I’m in one of those moods where I need to be reminded why I voluntarily took on 4 more children. My better half is very good at reminding me why, and for that I am very thankful, but it doesn’t quite equal out the negative thanklessness I get from the smaller members of the household. After a very nice Thanksgiving meal at home, and another I took out for the crew at Brian’s rig, I felt Thursday was indeed a happy Thanksgiving. But like all things good, it couldn’t last.

I arrived back in town from the rig to find that the youngest of our clan had broken her arm while horsing around in the house with one of the oldest. Blatant disregard for house rules and even worse…their grandmother had just moments before the incident told them to quit. But, being kids, they didn’t, and now we had a dislocated elbow and broken radial growth plate. A few hours at the local emergency room wasn’t a good enough way to end the holiday. The family there that evening had just lost their infant child, and no door could muffle her screams and wails, or the crashing of hospital furniture as she drowned in her grief. She was inconsolable and for almost a full hour she screamed and cursed and banged on walls and doors. By now, our child had been given pain medication and was happily watching cartoons with an ice pack. I sat in the hard plastic chair and found tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t help it. I knew how that poor woman felt, and I wished I could have screamed and thrown things the way she was when I was in her place over 12 years ago. A quick glance over at our little one and I felt truly thankful again. The news from the doc wasn’t great…we were to be transferred to a larger facility in a nearby city because the break would require surgery to fix. As soon as Brian got into town, we made the hour drive and got to sit in another emergency waiting room for almost an hour. Then when the nurse asks us when the incident happened, and we tell her, we are looked at like wet dirt and asked why we took so long to do anything about it. As calmly as possible, I explained the whole series of events over the past 4 and a half hours and held out the transfer papers. Finally, we are admitted to emergency care.

It is now Saturday afternoon and I have spent the past 48 hours straight filling out paperwork, talking about her health history with doctors, nurses, aides, clerks, social service workers, and janitors. I’m the one who held her breath when the anesthesia in the ER caused that little girl to go into a kicking screaming, thrashing fit, who held her hand while they wrenched her elbow back into place, even though she was unconscious and needed no consoling. I haven’t slept more than a few hours since Wednesday night. I stayed at her side almost continually (minus short cigarette breaks - have to be honest here), I’M the one who took care of her, held her hand, talked her through and kept her calm. Sat in the waiting room during surgery. Made sure she had her pain medication, and her arm comfortable, was covered when she was cold and uncovered when she was hot. I trekked back and forth from the bed to the restroom with her managing miles of wires and cords and IV drips.

But none of that makes me her mother. And because we are obligated to inform that worthless excuse of a parent who CAN claim that honor about what was happening, I am immediately put in my place… After not seeing these children one single time in over 3 years, not even having talked to them on the damn telephone in over 6 months, she’s still ‘mommy’. And then all I get to hear is “Mommy is coming to see me”, and “Mommy is going to send me flowers”, and “look at this perfect little cheerleader teddy bear my mommy sent me”. And “I love you, too, Mommy”, “I miss you, too, Mommy”. It’s makes me angry that this woman does nothing for her children, not even a birthday or Christmas card, and gets this type of attention, and I am still, to this day, held at arm-length as ‘just’ the step-mother.
The point? Nothing except I was very clearly reminded this holiday that even though I get the full responsibility of being Mother, I am not Mommy to over half my kids, and while I am thankful they are safe, and taken care of, and loved, Thanksgiving is not Thanksgetting.