Sophie the Evil Stepmother

I honestly do not know how anyone does this job well. There are many roles I think I do acceptably. Nurse, wife, daughter, friend, sister. Generally good person in life. However, I have never been so stymied in all my days as I am now. Stepmother, who the hell manages that one right? If you do, I give you all the accolades I can find.

We knew today might be tough. The girls were just back from a week long camp, and they were exhausted. What we did not know was that the first tantrum would happen within three steps into the house. It involved (of all things) the wrong color pair of flip flops and resulted in meltdown. Screaming in her sister's face, wailing that life wasn NEVER EVER fair, and throwing a water bottle. The last action got her sent to time out upstairs. She hates this. She screams and stomps her way to her room, and then proceeds to tell us how horrible we are. She wants to go back to her mommy's house. We are too mean here. And the kicker, "I want my daddy!" So, daddy goes upstairs to sit outside the door and she engages him by ranting about all the ways life isn't fair to her. He is trying valiantly. Seeing his daughters cry and not scooping them up for a hug earns him mounds of credit. She calms down, and they talk. However, then I want for her to talk to me--since I was the one who sent her upstairs in the first place. She and daddy think they have already talked, but I have such fears of being the bad guy. "I send her upstairs, daddy lets her out" just doesn't work with me. And, since I am such more of a processor than he is, she knows the discussion will include more--and she resists. Then, my dear husband sees the calm beginning to unravel, and he feels desperate. I know he wants me to let it go, but it doesn't feel right to me.

We make an agreement that when she calls for daddy, he can sit outside her room and not engage. When she is actually calm, he will let me know and we can process things together so she doesn't have to to it twice.

When a later incident means she is stomping up the stairs again, we mostly manage to keep to the plan. It seems like it works, but I know my husband's heart is breaking as he sits outside her door listening to her rail against everything in her life. It breaks mine, and I am the firmer of us--by a long shot.

The after talk feels productive, We talk about things she has used before to calm down and agree to make a list to keep upstairs so that she can have some reminders when the times are tough. We talk about how to see the warning signs and change the activity before it gets to that point. We talk about how she is more sensitive to begin with and now is fighting those rotten hormones. We give her credit that both things make it harder, but that she has to behave appropriately no matter what garbage is rolling around her bloodstream. I know puberty at this age is not unusual, but it would be nice to get a bit more life under her belt before she has to deal with it.

Hubby and I agree to make an appointment with a counselor. First for us, then for Brownie if it seems appropriate. I know we could be more supportive of each other in the moment, but it is so very hard. I hate to see him struggle when she goes upstairs. I hate to find him with his head under the pillow trying to block out her screaming. I know that even when I'm getting frustrated with him--he is trying his best. And so am I.

Send answers and alcohol.