On Being a Step-Parent

Ok, so I had NO IDEA.  None. How can one single thing be so so hard?

Let's get this out of the way right up front.  Their Mom?  She's great.  She's a wonderful mother, and she's been a step-mother, had a step-mother.  She's knows it. 

I liked her before I met her ex-husband, and still like her.  So, this really isn't about her.  I mean, it is, of course, but really it's not.  She doesn't make my life hell, she doesn't poison her kids against me, or any of the myriad other nasty ex-wife/real mother stories that are out there.  It's a complex relationship, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't bumpy, but we all have it pretty good.

And WondefulMan?  He's great too.  He backs me up, he works with me to parent collaboratively, he tries to walk that very difficult road between being her ex-husband and father of her kids, and my partner and co-parent.  He holds me when I cry and gets upset that he can't make it all better.  And he changes his processes to meet my needs, just like I change mine.  Wonderful.

Here's what is hard.  These aren't MY kids.  These are kids that I get to love, that I have to/get to help parent, that I share a home with, that I share a love with. But they aren't MY kids with WonderfulMan.  They are HER kids with WonderfulMan and I am, at best, SecondBest.

So, that's me.  SecondBest.

The kids like me.  Which is nice.  And they don't enact open warfare.  Which is also nice.

But I'm SecondBest and it is so so so hard.  I don't want to replace their mom.  She's a good mom, she loves them, takes good care of them, and she should always come first in their mind.  But you know what?  I don't love their kids second best.  That's not how I'm built.  I love them the same.  I worry about their health and safety like I worry about mine.  I lie in bed worrying about them, and they take up just as much time in my head as mine do.  So being SecondBest?  It's hard.  And it makes me cry.

And so I went looking for information, and research and stuff to help me figure out how to handle these emotions.  And most books tell me how to make it easier or better for the kids (which I'm pretty ok at doing), or tell me how to be a better communicator with their mother (which I'm also ok at), or how to put my marriage/love first (hard to do with kids everywhere, but we manage pretty ok at this too).  But they don't tell me about ME.  They don't tell me how to make myself feel better.  Or how to reframe things.  And so many delight in bashing the first mother, and I don't like/want/do that.

This is so very very hard.

(and wonderful.  because I love the dad that WonderfulMan is.  And I love sharing his joy over his kids, and I love seeing tons of shoes tumbled all about at the door, and I love that my kids wonder and ask when his kids will be back from their moms, and I love that sometimes I get a special moment with the kids where I can feel the love bond grow, and so much more...)

step-parent, blended family, ex-wife, step-mother, stepmother,

Other Than Tango, Tango Music

This isn't one of those judgmental calls on what is or is not tango. I could care less what people dance, and how they do it, as long as they are respectful of other dancers on the floor, and their partner.

But I've spent the last several days mulling this over in my head, and I really would like your input.

How is it that you can find the heart of the dance of Tango in music that isn't Tango music?

For me, the very essence of the dance is in the nuance of the music, and I have a hard time feeling it the same in non-tango music, and even in non-traditional tango music. So, it makes it hard for me to understand what ignites the passion of the dance of Tango in you, if it isn't the music? What moves you? And, if it is about the music, but you don't listen to traditional, then how do you find the tango spirit in it?

What do you do for a job?

I am curious what fellow tango dancers, instructors and event organizers do to actually make money. I don't need the actual title or specifics, but I'd love to know the general category. Specifically, do you run a business? Are you employed in something art based? Where do you fit in the professional world?

Surrogacy and Money

I know it's a topic of interest.

I don't get that much money for carrying a baby (or babies), for fulfilling a dream, for creating a family. If one were to average it out, it's no where near minimum wage. The compensation I receive as a surrogate is part of what makes it a legit and legal exchange, part of what defines the parameters to keep everyone safe, part of what makes the sacrifices worth it. But it's not WHY I am surrogate. In fact, I don't know a single surrogate that actually considers money the main reason she carries. And, in all honesty, as I sit her on bedrest, the idea that the money is the motivation is laughable. There really isn't enough money out there to make me halting my normal life worth it.

