Just Going to Leave this Right Here...

Sick and tired...

I never realized that marrying a divorced man meant tying on a 5'11" 160 pound weight around my neck for the next 12 years of my life. Every single little thing we want to do has to go through her first. It almost feels like being a child and needing permission from a parent for everything I do. You want examples? Good--I could go on for days...

~We need passports renewed for our summer trip. Oh wait, she has to fill out a form to give us permission. Oh, her dumb butt filled it out wrong and has to redo it? Yeah, so now if she doesn't fix it in time, we lose our money and summer trip.

~We want to leave town an hour early for Spring Break? Oh right, we have to let her know anytime we pull the kids out of school (even if all they are missing is PE and she never returns the favor of letting us know).

~We want to sign Kate up for club sports? Better make sure her mother is okay with that.

~It's our turn to pick our summer dates first, and we gave them to her 2 months early. But wait, she has a problem with the dates we picked and wants us to change them to be more convenient for her.

~We want to take the kids to see a movie, but they feel awkward because their mother told them she wanted to take them.

~We have annual physical and dental appointments set up for them a year in advance, only to find out the day before their mother called and canceled without letting us know. Thanks.

~Hubby wants to let Jane do an amusement ride she's begging to do that requires a waiver, but wait--he has to call her mother first and make sure she's okay with it.

~We want to get tickets to a certain play or concert coming to town? Oh, better not do that before we check if she's already planning to take them.

~God forbid I want to get them a haircut before a trip even if it's really necessary because the one time I did, caused THE WORLD'S BIGGEST FIREWORKS SHOW. Hair and beauty is HER thing, and I am not to ever cross that line.

~We want some standards of dress now that Jane isn't wearing uniforms to school, and the one time I questioned her outfit, she replies "Well my mom said I could wear this." Ummmmm, Did I ask you what your mom said? No.

~We wanted to go out to eat at a certain restaurant, only to be greeted with "We just went there with mom last night". Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize even my freaking eating choices were going to be dictated by that woman.

I'm sure you're sick of hearing all these by now.... but yeah, that's my life, and I could go on and on. Being run by a woman who used to share a bed with my husband. Fantastic. To all you stepmoms out there who keep on keeping on through all this mess and manage to stay happy and fulfilled, I applaud you. Seriously.