parent-related note, and less Disney…

Mr.Brady and I had some excellent opportunities to chat about the group-vacation-experience as it was happening – and I had some excellent opportunities to vent my brain out. He listened well, and was increadibly patient when I tried to put my feelings & emotions into words.

There are a dozen funny/sad/strange Disneyworld-stories I could write about, but let me focus on a climatic point ... Jan (yes of course the climatic point is about Jan) was being fussy and impatient while we ordered lunch – she started hitting her sister (for no reason). I asked her to stop. Futile. I ask her again. No response. Mr.Brady’s niece grabbed Jan’s arms and stopped her from hitting Marcia. This upset Jan greatly. She decided to take her restraint-frustrations out on the nearest person. That would be me. She smacked me (hard) across the side of my body.

I can put up with a lot. But hitting? This may be the only time I swear in my blog, but this is what was going on in my head, “You just fucked with the wrong step-mom, Kid.”

I kneeled down grabbed her shoulders, looked her in the eye and said, “Jan, don’t ever hit me again. Ever.” I picked her up and hauled her off to a nearby table, sat her down and walked away. Mr.Brady was in shock…everyone was in shock. It was like they had never seen discipline in action. She got up immediately and came back to the table, I said calmly, “Are you coming back to apologize for hitting me?”

“No.”

I picked her back up and sat her at a different table. She came back 3 times, all with the same answer. She cried. We ignored her. Finally she came back and mumbled something that may have been an apology. I asked her to repeat. She finally managed to say “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

I smiled and said, “Apology accepted.” She sat with her head down for the rest of the meal.

I’m not trying to promote shame here – but talk about pride! I began to wonder if Jan had ever been taught to apologize. Later that day I asked Mr.Brady – his response, “Not really. I actually was really impressed with how you handled that situation. I would not have done that.”

Mr.Brady has this habit of just rolling with the punches (know what I mean?). If she’s a brat, he’ll say “Knock it off”, or “Stop that”….and that’s about it. Two minutes later she’ll be all happy and bubbly, and he’ll roll with that. Seems like an easy going way of dealing with her behavior, but I don’t think she learns anything. I strongly believe that rolling with her punches is just teaching her that she can act however she wants.

One minute – Mad
Next minute – Happy
Following minute – Crying

…and it doesn’t matter, because this is how Mr.Brady will react.

Mad – “Uh oh…she’s mad…I better tell her to quit acting like that”.
Happy – “Yay, she’s happy, let’s see how long I can keep her like this.”
Crying – “Well that didn’t work. I wonder how I can please her and make her stop.”

Do you see what I’m getting at? There is no reason for her to stop hitting her sister – because there is no real consequence. She knows that in 2 minutes, if she smiles and laughs, her dad will think she’s the cutest thing on the planet again, regardless of what she’s just done.

It.is.so.irritating.

The good news is – Mr.Brady and I had a long talk about this and it looks like we want to be on the same path. There is hope.

Alright – I’ve been incredibly random in this post – and I’ve talked your eyes off – but there is more. A.lot.more. Funny stories!

Again, thank you for being so supportive!

In the picture: Jan, Greg, Alice, Mr.Brady's niece, Marcia.

This is not a test...

The last week of my life has been one roller coaster of scheduling. Summer is officially over and the kids are all back in school. Along with this comes a new schedule. Back and forth, back and forth – trying to figure out a schedule that meets everyone’s expectations is tiring.

Nevertheless, we now have a schedule that all the kids like, and Mrs.Brady has no problem with. We will be alternating between Wed, Thur, Fri, and Thu, Fri, Sat, every other week.

To be honest, I’m glad that they are only here 3 nights a week. Harsh. I know. But I think it’s a good start; for all of us. I’m not a huge fan of shuffling the kids around every other day and I think alternating weeks would be hard on Mr.Brady (I’m not sure he could go 5 days without seeing his kids). And on a more selfish note, I think this gives me a better chance to adjust. That is, adjust to living in a house with 4 other people.