But I will tell you what is worth it all:

Creating a Family
Being part of something done with such Intention
Knowing that these children are wanted, cherished and cared for
Helping someone's Dream come true
Feeling these babies kick and knowing that every ounce of thought about them is suffused with love

I've seen births that I walked away from and said prayers for those babies and the lives ahead of them. I've seen new parents with no thought or consideration for what it means to actually parent. I've had children in my home that have so much damage that I'm not sure they can be loved enough to repair it.

I have a chance to help repair just a little bit of that damage, to balance it out.

So, yes, I'm compensated and it helps, but it's at the bottom of the list of why I am a surrogate. And so when people ask me first about the money, or say "You must get paid a lot to be willing to do that" or they make snide comments about babyselling, or they suggest I am a uterine whore....I don't even know what to say. The rude ones I don't bother with, they won't get it anyway.

But the rest of the people....how do I convey to them the aching beauty and trust that the parents share with me, give to me, to carry their child? And the absolute honor that is? How do I convey to them that this lovely little being inside of me wants and expects nothing more than the purity of love for a short time, and I get to give it? How do I share the absolute heartwrenching moment of seeing the parents realize that the baby in their arms is theirs?

I wish I could get people to really understand what is at the heart of being a surrogate.

Betrayal

I am still grappling with a betrayal. It happened months ago, and each time I think I'm shed of it, something brings it fresh to the surface.

When it first happened I was mad, and then a bit sad, and then --true to form for me-- I picked up, made what peace I could and moved on. But apparently I'm not really at peace with it, because today brought it fresh again and I am mad. And it's all ego, because I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at me for being so naive to have loved so innocently and completely and trustingly, and to think it was the same thing returned. I should have known. Just that. I should have known.

Where's the grief? This was a major friendship in my life, and it ended abruptly and I want to know where is the grief over it? If I can still feel angry about it, then there must be something still to heal for myself, and so when do I get that? How long do I be angry and feel betrayed before I can move onto the grief stage? Our friendship deserves that kind of ceremony.

Artists and money

Artists need benefactors. Because the muse is hampered by the need to accomplish the other stuff that keeps life moving. And it's shameful to me that we have become a culture that decides that it there is little enough value in art that it should be a sideline, that it's a hobby.

And our artists feel shame at taking money. Feel shame at naming a price. Because we are so removed for sharing our hearts and our souls and our masterpieces through vulnerability that asking for the worth of the piece is unimaginable.

If you are an artist, in whatever capacity, please accept our money. Please recognize that it is our currency. It is how we tell you you have impacted us, that we like your beauty and want a part of it around us.

If you are a spiritual teacher, you are still an artist. Let me share my wealth with you, in the currency I have available to do so. It is an exchange that has value.

You be the artist, let me be the patron.

You do it for me too, you know.

Words/Voice

Why is it that I can put my words to paper, but my voice prevents me from actually saying so much?

Those 6 weeks took a toll. I can't even begin to describe how frustrating it is to only be able to dance two or three tandas in a night. I just don't have the stamina for more. Where did it go?

And my balance! Ugh. I feel like a very beginner again, only this time I know enough to know how bad it feels. It's so discouraging. I haven't actually had to use my partner for balance since I started, and now... if the leader does anything that isn't perfectly centered it throws me off.

I had a lovely night on Friday where I had people signing my dance card before I could even get my shoes on but I just couldn't dance more than a few tandas and I was so disappointed. Last night was the same.

Those of you that have taken extended breaks, was it hard to come back? Did you notice a difference? I'm hoping my lack of stamina is just because I was so sick and it will return, but other pregnant people seem to think it's their job to burst that happy bubble.

I danced

Yesterday I woke up feeling like....me. It was wonderful. And at about 6pm, I knew I'd be going to the practica. And I did.

I went in knowing that I really only intended to dance two or so tandas, and that there were only two leaders I felt comfortable enough to dance with, and they were both there, and it was really really nice.

But I was still worried. 6 weeks with no dancing. From 5 nights a week to nothing, for 6 weeks. Not even the desire. I was worried how I would feel, how my dance would be, concerned that somewhere I had lost that ephemeral "it".

The dance was fine. All that anxiety, and I felt ok. I didn't feel ungainly, stupid, uncoordinated or like I had forgotten everything. In fact, I smiled. A lot.

