I saw a debate on the term bio-mom. I am a stepmom and my stepdaughters have a 'bio-mom'. I don't think of her as their bio-mom, though. She is their mom. She doesn't need the qualifier to describe who she is to her children. It's pretty simple. Mom.
I get the qualifier. There has to be a qualifier somewhere and it makes sense that the qualifier goes to me. I am their stepmom and I am a proud stepmom.
I don't use qualifiers when talking about my stepdaughters. I don't feel a need to identify which are my stepchildren and which are my biological children. That has nothing to do with wanting to take over as their Mom. It has to do with them being as important to me as my own children.
There are a lot of issues surrounding families and stepchildren. It can be made to be very complex and difficult but it seems so simple to me. Love and treat your stepchildren as your own children and respect their parents as their parents. The rest just works itself out.
©
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I Can't Love My Stepchildren
A blended family is one with any combination of his, hers, and ours. I have a blended family. I read a statistic that seventy six percent of blended families fail before five years. I have read a lot more information that explains why. Most of what I read has some common themes; it's normal to feel animosity toward your stepchildren and their mother. You didn't marry your stepchildren. You married your husband and that is where your commitment is, and my favorite - you will never love your stepchildren as much as your own children.
I can't understand how to give your heart and commitment to a man without giving the same to his children. I expected no less for me and my children. I had written this in response to what I have read:
If I could only say two words about being a stepmother it would be LOVE THEM. Don't wait until they accept you before you love them. Just love them. Don't wait until their mother accepts you. Just love them. Don't wait until you and your husband agree on everything. Love them.
None of it is easy but it doesn't have to be hard, either. Understand that they see another woman coming into their dad's life and they have no idea what that means for them. You are taking a place that they only saw their mother in. It doesn't fit or make sense. They don't know what that means for them. If you have kids, are they going to lose their dad to a new family? They aren't making this choice. They are thrown into it. They don't have the maturity to understand how to deal with their fears and their emotions. If you don't know how to deal with yours, you aren't ready for this challenge. You are making the choice. You are making the decision. Whatever emotions you feel, and you will, you have to understand that they are separate from the children you are taking on. You have to show them that their family life with their dad will be different but it will be good. You have to treat them as part of this new family and not as a visitor to your home. They need to feel that they are coming home and see that you are happy they are there.
Do you believe that you can't love your stepchildren as much as your own? That is true as long as you close your mind to the idea of loving them as much. That closed minded belief will cost you in all the joy and blessings that come from feeling that overwhelming, unconditional love.
Does it feel like a betrayal to your biological children? That isn't true. You are taking something away from your children when you can't open yourself up to love your stepchildren. You are teaching them there are restrictions to love. You are showing them that there are rules to who you can love and how much. Don't short change them. Let them learn to love fully. There is so much reward in seeing the deep sibling love between your children and your stepchildren; when your children feel no need to use qualifiers to describe their brothers and sisters and they are simply brothers and sisters.
Don't try to compete with their mother. That is their mother. Honor, respect, and appreciate their relationship. Don't diminish your own relationship with your stepchildren because they have a mother. Your relationship is separate.
Just because you don't agree with everything their mother does, it doesn't make her wrong. Your stepchildren are fortunate to have different perspectives and, as long as they are loved, they will grow with the perspectives and so will you. Don't try to replace their mom but do love them and treat them as your own children. They deserve that. They will learn to trust you when they see that your love and relationship with them is because of them and not dependent on your relationship with their dad. What would it feel like to only be loved because the woman is married to your dad? How could they trust that?
If you want to hold back because you are afraid you may step on their mom's toes, let go and do what your heart tells you to do. You may step on their mom's toes. As long as your heart is right, she will be ok. She has her own emotions to go through. She has never known your husband with another woman besides herself. Her children are her heart and soul and you are a stranger to her. Any of us are going to watch with caution when a stranger comes near our children. Don't come in like a storm trooper. It isn't easy to share your children. Give her time to adjust and learn that you can be trusted with them. She will love them enough to put aside her own baggage for the benefit of her children. She wants her children to be treated well. She wants her children to be loved. When you hold back, you demonstrate that your stepchildren are different and won't get all of you. You will save feelings over the short term but you will never be fully trusted by your stepchildren, their mother, or your husband over the long term.