God help me.

There are times when I retreat into the back room – and it’s not because I’m trying to be rude, it’s basically because I can’t handle the “too many cooks in the kitchen” feeling. Especially with a 5 year old who doesn’t listen.

:: sigh :: Can we talk about that for a minute?

Example, I was in the kitchen making dinner and she was walking around all over the place (see diagram). I asked her three times to stop. Finally I said, “Jan, how many times have I asked you to stop running around in the kitchen?", "3 times." "So, why are you ignoring me?”

You know what she did? Giggled.

I took a deep breath and thought to myself, “there is no way she is playing the cute card on me”. I explained to her why it was dangerous – she listened – nodded – and walked out of the room.

:: Exhale ::

Example two, last Friday we all went out for pizza. By the time we had finished, the kids still had full drinks. They piled into the car, all holding their cups. Jan asked if I could put it in the cup holder upfront. Sure. Why not.

10 minutes later.

We park the car and get out. Mr.Brady is unloading some stuff from the back of the car, while I open the front door. Jan comes running up behind me. The conversation goes a little like this:

“Jan, did you grab your cup from the car?”
“No.”
“Ah. I see…well can you go grab it from the front and bring it inside?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why should I have to do it?”
I nearly choke.
“Because it is your cup. Your drink. Your responsibility. Now go get your cup.”

She pouts, turns around and walks slowly back to the car.

These are only two examples out of a hundred. Call me crazy, internet. Because I may just have been born yesterday, but do all kids act like this? Is it normal for them to be testing the waters so much? Is it because I’m not her bio-parent?

I’m not completely naïve. I didn’t honestly think this would be easy. I wasn’t fantasizing about living in a home with my boyfriend and his three charming, angelic kids. I knew there would be challenges, and I definitely knew there would be a lot of learning. But what’s with all the back talk? And I'm not the only one she does it to.

We don’t believe in spanking, or yelling. But how do I get it across to her that she’s driving me insane!? I've tried the art of explanation. I've tried to explain to her that her actions will affect her relationship with the people around her. Meaning, if she’s cheeky and rude, people won’t want to play with her.

Does that seem weird? Does it work?

Each day I learn something new, and I suppose that’s the point of this blog. To keep a record of what this journey is all about. Until then…I cherish the quiet and peaceful days. Like this one below…taken last Sunday, while canoeing with Mr.Brady on Lake Washington.

ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!

We (Mr.Brady and I) were off to a good start. Sure, sometimes caring for the little one is like setting my hair is on fire and trying to put it out with a hammer, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s pretty trivial. I can tell that Mr.Brady has been harboring some guilt – he feels guilty about the divorce, he feels guilty about how sad it makes the kids, he feels guilty that he doesn’t get to see them everyday – but he understand that these feelings are a normal reaction to everything that is going on. It. Will. Get. Better.

Everyday his life is changing. There really is no room for routine – everybody is still settling into this new life. We’ve passed the point of dipping in our toes, but we’re still cradling our arms, cringing as the cold water creeps up our bellies.

Out of everyone, Mr.Brady seems to be handling it the best. Sure, there are things he could be doing better, but he never gets mad, frustrated or angry. That is until….last night.

First, let me introduce this story with a little background about myself. I am from Canada. Contrary to popular belief, I was not raised in an igloo, I don’t eat blubber and I don’t own a dog-sled. I do however love hockey. I understand hockey. I get it. I completely understand why hockey mom & dad’s get up at the butt crack of dawn to drag their kids to early morning practice. There is no shortage of hockey fans in Canada. What we do have a lack of is football fans. Yep. That’s right. Football doesn’t hold a candle to hockey in Canada. In fact, the majority of Canadians (that I know) could care less about the NFL.

