The role of a
step-parent is different than a parent; more like walking a tightrope with tiny,
cautious steps, not wanting to be too harsh or too easy; attentive to fragile
feelings; aware of issues before any danger signs appear on the horizon and the
safety net is needed.
When our blended family
was still fairly new, we tried our best to entertain all six kids at home. Taking
a family of eight to a movie or out to eat was rough on the pocketbook and the
satisfaction was short lived. We chose instead to get each child a bicycle, and
put up a swing-set play system. Although intended for David, the older kids enjoyed
playing with him on it. The trampoline was an instant hit with the entire
neighborhood. The kids spent hours on the tramp—spring, summer and fall—taking
turns and practicing new stunts. They had the most fun when it was hot enough
to jump with the sprinkler underneath.
“Who left the bicycle in
the street?”
“Not me!”
“Who broke the new
tennis racket?”
“Not me!”
“Who spilled pop on the
carpet?”
“Not me! Not me!”
So there I was, alone with
this phantom child while everyone scattered to safety. Unless I knew for sure
who-had-done-what, I didn’t want to accuse the wrong child of a misdeed. Many
times I found myself cleaning up the mess Not
me! had left in his wake.
I finally wised up, realizing
I didn’t have to let the kids’ visits be all
play time. I created charts for simple household chores, and John brought them
to our business and assigned jobs for them.
In the evenings, when
things were quiet, I tried to be aware of the kids’ feelings. If one was
unusually quiet and needed space, I understood. If another one was eager to share
something on their mind, I wanted to take time to listen.
As time went on, the
kids offered to pitch in and help with projects, and even asked if they could
“work” at the store. Not me! eventually
moved out of our house. My guess is he moved in with another unsuspecting family
and that was just fine with me.
