Do You Ever Pretend That You Have Children?

I have to confess something: I faked it.

No, not sex. Never.

In journals, essays, and newspaper articles from the ‘80s and ‘90s (yes, I’m that old), I wrote about my life as if I were a mother. I talk about school lunches that I never packed. I wrote about PTA meetings, soccer games, and our teenager driving my car. For years, I wrote for a parenting newspaper, Bay Area Parent, covering all kinds of topics from the cost of having a baby to how to make a kid eat healthy food to juggling work and parenting. When I did interviews, I let my mom and dad interviewees think I was a parent just like them. Sometimes they asked questions about my pregnancies and my kids that forced me to admit I didn’t have any, but most of the time I got away with it.

I was parenting in a way, but it was “parenting lite.” My youngest stepson moved in with us when he was 12. Before that, he had stayed with us on weekends, holidays, and summer vacations. We enjoyed his company; then he went home. His older brother and sister were already off on their own so we saw less of them.

The live-in stepson could pretty much take care of himself. Although I was the one the school called when there was a problem and I was the one baking cookies for his Boy Scout meetings, most of the time I was free to work, sing, and socialize. Yet, when it was to my advantage, I let the world think I was a mom.

Was I really? More like a mom wannabe. We all got along, but it wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. It was very clear my husband’s children already had a mother and her name was not Sue. In “family photos,” this short, olive-skinned brunette obviously did not come from the same gene pool as these tall Nordic kids.

What if I had just said, “I don’t have any kids?” Was I afraid to declare my childless state and be kicked out of the mom club? Was I hoping step-parenting was close enough? Did I convince myself I was a mom? What about all those tears I shed as my fertile years dwindled away with no babies for me?

What stories do we tell ourselves? What stories do we tell other people? Why not just be honest?

I don’t have children and I wish I did.

I don’t have children and that’s all right.

I don’t have children. Sometimes I’m sad; sometimes I’m happy.

I have stepchildren, and I love them like my own.

I have stepchildren, and we don’t get along.

I have stepchildren, and I’m trying, but it’s hard.

I wrote those motherly essays and articles years before I started writing about childlessness. I don’t fake it anymore. When my husband died, his children stepped away. I would like to have them in my life, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Maybe I sucked at the whole motherhood thing because I’m obsessed with my work. Maybe they were as confused as I was about how to manage a stepfamily and they had no idea how much I wanted to be a mother.

So the question sits there: Was I pretending? Was it okay? A quick search online shows stepparents do not have the same legal rights as biological parents. Check out this piece, “The Harsh Realities of Stepparenting.” But we’re there, and we care. Doesn’t that count?

How about you? Are there times when you would rather people not know you are childless? Do you ever let the world think you’re a parent to your stepchildren or your pets or . . . ? Is that okay?

I welcome your comments.

Photo by Daria Andrievskaya on Pexels.com

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Have You Ever Lied About It?

Have you ever lied about not having children? I have. Well, actually the only time I flat-out lied was in a game called two truths and a lie. The truths were that I was a published author and professional musician. The lie was that I had two sons. I even gave them names and personalities. The other contestants bought it completely. Why not? Most women my age had kids. I won that game.
For years, I wrote for a parenting publication. I did have a stepson at home, but he joined our household when he was almost 12. I wrote lots of articles about children and their problems. Most of the time, I could fit right in. No need to mention that my only claim to the Mom Club was my stepson. People might ask, “Was it like that when yours were small?” and I’d nod. “Uh-huh.” Kind of a lie. How would I know what he and the other steps were like when they were little? I wasn’t there.
The only time I really got into trouble was when people started telling birth stories. If somebody asked me, “How long were you in labor?” well, I was stuck. I had to ‘fess up that I had never been pregnant.
But hey, I write about lots of things I’ve never personally experienced. I just ask enough questions to write the story.
In real life, when you do have stepchildren, even if you only hear from them once or twice a year, sometimes it’s just easier to fall into the mom discussions without bothering to clarify the situation.
How about you? Have you ever let people think you had children when you didn’t?

Sorry I’ve been so slow blogging here lately. I have been immersed in my chapter on stepparenting. Boy, is that a tough one. You love ’em and you hate ’em. Sometimes you feel like a parent and sometimes you don’t. More on that later.