🌻 The Step-Mama Diaries: Boats with Holes & Porch Lights Left On 🚤
So since I haven’t had many words the last few days, I figured it might be better for me not to say anything. Sometimes silence is the holiest thing you can offer, bless it. This little bit of self-control has come with age, because let me tell you, younger me would’ve said every word that came to mind — punctuation optional — and dared you to be offended. I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes it’s better to just think the thing instead of say the thing. My grandma always said, “If you can’t say anything nice, at least make sure you say it behind a closed door.”
Now, to all my fellow step-mamas out there — lawd help us — we’re in the same boat, and honey, it’s got a hole in it. We’re bailing water with a teacup, wearing heels, and still trying to look composed. It’s a unique position, and “unique” is Southern for hard as heck but we smile anyway.
We’ve been given the chance to make a difference in someone else’s children’s lives — to love babies that didn’t fall out of our own personal space but who still sound like our heartbeat from the inside. It’s a sacred, messy, beautiful calling. But mercy, it’s a tightrope walk — in heels, on a windy day, with someone shouting that you’re doing it wrong.
Even if you love those kids like your own, you’ll still sometimes just be “the stepmom.” You could love, show up, pray, and even make casseroles that could bring peace to the Middle East — and still be painted as the villain in a story you didn’t even know you were starring in.
And for the record, I never showed up trying to be anyone’s mama. I just wanted to be appreciated for showing up and trying to love right. Because when you’re a step-mama, you’re choosing to love — it’s not automatic. You’re choosing to show up at games, at parent-teacher conferences, to cheer, to wipe tears, and to pray through the nonsense.
But here’s the kicker: no matter what you do, you may still be painted as the “evil step-witch.” Meanwhile, she’s over there posting about how her new husband is such an amazing stepdad (and he probably is!), but somehow you’re the villain? Make it make sense, Lord.
The truth is, you can’t fix it. You can’t make people see your heart. And you don’t have to. You can’t control what other folks say about you — you can only control how you carry yourself through the storm.
The other night, my husband paced the porch on Halloween, leaving the light on just in case his ex would decide to co-parent like grown folks. Watching him hope for something that won’t happen broke my heart. Some people are so stuck in their hate they can’t even put their kids first.
And yes, I could go toe-to-toe in the tit-for-tat game — I’m a Southern woman; petty is practically in my blood type. But all that does is steal your joy. And honey, I can hold a grudge from second grade like it’s laminated — so if I can learn to let things go, so can you.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
When you hate someone, they either know it and don’t care, or they’re too dense to notice — either way, you’re the only one miserable. So let it go. Love your man, love those kids, and let your peace be louder than their drama.
And when it all gets too heavy? Find another step-mama in the crowd — you’ll spot her. She’s the one sitting by herself with a nervous smile and a Coke or coffee depending on the time, cheering for kids that call her by her first name. Go sit by her. We all need somebody in that boat with us.
Until tomorrow, keep your porch light of grace burning — even if no one shows up.
🌸💖 Magnolias, Messes & Mercy 💖🌸