And when the second leader inquired about my absence and I explained that I was pregnant with twins and hadn't been well, the sweetest twinkle and the nicest glow swept over him, and he hugged me and said he was so looking forward to dancing with me as I got bigger. And it was so genuine and gleeful that I couldn't help but feel beautiful and wanted and appreciated. That, truly, was the most wonderful thing that could have happened to my dance last night.

I didn't go.

So, I didn't go. By the time I should have been leaving for the milonga, I was already in pajamas and it seemed like a lot of work to attempt to make myself look remotely cute in my now ill-fitting clothing. And I didn't go last week either, because a friend of mine's daughter turned 2 and they celebrated at Chuck E. Cheese's. I was done for after that. Whoever created those places has been so desensitized that they don't even know what the word over-stimulation means. I can't imagine working there.

But last night I did go to a smaller event. I didn't dance, but I went to see friends. It was lovely. And to my surprise, I found myself moved by the music. I haven't been able to even listen to tango. It's too all encompassing for me, and I get lost and then panic a little. I had to set it aside for music that doesn't dissolve me quite so much. But in a larger hall than my ipod earbuds provide, I was able to enjoy the music.

I think I'm ready. I'll give it another week or so, and dance just with people I'm really comfortable with, since tango is so intense and I'm still so easily overwhelmed, but it's nice to be ready. I was starting to get a little worried...

Easing back in

I think I could probably handle a tanda or two in a night, but I feel very out of (dance) practice, kinda shy, and very fragile. So, I'm a little hesitant to dance at my normal events. I'd really like to ease my way back in, dance with friends only (ones that would understand if I couldn't make it through a whole tanda), and go slow. But I'm hesitant to go to the normal events because there are lots of people I don't want to dance with and I can't figure out how to gracefully navigate the who I do want to dance with and who I don't want to dance with thing. Not because of those people, really, but because I feel so off my game and so physically unwell that I don't think I could handle a tanda with someone that I wasn't also completely socially comfortable with.

Any thoughts on this?

Fear

So, here's what I realized today. (though, it's not like this hasn't been noodling around in my, well, noodle)...

I'm completely terrified of being in a loving, giving, supportive reciprocal relationship. Every time I start to think about the possibility, I immediately shut it down. Each time a friend talks about it, I turn all bah humbug on them. I do it humorously, and lightly, but that door is closed tightly in my soul. In fact, it's been painted over, nailed shut and boarded as if to protect it from a storm.

I'm closed. My heart is closed. At least to anything longer than 12 minutes on the dance floor. Or to something I can control (read: parenting).

How ridiculous is this? I talk, and think, frequently about NOT making decisions based on fear. But one of the most essential aspects of life I am allowing to be completely controlled by fear. That moment of tango bliss the other day, it blew that door wide open. (which I then quickly scurried to close! and board up again.) I don't mean I want a romantic relationship with that person, or that I've fallen in love with him (though there will always be a special place held for him....it's the same feeling of tenderness I have for the women whose births I attend).

sigh. How do I remove all those barriers? Interesting, I never said it was locked. Just boarded up and closed tightly. I wonder what significance that has?

I want to allow myself to love someone, to take the risk of loving and giving completely. I want to allow myself to not control everything, but to trust more.

Vulnerability

In all honesty, friends, it terrifies me.

The absolute intensity that this thing, this Tango, awakens in me is terrifying.

That serpent of passion is coiled pretty deeply inside me. I thought we had found a way to coexist. He had his space, and I had mine. Occasionally, when all the conditions were right and safe, we might play a little together. But always with protection, never too close, always barely touching fingertips. Controlled.

But all bets are off now. He dances to the music, and when I am looking or when I'm not he coils himself around the little figure that is me that coexists in this body and he takes me for a ride and I just don't have any say.

I always knew he was bigger than me. I always new that if it came down to a contest between Passion and Personality, well....Passion would win hands down. And if it came to that, it would be ok because all else would be obliterated. There would only be the aftermath to deal with.

But this music, this dance...it is pulling and twisting us together and I'm finding that the passion and the personality are not as separate as I thought. And it terrifies me. I liked that neat tidy package, and nothing feels neat or tidy anymore. I feel like I am in this spiral of release and fill, and I have no say in it whatsoever. And more, I don't want to have any say. I just want to give in and go.

