About Joanna Track
Four years ago, Sweetspot.ca Founder Joanna Track settled down with her darling husband and his two adorable young boys. She’s since added “new mom” to her long list of achievements with the addition of baby Teddy. Check back weekly for her tales of sweet family life.
As my days towards “biological” motherhood slip by, I wait in anticipation for all the joys (and perils) that this new stage of life will bring. And of course, I continue to receive an onslaught of advice from other parents on everything I need to know about dealing with parenthood (and some that I didn’t!).
I’ve come to accept that this is an almost sub-conscious, reflex action that people do when making small talk with a pregnant woman (for future reference, I actually prefer comfortable silence over small talk). But what I find harder to take is the more condescending commentary about this mystery called Motherhood.
Most of these sentences start with something like “Just wait till you’re a mother…”. While I may not have yet had the pleasure of having my private parts torn open in the act of childbirth, I do understand a thing or two about being a parent.
I’m sure that step-parents everywhere can commiserate with me, but it is very disheartening, and insulting, when others don’t recognize the efforts (and at times, hardships) of being a stepmother. Even the word conjures up images of the evil type a la Cinderella (although I prefer to imagine the cute hat-wearing type like Julia Roberts in the movie Stepmom).
With this role comes many of the same trials and tribulations of parenting, but without the same rewards. Try being woken up four times a night by a child who’s not your own -- or bathing one for that matter. I do school pickups, playdates, sports, and birthday parties. I deal with emotional turmoil (“How do I know a girl likes me if she always ignores me?"), and sibling fights. I’ve cleaned up pukey messes, done homework, enacted punishments and duty charts.
And I’ve also been fortunate to receive genuine love and appreciation from my step-sons. (The day I found out one of them putting me as his screensaver at school brought tears to my eyes.) But no matter the effort, or the affection, you never receive the same appreciation or admiration as the parent. Even after a day of driving, doing and listening, it always ends up with “Where’s Daddy?” And as a child of divorce, I can respect that.
And I can honestly say I never thought I’d up in this position, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.