Giving New Meaning to Parenting

Yeah, that’s the gist of this week’s column: I’m a StepDad. It’s not as cool as bein’ The Dad, but it’s better than not having kids, and not having kids seems kinda sad. I’m not trying to rag on stepparenting, but I’ve wanted to bare my soul on this subject for quite some time, and this seemed as good a time as any to let you in a little closer.

Being a stepfather is tough. Being a stay-at-home-parent is tough, no doubt, but then add in that you’re a stay-as-home-step-parent and it becomes tough. Part of that is because there’s a certain lack-of-authority that a stepparent has. No matter how much they respect you, if the feces hits the oscillating device, the kids have that get-out-of-jail-free card known the world over as “You’re not my *real* dad!!” And they know they can use it, and that it will be like a kid-oriented cudgel of justice.

No, mine have never said it. But they’ve thought it (and told me about it afterwards, bless their honest hearts). And I get it. If Number One told you to turn off the tv, and you’d just had a hard day sweepin’ up the holodeck, would *you* turn off the tv or would you say, “No, I want to speak to Captain Pekard!”? See my point?

Now, I totally dig the kids and they totally dig me. And when my wife and I and the kids are together, it’s, for the most part, a continuous party, interrupted by school, sleep, and the occasional need to decompress or do chores or some other waste-of-time task involving maturity (ugh… such an ugly word – maturity). Our family has enormous fun and I’d never once, for anything, ever, ever consider changing any part of my life, not the life that lead me to this moment.

In fact, I do a kind of opposite. Instead of wishing to be the only dad in the picture, I push the kids on their father, acting as his press secretary. I make sure that he looks good to them, even when they complain about him, even when he’s dead wrong. I don’t always take his side, but I always remind them that he loves them more than anything in the world, and that whatever difficulty they may be having with him, that it’s temporary.

And I’m equally supportive when it’s good stuff, repressing my every urge to be the “better” dad. For example, tonight, about an hour or so ago, my wife’s ex-husband called and said, “Hey, is Nich (my son) doing anything right now?… I just got these Chivas tickets and I want to know if he wants to go.” So I took the phone down to Nich’s room and told him about the offer, and my son, who really is a terrific and fairly stress-less teenager, looked up from his comfy bed and his nice tv, and said, “Well, uh, who are they playin’?… Are they good seats?” Now, for those who don’t know, my son is an avid soccer fan (who made me, a pretty sports-illiterate guy, get the extra DirecTV special sports package, just so he could get two 24-hour a day soccer channels). Well, I turned to him and said, “Are you kidding me! You’re no real fan!! When I was young, I spent all my spare dough on terrible, nosebleed seats to see the Baltimore Orioles play baseball, no matter who was in the other dugout. Could have been a senior citizen’s group from Florida, in a charity game in the rain, I would have gone. Plus, c’mon, it’s a chance to spend some fun time with your dad. That’s gotta be better than wasting your time in bed flipping channels.”

Yeah, he went.

And that made me really happy. Sure, I miss him now. Sure, his biological father looks really good right now. Sure, I wish things were different. But no, not really. ‘Cause if they were my biological kids, it would be different. They’d be completely a different DNA amalgam. And I’ll tell you, just between us, there’s not a chance that I’d trade being the stepfather of my wonderous children for being the biological father of different kids. Not a chance.

[tags]kids, children, parents, dad, mom, stepdad, stepmom, love, changes[/tags]
Photo stolen from Jonathan Frakes’ resume, please don’t sue us, we think you’re great!