And in those moments, like tonight, it is glorious to go.

and the aftermath is frightening, because I'm trying to clean up and separate and reorganize what was torn open for me...and there's just no map for this.

and the only solace I can think of is to bury myself even deeper. To hope it opens me even more.

the nature of bliss

I thought it would be joy. I thought it would be light. I thought it would be like a summer day. But it wasn't.

It was aching. It was yearning, and it was melancholy. Oh, there was joy in the connection, in the awakening, in the sharing of each other, but there was more. I didn't realize that the bliss would be like that moment before we tip into orgasm, where our eyes lock with the intensity of knowing we have chosen to go over the edge together, that we've chosen to bare our souls naked to each other and there is nothing to hide, nothing to hide from.

And I sit here dazed, surprised I made it through the rest of the night. Because the tears are flowing down my cheeks, the aftermath of the bliss washing over me.

and a kernal of fear. What if he didn't feel it too? What if this is a story I'm making up?

Does he make us all feel this way?

And with that bliss, I was done. I couldn't even think of another dance with someone else. Anything else would have been empty, shallow, surface. So I sat and watched, completely contented.

I love this love affair on the dance floor. I love the shy newness of learning each other, and the places where we go deeper, a bond that grows with each step. And I think, do all the women he dances with feel this way? Do all the women he dances with walk away feeling beautiful, sexy, special? I suspect they do. And this pleases me. How wonderful that he makes each and every one of us fall in love with him, and feel as if he's fallen in love with us!

And I want to give this back. I want every man that embraces me to walk away from our dance feeling special.

bliss

Tonight I had THAT moment. That moment when the world melts open and we are hurtling through space together, with nothing but us and the cushion of tango for atmosphere.

It was just a second, when he gave himself over to me; the tender act of laying his forehead against mine undid me. In that slightest gesture, I felt him relinquish. I felt him make space in his heart for me, and I felt him allow the vulnerability to wrap us up. And I took it, and held it and loved him essentially.

THIS is what tango is. THIS is why we reach for eachother, why we suffer the doubt, the fear, the pain.

57%

Who would have thought that a lime green corset would be such a popular thing?

Fully 57% of my search engine hits in the last week and a half have had something to do with "lime green corset" in their search.

huh.

Passion for Tango

Excerpted from a letter with a friend, about losing our mojo in tango.

It does underlie everything in the dance, doesn't it? It's hard though, in those moments of lapse, to remember that anything else exists.

What is it about tango that strips us?

I think it's the music. It's so absolute, and in the absence of our own mojo, the music intensifies the lack. It pulls from my gut that sense of want and then tugs me along like a pull toy. Sometimes I hate feeling played with that way. And sometimes I can think of nothing else. It's the lover that knows all the buttons to push; to melt me and to denigrate me and to bring me high and to show I'm nothing, and then to make me beg for more because I've rarely felt something so beautifully intense.

I don't feel the same with alternative music. From that, I can just walk away if the night isn't flowing. But never from traditional. It follows me, sits with me, demands my attention. Sometimes I have to find that bravado, that mojo, that sense of fullness in myself...just to make it go away for a couple minutes so I can breathe.

But then, in that second of breath, I fall in love all over again.

Comparisons

It is so interesting to me how I can dance with someone and have a very meh kind of dance, only to have a friend return from a tanda with the same person raving about him.

When that happens, and it happens frequently, all I can do is softly giggle to myself.

Plateauing

Thanks, Janet Little.

Here's a reminder for you, E.

Plateauing is like climbing a mountain. You work really hard, and then you reach that plateau and you get a chance to cruise for awhile. Enjoy the sunshine, smell the wildflowers, gaze at the clouds and find dragons, maybe eat some lunch. Catch your breath.

But at some point you start to get anxious. You still have so much mountain to climb, and it still seems so far away. So you start to hurry. And notice less of the beauty around you, because your focus has shifted.

It means you're ready for the next part of your journey. Ready to start up that mountain again. Ready to focus and get down to business.

So this dissatisfaction with your plateau, it's a good thing. And you'll be climbing again soon!