Unconditional. Whole Hearted. No Question.

Yesterday at our impromptu May Day party, a mom I don't know so well walked over with her two preschoolers.

She laughed as she told me about the May Day treats she'd found at her door step, knowing they were from Miss M herself.

H was climbing all over me and as I set him the grass he got his crawl in gear towards the rocks. Then the road. Then the wagon.

Finally he was content to just sit in the wagon, holding a few strands of grass he'd managed to grab hold of and watch the joy of a Tuesday afternoon unfold.

"Don't you just love having one of your own?" This woman asked me.

I must have given her a look like I didn't understand.

"Well you know what I mean." She said, trying to make eye contact with my darting eyes.

"No, I don't know what you mean." I said quickly.

Immediately my defenses arose. I could feel butterflies in my tummy and tears in my eyes.

She chased after one of her little ones for a few moments, while thoughts, explanations and questions filled my mind.

Let me make something clear, stepmoms do not get credit for anything.
This may be due to Disney and Hollywood's depictions of stepmoms.
This may be due to people's own personal experience with stepmoms. Possibly having an evil one themselves.

I've said many times already that I've been met with many judgments and questions about my situation. Someday I will write much, much more about this very issue. Though you may be sick to death of reading about it, my heart and mind are full of thoughts on it.

When people hear that I'm the stepmom, they often times run away looking for the "real" mommy.

It's assumed that I couldn't possibly know the first thing about parenting, children or families being a stepmom. It's assumed that I must hate their mother.

And the grandiose assumption is always I couldn't possibly love children that are not biologically mine unconditionally and wholeheartedly.

When this mom walked back over, I looked at her and said. "You have no idea how much I love T and M."

She looked away. She knew she'd hit a nerve. She was embarrased.

I was not.

I don't owe an explanation to her and I didn't go any further.

When I met J, I had no idea what was in store for me. No clue.

When I met T and M, I still had no idea.

I do not love T and M because of J.

I love them because T is smart and silly and cracks me up like no other boy I've ever met. His heart is made of gold. He gives great hugs and truly loves each one in his family.

I love them because M is sassy and beautiful and loves life in a way that no other little girl could ever show me. Her smile and giggle truly lift my spirits.

I love them because though not flesh of my flesh or bone of my bone, they are my children. Stepchildren, yes. Children, nonetheless.

I love them because I can not imagine not having either one in my life and even the thought of not having them or being with them breaks my heart and brings tears to my eyes.

I love them even though I am not their mom.

I love them because not only do they make me glad, but sad and mad and every gamut of emotions.

I love them for more reasons that I could ever explain here. But I love them because I don't have to explain to anyone.

And neither T nor M (or even H) will ever have to question that.