I moved here with the understanding that Mr.Brady spends every Saturday afternoon (from September – November), at the high school stadium, watching his 12 year old son play football. It is, without a doubt, a highlight for him. He LOVES watching Greg play. I was quickly intiated into this Saturday tradition. At first I had NO idea what I was watching - after all, I had never been to a football game. Mr.Brady was excited to teach me the game, he'd enthusiastically wave his hand around, pointing to the field, using Greg as an example whenever he could. He once pulled out a pen and began drawing on his pretzel napkin. I looked down and replied, “But what does building a nuclear reactor have to do with football?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Now, the guys at the back of the offensive formation are called backs. So far, so good. Now, the guys in front of the backs (at the front of the formation) are not called fronts or front men. They are linemen, although one of them (the center) is in front of the rest of them, which means they are not really in a line. The most important back is the quarterback. This would imply that he is one of four backs. But there only three, which should make him a thirderback. He often hands the ball to the half back (2/4) who is actually the 2nd of three backs, and should be the twothirdsback. Somehow in all this, logic reasserts itself and the third of three backs (3/3) is a "full" back. Ironically, he is not even 1/3 as important as the quarterback.”

:: blink blink ::

“Now, there are six linemen. The linemen block for the backs. So, they are called blockers, right? No, two of them are called tackles. The rules of the game do not permit the tackles to tackle. If a tackle were to tackle his team would be penalized. Two are guards, although all five linemen guard the quarterback. The center has three players to the left of him and four to the right. This means he is not, in fact, the center but the "slightly left of center".

:: yawn ::

“Having a center implies there are two ends, one on the left and one on the right. But there aren't. There is an end on one end and no end on the other, because there is a flanker there. One is split and one is tight. How he got tight is anyone's guess, since he is actually the last lineman on the right, which ought to make him the right tackle. That is if tackles could tackle, and he can't because he's offensive. Well, not personally, but in a general sense."

You catch my drift, right? My point is…Mr.Brady loves football. Greg seemed pretty excited to play this summer, but his attitude quickly changed after the first practice. He came home saying things like, “The coaches are mean. I can't breath when I run. Why do they make us run so much?”

Mr.Brady would respond with, “You’re just out of shape, keep going to practice and it will get easier”.

This went on for a few weeks - each Monday beginning with Greg’s dread. The coaches approached us and suggested we have him checked out for sport induced asthma. We were skeptical of this theory because Greg has no problem running in basketball, but we took him to the doctor anyway. He was diagnosed with a sinus infection. Doctor prescribed him an inhaler. I am still skeptical.

Anyhow. 2 days ago (Monday) Mr.Brady gets a call at work from Greg. He’s crying and does not want to go to practice. Mrs.Brady gets on the phone and says, “He’s only doing this because you want him to. If he wants to quit, you should let him!”

A few hours later, Mr.Brady picks up Greg from his moms with then intention of taking him to practice – no go. Greg won’t get geared up and he refuses to play.

I have never seen Mr.Brady so upset. He barely says a word all night. Later that night, he asks for my opinion. I take a deep breath and say, “It’s only been 3 weeks of training, he hasn’t even had his first game yet. He’s already made a commitment to this season; if he didn’t want to play he should have expressed that before we signed him up. I would make a compromise, and start with a big one: complete this season, and if he still hates it, he doesn’t have to go back next year. But can quitting be an option? I don’t think we should be sending him the message that when something gets touch, it's OK to quit?”

Mr. Brady nods and says, “Yep. I agree".

The smaller compromise would be to have him attend this week's practice schedule, play one game on Saturday and then decide after that.

It’s a dilemma, internet. We don’t exactly want to force him to play, but is quitting an option?

The first rule of StepMom Club is - you do not talk about StepMom Club

First off, let me say THANK YOU to all you lovely ladies (and man) who commented on my last post. Words cannot express how much I appreciate it – it’s the kind of support that really makes me feel less alone, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Second…I’m going to give a shout out to Izzy over at stepmothersmilk.com , because it was her most recent post that inspired me to write this one. Not that this post is a mind blowing piece of literature, but it’s certainly something I need to think about.

