“Did you know that when Dad and I tie the knot, I’ll be your step-mum?” I caught the basketball he tossed my way, holding it against my stomach as I bent down to meet his gaze, curious about his reaction. At just seven years old, I wasn’t sure how much my soon-to-be-stepson understood. He had been playing weddings with his toys, looking enthusiastic about the idea, but it can be hard to read shy kids.
“Actually, you’ll be my only mum,” he said softly.
Before I became a parent, I often hoped for daughters. It wasn’t that I would have been upset with a son; I just felt ill-prepared for raising boys. I’m not particularly high-energy, and the little boys I knew were loud, rambunctious, and chaotic. My imagination ran wild, picturing myself overwhelmed by broken furniture and muddy clothes. I knew it was irrational, but I was raised with sisters and felt more at home with girls. It was a relief when my two children turned out to be girls.
When I began dating my partner a few years back, I was aware he had a son, which made me anxious. Initially, we kept our relationship from his son, wanting to ensure it was serious before involving the kids. I suspected he had an inkling, though, as I often caught him glancing at me, trying to figure out why this unfamiliar woman was spending time with him and his dad. I made an effort to allow them quality father-son time, as I was also adjusting to the idea of becoming a stepmom. Yet, the more time we spent together, the more I wanted to connect with him. Maybe raising boys wasn’t as daunting as I feared, even if I still felt a bit lost.
My stepson isn’t the loud, active type; he’s a thoughtful, quiet boy. He tends to be reserved around most people, even family, so I felt honored when he began to relax around me. One day at the pool, while my partner and his son were splashing around, my stepson swam over to me, wrapped his little arms around my neck, and whispered, “Let’s push Dad under! Don’t tell him!” His laughter was infectious, and I melted at being included in his little scheme. Later, I shared this with my partner.
“He’s finally warming up to you!” he said with a proud smile. It had taken months, but my stepson had decided I was okay after all.
I often wonder if part of his initial hesitation stemmed from my role as a mother figure. His birth mother transitioned to a man when he was very young, and he doesn’t remember having a traditional mum. For him, I’m all he knows. My partner usually receives the Mother’s Day cards and crafts from school, but I noticed last year that nothing was sent home. Perhaps the school is beginning to recognize that Mother’s Day and Father’s Day can be complex for some children.
When my stepson said, “You’ll be my only mum,” it struck a chord. I lack experience being a mother to a boy, and he has no real frame of reference for what a mum is like. His perception of motherhood likely comes from movies, TV shows, and friends’ mothers, many of whom I haven’t met. The portrayal of mothers in films often leans towards the problematic. My daughters and I have joked about how many movies depict mothers dying early on. It’s such a frequent trope that my youngest once asked me, “When are you going to die, mummy?” as if it was a rite of passage for all mothers. At least movie mothers are often shown as kind and loving. Unfortunately, if my stepson has seen any films with stepmoms, he might have a drastically different understanding of motherhood—why are stepmothers so often portrayed as wicked in movies?
A few months ago, after two years of dating, my partner and I got married. My stepson was quietly excited, and I’ve learned to pick up on his subtle cues. I could tell he felt proud wearing his new “grown-up” shoes, just like his dad’s, and I knew he would cherish being entrusted with the rings. We chose to have just our children up front with us during the ceremony. Our daughters acted as bridesmaids and flower girls while my partner’s son stood proudly beside him, looking dapper in his pinstriped vest and navy tie.
After the ceremony, as everyone enjoyed chocolate wedding cake and mingled, I spotted my stepson sitting quietly by himself at the front. “You’re my son now,” I told him with a smile. “My only son.” He nodded in agreement.
“What does a stepmum do?” I asked playfully, making a silly face. “I guess I have to kick you on the butt and wipe boogers on you?” (He loves jokes about butts and boogers.) He laughed and shook his head. “No! I do that to you!”
“No!” I chuckled, sitting next to him. “What do only sons do? Do they make Mother’s Day cards?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Neither do I,” I said as we sat in silence, gazing at the stage.
Three weeks after our wedding, we were having dinner together when my stepson suddenly announced, “Oh yeah, I should start calling you your new name.”
“What name?” I asked, curious.
“Mum, of course,” he replied.
I suppose we’ll figure out what that means together.
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In summary, my journey as a new stepmom has been filled with unexpected moments of connection and joy. As I navigate this new role, I’m learning alongside my stepson, who is just beginning to understand what it means to have a mum. Together, we will redefine what our family looks like.