I married the Pastor and today the Pastor is officiating at a wedding which is good because there is cake and I like cake. And at a wedding there is usually a controlled amount of cake which means I can't eat too much. (But believe me there are WAYS of scoring more than the one
standard dainty sliver of wedding cake.)
A couple of months ago I went to a wedding and THERE WAS NO CAKE. Imagine my disappointment. I mean, what is the point in going to a wedding if there IS NO CAKE? This particular wedding was also at the start of the wedding season, so I was dismayed at the prospect that this might be some sort of new, sick wedding trend. Thankfully that did not
appear to be the case.
Nate and I went to a Halloween carnival last night at the Catholic church/school. Ahhh, the Catholic church/school where there is an abundance of girls name Mary, Elizabeth and Catherine and pregnant woman everywhere about to give birth to more Mary's, Elizabeth's, Catherine's and perhaps even some Mary Catherine's.
The Catholic carnival was great because they were very in-your-face with the fact that they were having a Halloween carnival, thank you very much, and not some stinkin' fall festival. And when Nate played a game, he didn't just win a piece of candy, but a whole handful. I had to send
the bag of goodies with Nate to his dad's house so I wouldn't be tempted beyond what I can bear.
Let Mr. Gifted and Talented eat the 25 delicious bite-size Butterfinger Crisps.
I am at Starbucks this morning. I came here to chill, read the paper and plan out my weekend. But alas, Starbucks doesn't have the local paper (who can blame them) so I will be content to blog and people-watch.
I have decided that I am a "Step-Mother" in title only. I am allowing the Pastor to handle all parenting issues with Daughter 1 and Daughter 2. This means subtle changes on my part, for example, I will no longer spend my entire dinner sitting across the table from Daughter 2 and
watch her chew with her mouth open and not use a napkin the entire meal. It also means not-so-subtle changes on my part, like keeping my mouth shut. Not always an easy thing to do.
So I've decided it's not a bad thing to be step-parent in title only. It's kind of like being a Queen in the Monarch with no actual ruling power. I'm just for show. And I am quite certain I can do absolutely nothing, and the daughters will still think and act as though I am evil. Or I can just do nice queenly things, like sure you can wear my house-shoes, eat my lovely stew, wear my Britney Spears perfume and my Lancome lip-gloss and the children will even STILL think I am the evil Step-Mum.
We had all the children this week. Daughter 2 told the Pastor she did NOT like it at out house and she wanted to go to her Mommy's house. Why????? What is so horrible at our house? Let's see. Those nice family meals, trick-or-treating at the zoo, the Halloween party we had? Was it any of those things? Noooooooooo. Because WE MAKE HER BRUSH HER HAIR. Can you believe it? Oh the horror!
She didn't make her comment in my presence, which is good because I would have helped her pack her suitcase (including the hairbrush). This kind of attitude doesn't settle well with me whether it's his kid or my kid or our kid. But I suppose if we had a child of our own he/she would have no other house to go to, no clever escape route.
Also, being a step-parent in title only means I have only one child to focus my heavy-duty parenting on.... and let's face it, that child IS a high-maintenance one.
Last night the gifted and talented one, the one who plays the cello, asked me what must have been his millionth question of the day. He wanted to know if a paralyzed person, weighing the same as a non-paralyzed person, would have superior upper body strength to the non-paralyzed person as a result of pushing around their wheelchair. Where does he come up with this stuff? Really? So my answer was "I don't know" and "perhaps we could Google it". He was slightly exasperated by my answer, but mostly he was just tired. He said "I just wish I could have answers to all my questions!" And I said "you have a LOT lot lot lot of questions!"
Off to my other royal engagements now...
If I was tech-talented I would put sound bites on this blog. My theme
music for today would be "I feel good" by James Brown. Or the song that
goes "climb, climb on sunshine mountain..." because the Pastor was
singing it the other day and it's been stuck in my head ever since.
I haven't felt this good in months. Perhaps the meds are finally
starting to kick in? Ha!
I took a cooking class tonight. Chocolate truffles! Who wouldn't feel
good after practically overdosing on chocolate?
Oh, I have been making great progress on my diet although I'm doing a
fairly good job blowing all of my progress in one evening. Once I
went to the truffle class it was all downhill.
