I Bought One and Got One Free: How I Became a Stepmom at 23 – Guest Post

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**Guest post by Michelle**

I lived the single life for a long time—for 23 years to be exact. I was fine being single. At 23 came a lot of firsts—my first real job after graduating college the year before, the first time I was living away from home and on my own, the first time I met and dated a man and did things men and women do when they date and the first child I had in my life. I guess you can say I bought one and got one free.

Let me explain. I have many younger cousins (no siblings!), so I’ve seen them as newborns, toddlers, kids and now teenagers. Some are even early 20-somethings, but they were never my children, or at least I never had to care for them as if they were my own. When I met my current boyfriend, he didn’t tell me at first that he had a child, but through conversation I found out. He only has one, but she is his world. At the time, she was six and I had not yet met her but I was told many stories. When he decided that he wanted us to be serious, he brought her to my workplace to meet me and introduced me as a friend of his he met through my boss. After that he brought her to my apartment where he had to fix something (he was the property manager for a group of properties owned by my landlord, including the apartment I lived in) and sat her down on my IKEA sofabed to tell her that the apartment they were currently in belonged to his new girlfriend who is the lady he just introduced her to. After much reassurance that I was indeed her dad’s new girlfriend, she was excited to have me in her life.

Although I'm still young in age and young at heart, I can't always indulge in things meant for people who are in a younger age bracket. But I can get away with enjoying these things by doing them with my stepdaughter. This photo was taken when we went to go see The LEGO Movie.
Although I’m still young in age and young at heart, I can’t always indulge in things meant for people who are in a younger age bracket. But I can get away with enjoying these things by doing them with my stepdaughter. This photo was taken when we went to go see The LEGO Movie.

By that point, she had already turned seven, so she was small and very impressionable…she was also her own little person and when we got more comfortable with each other, very talkative, excitable and just one of the greatest kids I’ve ever met. But back when I first met her, she was shy, barely spoke a word to me and gave me the cutest little wave to show she wasn’t rude enough to not say hello.

I knew she would be in my life for as long I was with her father, but I didn’t know the role I would end up playing
in a short amount of time. I didn’t see her father and I getting as serious as we are now (all that’s missing is the
ring and the legal papers), so it didn’t bother me that I would be ditched (powerful word) every now and then for
the actual number one female in his life—his daughter.

Not that it bothers me now either. She should always be his number one.

Having been in her life, and having her in mine, for three-going on four-years, I've been able to expose her to some of my family. This is a shot from sometime during the summer of 2014 when my mom came to visit me at our home. Olivia was with her father and me that weekend, so she came with my mom and me to the beach by our house.
Having been in her life, and having her in mine, for three-going on four-years, I’ve been able to expose her to some of my family. This is a shot from sometime during the summer of 2014 when my mom came to visit me at our home. Olivia was with her father and me that weekend, so she came with my mom and me to the beach by our house.

I’m 27 now and she’s 10. Our relationship has grown exponentially these past three years. I buy her clothes, school supplies, Easter, birthday and Christmas gifts. I tell her to clean her room, take a shower and brush her teeth. I cook her breakfast, lunch and dinner and take her on errands where she’s required to help me fold clothes or load the belt at the cashier’s line. I take her to her mom-mom’s, her aunt’s or to go play tennis. She helps me clean the house and feed the dog and in return, I take her to the boardwalk to go on rides or to the shopping centers and malls to have a girls’ day and shop.

I give her advice whether or not she asks for it and I pry. She cries to me (literal tears) and I hug her until the eye dams close. I teach her basic life skills as well as things in science, math and literature, as well as silly things like how to check eggs at the supermarket when you want to buy them. We have nail parties and fashion shows, movie nights and game days. She helps me cook meals and when we sit to eat, I proudly announce that she made the food, that I just helped and she gladly takes the credit. Her father looks at me and I wink at him, knowing well that he is 100% aware that my previous statement was purposely backwards.

As a stepmom, I get to capture moments of play like this. Someone who is involved with a person who has children, but who doesn't live with them don't always have the luxury of seeing them at precious little moments in their lives.
As a stepmom, I get to capture moments of play like this. Someone who is involved with a person who has children, but who doesn’t live with them don’t always have the luxury of seeing them at precious little moments in their lives.

Never in a million years did I see myself being a mother figure to someone else’s child before hitting 30. Or ever.

