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Step
Lightly Stepdad
I hesitated
posting this. I wrote the first part of this a couple of years
ago in a fit of self pity. I'm glad I eventually came back to
it with the wisdom God gives us through the passage of time. I
look at it now as simply another step in being a
step-parent.
The ongoing saga of a
step-father without a clue.
I
touched my 16-year old stepdaughter’s butt yesterday. It
was a harmless gesture, nothing sexual about it, but it
prompted a response from her you might expect, and it triggered
a reaction in me I didn’t really anticipate.
My wife, Amy, my stepdaughter Lisa and I were in line at the
movie theatre, waiting to buy tickets when, as I stared up at
the marquee of 16 avenues of theatric escape, I reached down
and gave the posterior in front of me a pat. It was a gentle
double-tap and it was meant to call my wife’s attention
to the fact that the line had moved and we should be like the
cinema seeking-cattle we were and move ahead.
Unfortunately the “tookus” in front of me was not
my wife’s, it was my stepdaughter’s. My gentle pat
was met with a look of horror perfected by 16 year olds
everywhere that said “Are you nuts?” and an audible
response laden with the same attitude of “EXCUSE
ME???”
I, of course, apologized immediately,
and said it was a case of mistaken identity. Posterior
confusion. Gluteus embarassus. Amy was also quick to
fervently put forth the same defense there amid the crowd of
dozens of eager reality escapists and add to it with the
exculpation, “It’s not like your stepfather is
touching you all the time!” A few seconds of that
type of awkward, at times mortifying and yet oddly amusing,
banter took place before Lisa pronounced rather forcefully, “I
don’t want to talk about this any more-EVER! I
think I may be sick.”
In fact, what I
recognized at that moment is that I don’t touch my
stepdaughters at all. We don’t have that type of
relationship. I’m not talking about weird, evil
stepfather type touching referred to in sordid gossip, on
psychologist couches, or all too often in courtrooms. I’m
talking about simple affection. We don’t hug.
We keep our distance physically and emotionally. I am to
blame.
My stepchildren have a close relationship with their
father, stepmother, and their mom and so simply by the order of
the draw I’m going to be low man on the list of parents.
This is not the kid’s fault, it’s a position that I
have fostered more than fought.
I lost my parents
when I was a teenager and moved in with my Aunt and Uncle.
I never established much of a relationship with them during
those years in part I think because I felt they were trying to
be “my parents”. I had parents…they
died, but I had them. I always wanted my step kids to know
their Dad is their only Dad, and that I am another resource for
them. I love them, but I tried to be careful, especially when
they were much younger, to never steal away those once in a
lifetime childhood moments meant for fathers and their
children. I’ve always thought it was a pretty noble
attitude, but admittedly it also allowed me to remain
distant.
I grew up in an odd familial setting; I
had a “family” forced upon me. I know what
that feels like and I decided early on in our marriage that my
relationship with my kids would come naturally; I wouldn’t
try to “win” them over or compete with their other
parents. I would play the role God laid out for me, as best I
could, even if it meant minimal involvement. That was the path
of least resistance, but now I know it’s also the path of
least returns.
Our oldest stepdaughter, Tiffany,
was the first to endure my parental experimentation.
Tiffany had a hard time with her parent’s break-up. She
can at times seem aloof, though I don’t think that’s
purposeful, I think it’s more a result of her inherent
independence and self-reflection. Tiffany has always been
intelligent beyond her years and not one to be smooth talked,
coddled, or conned. She’s introspective and logical by
nature, and I think that makes her quick to “sum up”
others. When we first met she eyed me with the trust deserving
of a door-to-door snake oil salesman, and I’m not fully
convinced there isn’t an inkling of that disdain still
lingering back there. Some of it probably deserved. I decided
right off, I wouldn’t try to win her over, I wouldn’t
bribe her, con her, push my love on her, I’d let her come
to me when she was ready. Surely, some day she would “need”
me. Now that she is nearly 21 our relationship has improved
greatly though I don’t know if we’ll ever be as
close as I would have hoped. I don’t think she
feels she “needs” me still.
We laugh
together much more often than in the early years. I doubt she’d
admit it, but I think we share a similar sense of humor. I gave
her, her first driving lessons. I played the silent chauffeur
for her junior prom out of worry about her safety, and
conversations between us come much more easily these days.
However there is still a distance that is tangible, and
telling. Once, 6 or so years ago, when we were in church,
the family was sitting in a row and I put my arm around Amy and
stretched my other arm out the other way, around Tiffany. It
wasn’t really meant as a sign of affection. Honestly I
felt cramped and needed to stretch, but Tiffany quickly asked
me to move my arm. She did it with all politeness and no
over-reaction. There were explanations; it was crowded, she
couldn’t lean back comfortably; but I saw, or at least
felt, a bit of that “repel the snake-oil salesman”
attitude and I knew in my heart that stretching my arm around
my stepdaughter symbolized a relationship we didn’t have,
or worse that I never earned.
