It was a fun filled, busy and joyful occasion filled with lots of activities during the day with  surfing, sailing and  kayaking, and in the evenings at each other’s homes playing charades, board games and reminiscing over old photos of Pop Pop in the army and on his wedding day. Those were the moments when I looked at my girls blending in with their “step” aunts, uncles and cousins, enjoying themselves and feeling included, even though they don’t share the same heritage, history or genealogy. After Sophia and Eva left for the wedding in New Jersey, where I heard reports that they ripped up the dance floor with their East coast cousins, we had one final big party at our house on the last day of the reunion.

I had planned a menu of grilled chicken kabobs, homemade potato salad and coleslaw. It was  a pot luck and everyone brought their contribution. Paul’s older brother decided he wanted the family to take a trip down memory lane and asked his wife to prepare “bun burgers,” a dish their mother made for them as children. It stirred some fond and not so fond memories. (Apparently not everyone liked the bun burgers.) I didn’t quite get the recipe, but I watched them being prepared. Basically, you prepare ground beef like you are making hamburgers. Throw in some spices and some chopped onions, but instead of adding bread crumbs, pick out the bread from the tops of hamburger buns, which leaves a big O, tear it into pieces and add to the mix. The top of the bun is placed on the bottom half of the bun and then on a cookie sheet. Next, scoop up a  generous dollop of hamburger meat and place inside the opening of the top bun. Bake in the oven at 400 degrees and just before they are done, top with strips, in an X shape, of Kraft processed American cheese. Place back in oven until melted.

I have to say they were pretty darn good and could easily be adapted to something healthy and rather gourmet if using, say, ground turkey, whole wheat buns and  perhaps some goat cheese, instead of the fatty beef and fake cheese. The culinary nostalgia didn’t end there. No. There were fish sticks too! You know, the frozen kind that comes in a box with lots of fillers and mystery ingredients. They were a  once-a-week staple in Paul’s family’s house. Paul’s brother felt that no family reunion was complete without fish sticks and bun burgers. As we were standing around the kitchen, noshing on the retro delicacies, he lamented, “Too bad we don’t have fake milk to go with them.” Anyone who grew up in a large, budget stretching family in the 50’s and 60’s would know what fake milk is. I do. My mom used to take powdered milk, mix it with water and add it to the real milk to make it last a little longer. It was gross, but we accepted it because that’s just the way it was.

As Paul’s family reminisced about their childhood memories, I reflected on my own (I’m one of five kids.) and realized that big families are pretty much the same.  It isn’t just the food, the family vacations, the sibling squabbles and competition for the bathroom that they have in common, but rather the inherent bonds, life lessons and experiences that go with the territory. I’ve always said being part of a big family prepares you for life’s greatest challenges: To be able to get along with anyone, to know how to wait your turn, to accept delayed gratification and to tolerate things that can at times be somewhat unpleasant.

My thoughts wandered to the future as I pictured myself at Sophia’s or Eva’s wedding and imagined all the guests who would attend.  There would be my family, Jared’s family and  Paul’s. It would be  a blended family wedding… and one hell of a party.

Last week I told you  about our trip to San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara to look at colleges for Sophia. We had a blast. I took all three girls, my two daughters,  Sophia and Eva, and my stepdaughter Cheryl. We planned the trip a few months ago and even went shopping  for new outfits; shorts, swimsuits, etc. just for the occasion. What I did not plan for was that we were going to be gone for Easter. I had gotten the dates mixed up and thought Easter was the following week, which meant that  I had actually planned the trip so that we would be gone for Easter.

A few days before we were to leave, Paul got a call from his ex-wife, Cheryl’s mother, saying that Cheryl had decided she did not want to  go because she would much rather stay home and hang out with her friends. She also informed Paul that Cheryl  was afraid to tell me herself for fear that I would be “mad at her”. Paul relayed the news to me, and  I did not buy it for one second. Not want to go because you want to hang out with your friends??? Come on. I knew there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to put on any pressure for fear that I would be characterized as one who “gets mad at things”. So I said nothing, even though I was concerned that Cheryl would be missing out on a great opportunity to visit colleges and that she would regret it. Quite frankly, I was a little pissed. I told Paul, “You should encourage her to go. This is a great opportunity. Seeing these college campuses will inspire her.” But he resisted my prodding, which only exacerbated the problem further. Our differing parenting styles often clash. When it comes to kids (and just about anything), I believe in getting to the bottom of things. Paul does not. He thinks we should let things flow “organically”.  “Don’t get involved and don’t imagine things,” he always tells me. So I kept my mouth shut and I didn’t say anything to Cheryl about not going.

The night before we were to leave Cheryl was sitting on the couch playing on her iPod and I asked her, “So, Cheryl, what are your plans for this weekend?” She replied, “I’m going on the trip with you.” This was news to me, but I did not let on. Instead I said, “Well let’s do your laundry and get you packed” While we were in the laundry room sorting through her clothes she admitted to me, ” I never not wanted to go. I just felt bad about being gone over Easter…” and her voice trailed off. I realized she felt guilty about leaving her parents. After all, I’m not her mother.  She had divided loyalties.