The House Rules.

After the whole pool incident, I had a lengthy chat with Mr.Brady about the youngest one’s behavior, and how I’m not sure I can live in a house where fake crying, yelling, hitting and bad words reside. I took all of your advice, and talked to him about everything. I explained that I don’t want to come across as the evil girlfriend who won’t tolerate anything but best behavior, but I do need a balance.

And I finally admitted to myself that most of my “issues” revolve around the youngest. The older two (11 & 12) are great, they are easy to talk to and rarely ever give me reason to run and hide in a different room. The youngest is a menace. Like I mentioned in my last post, she is the baby of the family and she knows it. Not a day goes by where she isn't crying, whinning or yelling about something.

The other day, while her dad was out, I witnessed her hit her sister. I asked her to come over to me. She began to tell me why she hit her sister. I let her vent and then calmly said, “In my home, which is also your home, there is NO hitting. I will not tolerate any hitting from anyone. It is disrespectful, and a very mean thing to do. Your sister and brother do not hit you, and I expect the same from you. Do you understand?”

She stared at me, gave me a confused expression, turned and walked away. Her older sister called after her, “Walking away from someone when they’re talking to you is rude, Jan!”

I’m chopping the confused expression up to…well…just that…confusion. After all, it was the first time that I have ever pulled her aside. It was the first time that I did it, instead of letting Mr.Brady do it. It was the first time that I’ve ever put my foot down.

I let her walk away, and think about what had just happened. An hour later, she came out of the backroom and helped me make sushi.

Now the hard part seems to be enforcing rules. I don’t like idea of having to remind her of my rules right after she’s broken one of them - that doesn’t seem fair.

Here’s where Izzy comes in.

I love that Izzy has the house rules on her fridge. And the more I think about it, the more I think I need to adopt my own list. I ran the idea by Mr.Brady and he said, “Too bad Jan can’t read. But sure, post them up”.

I don’t want it to be too lengthy, or too short. So I’ll start with what’s most important to me.

We always…

Take our shoes off at the door

Put our dirty clothes in the hamper.

Rinse our dishes and put them in the dishwasher

Say please & thank you

Put away our toys when we’re finished

Knock on closed doors

We never…

Say bad words

Hit each other


Do any of you ladies have House Rules? If so, what’s on your list?

Swimming Lessons

Let me first put a huge disclaimer on this blog entry.

I don’t feel like editing today.

Today I am purely spouting verbal diarrhea.

Amd with that, I shall begin. Mr.Brady and I spent Saturday afternoon at the pool with the kids - it was, for lack of a better word, an interesting two hours.

It started off well. We collected the kids’ towel and bathing suits, put two coats of sunblock on them, searched high and low for ALL the pool toys and then (finally) proceeded to walk the 20 feet to the complex pool.

First Hour.

It was all smiles, giggles and laughs – everyone was having a grand ol’ time, and then Marcia (age 11) asks me, “Alice, do you think you’ll ever go back to Canada to live?”

My immediate internal reaction was, “OH MY GOD, she hates me and wants me to move away!” Thoughts poured into my head, scenarios, “what ifs”, you name it! In the 5 seconds it took me to process her question, I must have come up with a million, very negative reasons as to why she may have asked that.

I swallowed hard and replied, “I’m not sure. Maybe one day.”

She smiled and said, “Oh ok. Do you want to jump into the deep end with me?”

I looked over at Mr.Brady. He shrugged.

After much more thought and consideration, I have come to the following three conclusions.

1) She asked because she wants to know if I’m here to stay, or if this is just a temporary arrangement.
2) She is worried I am going to move back to Canada and take Mr.Brady with me.
3) There is no deeper reason other than she just wants to know if I ever plan on moving back to the great white north.

I know I can’t let things like this stress me out, but holy-moly do they ever.

Second Hour.

