I had an epiphany today. At the playground. Which really is a fun place to have one.

As a step mom, I struggle at times with “my role“. My husband says I struggle entirely too much with this issue. But where do I fit in? What is a step-parent? I read and am given advise all the time. And I do mean all of the time.  

One common piece of advise that I get – in a multitude of forms is this: it’s HIS kid. If I weren’t here, he’d have to do it all himself. The discipline, the dishes, the laundry, the shopping, the bed time snuggles.  

OK – but I AM here. I’m doing laundry. So I don’t do her clothes? Or once washed, I don’t fold them, right? OK – I absolutely draw the line at putting them into her bag to go back home to mom. It all ends up sounding fairly petty.

The discipline part is less petty. It’s actually quite serious. So I should back off and let him be the one saying no. I should just look over at him for all acts of discipline. Right?

But what happens when he’s working? And the two of us are fending for ourselves and she brushes the cat for a bit longer than the cat wanted to be brushed. I should kiss the scrape (is that OK even?) but hold my tongue about the last 3 times this happened? Should I tell him about it 8 hours later when he returns so he can then address her continual harassment of the cat and its consequences?

I am being sarcastic. I know. What I really do is kiss the boo-boo and ask if she saw his ears go back like I showed her before. She did. She even remembered that means kitty has had enough. But she wanted to do a good job and wasn’t done.  

So here’s when my epiphany occurred. Today at the park she was running UP the slide. Oh how I hate that. It’s dangerous. And I don’t care how many kids run up the slide – I don’t want her doing it. But my DH and I have adopted the stance of letting her learn lessons in life. We tell her what we think could happen and guide her away from the worst of the disasters. But since we were one of 5 families at the playground today, I didn’t run over and shout her name and say “down the slide – not UP it!” like I have been known to do. We both kept our butts firmly planted on the bench and waited to hear either laughter or tears.  

We did this even though the other parental units were hovering near their children, helping them to play correctly.  

Some time ago I had heard the term “Retro-parent” and my husband and I fell in love with it. We are concerned about our child and future children joining a nation of wimps. We want our children to be strong, independent, responsible and even a little willful.

That’s when I realized that I’m part of a team of parents raising this child. If I over-step, they’ll tell me. Or my step daughter will tell me. But it’s not very different than becoming a new parent: you just have to do your best and learn as you go.

So that was my epiphany. Just like I hold my breath and trust that my step daughter is going to get the hang of when it’s safe to go up the slide and when it’s not, I need to trust that I’m going to get the hang of this whole retro-step-parent role of mine, too.  

Photo credit: Rachelstinephotos on photobucket