Cause I'm the Taxman, Yeah, I'm the Taxman

It's that time of year - taxes. The past few years, I've done my own taxes without too much trouble. Due to my move, telework, piles of different forms, etc., I'll be getting my professionally done. No desire to be audited. Funny enough, though, I'll be doing almost everyone else's taxes it seems. Call me the taxman.

My partner, his brother, his friend. I'm a little nervous about how far this list will stem out. Each one doesn't take THAT long on it's own, but the repeated monotony of entering information when I hate doing it just for myself... cringeworthy. But I did volunteer to do my partner's taxes in order to alleviate what is, in my mind, a far worse alternative - that the biological mother's mother do them for him (again).

Apparently for the past few years - including the time when they were broken up and I wasn't yet living here - his ex's mother has been doing his taxes. Let the awkward feelings commence. I'm not sure if she has some kind of certification I'm unaware of, but I don't think she does (or if she does, it's certainly not one she relies on for her professional career). I should note that I have actually met his ex's mother and she was very kind to me. Unfortunately, it doesn't really alleviate the awkwardness of it all.

In years past (again, including those that they were apart and I was with him), he apparently claimed his ex as well as his daughter. This is in large part due to the fact that his ex gets paid under the table and doesn't have any documented income - someone needs to claim J, and they might as well claim her mother for an added bonus. The problem with this - besides the obvious discomfort it causes for me - is that it's pretty illegal. They don't live together, which is the number one criteria for claiming a significant other (non-married) as a dependent. He can, however, claim his daughter and fully intends to. Here's where the trouble begins.

This year, he informed his ex that he'd continue to claim J (because he holds more financial responsibility for her). His ex initially said this was fine, but based it on the assumption that her mother would continue to do my partner's taxes, that he'd still claim her, and that she'd get a cut of the refund. Uh, bitch please. He explained that he wasn't going to claim her and that someone else would be doing his taxes. Cue explosion... now.

At this stage in the game, I've filled out most of his return. He still needs, however, his daughter's social security number AND his AGI from last year's return to e-file. His ex's mother (again, quite civil) provided him with the AGI. But the social security number is still a holdout... because his ex refuses to provide it. She's trying to force him to either claim them both and give her some of the return, or has said that her own mother will claim J and her. The latter is distinctly impossible - they don't live together, and that's a pretty big piece of the dependent claiming puzzle. All of this has been a pretty big inconvenience for me - I don't really enjoy doing taxes, and just sitting around twiddling my thumbs when I just need a few digits of information is ridiculous.

The bigger problem remains - why on earth would his ex assume that he'd continue to claim her, share the return, and have her mother file his taxes? It's infuriating to me. I've spent much of our relationship trying to compartmentalize this woman into two persons - the mother of the child I'm growing to love, and my partner's ex. Moments like these make it very difficult for me, as the semi-step, to exist in the same space and to deal in a mature way with the situation. I'm mostly just angry, and there's not much I can do about it. This frustration only grows when I don't feel like he's properly sticking up for what needs to happen in this situation, but it's not something I enjoy expressing to him - it's something that pushes his buttons every time. He doesn't enjoy being told by others how to interact with his ex and co-parent. I get that. But at what point does he need to get over that in order to provide a safety net under my walking tightrope act?

Whatever the solution winds up being in this situation, it's moments like these that I think I'm a little in over my head. It makes me question how well I can continue my compartmentalizing and separation of my thoughts about her, and it's seriously confusing - how long do I keep the balancing act up?

"Don't ask me what I want it for
If you don't want to pay some more
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman."

"There is No Friend as Loyal as a Book"

Ernest Hemingway.

So my step is obviously not at the point of reading Ernest Hemingway - she is only five, you know. But she is at the point where she's learning how to read on her own. That is, when you can convince her to.

A few months back were parent teacher conferences. My partner went to it without the bio mom, and I picked up him afterward. The teacher had glowing things to say about J - she's intelligent, she's sociable, she's friendly, and she LOVES to read. When my partner told me this news with a wry smirk on his face, I nearly died of shock. Yes, J is smart, sociable, and friendly. But loves to read? I think not.

For several weeks, we were told by her teacher that she had to read one book every other day and log it in her homework folder. Let me put it bluntly: it was a struggle to complete this log. Some days, we weren't able to do it at all. Let's elaborate.

When J comes to our home, she spends the vast majority of the time chasing our puppy (Doyle) around the apartment. From there, we have the inevitable struggle to eat (see previous post), and then she either resumes play with Doyle or dives into some other activity (often coloring, a puzzle, or my old Polly Pockets). Generally, I don't mind this system (excluding the dinner part); the playtime is good for Doyle. But it doesn't leave much opportunity to wiggle in a book reading.

When we try, there's often a sigh or a groan - roughly translated, "Do we have to?" We sit on the couch, and immediately J's attention is elsewhere. In fact, it's more of a hover over the general vicinity of the couch. She's constantly scooching forward, perpetually on the edge and ready to hop off at the drop of a hat. Each page takes an eternity; each time she encounters a difficult word, we prompt her to sound it out. Most of the time, she responds with an "I don't know," and looks on the verge of tears. She's either VERY sensitive about this or she's just testing her boundaries to see if crying will get her out of storytime. After a few laborious pages, she starts bartering - one more page? Okay, two more? There are only five left, why not just finish the damn thing (I say in my mind).

All of this is particularly perplexing for me. Not only does her teacher claim that J loves to read, but I'm an avid reader myself. I always have been, in fact. From the time my oldest sister taught me to read, I've devoured book after book. My bookshelves are literally overflowing (pun intended). One of my parents' favorite anecdotes is how, on a family vacation to Disney World around the age of 7, I shut myself in the closet so I could read my book in peace. My sisters were too loud, I remarked casually when my dad opened the door.

