Skip to content

Tough Nut to Crack

March 4, 2011

I met my husband a little over 6 years ago, it was a whirlwind romance to say the least.  I had found the man of my dreams, he was smart, funny, sensitive and attentive.  Our budding relationship was set against the backdrop of New York City; our first kiss was in Times Square, our first Valentines Day was celebrated in Central Park, it was the fairy tale.  Every fairly tale must have a wicked step mother, little did I know that she would be me.  My new beau had a two and a half year old daughter from his recently ended first marriage.  I foolishly thought it would be a piece of cake.  I had always loved kids and they loved me, I worked in a day care and elementary school when I was younger, not to mention the slew of younger cousins I had been babysitting since I was eleven.  I thought that older kids would be more difficult to win over as they would understand that mom and dad were no longer together and feel resentful of another woman in their father’s life, but a two year old-how hard could that be?  I had no idea.

The first time I meet OO she and her father came to visit me at my office in the city before heading off to a daddy/daughter outing at the circus.  She was simply breathtaking, she looked like a china doll with huge light brown eyes, round rosy cheeks and thick, gorgeous brown hair that fell almost to her waist.  She spoke clearly and articulately and of course proud Daddy had to show her off, encouraging her to impress me with her knowledge of the alphabet and numbers 1 to 20.  After that first meeting I had visions of taking her to the park and the mall, of tucking her into bed at night with hugs and kisses.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to be her mom, she had a perfectly good one of those but I was serious about her father and planning on being around for the long haul so I thought we could be like a niece and a close aunt.  OO was having none of it-she was cool to me from day one.  I wasn’t her mother and had no business with her Daddy-she never said as much but that was the feeling I got from her.

I remember our first dinner out together, just the three of us.  We were sitting at the table and the Hubs got up to use the rest room, OO was dipping her pacifier (BA) in a glass of water and then putting it in her mouth, I thought it was gross and making a mess so I asked her to please not do that.  She leveled me with one of those “who the hell are you” stares and waited for her Daddy to return.  Once he came back to the table she looked at him with those big brown eyes and started to dip her BA into the gross water again and he stopped her, I secretly rejoiced that I had made the right decision in asking her to stop, but no-he handed her his glass so she could use clean water.  OO smiled sweetly at her Daddy, thanked him and gave me a look of “that’s right lady, I’m the boss around here”.   This battle of wills went on for about six months, with me alternating between feeling foolish for wanting the approval of a toddler so badly and not wanting to let said toddler “win”.

The Hubs and I got an apartment together and OO came over once a week for an overnight stay-I went to great lengths to make her room special: painting it the perfect “Under the Sea” blue, decorating it with all things girlie and filling bins with dolls, games and toys.  I so wanted this kid to like me but felt like she needed to know that she couldn’t walk all over me.  We have certainly had our ups and downs but I love being a part of her life and watching her grow up, especially when she excitedly took on the role of big sister when Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born.

It was a long and rocky road but now it is six years later and she has matured into a very cool eight year old. She loves music, clothes, video games and finally….hopefully, me.

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: