People don’t always say the right thing. We’ve all done it. We’re all going to do it some more. And it’s fine. We rely on the understanding of those around us to let us off the hook and love us anyway. That’s not really what I’m talking about here. This is more about semantics and my thoughts on them. Nothing judgmental or angry or ranty.
I often hear that I’m not Katie’s “real mom”, sometimes directly, sometimes a passing comment. I know what that means. It’s not a biological bond. I didn’t give birth to her myself. But, it’s also made me wonder what being a “real mom” means to people. Is it just a case of genes? I asked Kates what a real mom should be, what she should do. Her criteria were simple.
“Give me lots of love and attention, show loyalty, help me, give me presents, discipline me, feed me and dad, and live your own life.” I giggled at the last one.
But, she didn’t even consider whether that mom should need to have birthed the child herself.
And I have to agree with her points. A real mom is the person who makes herself a mom to you. She loves and cares for you, she invests a lot of her time and energy into making you happy, making sure you feel special and safe. She puts your needs ahead of her own and wants what’s best for you. How could that be less of a mom than those moms who manage to push out a dozen kids, but put them on the backburner to almost any other part of their life? Well, it just can’t. That’s how.
Obviously, our situation is different to split households. She doesn’t have her biological mom in the picture, spending alternate weekends with different folks. It’s the three of us, a family. I am a real mom, and I’m happy about it. Even if she and her dad were the only ones that thought so.