I called Cheryl’s mother to tell her Cheryl had had a change of heart and decided to go. She was surprised. If she was disappointed she didn’t let on. She had Easter plans with Cheryl, but to her credit, she did not object and respected Cheryl’s decision to come with us on the trip.  Cheryl and her mom celebrated Easter on Wednesday after we returned. Sometimes, that’s what you have to do in a blended family.

Bubblegum Alley

Sophia, Eva, Cheryl and I are on a Southern California tour this week to visit colleges that Sophia is considering.   We arrived yesterday in San Luis Obispo and have an appointment tomorrow to check out Cal Poly. We are having a blast. I am delighted to watch the girls explore their new surroundings, making coffee in the room, checking out the ice machine and testing the firmness of the mattresses. I am always so charmed by the sisterly camaraderie they have. You would never know that they are not blood sisters who were not raised together from birth. Their allegiance and loyalty to each other is astounding and remarkable.

Last night we had a nice dinner in downtown San Luis Obispo, which the locals here refer to as “SLO Town” for its meandering, laid back pace. We window shopped and checked out Bubblegum Alley, a local landmark that is known for its accumulation of bubblegum on the walls that has apparently been written up in the Guinness Book of World Records. It was fascinating and gross all at the same time. Later back at the hotel they watched a movie together in bed while I did homework. We just finished a workout at the fitness center and they are at the pool. When they return we are going to head down to Avila Beach to check out the sights and maybe do SOME SHOPPING !!!.

It was a pleasant evening. We each had assigned jobs to order various courses, ( mine was appetizers) but desert was the usual fortune cookie. Sam went first to read aloud his fortune, but before he did he said, “I think I got Dad and Carol”s.” (Carol is me, those of you who don’t know.) It said: “You will be very happy with your spouse.”

“What a nice thing to say”, I thought, not only because he could recognize that his father and I are happy, but because he acknowledged my existence in the first place. You see, Sam and I have a very turbulent past, so to speak. There are times when he looks at me with such disdain I swear he hates me. If I had to list all the mistakes I made as a step mother,  most would  begin with Sam.

When I first entered Sam’s life he was coasting along just fine without me. Both of his parents worked outside the home and there I was working from home and therefore able to observe him not doing his homework, eating crap and playing too many video games. I felt it was my role to correct his behavior and made it my mission to do so. In hindsight, this was not such a great idea. It not only back fired in my face, it bred resentment. I hope someday Sam will look back on my “interference” as caring rather than an annoyance. Only time will tell. If I had to do it all over again I would simply leave his parenting up to his parents and stay out of it. I set myself up to be the bad guy, even though I was well intentioned. Perhaps Sam’s acknowledgement that I was  good for his father was the first nod in my favor. Maybe I am making way too much of this, but sometimes I just have to take what I can get.

Sophia stayed at her dad’s for three nights. Just enough time for her to cool off and realize just how childishly behaved, and long enough for me to collect my thoughts and examine my own feelings, which I later conveyed to my daughter. I decided it was time for me to let go of my guilt. I had to stand firm and stick up not only for myself, but for my husband too. Paul is a great step father and while Sophia was gone he told me how often times he is hurt by her moodiness, aloofness and lack of appreciation for all that he does for our family. I listened openly to him and realized my own complicity in enabling my daughter to behave like a brat. So…. I had a long talk with Sophia on the phone. I knew she wanted to come home and that she was sorry. But that wasn’t enough. She had to understand why she behaved the way she did. At 16 she is not mature enough to articulate her feelings so without putting thoughts or ideas into her head, I guided her to coming to an understanding for the causes of her behavior. Here is what I told her.

I said, “Sophia, I know what you are feeling. I know you must be remembering the days when it was just the three of us, you, me and your sister, Eva, living in our old house.  We watched whatever we wanted on TV and no one ever objected. But you can’t turn back time. Things have changed. Now you live in a different house with 7 people and there is often conflict. Sooner or later, you are going to have conflict in your life. You will go away to college and have room mates, jobs with bosses and coworkers and some day, a family of your own. You just happened to have the conflict sooner rather than later, and learning how to negotiate relationships in a large family is good practice for your future.   Are you going to scream and throw tantrums at your boss or college professors? I don’t think so. I know you feel bad. I know you know you were wrong and now you have to say you are sorry. Admitting wrong doing and making restitution takes courage and maturity and I know you have it in you. Come home. I miss you.”

Sophia, to her credit, did just that. She came home and gave Paul a big hug. She told him she was sorry and he told her that he loved her, wanted her to be happy and would always be there for her.  That was Saturday afternoon and we had a great rest of the weekend. It was raining so Paul lit a fire in the study and all the kids sat around  listening to their iPods, reading or doing homework. Pop Pop came over for dinner on Sunday and we watched the Olympics and it was peaceful, quiet and relaxing. Wonderful.

We all gained something from this. I learned to let go of my guilt. Sophia learned to let go of her resentment and Paul got some things off his chest. It was definitely a turning point for all of us.

