round two

About a year ago, IR and I had a round of email exchanges in which she made clear that she resented my public relationship with the kids and felt I had been “antagonistic” towards her.  (Her examples of being antagonistic included holding Cupcake on my lap at a school event for which IR was present.)   I responded, defending myself, pointing out that I’d done nothing to her, and offered an olive branch towards a better relationship. She told me she would only move forward if I could realize what I’d done to bring us to that point in the first place, and apologize for it.

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Fast forward to now: IR and I have been involved in an email “conversation” since Saturday concerning our relationship. There’s so much to write about, I don’t know where to start. I think both of us have gotten some things off our chests, but it remains to be seen how committed IR is to moving forward with a civil relationship. I’ve told her we can only do so if she stops belittling me and treating me with a double standard (asking me to do parental things for her, but then trying to ban me from other parental activities). IR seems to still want to place all of the blame for the status of our relationship on me, saying that I don’t defer to her often enough (as the mother of the children, of course) and calling my behavior “ignorant.” As usual, she never wants to take any responsibility.

Not sure how this will all turn out, but I’ll keep you posted.

five days

We haven’t talked to the kids at night since they left five days ago for IR’s. Most nights, our phone calls have simply been ignored. Last night, they were “watching football with their grandparents,” and apparently couldn’t come to the phone. If it were simply a matter of the kids getting on the phone and saying they didn’t want to talk, that would be ok with us. Our view is that if they want to talk, they will; if not, we don’t force them to talk. The problem is that we don’t even get a chance to ask them.  We never know if they even know we’re calling.

for every right, there is a remedy.

The first case I read in Constitutional Law was Marbury v. Madison, which established the equal footing of the Supreme Court with the legislative and executive branches of the federal government.  I remember it for the phrase in the title of this post: “For every right, there is remedy.”

(My first semester of ConLaw is what convinced me to stop going to class. My professor was insane. And boring. And seemed to make up sentence structure as he spoke. I stopped going to class and started reading, on my own, in the library. I felt like I was learning and thinking; apparently, I was setting myself up to take the bar exam twice.)

Anyway, the idea of rights and remedies fascinates me.  Lately, though, I’ve been wondering whether the converse of Marbury v. Madison’s famous axiom is also true:  What if one desires some type of justice, but has no legal right to it?  We all have a sense of what’s right and wrong.  When a law is broken, we want justice.  But what about those times when you just KNOW something “isn’t right” – isn’t fair – even if there’s no right being violated?

—

I pretty much loved Calvin and Cupcake from the get-go. But I know that feeling shifted at some point within the first year of me being around them – it became stronger and deeper.  I became protective.  There are numerous examples, but suffice it to say, when those kids are wronged, I want to punch whoever has messed with them in the face.

So.  Here’s the thing:  I have no legal rights surrounding Calvin and Cupcake.  I have no legal status in the discussions between Pops and IR when it comes to the kids.  (For the record, Pops and I are a team – he willingly and openly involves me in all of the decisions surrounding the kids.)  But what if I feel like there’s an injustice in Calvin and Cupcake’s lives?  Or in my life but related to them?  (It could be at school, at daycare, with IR – any number of things.)  Do I just swallow it or am I allowed to seek out a remedy by saying something?

the facts

I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.  Start writing again, that is; remember how to get my thoughts on paper.

Not much could provide more material than graduating from law school, job hunting, job finding, failing the bar exam, dating a divorcee with two children – one of them adopted and of a different race – dealing with a truly irrational ex-wife, buying a home, and deciding to re-take the bar exam.  All in less than two years.  (God, no wonder I’m always exhausted.)

Here’s a bit about the people I’ll likely talk about most often (you can read about me here):

My “practical husband” (Pops) knows my faults and experiences them almost daily.  He’s a smart and generous man and he is the definition of what a good father should be.  I love him deeply and cannot imagine what my life would have been or would be without him.  He makes me laugh and he makes me feel good about myself.  He’s patient.  He makes me want to try harder.

The children are beautiful.  They really are.  Calvin is eight, nearly nine, and Cupcake is six.  I couldn’t have gotten any luckier when it comes to kids – step or otherwise: they truly are wonderful – kind and sweet and funny (not that they’re without their faults, of course).  The three of us fell in love quickly.  One of the best feelings is knowing that I have a place in this family.  Our family.  They can trust me and they know I’m not going anywhere.  I’ve promised to take care of them.

Calvin was the first of the kids to fall for me.  I now recognize that this was a function of his personality – he is incredibly outgoing yet quite sweet in his quiet moments – still his affection towards me gave me the idea that I could DO this and it might be amazing.  He can have me laughing one moment, very frustrated with him the next, snuggling after that, and talking about poop a minute later.  He is such a boy – SUCH a boy.  Some of Calvin’s favorite topics are “wieners,” farts, and meat.  The snuggling is beautiful, though.  He is going to be a big, strong man one day.  And I will remember when he fell asleep, snuggled into my shoulder, with his arm around me.

Cupcake is one of the biggest characters you will ever meet.  She will dance and sing (horribly off-key most of the time) and kiss and hug and smile until you are convinced you’ve found the love of your life.  With Cupcake, there’s a daily explosion of beauty, fun, silliness, and laughter.  Oh, and chatter.  That girl can talk until you want to slam your head into a wall.  She talks.  And reminds you of things.  And tells you what she had for dinner last night (even though you made it for her).  And re-tells the story you told her this morning, “Practical Stepmom, isn’t it crazy how when you were a little girl, you used to drop eggs on the floor?”  The incessant discourse, though, is quieted by her soft heart and strong spirit.  She is possibly the only kid I’ve ever thought might be more mature for his or her age than I was (and I grew up pretty damn fast), and while she can be frustratingly headstrong, she often will self-destruct when confronted.

Like many “blended families” (I still haven’t decided what term I’m going to use to describe my particular wacky household), we suffer from PEW – Psycho Ex-Wife – disease.  Not only is she irrational (code name “IR”) – she is the kind of woman where 2 + 2 will add up to anything but 4 – she’s also pretty narcissistic.  All in all, a lot of fun.

In addition to chronicling the thrilling adventure of re-taking the bar exam this summer, I plan to use this blog to explore the various personal, societal, and legal implications of being a “practical” (that is, not legal) stepmom.

Warning:  There may be screaming, crying, and gnashing of teeth.  Sometimes, it’s just too much to keep inside.