The older ladies in my daily life at work are constantly probing my brain when we have our “ladies nights”, indulging in drinks and dinner, ranting to each other about the men at work and at home, and just enjoying ourselves. At least ten minutes becomes dedicated to “Michelle, we just want what’s best for you” conversation. I reassure them that I’m fine, yes things get annoying/shocking/scary/frustrating, but as married women, they should realize I’m living the same life they are, minus the years, the ring and the biological children. I hear things like, “You’re too young to be doing that.” Sometimes my friends chime in with things like, “She’s not yours, you shouldn’t have to worry.” “You do so much for her, but she’s not yours.” “I can’t believe you do that. SHE’S NOT YOURS!”

She’s not yours.

It’s almost equivalent to “You’re not my mother.” That sting. Yes, I’d like my own children someday, but I can’t afford that right now. I (we) can afford my stepdaughter because she does not live with us full time. Her father takes care of his responsibilities with her (child support, school finances, etc.) and I help out with everything else. I get along with her mother and she helps me decide what I can and need to do with her if I get stuck or have questions. Having this beautiful little girl in my life is allowing me to practice, if you will, with becoming an actual parent myself.

There are limits, though. I can’t yell at her, but I can be stern. Thankfully, she’s not a bad kid at all, so sternness comes seldom and yelling never crosses my mind. And of course, swatting her on the bum isn’t an option. For one she’s too old for that and two that stinging phrase comes into play: she’s not mine.

Instead, I give my firm, stern mom speech and then report to her father who handles it at an appropriate time. A few minutes of silence and bruised feelings go by before we’re girlfriends again.

It was early when I exposed her to my friends. This photo was taken in November, 2013. One of my best friends threw a belated birthday party for me up near home, so Sean (her father, whom I had only been with for six months at the time) and Liv drove up with me to attend the party and meet my closest friends.
It was early when I exposed her to my friends. This photo was taken in November, 2013. One of my best friends threw a belated birthday party for me up near home, so Sean (her father, whom I had only been with for six months at the time) and Liv drove up with me to attend the party and meet my closest friends.

Over these past three, almost four, years she’s come to realize what role I play in her life. The transition from “my boyfriend’s daughter” to “my stepdaughter” was smooth and untimed. There wasn’t a day we all woke up and decided that’s how I would address her. It just happened. She doesn’t introduce me as her stepmom, though. Not yet. I’m still “Daddy’s girlfriend”, but I know she knows who I am because on Mother’s Day, she sends me a gift (she spends Mother’s Day with her father and I go home to spend it with my mother so I don’t get to see her then) and it’s the sweetest, most heartfelt thing to have. Because she’s only 10, she doesn’t have any money other than what her father or I hand her or what she’s saved at mom-mom’s house or what her mother or uncle give her, so her gifts to me come through links in text messages. Much like all the other children in her generation, it seems, she’s got a smartphone and smarts to work it. She makes these photo collages from pictures she nabs from her camera roll (yes, she has an iPhone—we won’t get into that) or my Instagram account and sends them to me. I, in turn, watch these animated collages, cry for a minute, then spread it like wildfire all over social media with the caption, “look at my stepdaughter sent me for Mother’s Day”. I usually get the same type of gift for my birthday and the same reactions come about.

My stepdaughter is growing up in the era of selfies. When I see her Instagram posts, I ask her why they're all self-captured photos. Her answer is always, "I don't have anything else to take pictures of." Sometimes, she invites me into her photo sessions and this is generally the outcome. The good news is, at 27 (26 in this photo), I, too, can still partake in selfies like this and receive less criticism than someone of a more common "step-parent age".
My stepdaughter is growing up in the era of selfies. When I see her Instagram posts, I ask her why they’re all self-captured photos. Her answer is always, “I don’t have anything else to take pictures of.” Sometimes, she invites me into her photo sessions and this is generally the outcome. The good news is, at 27 (26 in this photo), I, too, can still partake in selfies like this and receive less criticism than someone of a more common “step-parent age”.

Through all of these things, I find myself saying “love you!” verbally or through text, depending on how we’re talking. The best part? She says it back without skipping a beat. She hugs me when we drop her off with her mother or if she’s coming home with us for the weekend, holiday or summer. She knows to respect me as if I were her mother, she tells me things as if I were her mother and sometimes I think she forgets that I’m not her mother.

Her first train ride!
Olivia’s first train ride!

Her father and I plan on marrying some day. We just have some things to sort out and make sure the ground we
walk on is level. Once that happens, I know we will make her flower girl (though she’s insisted she wants to be a bridesmaid—we’ll see. 😉 ) and we may give her a sibling (which she is firmly against, but will hint that she wants
a little sister). Until then, she’ll be my little princess even if she isn’t my own.

In 2015, at Rockefeller Center. It was her first time in NYC!
In 2015, at Rockefeller Center. It was her first time in NYC!

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