So how do we reconcile this? How do we get J to find herself immersed in a story so good, not even the allure of a wild puppy can draw her away? How do we help her make this most loyal of friends, this bringer of adventures and faraway places?

I don't have an answer, but perhaps a little light reading elsewhere might help me find it. As C.S. Lewis put it, "We read to know that we are not alone."

Come and Get It

It's time for my first real confession post. One of my favorite hobbies is cooking; I've always found it very calming and enjoyable and, realistically, I just really love food. Lots and lots of food.

Unfortunately, my step (who we'll call J from here on out) is not so open and overjoyed about food. I'm assured this is normal for a child of five; maybe so. My two-year-old nephew has no problem eating whatever food he's provided with most of the time. In fact, one of his favorite foods is hummus. No, I'm not kidding. And I know that one of the reasons why he eats all of his food - new things included - without complaining or fussing is because eating a variety of things has been part of his life for as long as he has been able to consume anything other than breast milk. Conversely, I think J might be extremely picky because she hasn't had a large variety of food in her life; neither of her bio parents cook, and my partner's parents (J's paternal grands) don't do much in the kitchen, either. What, you might ask, did she eat before I arrived on the scene? I have NO concrete idea, but based on some of her commentary, I suspect Domino's and McDonald's are both common.

Regardless of the source, her pickiness is definitely causing a huge amount of frustration for me and it's starting to suck some of the fun out of cooking. Planning a menu for the week ahead before going grocery shopping has now taken on another level of difficulty: will J eat this item, and what will I do if she doesn't? Do I send her to her bio mom's house hungry because she refuses to eat my food, or do I cave and provide a backup meal that's foolproof?

This never-fail backup meal consists of plain rice, carrots or corn, and maybe - MAYBE - some pretty bland chicken. J's favorite adjectives for the other things I have prepared include "sour" and "spicy," neither of which accurately describe things I've given to her. A few times she's requested specific things from me for the next time, and then refuses to eat it when I make it (this has happened on several occasions). A few other times I've made healthier versions of things she already likes. Earlier on in this process, when it was first sinking in that eating might be a problem, I made homemade pizza (wheat crust, hid some veggies in the sauce, etc.).  That night as she sat at the table after more than an hour of dragging her feet about dinner, she cried when she saw the pizza. Cried. And asked to go home to her bio mom's house. One word for that evening: ouch.

That pizza example is by far an extreme, but we're still struggling on a regular basis with this problem. Most nights she'll keep postponing eating; some nights she claims she had a stomach ache before running around our apartment chasing our dog as if nothing was wrong; some nights she claimed she wasn't hungry, and then asked her bio mom for cereal when she got to her house at 8:30 at night. One time, in fact, she waited until I'd taken our puppy outside for a short walk to guilt her dad into running out to get supplies to make her a cheese sandwich despite me taking time to make her homemade chicken noodle soup (as requested). That particular incident was a very sore spot for me; I had to pull my partner aside and insist that he not do that, all the while wondering if I was overstepping my bounds to say so. Again, ouch.

I've read a TON of articles to try to get some help and insight with this problem. I've tried making the food more fun and playful, including her when I cook, etc. I've tried to modify the foolproof quartet (rice, chicken, corn/carrot) by subbing one item out with something new.  The only tip I found that's sort of stuck is a "no thank you bite" rule, in which she has to eat four "no thank you bites" of something I made that she doesn't like. Even that is hardly a victory, because it means she still didn't like the food. Nothing is really working. Nothing beyond the quartet that I have made has resulted in a happy smile on her face, a thank you, or a compliment.

Ultimately, I know none of these things are personal. I do know that J likes me a lot and has accepted me for the most part. Unfortunately, it's hard for me to not get incredibly frustrated with the situation. The questions return: should I have made something else? What will she eat? Should I make a backup meal? Should I stop being a short order cook by making what she asks for? Should I really let her go to her bio mom hungry? Or should I just stop cooking for her altogether and make whatever I want, to hell with her tastes (or lack thereof really)?

I don't really have an answer at this stage. Okay, I guess I do to one of them - no, I won't stop cooking for her. But that the thought has crossed my mind, which just goes to show how irritated the experience has made me. This has been an ongoing struggle for me, and I'm desperately hoping that eventually she'll come around. How to cope with it until that magic day comes? Well, write a blog post, apparently.

Until next time, stay not-so-wicked, stepmothers.

From the Top

Let's start the beginning. My name is Kristin, and I'm 25 years old. Just two years ago, I was living in Washington, DC, finishing graduate school, and working my ass off. I envisioned myself staying in DC for the rest of my life, getting some amazing job right away, and maybe worrying about a serious relationship later. I'd had them for most of my life, and I wanted a break.

As "they" say, things don't often work out the way you expect or plan. Within a few months, I was connecting deeply with an old friend of mine that lived in New York City. As time moved on and we got closer, things evolved into a long distance relationship. I'd done those before and wasn't sure I could manage that for much longer. More importantly, he had a daughter and moving wasn't an option for him.

This past September, I made a major decision for us and moved to NYC. I started a new job (that I love), and settled into living with him. Oh, and one more, TINY thing - I took on the new responsibility of being a pseudo step mother. 

It's been a few months now, and with every challenge I successfully meet, ten more rise up in their place. Being a step anything is HARD, and none of my friends can quite empathize. That's where this blog comes in; this is a place where I'll share my hardships, my successes and triumphs, my flat-on-my-face failures. It's also, hopefully, going to become a place where others can share their own experiences, or take some comfort in knowing that 1., they're not alone, or 2., that someone (me) sucks worse at this than they do. 

With that in mind, I hope you enjoy reading, commenting, and sharing the confessions of a not-so-wicked stepmother.