One post script I would like to add  is that Sophia’s  father, my ex-husband, remained neutral throughout all of this. He was there for Sophia to blow off steam and support her without taking sides. He did not, however, condone her behavior, nor did he at any time undermine mine or Paul’s authority. That is supportive co-parenting  and for that I applaud him.

As you might expect, blended family holidays, particularly Christmas, can be fraught with thwarted expectations and nostalgic remembrances of how things used to be when mom and dad were still married. Every family has its own traditions and blending them and finding a common ground is the hardest to do this time of year.

When I was a single mom my two girls always spent Christmas eve and woke up Christmas morning at my house. My ex would come over in time to watch them open their presents and we would all have breakfast and play with the new toys. There was no stress or drama and everyone was happy.

Things were a little different for Paul. When he was a single dad his kids spent Christmas eve at their mom’s and woke up Christmas morning at her house and he stayed at home alone. He didn’t get invited to go over to her house and he did not get to share in the joy of Christmas morning with his children. They would come to his house later in the afternoon, but it just wasn’t the same. Two years ago Paul decided he wanted this to change and told his ex he wanted his turn having the kids wake up Christmas morning with him. She was not happy about it, but went along with it when they decided they would alternate the holiday every year. I, in turn, made the same arrangement with my ex giving him his turn to have the kids on Christmas morning. (Are you keeping up? I know, it’s exhausting keeping track.)

This year was supposed to be our turn to have the kids wake up here on Christmas morning, but apparently Paul’s ex “forgot” and went ahead and make plans (without consulting us)  to go out of town on Christmas day with her boyfriend so she has to have the kids on Christmas eve and Christmas morning. She promised that next year we could have the kids. We went along with her request seein’s how she was going to bring the kids over at 10am on Christmas morning anyway, but here’s the wrinkle. My kids are still waking up here with us and when they get up they want to go to the tree and open their presents right away. They don’t want to have to wait until 10am when Paul’s kids come over, which is what Cheryl is insisting that we do. She accused Sophia of being rude for not waiting for them to come over so they can open presents as a family. While I appreciate Cheryl’s logic, I don’t think she is looking at the big picture. When she wakes up at her mom’s is she going to have to wait to open her presents? No. She was very insistent and would not listen to reason. This made all three girls cry. Sophia resented being called rude as well as the demands dictating how she spend her Christmas morning. Eva, who is very self-sacrificing and is  willing to wait until Paul’s kids came over, was upset that there was a conflict and said, “Why does everything have to be so hard?”  My sentiments exactly. Why does it have to be so hard? I’m weary. I’m weary of having to constantly negotiate, mediate and compromise. Dealing with the kids is one thing, but having to also accomodate  the demands of the ex-spouse is  frustrating and exhausting.

I tried to smooth things over the best I could and promised my girls I would talk to Paul when he came home to explain the situation so he could reason with Cheryl. I also suggested a compromise, “How about you open just a few presents” but neither side would budge. When I told Paul the whole story he backed me up and said he would talk to Cheryl.  (He hasn’t had a chance to do this yet because the kids went to their other parents’ on Friday.) Knowing this made my girls feel better. Still, I am dreading another confrontation. It makes me very sad.  I hope we can get past this and still enjoy our Christmas.

In the meantime, I did try to get Sophia to put things in perspective. Waiting to have to open your presents is better than not having presents to open. And Cheryl’s demands that she wait are borne of her own need to feel included and to not be left out.  After all, we are a family and families open their presents together. A conundrum that will take the wisdom of Solomon to solve. If you readers have any suggestions, thoughts or comments  I would love to hear them.

There isn’t much I haven’t done or could do. For instance, now that it’s football season and we’re watching a lot of it, whenever I see the coach on the sidelines blocking out the plays I can’t help but think, “I could do that. How hard could that be?” The job is pretty simple as far as I can tell. First off , you have to know all the rules. Then you need to know the talents and skills of your team. And finally, you have to be able to anticipate what the other side is going to do and be prepared. Not much different from life if you ask me. Having survived junior high and water cooler gossip at the office, I’ve overcome some obstacles and tough plays in my day. And I’ve had my share of losses and come from behind victories too. And when life has thrown me a curve, I’ve learned to smack it  out of the park. (I know, I’m mixing sports metaphors here, but bear with me.)

I realize that  sometimes it’s hard to keep up with everything.  Like Windows 7 already? I just figured out where the spell check key was on Vista. I’m not a technophile that’s for sure and that lack of skill set may have cost me a job along the way, but it has never gotten in my way of understanding human nature. Let’s just say I’ve had lots of that kind of experience on my resume. Whenever the kids come home from school with a gripe about a bully, a mean girl, a strict teacher or a failure on a test I know exactly how they feel. Been there. Done that. Maybe I can’t type 55 wpm, but I can be their shoulder to cry on. Some talents make up for others. And any shortcomings I may have as a parent, I make up for with compassion, empathy and chocolate chip cookies. It’s the people skills that matter the most in life. That, and the ability to overcome adversity. And if you have a lousy year, there’s always next season.