越来越多的后妈们想摆脱世俗成见,与生母争夺在孩子心中的地位,“我”却坦然地接受现实,自得于“后妈”这一称谓带来的好处。
Something is going on in the stepmothering camp. Call it an uprising, or a rebranding.[1] There was the story about the woman in Australia who went to court to prevent her daughter calling her stepmother “Mummy D”. It was a small item in the news—one of those designed to make you marvel at the pettiness of divorced couples[2]—but look closely and there is something else going on here. A mother battling to maintain her unique status. A stepmother who imagines she is no different to a birth mother, and wants to rewrite history with her centre stage in the family portrait[3].
I am a stepmother. I’m not crazy about the term—the step part makes it sound cold and hard, not to mention all the negative baggage that goes with it—but it serves a useful purpose, which is to clarify exactly where I stand in relation to my stepchildren, and they to me.[4] I am not my stepchildren’s mother. I did not give birth to them. I had not even met them until they were in their teens. Those are the plain facts and they are the sort of facts you mess with at your peril[5]. What I am is a full-time parent—someone who fulfils a motherly role in their lives on a daily basis. I am the one who bandages the cuts, buys the spot cream, answers the homework questions, takes them clothes shopping, gets their hair cut, and nags them to shower.[6] I’ve done my share of delousing and standing on the touchline in the rain, separating fights, clearing up sick and talking through various problems, from oblivious girls to trunk rash.[7] It’s me who gets the phone call after the exam. Me who sobs at airports when they disappear on gap years[8] and me who worries when they aren’t home on time. Still, I’m not their mother. I am something important, but significantly different. I am their stepmother.
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