If your stepchild refuses to do dishes, don't think you are dealing with an undisciplined stepchild. See it for what it is, a child who doesn't want to do dishes. If you and your husband don't agree on discipline or responsibilities, understand that issue is between you and your husband. Don't ever see it as a problem with your stepchildren. It's not! Don't take it out on them subtly or overtly - ever!
I married my stepchildren's dad but I committed to them, too. My husband's children included his two stepdaughters from his first marriage. How many would believe that because he isn't married to their mother that his relationship with them should end? How many would make it difficult for him to keep his relationship with them? It makes me sad to think of it. They were kids. I couldn't respect my husband or trust him with my own kids if his relationship with them only ran as deep as his marriage to their mother.
I see no biology. There is nobody in my family that is more or less important or different because of who their parents are. Nobody gets the priviledge of being treated special because of their biology and nobody will be left out because of their DNA. I love my children, biological or step from the deepest part of my heart and I am better for it. This is my family. It's the family that I chose and I committed to.
I have read women that say they can't love their stepchildren. I say you have no right to be there. Leave, leave, leave before you cause any more damage than I know you already have.
I am so grateful that I didn't read all of the information out there on being a stepmom before I learned the truth.
I can't understand how to give your heart and commitment to a man without giving the same to his children. I expected no less for me and my children. I had written this in response to what I have read:
If I could only say two words about being a stepmother it would be LOVE THEM. Don't wait until they accept you before you love them. Just love them. Don't wait until their mother accepts you. Just love them. Don't wait until you and your husband agree on everything. Love them.
None of it is easy but it doesn't have to be hard, either. Understand that they see another woman coming into their dad's life and they have no idea what that means for them. You are taking a place that they only saw their mother in. It doesn't fit or make sense. They don't know what that means for them. If you have kids, are they going to lose their dad to a new family? They aren't making this choice. They are thrown into it. They don't have the maturity to understand how to deal with their fears and their emotions. If you don't know how to deal with yours, you aren't ready for this challenge. You are making the choice. You are making the decision. Whatever emotions you feel, and you will, you have to understand that they are separate from the children you are taking on. You have to show them that their family life with their dad will be different but it will be good. You have to treat them as part of this new family and not as a visitor to your home. They need to feel that they are coming home and see that you are happy they are there.
Do you believe that you can't love your stepchildren as much as your own? That is true as long as you close your mind to the idea of loving them as much. That closed minded belief will cost you in all the joy and blessings that come from feeling that overwhelming, unconditional love.
Does it feel like a betrayal to your biological children? That isn't true. You are taking something away from your children when you can't open yourself up to love your stepchildren. You are teaching them there are restrictions to love. You are showing them that there are rules to who you can love and how much. Don't short change them. Let them learn to love fully. There is so much reward in seeing the deep sibling love between your children and your stepchildren; when your children feel no need to use qualifiers to describe their brothers and sisters and they are simply brothers and sisters.
Don't try to compete with their mother. That is their mother. Honor, respect, and appreciate their relationship. Don't diminish your own relationship with your stepchildren because they have a mother. Your relationship is separate.
Just because you don't agree with everything their mother does, it doesn't make her wrong. Your stepchildren are fortunate to have different perspectives and, as long as they are loved, they will grow with the perspectives and so will you. Don't try to replace their mom but do love them and treat them as your own children. They deserve that. They will learn to trust you when they see that your love and relationship with them is because of them and not dependent on your relationship with their dad. What would it feel like to only be loved because the woman is married to your dad? How could they trust that?
If you want to hold back because you are afraid you may step on their mom's toes, let go and do what your heart tells you to do. You may step on their mom's toes. As long as your heart is right, she will be ok. She has her own emotions to go through. She has never known your husband with another woman besides herself. Her children are her heart and soul and you are a stranger to her. Any of us are going to watch with caution when a stranger comes near our children. Don't come in like a storm trooper. It isn't easy to share your children. Give her time to adjust and learn that you can be trusted with them. She will love them enough to put aside her own baggage for the benefit of her children. She wants her children to be treated well. She wants her children to be loved. When you hold back, you demonstrate that your stepchildren are different and won't get all of you. You will save feelings over the short term but you will never be fully trusted by your stepchildren, their mother, or your husband over the long term.
If your stepchild refuses to do dishes, don't think you are dealing with an undisciplined stepchild. See it for what it is, a child who doesn't want to do dishes. If you and your husband don't agree on discipline or responsibilities, understand that issue is between you and your husband. Don't ever see it as a problem with your stepchildren. It's not! Don't take it out on them subtly or overtly - ever!
