If there is one thing I can say WITHOUT HESITATION, it’s that I am dealing with a Biomom who is consistently inconsistent.
We’ve all heard the saying, “consistency is key,” but when your faced with the challenge of interacting with something or someone who is eternally running hot and cold, you truly understand the weight of that statement.
_
Since the blowout with BIOMOM I had been keeping my distance. Even being in the same outdoor space as her gave me a severe case of claustrophobia.
I’ve said it before, I don’t do pleasantries. Quite frankly, I consider it an attribute rather than a flaw because at least you always know where you stand with me. I am consistent in the fact that if I am not okay with something, I don't pretend to be, and if I don't like you, I am not going to pretend that I do. That being said, if you've wronged me, I will give you the benefit of the doubt time and time again until my tolerance tank runs dry.
My dear friend, Blake, once told me, “Ash, someone could be digging their own grave, and you would be right behind them digging them out. What you really should be doing is running them over with a cement truck.”
He's got a point.
In the instance of Biomom, believe it or not there was once a time when I thought, had our circumstances been slightly different, we may have been friends. *gasp*
The first time I met Biomom was under the pretense that she really wanted to get to know me. Because I would be spending a lot of time with her children, I happily obliged. The first meeting between us I thought she was really great. She genuinely seemed interested in my life, my thoughts, my background... and not in a recon mission sort of way. We actually had some chuckles together, and because she was also once a flight attendant, we had some things in common.
I thought to myself, “Wow, this is nice.”
But over time…
In the beginning I don't think she saw me as a threat. Truth be told, I don't think she thought I would be around as long as I have been. Maybe a part of her even fancied the idea of having a positive co-parenting relationship with me. Whatever it was, it felt like my initial reservations of being 'buddy-buddy' with Biomom were unfounded. Yet, something in my gut was telling me to buckle my seatbelt and proceed with caution.
"Trust your gut." Thats another adage that is often overused, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that my 'gut' has never led me astray.
Maybe I'm psychic?
I won't rehash all the ups and downs that Biomom and I have had over the years, but I will say that those initial reservations I had, were definitely founded - found in her resentment, her victimization, her jealousy, her manipulation and in her stereotypical territorial-ness. Unfortunately, I learned the majority of that the hard way, because I didn't trust my gut.
One minute she's cracking jokes with me on the soccer field, and the next I'm being told "mommy says you aren't really our stepmom." The next day she's politely asking if I can pick up one of the girls from school; I think that I have the 'open door policy' of contacting her with any concerns (because that's what she said we had), only to be met by the statement of "communication will only between Eric and me because we are the parents, not you."
Hot.
Cold.
Hot.
Colder.
It's really quite maddening.
What is even more maddening is that it not only takes a toll on my mental well-being, which, let's be honest was probably pretty shaky to begin with, but it also heavily influences the children's relationship with me.
How so, you might ask?
Here's a perfect example:
The other day I was at Kylie's softball game. Biomom wouldn't acknowledge my presence, in turn, Krista, who was sitting with Biomom, also didn't acknowledge my presence. It hurt, sure, but I also understand the pressure of not upsetting Biomom, so I let it go.
If she wants to hate my guts and pretend I don't exist, fine. Consider me invisible.
A couple days later I was in charge of the kiddo exchange at the soccer fields. As it was Halloween, and I was going as Ursula the Sea Witch, I was painted purple from the chest up. I most certainly wasn't going to step out of my car with a quarter inch of caked on face and body paint- not because I was embarrassed, but for fear of embarrassing Krista and her really never speaking to me again.
I parked next to Biomom's car, and patiently waited for her and the girls to arrive so we could drive to North Georgia for Eric's Halloween themed race. To pass the time I perused the internet and took a selfie, after all, how often is someone actually PURPLE?!
Thirty minutes after the game had ended, Krista and Kylie open the backseat car doors and slowly get inside my vehicle. Biomom peeps her head in, sees my 'purple mountains majesty' face and says, "Oh my gosh! That looks amazing! You did such a great job, that's incredible!"
Wait, what?
Not only do I not do pleasantries, but I truly don't know how to be fake.
This is the same woman who wouldn't even turn to look at me two days ago, and took great joy in the fact that Krista was acting in the same manner toward me. Now she wants to be friendly and pay me compliments?!
The only response I could muster was, "thank you."
I drove off a bit confazzled, but accepted it as yet another one of Biomom's expected unexpectednesses.
Okay, so apparently we are on good terms today.
The girls and I met up with Eric at his race & I happened to win best costume- so the day really turned out to be a success, after all.
However, all good things, including good terms, must come to an end, and Biomom's friendliness lasted a grand total of 24 hours, when at lunch the next day, Kylie told me that Biomom says she doesn't like it when I 'X, Y, Z' (insert a plethora of complaints from Biomom about me here).
That didn't last long.
_
I've accepted that Biomom and I will most likely never see eye-to-eye. I've also accepted that we will most assuredly never be friends. Unfortunately, I'm still struggling with accepting her bipolar attitude toward me, especially when it influences my relationship with the girls. And to be honest, I don't think I should have to accept that.
Ultimately, I would much rather Biomom be a stone-cold bitch to me all the time, than for her to play these manipulative mind games of one minute sweet and the next minute sour.
If she ever gets it in her craw to want an actual productive and communicative relationship with me, that is conducive to healthy co-parenting, for the sake of the girls- I'd be all for it, but it would take a lot more than words to prove that it'd be worth my energy.
It would take consistency.
*Checks tolerance meter, it's busted*
(Also, I purposely am posting this a day late, because I wanted to give inconsistency a whirl- I'm not a fan)
~names have been changed to protect the innocent~