Anyways, I am at the cooking class and the girl next to me starts
chatting during the break. She asked me if my name is Robyn (why, yes
it is!) and then says that she READS MY BLOG! Somebody pass me some
dark sunglasses, an oversized handbag, a small dog and a pair of manolos
because I am a celebrity baby! Or I have a stalker. Either way fine by
The Pastor and I have had a great week. Could it be that there were no
Last week was very frustrating because we had a couple of dust-ups over
younger daughter. Twice when she was on the phone with her mom she
basically told her Mom that I was mean. Me, the wicked step mother! I
will not argue that I am strict. Much more strict than the Pastor. But
I do not wish to be insulted by a six year old in my own home! When
I've been busting my hump.
So I keep repeating this mantra that goes something like this "I know
they are just small children and they are not inherently evil they are
just trying to meet their needs the best way they know how". And I
count to ten. Thousand. And picture my happy place which
coincidentally does not include small children.
Not only am I having to learn how to interact with the step-daughters,
don't forget I have a new mariage too. One thing I have learned about
the Pastor is that he is perfectly content going to bed mad. Me, on the
other hand, not only do I NOT want to go to bed mad, but it makes me
even more mad that he wants to go to bed when I am mad. It took me a
while to realize that he doesn't go to bed mad, he just goes to bed.
And in the morning, he's not mad and whatever it was he has forgotten
all about it.
I guess maybe that's why he is the Pastor.
Robyn to friend: "Anything! Tell me what you need!"
Is it a kidney? Bone marrow? A nice casserole?
friend to Robyn: "I need to know which dress I should wear... I'm going to e-mail you the pics."
OK, way way way easier than being a surrogate mother. Although then I would have an excuse for the weight gain.
Not only did I blow my diet, but I blew the budget with this expensive chocolate mousse cake. It was ok, but mostly just like eating a pricey Hostess Ding-Dong. I could've had one of those and been just as satisfied. And I probably could have bought three boxes of Ding-Dongs for what this one piece of cake cost. Ugh.
I took a little time out for myself on Saturday. Abandoned the Pastor and the daughters and went and frivolously spent money to have my makeup done. Like a Jezebel.
Given two choices, (1) the natural look and (2) the high-drama, diva look, guess which one I picked?
A guy did my makeup. Honestly, I felt violated. He was rough with me. A little heavy-handed with the makeup brush. Open your eyes! Close your eyes! Look up! Look down! I'm not used to people barking orders at me about makeup. But remember, it really doesn't matter how it feels, it's how it looks, and I was pleased with the outcome. The last makeover I had was "bridal", and believe me, there is nothing bridal about jet-black eyeliner.
This is how I was greeted when I got home from getting painted-up:
Older daughter: "your hair is messed up!" (Uh, yes, the gay guy "joushed" it so I'd have that whole sexy, bed-head thing goin' on.)
Younger daughter: "what's for dinner? I'm hungry!"
And what did the Pastor have to say about my new Jezebel-ish look? "You look shiny."
Geez! Why don't you just tell me I look FAT AND SHINY while you are at it?
Sure younger daughter, I'd be happy to make you dinner. Let me just open this box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Where's the knife? Oh while I've got it out LET ME JUST GO AHEAD AND STAB MYSELF IN THE HEART!
OK, change of subject.
The Pastor and I have visited a church a few times. Just a little something to do before we go do our thing at the Pastor's church. The Pastor said he likes the worship at this other church. But then he doesn't. But then he does. But then he doesn't. Then he said "it's so Schleiermacher". OK, I have NO idea what that is supposed to mean. Sadly though, it's the most I've ever seen him enjoy worship at a church. And I really like the happy little "To Be Alive!" song they sing at the end of the service.
Trying to work with the kids on being grateful. Because they aren't. Yesterday I asked the Pastor to stop at Starbucks so I could celebrate the Sabbath with a yummy caramel apple cider (still off caffeine). (Oh, and the church doesn't have a coffee bar.) The girls immediately piped up with "I want this" and "I want that". Unlike the trip to Dunkin' Donuts the other day when no one bothered to go inside with me so I said when I got back out to the car hey you don't care enough to go inside with me, then you don't get a donut, anywho... the girls came inside. I didn't tell them I was ordering them vanilla steamers, and they continued with their "I want...". The drinks came, I handed them over and not a single thank you!!! The Pastor said why didn't you say thank you? Younger daughter responded with "welllllllllllllllllllllllllll I was going to, but I tried a drink of my drink and it was hot and it burned my throat and I couldn't say it".
I'd cry, but with all this black eyeliner it would really be a mess.