I don’t mean to brag, but I did finally learn to cook. When I first moved in with my instant family, I would look at whichever box I pulled out of the pantry and think, “Okay, serving size, 4oz…so…what, make four of those?”
Parenting is hard. Why do we do this? No, really. I mean, I know the Hallmark answer...but, really, why?
Being a stepmom is a choice, not the fulfillment of a childhood dream.
If you’d asked me eight years ago how I’d react to hearing that our kids’ (bio)mom was moving out of state, I’d probably have answered with something along the lines of, “oh, thank you six pound baby Jesus.” But that was then.
My kids are gross. I don’t even care. Well, I mostly don’t even care. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to the 5% of me that still gets bowed up at the pure “ick” of teenage hygiene.