Blending the holidays

is something we’ve come to accept as normal in this “his, hers 'n ours bathroom towel set” of a family. My Girl spends April vacation with her biological father and my Boy wonders why his biological mother hasn’t called. It isn’t my intent to disparage either of the other parents and the relationships they share with their children. Some things in life just are what they are. You make the best with what you have. As it happens, missing pieces know exactly where to land to complete part of the puzzle. My head is weary from the constant competition and a calm undisturbed nap is the one thing I’m after. And I silently wonder am I really the best person for this job? Honestly? Does the word step make this job more complicated or is the process of blending four partially unrelated people together just as awkward as blending together four completely related people? You tell me. On Wednesday I’ve got my shit together, good groove going on, keeping the balance, dinner prepared, and house in order. But come Saturday…..I feel the game begin again. It could be suitably titled “The Mad Chaotic Competition for Mama’s Attention.” One for you and one for you. I love you the same. You did a good job and you did a good job. One familiar voice of my Girl and one guarded but loving voice from my Boy. (I call him mine because in most senses, he is.) I feel pulled in two separate directions and I question myself; do biologically related siblings do this too? Please tell me. Come Saturday I’m doubting my abilities again. Do I have it in me? It being equally abundant love for my babies and for the boy who has never been my baby. Most days I think it is in me. I just needs more time and energy.

My Girl is gone for a week and only after years of throbbing good-byes and restless nights am I able to wait for her return without endless tears and unyielding anxiety. After she arrives safely in his care, I blow kisses through the telephone and simply wait. Wait for the time to pass. Wait for her return to my embrace. The Boy knows I’m waiting and pines for a mother to love him in such a terribly devoted way. I love him the only way I can and she loves him the only way she can. And we blend.

My Girl attends the father-daughter dance with her step-father and spends the summer swimming and petting the zoo animals with her biological father. And we blend. My Boy shares ice cream dates and after dinner walks with me and will spend the summer drinking in the essence of the mother he rarely sees but so desperately wants to be familiar with. And we blend.

After a few years of pressing mix/combine/finely chop/puree on the family blender, we’ve created a most tasty drink made from the most passionately fruity of people. Sometimes we add a pinch of sugar. Sometimes it calls for lemon. Some days it doesn’t taste so good and some days we just can’t drink enough of it. But we keep on blending.