Jan (age 5) is a cute kid. Let there be no mistake. The problem is, she knows it. And trust me, she uses it to her every advantage. Like I’ve said many times, I grew up as an only child, so I’m not entirely familiar with “the oldest”, “middle child”, “baby” dynamics of siblings. My mother, bless her heart, has tried to educate me in the way of siblings (she comes from a family of 4 siblings), but nothing beats experience, and I just .cant. seem. to. get. it.

I feel like Mugatu in Zoolander.

“The man has only one look, for Christ's sake! Blue Steel? Ferrari? Le Tigra? They're the same face! Doesn't anybody notice this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!”

Except mine goes like this:

“She has you all wrapped around her little finger!! Doesn’t anybody notice this? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!”

Case in point. Jan seems to cry/whine at the drop of a hat.
- Her dad gives her a sister a shoulder ride instead of her = she cries.
- Somebody picks up a toy and she notices; she suddenly wants it = she cries.
- I get out of the water and tell her I’m going to rest for a bit = she whines.
- Her dad gets out of the water and tells her he’s going to rest, she replied with, “then come in when you’re done resting”, he replies, “We’ll see”, she replies with a screeching, “NOOOoooooO!” and proceeds to…yep, you guessed it…cry.

I’m not kidding here, people. She was screaming, screeching, crying, and whining like nothing I’ve ever heard before. And I know it can’t be “real” crying, because when she DOES get what she wants, she’s all smiles and laughs.

I lean over and quietly say, “Are you really going to let her get away with that behavior?”

He replies, “Well, what do you want me to do, put my hand over her mouth and force her to stop?”

I am appalled. He can’t be serious. Can he? I mean, for all the times he’s said to me, “you’ll understand when you’re a parent’, I would THINK that he’d be able to figure that one out. I take a deep breath and go back to tanning.

30 seconds later…

“Greeeeggggg! NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jan is now yelling at her older brother because he is playing with one of the toys. Mr.Brady does nothing. I pick up my towel and say, “…and with that…I’m going back to the condo.”

“Can’t take anymore of Jan screaming?” he asks.

“That. I also can’t take anymore of you letting her get away with it.”

“What am I supposed to do? Tell me!” He asks, quite sincerely.

“What every other parent in the world does, Mr.Brady.”

“And that would be?”

“Ask her calmly to get out of the water so that you may speak to her; explain to her why screaming, hitting and yelling is not acceptable behavior. Give her one more chance. If she does it again, playtime is over and its time to go home.”

I walk away.

10 minutes later, Mr.Brady and kids come trucking back into the condo. Jan comes up to me, crying. She waits for me to look up. I ask, “Why are you crying, Jan?”

She replies, “Dad said that the next two times everybody goes to the pool, I can’t go.”

…I am not sure what to make of this.

I am curious if he’ll actually go through with the punishment. I also feel bad.

Like I’ve said many times, these aren’t my biological kids, so I feel like I don’t have a right to say anything.

I know I do. I know. This is my home too – I have a right to voice my opinion, but it goes back to Marcia’s question about me moving back to Canada. I don’t want them to hate me.

Do you ever have those days where you feel like you just can’t win? I don’t have the luxury of knowing that they’ll always love me. I don’t have the child/parent bond – and yet, I feel like if I don’t take that risk from time to time…I’ll never earn their respect.

I promise I'll try not to bitch too much in the posts to come - but give me time, internet - this is all VERY new to me.

You're too hot for us!!

The title isn't what you think. Although my boyfriend's little 5 year old informed me tonight that I am "too hot for us", it wasn't about my irresistible charm and good looks. No. It was in reference to my chili.

Apparently children prefer the super mono-saturated flavors of cheese, cream and/or potatoes. They do not enjoy the following spices...

Cumin
Oregano
Garlic Powder
Cayenne
and chili Powder

So, while Mr.Brady and I enjoy my home-made chili, the children will be eating a nice bowl of 4 cheese raviolli.

Can anyone recommend any kid friend meals?