I married my stepchildren's dad but I committed to them, too. My husband's children included his two stepdaughters from his first marriage. How many would believe that because he isn't married to their mother that his relationship with them should end? How many would make it difficult for him to keep his relationship with them? It makes me sad to think of it. They were kids. I couldn't respect my husband or trust him with my own kids if his relationship with them only ran as deep as his marriage to their mother.
I see no biology. There is nobody in my family that is more or less important or different because of who their parents are. Nobody gets the priviledge of being treated special because of their biology and nobody will be left out because of their DNA. I love my children, biological or step from the deepest part of my heart and I am better for it. This is my family. It's the family that I chose and I committed to.
I have read women that say they can't love their stepchildren. I say you have no right to be there. Leave, leave, leave before you cause any more damage than I know you already have.
I am so grateful that I didn't read all of the information out there on being a stepmom before I learned the truth.
Friday, August 12, 2011
TRUTH
I keep digging for the TRUTH.
I want to stop but I'm compelled.
The further I go the less I am heard.
Why can't you hear the TRUTH? Why can't you see it? It isn't bad. It isn't dark. It isn't evil. It's simply the TRUTH.
I scream for you to hear it. I cry for you to hear it. But the more I see the less you can hear.
My words become gibberish, the words of a crazy woman, a woman that needs to be patronized.
I want to turn around and go back. I want to go back to the world of Improv Theater where I freely come up with the next line. There isn't any room or need for the TRUTH there. How do I go back?
I could blanket the TRUTH with a fog of alcohol or live in blame to take the focus off the TRUTH.
But I don't.
I keep moving through layer after endless layer of illusions and wishes and fears. What is at the end?
Pure authentic I imagine.
The TRUTH isn't frightening. It's liberating.
I'm not afraid of the TRUTH.
I'm afraid of being alone in it.
I want to stop but I'm compelled.
The further I go the less I am heard.
Why can't you hear the TRUTH? Why can't you see it? It isn't bad. It isn't dark. It isn't evil. It's simply the TRUTH.
I scream for you to hear it. I cry for you to hear it. But the more I see the less you can hear.
My words become gibberish, the words of a crazy woman, a woman that needs to be patronized.
I want to turn around and go back. I want to go back to the world of Improv Theater where I freely come up with the next line. There isn't any room or need for the TRUTH there. How do I go back?
I could blanket the TRUTH with a fog of alcohol or live in blame to take the focus off the TRUTH.
But I don't.
I keep moving through layer after endless layer of illusions and wishes and fears. What is at the end?
Pure authentic I imagine.
The TRUTH isn't frightening. It's liberating.
I'm not afraid of the TRUTH.
I'm afraid of being alone in it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Tony
It was August 12, 2002 when I delivered Tony; five months early and stillborn. He would be nine years old now.
Today is the first time I have cried for him in over a year.
Would he have been blond or brunette? Probably light brown and wavy. Blue eyes? Carefree and rambunctious or quiet and reflective? Tall and skinny or average height and weight? He would be in school today. Second grade.
I took out the tole painted Tony box. It's all the physical evidence I have of him. There is a note from Jen and Joe. They brought food for us but we were sleeping and they didn't want to wake us. There is a miniature quilt that was given to us at the hospital. There are little conciliatory hospital bands for his tiny wrist and ankle that he never wore. A measuring tape marking the 5" length of his body and the 4" circumference of his head. It never touched him. I never touched him.
All there is to miss about him are things that I don't know. Sometimes, I really miss those things.
Today is the first time I have cried for him in over a year.
Would he have been blond or brunette? Probably light brown and wavy. Blue eyes? Carefree and rambunctious or quiet and reflective? Tall and skinny or average height and weight? He would be in school today. Second grade.
I took out the tole painted Tony box. It's all the physical evidence I have of him. There is a note from Jen and Joe. They brought food for us but we were sleeping and they didn't want to wake us. There is a miniature quilt that was given to us at the hospital. There are little conciliatory hospital bands for his tiny wrist and ankle that he never wore. A measuring tape marking the 5" length of his body and the 4" circumference of his head. It never touched him. I never touched him.
All there is to miss about him are things that I don't know. Sometimes, I really miss those things.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I Was Born to Run
I read a book by Christopher McDougall titled Born to Run. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it. I found it inspiring and paradigm shifting. I now believe I was born to run. It's time for me to do what I was born to do.
