Straying a BIT off topic, but it'll do my best to get back on.

My Grandpa George passed away last week. (It's Mama Laura)

I am so extremely sad to have had him go, but his 95 years of life were good and he was more than ready to go see his bride - grandma "Vi' (Viola). As we prepare to say goodbye to him this week and lay him to rest next to the love of his life, I have been pondering the many happy days I spent as a child with the two of them.

There were bike rides in grandma's 3-wheel bike 'basket' (yes, both my sister and I would hop in the back basket & she would pedal us up and down the street), picking cherries from the tree out back, playing hide-n-seek in the woods out back, watching grandpa carefully pot and fertilize his flowers in the greenhouse, picking roses off of the bushes, running through the sprinkler, the hummingbird feeder that he filled with homemade 'sauce' each day, grandma cutting our hair in the hair salon my grandfather built for her off the back of the house.

But I think what I will and want to always remember most is this: They were in love. Really truly, deep down, found-your-soul-mate-can't-live-a-day-without-you kinda love. I don't ever remember them raising their voices at each other (or anyone for that matter). I remember grandpa growing beautiful flowers for her every year to wear on mothers day. I remember him telling me the story about how they eloped with they were 17 & 18...and then spent a year living at their respective homes before they broke the news to their families. He talked about the years he spent away at war - and that after each return home a new child was born. My dad was the first.

I remember my dad telling me that they found stacks of neatly bound letter that they had written to one another while he was away at war.

Grandpa shared with me that after grandma lost her memory to alzheimers and she was slipping away, he would wrap her up each night in her favorite blanket and carry her outside to her favorite chair on the deck so that they could sit together under the stars. This was a chair he made for her.

I remember that he's visited her nearly every Sunday since she passed. I know that he wanted more than anything to join her again, and so he has.

It seems to me that this 'love' exists rarely these days and I wonder what has happened to us all that makes this the case? Has our world, and subsequently so many of us, lost the true meaning of what it means to build and hold and fight to hang on to (no matter what) those you love?

I miss you already grandpa. Thank you for sharing so many lessons in my life. Please tell grandma I send my love.

Mama Bear

Fact: About 70 percent of human deaths by grizzly bears are from mothers protecting their cubs.

I am the mama bear. (It's Mama Laura)

And that's not always a good thing.

B was 3 (almost 4) when his dad and I split up and I've been very 'mama bear' ever since. I honestly don't think he even remembers us all living in the same space - but I worry constantly about him and his feelings about our family.

I love this picture of the two of us...it was taken when, for a brief time, it was just the two of us. Mama bear and baby bear. He was my shining star - the reason why I got out of bed every day and still had a smile on my face. I had to remind myself that the decision I had made was best for me & was also best for him. I had to remember that it was increasingly important for me to ensure that his life was as incredible as he deserved it to be. He got me through a lot of the pain. I looked at his sweet face and knew that my life meant something. This mama bear loved her cub. He was my life.

I think I've spent more than my fair share of time trying to protect him from as much of it as I could - and really...what am I so anxiously protecting him from?

When a new papa bear came on scene along with several other cubs life changed a lot for baby cub and me. and seven years later I still catch myself being over protective of my cub - and often times that includes cutting him lots of slack. Lots. Probably more than I should sometimes - but I tell myself often that he's really such a great kid! And then sometimes, quietly to myself, I follow it with a 'for all he's been through'. And I wonder how much all of this really has effected him - and how much it hasn't.

One of the on-going-stressful-step-family struggles that occur seem to center around my need to protect him. Anytime he behaves like the 11 year old that he now is (which means he's sassy, he's short, he knows WAY more than we do, he's often not nice to his little sis, he is dishonest about finishing his homework etc.) I tend to make excuses in my head, tell myself that he's really a great kid, and follow that up by excusing his behavior out loud.

I am aware that I need to change this and continue to hold him accountable for his behaviors so that he CAN grow to be the great big bear that I know he is...but I haven't quite figured out how to let go of the bear in the mama. (Don't worry - it's on my list).

Mere, Madre, Mana, Mom

In my situation, and from my perspective, there is no competition. Mama from scratch is always the bow and this stepmama will always aim to be the faithful stern.

While we (the loving husband and myself) wrestle with the challenges of co-parenting with the other household there is absolutely no doubt in our minds that G's Mother is the absolute perfect Mom for her. Yet, with a switch of roles and life experiences I would have a hard time keeping the positive mantra of "she loves me most, she loves me most" running through my head.

One of the big struggles I've run into in all my readings and conversations is the title "Mom". I feel this (and the corresponding "Dad") are sacred. I could never invite G to consider calling me "Mom" because 1) I'm not her Mom - I am her stepmom who loves, cares and protects her just like a Mom but her Mom is her Mom is her Mom and I am not and 2) I've seen my husband catch his breath after G referred to her stepdad as "Dad" and that is a theft of identity I could never be a participant of.

When my husband and I got engaged G toyed with the idea on what she would call me. She played around with "Mom" a few times. She was feeling me out and I was being oh-so-accomodating in an effort to do things the right way. A candid conversation was finally had and it was decided that I am "Molly" and it felt like a relief to both of us.

The mundane of everyday life presents little hiccups on the title front in the most innocent ways. A grocery clerk praising G for being such a good helper to her Mom, a kid at school begging G to ask her Mom if a playdate can be arranged, a neighbor commenting that G must take after my side of the family in looks...I take G's lead in all this. If she goes with the flow so do I and if she looks like she wants to clarify I back her up.

"Daughter", on the other hand, is a title I freely brandish and I wonder if I'm a hypocrite. Would a Mom hearing me refer to her Daughter as my Daughter take issue? To me, the claim of Daughter implies my committment to G - should that be a problem? Hm.

From the Beginning

No White Picket Fence - if you are looking for a fairy tale ending you may not find it.

Don't get me wrong - there is plenty of happiness, but a lot of heartache and pain comes with it. Life is simply not what it used to be. I certainly didn't expect to find myself in the middle of a divorce at the age of 32, certainly didn't believe life would turn into endless conversations about who had B when, who had received the copy of his report card, which days could we switch and feeling sad that he'd lost his first tooth at his dad's house. I didn't image that it would hurt as much as it did when his dad introduced his new girlfriend to my son, and I didn't think I would become so easily hurt watching my child happily interact with another mother figure - but that is my life. And seven years later, it still sorta sucks.

Divorce, and its destruction, surround me. Many of my friends have travelled through them; many of my friends parents are divorced. Many of my kids friends at school have similar stories to tell and all too often I find myself engaged in conversations about the EX (mine, theirs, other people's). Most often these conversations include detailed accounts of the extra doses of stress that come with the territory.

I am fortunate to have found myself on one side of the scenario just as one of my closest friends (Molly J) found herself on the other. You see - she is the step-mom on her side of the ship. And I gotta say that any way you shake it, it's tough to be on either side. Together we have been able to offer each other a sense of what it feels like to be on the other end of the journey.

And so I find myself here, writing and wanting to share my experiences and thoughts in a way that might help another find a way to balance things out with the kid's best interest at the helm. Personal motions aside those sweet little souls often caught in the middle, and as hard as it is for me - or a step-mom, or a new girlfriend, they need us to find some calm in the storm.

My mate Molly J is onboard and together we hope to shape perspective from every angle. Together we are mamas to many, and so the blog journey begins. - Mama Laura