There’s Nothing Like A Mum — But A Great Stepmum Is Pretty Close

My mother died when I was five. I was old enough to have very fond memories of the kindest woman to ever live, who loved me more than anything in the world, even after she got sick. When she died, my inconsolable dad didn’t even think about dating for several years.

He sat me down when I was eleven and told me that he had met someone. He had been seeing her secretly for several months, and he would like me to meet her before he moved any further. While I was a little bit terrified — my friends had stepmothers who HATED them, and they hated them right back — I agreed to do it for my dad, who had always put me first. I figured if this woman was special enough to get my dad to start dating again, then I should at least see what she was like.

Enter [Stepmum]. She showed up to our first meeting nervous as h*** with a puzzle in her hand. I LOVED puzzles, but my dad lacked the patience to do them with me and was always working. She tipped it out onto the table and sat down to help, answering every single one of my rapid-fire questions — even the ones that made my dad turn bright red. From that afternoon forward, we were best friends.

She was kind and funny, and she never tried to push me into anything. She came to every one of my hockey games and cheered louder than anyone else and always took me out for lunch afterward. I went to her when I got my first period, terrified because Dad had assumed that sex-ed had prepared me, and she handled it like a champ.

A year after I met [Stepmum], she moved in, and she and Dad got married. I was her maid of honor. She was an only child and her parents spoiled the HECK out of me — fancy electronics, new clothes, tonnes of “I saw this and thought of you!” presents. [Stepmum] couldn’t have kids of her own, so I was their one shot at grandchildren, and they took that opportunity and ran with it.

When I was fourteen, Dad sat me down again. He informed me that he was also sick.

Dad: “[Stepmum] would like to adopt you in case anything happens to me so that you can stay with her.”

I had a visceral reaction to this. Not only was my dad sick, but now the worst was happening: [Stepmum] was trying to replace MY mum. She appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Stepmum: “For God’s sake, [Dad], that was not what we discussed that you would say.”

Dad fumbled for a moment while I cried and sniffled and said, “No,” over and over again.

Stepmum: “That’s totally fine, honey. Our other option is signing some papers for legal guardianship so that I can keep you in case of the worst happening. Is that something you want?”

I nodded enthusiastically, even through my snot and hiccups. I didn’t want to ever be without [Stepmum]; I just couldn’t handle her replacing my mother. We signed those papers, and that was that.

My dad fought like h*** and recovered, even if he was now down a leg. [Stepmum] is now the world’s greatest grandma to my three little gremlins, and they love to go for rides on Poppy’s wheelchair. [Stepmum] is absolutely my mum in every sense of the word except on paper — and she never pushed for the paper, either.

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