I bought Chia seeds. I know how important it is that I stay hydrated while running these long distances.
I looked for good shoes. Good shoes are important. Many injuries are caused by improper shoes and the contortion of your posture while in poor shoes. I have an odd size foot and had no luck finding shoes that I didn't need a second mortgage for. That was ok. I will just use one of the many pairs of shoes in my closet that I have bought through previous inspirations.
I set out for my first run.
I decided to head to the desert behind my house. I wasn't ready for my neighbors to bear witness to my first run. I also decided to hug the fences in the subdivision behind my house so my husband wouldn't watch from the back yard.
I was excited to break through the 'beast', that point that your brain kicks in begging you to stop the torture, and move into the rhythm and freedom of when your body takes over and you run like the wind. Off I went.
Wait. This wasn't working out the way I had visualized. Instead of my feet hitting the ground with a light ease - as if they had wings, there was a cloud of dust with every step as lead weights pounded the desert. Parts of my body jiggled one way as other parts bounced another. A pain shot up the top of my feet and into my shins. Instead of crying out for mercy as I could understand my calfs might do, they flat out said No! I will not do this thing you are asking me to do. My lungs shriveled into little crumpled balls as they tried to escape through my throat. I became as parched as the desert I was trying to run in. This all happened in the time it took me to run the length of two of the homes I was running behind.
I made the long quarter mile trek back home. My driveway has a slight slope that my rebellious calves were begging me to have someone throw me a rope to get up it. Let the arms do some of the work, they were screaming.
Maybe I wasn't really born to run.
©
I bought Chia seeds. I know how important it is that I stay hydrated while running these long distances.
I looked for good shoes. Good shoes are important. Many injuries are caused by improper shoes and the contortion of your posture while in poor shoes. I have an odd size foot and had no luck finding shoes that I didn't need a second mortgage for. That was ok. I will just use one of the many pairs of shoes in my closet that I have bought through previous inspirations.
I set out for my first run.
I decided to head to the desert behind my house. I wasn't ready for my neighbors to bear witness to my first run. I also decided to hug the fences in the subdivision behind my house so my husband wouldn't watch from the back yard.
I was excited to break through the 'beast', that point that your brain kicks in begging you to stop the torture, and move into the rhythm and freedom of when your body takes over and you run like the wind. Off I went.
Wait. This wasn't working out the way I had visualized. Instead of my feet hitting the ground with a light ease - as if they had wings, there was a cloud of dust with every step as lead weights pounded the desert. Parts of my body jiggled one way as other parts bounced another. A pain shot up the top of my feet and into my shins. Instead of crying out for mercy as I could understand my calfs might do, they flat out said No! I will not do this thing you are asking me to do. My lungs shriveled into little crumpled balls as they tried to escape through my throat. I became as parched as the desert I was trying to run in. This all happened in the time it took me to run the length of two of the homes I was running behind.
I made the long quarter mile trek back home. My driveway has a slight slope that my rebellious calves were begging me to have someone throw me a rope to get up it. Let the arms do some of the work, they were screaming.
Maybe I wasn't really born to run.
©
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Not a Good MoM
My son is a Marine currently deployed and not allowed to tell me where he is. Another son was a soldier and served in Iraq. My brother is Air Force. He has served a couple of times in Iraq and is currently serving in Afghanistan. My cousin was a soldier and served in the Gulf War. My dad was a Green Beret during the Viet Nam war. I have earned the right to denounce you for your lack of service. When it comes to patriotism and the right to condemn yours, I am entitled to do that. Really?
I have never served in the armed forces, government, or even at the local food pantry. Even if I had, just the idea that I would have that right is a complete slam to freedom, democracy, and patriotism.
I have been struggling with some of what I have been reading from other Marine mothers. I just learned that we are MoMs. I haven't asked but reasoned out that a MoM is a Mom of a Marine. Smart girl, huh? There is a comraderie and unity among them that I feel like I'm on the outside of and looking in. I can identify with their fears, concerns, and pride for their children. I can't identify with the idea there is something special about us simply because our children serve. I didn't raise my children to believe they had a patriotic obligation to serve this great country. I am proud that they do but their decisions were strictly their own. I supported one with his decision on the outside while secretly praying on the inside that he would change his mind. The other one, I kicked and drug my feet all the way to the recruiters office.
