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Good morning beautiful souls!

I had a great weekend spent working and going out with friends. Perfect balance.
I'm feeling refreshed after a nice, big Facebook friend purge. I decided that even some people to whom I owe loyalty have truly wronged me with their social media jab, jeers, and negative opinions.
And I don't need that in my life.

Family is family, but some friends are better family than our own family. And, I don't want to be reminded what mistakes I have made, because I already have to live with them.

If you have anyone on your social media who brings you down, I highly suggest the good old Facebook friend list purge.

On another side of that coin, it reminded me to be cautious with my words and my opinions. It's easy to hide behind a keyboard and judge, make comments that I would never say in real life. And the great thing bout that, espcially on Facebook, is that my daughters will see it many years down the line if they choose to.

Nothing on the internet ever really goes away. It is the day of screenshots, hard drives, clouds, etc.
It's more permanent. Do I want to rant about my boss? Yes. Will I? No.

Being out with friends was great. I've met a ton of new people through my boyfriend, and my whole group of friends has really altered since I decided to become part of this small family we have.
So what I want to talk about is the awkward..."Are you a mom?" "Do you have kids?" "Oh, she looks just like you!"

All that mommy talk can sure be confusing to the heart.
About 6 months ago, I started taking Jesse (my boyfriend) and Callie (6 year old daughter) out to breakfasts on Saturday or Sunday. It was a great weekly tradition that we had, and all 3 of us looked forward to it. We don't see Indie (age 2, daughter) on Saturdays, so it was a good time to really focus our energy on Callie and what was going on in her life.

I'm from such a small town, it was obvious that one of us knew at least one person no matter where we went. And there were always those little old ladies who looked at Callie and I drawing fake tattoos on her dad's arm, saying "Oh, you look just like your mom!"

Errrr.

Talk about a rock and a hard place. Callie never corrected, but I knew there were scathing eyes and ears near by that were WAITING for me to admit this was not my child. That I was a sham, an imposter of a mother, trying to claim this perfect child that I had no part in making.

Moms are serious business, y'all. They go through a lot of pain and changes in making such a beautiful thing. And it's amazing, truly.
But they want everyone to know that for the rest of their lives. "I made this!"

So I was scared. I was scared to lie, even if it was just by not correcting some sweet old lady.
But I was also scared to admit that I was not the true mother, that someone else had done this and I was just pretending. I was scared of what other people thought of me, or would think of me.

Fast forward to today. Jesse and Callie recently had "the talk" about who I really am. Jesse explained that I was kind of like her step-mom, a term that Callie was able to understand and identify with. (Thank you, baby Buddha for making step-moms a common thing in movies, books, etc)
So Callie has started telling everyone I am her step-mom. She asked what she should call me, and I told her anything she wants.
Although, Princess has a nice ring to it...
She stuck with Mama C. And she really latched on to it, the first few days.
Our conversations went like this...

Callie: "Mama C?"
Me: "yes, Callie B?"
Callie: ........

I think she must like how it sounds. I like how it sounds, too. Each situation warrants a different response, like all things in life, our situation is a lot of grey area. Callie, Indie, Jesse and I have to forge our own path each day. We get to decide what our little family we be like while we are together.

And we also get to decided what it is like when we are apart. So, when I find myself listening to my 30-something friends talk about their children, the messes and the footprints in concrete...I was starting to feel a little out of place.

But, I hear Callie's voice in my head, calling "Mama C" through the house, or whispering to her best friend in the bleachers that I am her stepmom, and I know that there is nothing wrong with loving and being part of a family that wasn't originally your own.

I didn't make these children, but these children have helped to make me. Each day together is a lesson in love, and each day apart is a lesson in patience. For that, I am thankful.