Ambivalence

When I used to hear the word ambivalence, I thought it meant that the ambivalent person “didn’t care” one way or another about a particular issue. With experience, education (and of course the internet), I learned that it means you feel uncertain, mixed, or have two contradictory attitudes about the same thing at the same time. I can say that I used to think having two opposite feelings about the same thing at the same time made you a little nutty. Now that I’ve accepted my own mixed feelings about a lot of things, I tend to find it comforting to more fully understand an issue by exploring my own ambivalence.

A recent experience I’ve had, however, has made me feel more nutty than comforted. Let me explain. A few weeks ago, I made the impulsive and incredibly emotional decision to pull my son Cole out of his daycare facility after some repeated bad experiences. I had a “last straw” moment and made the decision before even speaking to my husband about it (Bad wife!). That decision left us with a problem…choosing a new daycare plan. 

Initially, the solution was just “find a new daycare facility”. Then, day-by-day, little comments emerged from both of us indicating that we weren’t quite sure that this was the best plan. Our only other option, since we both work full time right now, is to use the resources of three sets of grandparents. Grandparents that already each take one day a week in childcare for us. The purpose of daycare (in my eyes) was to allow Cole to experience socializing with children his own age and to have an opportunity for more formal educational experiences. However, that wasn’t necessarily working out as I had hoped. His experiences with the other children were neutral at best, harmful at worst; he felt uncomfortable, tended to avoid the other children and either spent time playing alone or clinging to the adults. So, we began to wonder for what purpose we were spending several hundred dollars a month. Was that money worth the educational experiences he was getting at this age? He’s not yet 3 years old. The teachers were covering the sounds letters make, colors, shapes, music/art, play, and exploration of new environments/objects. With a few minor adjustments, we're pretty confident that our family could handle these concepts. 

But could I get over my excessive (at times obsessive) worry about my son being “raised” by his grandparents?! You know, those adorable people who spoil children and laugh to themselves when they send them home hyper and grumpy from too many treats and very little sleep? Let’s just say that I’m working on it. It also helps that Cole's grandparents aren't actually like that...only in my mind...sometimes. 

I've found that my ambivalence here has been a process. Even though we have made a decision, I can’t say that I'm over my ambivalence. I still wonder whether I’m doing the very best thing for my little guy. But I also have to remind myself that the “very best” is not really necessary in order for children to grow healthfully and happily. Many, many versions of childcare are out there. A slightly different one for each family, I suspect. And many, many of them are plenty good enough for the child. Armed with this valuable insight, I will try to remember that at the very least, me and my family qualify for good enough…maybe even better.

But I reserve the right to change my mind.

Facing demons

Last week, rather than looking forward to the weekend and time off work, I found myself wishing time would just stop. A situation with Emily and Dylan had come up and their mother had requested a “family meeting”.  Ahem, you mean you want me to sit in a room with you and have a conversation? Don’t you know that my mind has painted you as the evil ex-wife who ruined my husband’s life and who I would rather slingshot into another dimension than have you within my sight? Hmm, that sounds pretty much unbearable and I’d rather do just about anything else.

Then I put my adult hat on and entertained some logical thought. This situation was not about me. The kids needed some guidance and their mother asked for our input. Did I really think I could stand on the sidelines forever and just point fingers when things went awry?  Well, kinda yeah. I’m a step-mom to these kids. One step away from mom. That’s a BIG step. The writing in the gap says something like, “Don’t even think about pretending to be a parent because their “real mom” (a term I hate by the way) will speedily remind you of your insignificance.” So, seriously my method up until this point (5 years and going strong) was to keep my head down and my mouth shut. I talk to Dan when he needs to talk, give him my input, feedback, support… but I never, I mean never, talk to her. Now I have to sit in her living room, look her in the face, and give her my opinion?!?!?!? Oh, jeesh.

To put the suspense to rest, the discussion was positive and productive because we are, in fact, adults. We are parents to these children and we all care about them very much. But I have credited myself with putting aside some very significant and negative feelings in order for that to happen. And I don’t just mean negative feelings about “the ex-wife”.  I mean my own fears and apprehension about my role in this family dynamic. It’s uncomfortable (to say the least) to face any fear and we don’t do it unless the fear becomes a barrier for something we truly want. So I’ve come away from this with a new insight.  I want to be a significant part of my step-children’s wellbeing more than I fear my inferior status in this family will eventually break my heart.

Sounds a lot like love.