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At Bob's old place, Noah had insisted on sleeping with Daddy, at which point I'd go back to my own apartment or curl up on the couch. I've quit setting the record straight each time this happens.In our house together, the family bed didn't seem appropriate (and neither did the couch). I don't have to pretend I gave birth to this child, but I don't need to disown him, either.Like Oath, our partners may also show you ads that they think match your interests.Learn more about how Oath collects and uses data and how our partners collect and use data.On his birthday, he unwrapped the gift I gave him, threw it on the floor and said, "I've already got one of these at Mommy's house." (He didn't.) Meanwhile, he opened the third Star Wars lightsaber of the evening with as much joy and gratitude as he had the first. No one—not my parents, my friends, anyone I've ever been in charge of in a professional capacity, nor the guy in front of me at the red light—would describe me as patient, and being around Noah without some sort of freak-out often requires me to become a person I am not. On the summer day Noah begged and pleaded for cottage cheese and then refused to eat from the container I'd opened—"I want Daddy to do it! Most days, I'm positive my ambivalence along with my failure to act like a mature adult will eventually cause me to destroy what is otherwise the most fulfilling, caring and adult relationship I've ever had.
This has seemed to satisfy any maternal instincts I might have. Even in adulthood, I still settle back into childhood whenever I'm so indulged.
It feels like a judgment against someone else's parenting skills—and I'm not sure either Bob or his ex thinks I have the right to an opinion. I argue that Bob is too lenient with Noah; Bob argues back—informing me that I'm impatient, inflexible, conservative and a bit of a schoolmarm.
And then he'll sheepishly admit that he's loath to spend what little time he has with Noah in discipline mode. I don't want to impose on their relationship, and I don't want to be the evil stepmonster. His obsession with his father—and most men, in fact—is both unsurprising and kind of heartbreaking.
Before that, he called me "Joanie." Joanie is the cat.) When I started to realize how difficult the relationship might be to navigate, and that I was possibly facing a future as a stepmom, it was too late. If it wasn't going to come naturally—and I wasn't sure it would—it seemed the only thing to do was to learn to love Noah as well.
We all moved in together a year ago—Bob and I full-time, Noah every other weekend and Wednesdays overnight.For example, when you search for a film, we use your search information and location to show the most relevant cinemas near you.