Until recent years,
with the exception of “poses” for family pictures,
I could literally count the times Tiffany and I have hugged.
Three times when she was at our home with her first real
boyfriend and leaving to go back to college Tiffany hugged me.
She was hugging everyone, and I was in the room. Each time she
hugged me too. The first time it happened, it probably meant
nothing to her, to me it was enormous. We had conquered that
small bit of physical space. The fourth time was in July of
2001, the family was about to drive off on our annual trip to
Ohio, and that year for the first time, Tiffany wasn’t
coming along. Before we drove away, I walked up to her
and hugged her. I am ashamed to say that was the first time I
initiated a hug of my eldest stepdaughter.
Now,
it comes easier, but it’s still associated with leaving
or arriving….We don’t hug spontaneously; something
that I suppose is the culmination of my hands off strategy
early on and my inherent defense mechanism of not allowing
people too close to me, for fear they’ll leave
me.
Joey, my stepson, has always been a
different story. Joey and I hit it off pretty well
immediately and it was with him that I had the hardest time
making sure I wasn’t robbing his true father of
“moments”. There were times when I failed at
that. I selfishly allowed myself to play the hero, do the cool
stuff; say, “Yes” when I should have said, “No”.
Joey is the only of our kids to break the “hug”
barrier. Before Amy and I were married, but when we were
engaged, Joey would come to my house and at one point he
suddenly decided he would hug me each time he arrived or left.
I’m not sure what prompted it and I admit I was a little
befuddled by it. Each time he did it, his sisters gave him a
look probably seen before by war time traitors, but it never
deterred him. Since those early days I’ve become
used to Joey befuddling me.
Joey is
creative, and unconfined by societal dictates. Unlike most
kids, he doesn’t embarrass easily, he has a tremendous
sense of self-esteem, a sense of humor that won’t quit,
and a hoard of sarcasm that I guiltily admit contributing
towards. Mercifully it’s not steeped in cynicism, a trait
I am forever thankful he somehow rejected from me. He has great
talents and is blessed with little self-doubt. I’ve
come to a position where I simply watch him with wonder
thinking how far can he go and I thank God I resisted the
temptation to try to douse his many dreams in hopes of saving
him from future pain. He’s achieving his dreams,
unfettered by my needlessly cautious nature. Joey doesn’t
hug me anymore, but not many 19 year old boys “hug”
and opportunities for closeness are few and far between with
him away in college. I have no problem putting my arm around
him and we can talk openly about most things and the list of
topics is growing daily. Whether he listens….who
knows.
With Lisa it started out differently, she
is the youngest and at first seemed to adjust to oddities of
parents and step-parents with a certain amount of ease. As the
years went by Lisa’s loyalties shifted some and she
seemed to waiver. Lisa is the most social of all our
children, which can be misrepresented as being “self
absorbed” at times. I don’t think that’s the
case. I think Lisa is just being a normal girl.
She’s concerned about clothes, being stylish, not being
embarrassed and all that usual stuff. I’m so
thankful for that. She’s a normal kid, despite a
“broken home” as they say.
Lisa and I
had a fun relationship when she was little; we’d take
walks with the dogs, I’d teach her how to play poker, or
other games. As she grew a bit older, she distanced
herself from me. I remember how hurt I felt when she
asked Amy to, “tell Michael not to swat me when I walk
by”. Swatting her gently as she passed by my
recliner had been a game between only us since we first met.
Oftentimes she’d approach, give me that “look”
and then giggle as she tried to sidestep by me. Then one
day, she said “enough!”. Tiffany was there,
adding to the drama with the intensity of a defense lawyer
saying something like, “Yeah, he’s always trying to
touch us”. It cut to the bone and sounded evil and
once again Amy said, in what in my mind back then was an almost
questioning manner, “Well he’s not touching you in
a bad way…..right?”
That day I felt
like I had no relationship with the girls at all. I was a weird
stranger that they didn’t trust, or really even like to
be around and part of me wondered if they literally feared I
was some creepy guy.
I didn’t touch the
girls in any way, not a hug, or a pat for years after that.
I made a purposeful decision not to. I had lost all confidence
in our relationship. I obviously thought I was something more
in their minds than I was, and I didn’t want to risk
making it worse.
That was the hardest day of being
a step dad…I thought no matter what I did, no matter how
many years I spent with these kids, I was not family. I
would never really have a relationship with them where they
even trusted me completely, much less loved me. These days I’m
certain I was wrong about that, but boy that day I accidentally
touched a tush brought it all rushing back.
Today
I don’t think my relationship with the girls has ever
been better. I love them like my own daughters. I accept
that there is only so much room in their lives for me.
Now, however, it’s a comfy room.
I still
hope one day they’ll give some thought to my role in
their lives. They will see my failings and flaws, but
hopefully they’ll also see a man of honor and faith who
loves them deeply and only wants what is best for them.
I
also hope one day I’ll be able to tell them that.
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