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Blended Family Friday: Unappetizing

Andrew and I got invited to a work party and the invitation we got in the mail stated that drinks and hors d’oeuvres would be served. We both stood there reading it and I just sorta shrugged my shoulders like, cool. But Andrew scrunched up his face and asked, “They’re only serving that one type of appetizer from M&M Meats? Weird.”

See, first of all, he thought the term was pronounced like this: Whores Deh-Vores. Innocent enough. I think we have all struggled with its pronunciation at some point. But he took it even further, thinking that the box of hors d’oeuvres at M&M Meat Shops are the only hors d’oeuvres that exist.

He assumed that one type, in one box, in one shop, represented the entire hors d’oeuvres universe.

I used to be a man-hater, because my first boyfriend Gabe treated me like crap during a super vulnerable time of my life and the combination of the two just really did me in. I remember standing there at summer camp, feeling my life closing in on me like an avalanche, and I let this coldness wash over me, deadening first my limbs and then my spirit.

You crack open pain, and fear climbs out and picks off any life left in our bones.

I guess the psychological term used to describe this “man-hating” ideology would be transference. I transferred the pain that specific people had caused me onto other innocent people that didn’t deserve it.

Thank goodness I developed juuuuust enough emotional maturity to realize that Gabe didn’t represent all men and that my taking it out on everybody else was hurting me the very most. It’s like swallowing rat poison and waiting for the rat to die.

How does this all relate to blended families? Because families like ours are full of labels. We don’t just have mom, dad, daughter, son but we have step-dad, step-mom, step-daughter, step-son, half-brother, step-sister, step-brother. If any one of us dies, we’re going to take up about 15 pages of the motherfucking newspaper.

Not all step-dads play video games and buy beer for their teenagers. Not all step moms wear slutty clothes. Not all step sons are angry, and not all step daughters wear all black and have tongue piercings.

But anyway, if it’s me who ends up popping off, can we just skip the hors d’oeuvres and serve ketchup chips and ganache torte from Milestones? Thanks.

What do you imagine when you think of a step-mom? You know I want the truth, right? And a hug.

What kind of food do you want at your own funeral?

I don’t want people to be happy I’m dead, but I don’t want them to be sad, either. I want the food to be decent, but not too enjoyable, you know? That wouldn’t be fair.

 

{ 16 comments… add one }
  • Chris September 3, 2015, 8:17 pm

    My aunt is my step-mom hero. Mind you, she swooped in when Ernie’s kids had graduated, but she is a great mix of friend and caring counsel to her stepkids- and she’s a terrific grandparent now too. Not sure is that’s what you were expecting…. and chicken wings and beer at my funeral.

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 4, 2015, 7:41 am

      Hey, I love happy stories. 🙂 That’s awesome. Chicken wings and beer sound perfect. I’ll totally be there! <3

  • Jen September 4, 2015, 4:28 am

    This is really excellent writing, I really enjoy all of your posts.

    Thank you!

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 4, 2015, 7:41 am

      Oh, that’s such a nice thing to say! Thank YOU!

  • Megan @ Meg Go Run September 4, 2015, 5:50 am

    When I first hear the term step mom, I think of the Julia Roberts/Susan Sarandon movie that is sooooooo sad. This is going to sound bad, but my instant reaction is to have a more favorable thought of a step mom than a step dad, which is ridiculous because what has shaped that instant reaction in me? Books and TV, not any ACTUAL step moms or step dads I know. Being a teacher, I have realized there are a lot of shitty parents, and being a shitty parent has nothing to do with whether they are mom/dad or stepmom/stepdad.

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 4, 2015, 7:42 am

      Teachers definitely have the front row as far as seeing what goes on in each child’s family life. There’s not much you can hide from a teacher!

  • Megan @ Meg Go Run September 4, 2015, 5:51 am

    I thought I just left a comment…. testing…

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 4, 2015, 7:43 am

      I know, this damn thing throws comments into spam for no reason whatsoever, just for the heck of it. I’m sorry.

  • Susie @ SuzLyfe September 4, 2015, 11:36 am

    I’ve known amazing step moms and stepmonsters (one grandmother and the other other). I think I’m pretty neutral with regards to associations. I’ve met far worse moms and dads than the stepmoms and dads that I know.

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 4, 2015, 12:49 pm

      I mean, the truth is that there are no rules when it comes to labels. My favourite line ever is from Tommy Boy when he argues that his brake pads don’t need a stamped label “Gauranteed” on the box. He says, “I can take a shit in a box and label it “Guaranteed” but all you’d get is a guaranteed box of shit.” Brilliance.

  • Heather September 6, 2015, 7:05 am

    Your blog is so real, and I love a person who cusses as much as me!!!! I guess it is because I recently started watching the Real Housewives of OC that I think of Megan crying because she wasn’t the mother of her stepchildren, which was kind of weird. But that is my first thought.
    I want the healthiest shit at my funeral, hummus, radishes, celery etc, because I love them, and people look at me weird, so eat up. I can see the disappointment on their faces now!!!
    Have a great weekend!
    Bakingrunner.blogspot.com

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 6, 2015, 12:27 pm

      Ha ha ha! I love it when people look at me weird, but eating raw veggies just don’t do it for me. I’m getting there though slowly, salad by salad, stomach cramp by stomach cramp.

  • Meghan@CleanEatsFastFeets September 7, 2015, 6:19 am

    I have never thought of the food I’d want at my funeral, but I would only semi-happily (just right!) eat ketchup chips at yours. Maybe dill pickle too since those are the bomb.com.

    I see my step mother as someone who makes my dad happy, which is really all that matters for me.

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 7, 2015, 7:59 am

      Dill pickle chips are pretty up there on the awesome ladder. So true.

  • Lauren @ ihadabiglunch September 7, 2015, 8:18 am

    Hahaha you want people to enjoy the food so they don’t resent you but they best not enjoy it too much and remember to talk about you, not the incredible crab cakes.

    “I transferred the pain that specific people had caused me onto other innocent people that didn’t deserve it” — I feel like this sums up how pain affects every single person. If we could figure out how NOT to do this, we’d move forward and discover that maturity that you talked about and move on to bigger and better relationships.

    • suzy.suzyheather@gmail.com September 7, 2015, 12:51 pm

      I feel like I know how to do it on paper but once my emotions get the best of me, it gets harder to think and act rationally. Rawr. But I do know that when I’m able to discipline those wild emotions and self-regulate, I end up really liking who I am a lot more, and then my own self-respect will match other people’s respect for me, and mine for them, and before long I’m surrounded by a bunch of super healthy loving people! The End. Happy happy joy joy.

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