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“Did you know that when my dad and I get married, you’ll be my step-mum?” I caught the basketball he tossed my way, pressed it against my stomach, and knelt down to meet his gaze. I was curious about what my soon-to-be-stepson, a seven-year-old, understood about our situation. He had been playing pretend weddings with his toys and seemed excited, but it can be hard to read shy kids.
“Actually, you’ll be my only mum,” he replied softly.
I never envisioned myself with boys. Before having kids, I often hoped for daughters. It wasn’t that I would have been disappointed with a boy; I just felt unprepared. I’m not particularly energetic, and the boys I knew were loud and rambunctious. I worried about how I would cope—would I be constantly reprimanding them and sending them outside? I imagined myself overwhelmed, surrounded by chaos. Growing up with sisters, I was familiar with handling girls, so when I eventually had two daughters, it felt like a relief.
When I began dating my partner, I knew he had a son, which made me anxious. We initially kept our relationship a secret from him, wanting to ensure it was serious before introducing the kids. I suspected he had an inkling about my presence, often glancing at me as if trying to decipher why I was around. I made an effort to give them space, but as I spent more time with them, I found myself wanting to build a connection with him. I started to wonder if raising boys might not be as daunting as I had imagined, although I still felt out of my depth.
My stepson, instead of being boisterous, is a thoughtful and quiet child. He tends to be shy, even around family, so when he finally opened up to me, I felt honored. One day at the pool, while his dad and he were playing, he swam over to me, wrapped his arms around my neck, and whispered, “Let’s push Dad under! Don’t tell him!” He giggled with delight, and my heart melted—he was making me his partner in mischief. Later that day, I shared this moment with my partner.
“He’s finally accepting you!” he said, smiling. After a few months, my stepson had decided I was okay.
I often reflect on whether my stepson was hesitant because I represent a mother figure. He was very young when his birth mother transitioned, and he doesn’t have memories of a typical mother-son relationship. To him, I think he’s never experienced what having a mum is like. My partner usually receives the Mother’s Day cards and crafts from school, but I noticed last year that none came home for me—perhaps they’re realizing that these days can be complicated for some children.
When my stepson said, “You’ll be my only mum,” it struck me. I have no idea how to be a mother to a boy, and he has no concept of what a mum is either. His references for motherhood come from movies, TV shows, and friends’ moms I’ve never met. Many portrayals in films are problematic. My daughters and I joke about how often mothers die early in movies. It’s become a recurring theme for us—“Wait, the mother’s going to die!” It’s so common that when my youngest was in preschool, she asked, “When are you going to die, mummy?” She thought dying young was a universal trait of mothers. Yet, at least in movies, mothers are typically depicted as loving. If my stepson has seen any films featuring stepmoms, he might have a skewed view of what mothers are like.
Months later, after two years of dating, my partner and I tied the knot. My stepson was excited, albeit in his understated way. I had learned to read his subtle cues, so when I saw him wearing his new “grown-up” shoes, just like his dad, I knew he felt special holding the rings during the ceremony. We had decided to keep it intimate, with just our kids by our sides. Our daughters were bridesmaids and flower girls, while my stepson looked dapper in his pinstriped vest and navy tie.
After the ceremony and celebratory speeches, I found my stepson sitting quietly alone. “You’re my son now,” I smiled at him. “My only son.” He nodded.
“What does a step mum do?” I asked, pulling a silly face. “Do I have to kick you and wipe boogers on you?” (Because let’s face it, that’s what it usually comes down to with him.) He laughed and shook his head. “No! I do that to you!”
“No!” I chuckled, sitting beside him. “What do only sons do? Do they make Mother’s Day cards?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Neither do I.” We sat together in silence, gazing at the stage.
Three weeks after our wedding, we were having dinner together when my stepson announced, “Oh yeah, I should start calling you by your new name.”
“What name?” I asked, expecting something humorous, perhaps a silly nickname.
“Mum, of course,” he replied.
I guess we’ll navigate what that means together.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt narrative, a woman reflects on her journey of becoming a stepmother to a shy young boy. Initially apprehensive about raising boys, she discovers the deep bond developing between them. Their unique relationship unfolds as they navigate their roles, giving insight into the complexities of blended families and the meaning of motherhood.