How many of us had our children come to us and say, "I am joining the military because it's my honor and duty to serve my country?" There may be a few exceptions out there but, for the most part, that isn't how it works. My soldier made his decision to join the Army when he was a freshman in high school. What does a 14 year old know about politics or even his own mortality? The truth is, he liked guns. My Marine was 26 with a wife and daughter when he decided to enlist. His reasons may have had more maturity behind them but they still weren't purely alturistic. Through the military they learn honor and duty to country with a much higher conviction than most of us but that is rarely the initial motivation to enlist.
I am watching as anyone with a contrary opinion to MoMs are turned on like heathens and verbally stoned to death. The common theme as these people are assaulted for their opinions seems to be, "I am the mother of a Marine so my position is untouchable. Our boys have fought for your freedom to say what you are saying." That is very disturbing to me.
I chose to honor my sons, my brother, my cousin, my dad, and the centuries of men that have fought for that freedom by sharing my disagreement with dignity and respect.
I have never said OOOH RAH! I don't feel I have earned that right. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a MoM.
I have never served in the armed forces, government, or even at the local food pantry. Even if I had, just the idea that I would have that right is a complete slam to freedom, democracy, and patriotism.
I have been struggling with some of what I have been reading from other Marine mothers. I just learned that we are MoMs. I haven't asked but reasoned out that a MoM is a Mom of a Marine. Smart girl, huh? There is a comraderie and unity among them that I feel like I'm on the outside of and looking in. I can identify with their fears, concerns, and pride for their children. I can't identify with the idea there is something special about us simply because our children serve. I didn't raise my children to believe they had a patriotic obligation to serve this great country. I am proud that they do but their decisions were strictly their own. I supported one with his decision on the outside while secretly praying on the inside that he would change his mind. The other one, I kicked and drug my feet all the way to the recruiters office.
How many of us had our children come to us and say, "I am joining the military because it's my honor and duty to serve my country?" There may be a few exceptions out there but, for the most part, that isn't how it works. My soldier made his decision to join the Army when he was a freshman in high school. What does a 14 year old know about politics or even his own mortality? The truth is, he liked guns. My Marine was 26 with a wife and daughter when he decided to enlist. His reasons may have had more maturity behind them but they still weren't purely alturistic. Through the military they learn honor and duty to country with a much higher conviction than most of us but that is rarely the initial motivation to enlist.
I am watching as anyone with a contrary opinion to MoMs are turned on like heathens and verbally stoned to death. The common theme as these people are assaulted for their opinions seems to be, "I am the mother of a Marine so my position is untouchable. Our boys have fought for your freedom to say what you are saying." That is very disturbing to me.
I chose to honor my sons, my brother, my cousin, my dad, and the centuries of men that have fought for that freedom by sharing my disagreement with dignity and respect.
I have never said OOOH RAH! I don't feel I have earned that right. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a MoM.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
What's My Sign?
There's a new sign in town and it's mine. I am no longer an adventurous and free spirited Sagittarius. I am now a wise and visionary Osomething. Forgive the temporary black hole in my personality. My sign is new so there isn't a lot out there to tell me who I am. There was a rush to throw some bullet points together so I am moving with those assumptions for now but am anticipating that it's subject to change. I'm sure there were some errors in the hurry. I am going to recommend adding adaptability as one of my characteristics. I don't recall it being a part of me when I was a Sagittarius so this adaptability must be a part of my Osomething sign.
Some of the more notable bullet points of my new sign:
Has secret enemies in family or close associations - This is troubling. I was well loved as a Sag and had no enemies. I am inventorying my friends and family, trying to determine my secret enemies. It is plural so there are more than one.
I have noticed a new characteristic that probably should be added. Paranoid. I wasn't experiencing it before my sign change.
Likes to wear vibrant clothing - My wardrobe is black. I need to go shopping.
Poetical - This is true. I do a lot of rhyming. I did it as a Sag, too, but now that I am poetical, I expect it will be more appreciated. I thought this was a good opportunity to review some of my poetry. One of my most recent is called, "Mirror". I was washing my face early one morning and going through my normal routine. When I put my contacts in and looked up into the mirror, I had a Whoa! experience which inspired "Mirror".
Mirror, mirror on the wall
You look like my mother except for tall
Highest fame and legend comes after death - Crap! What good does fame and legend after death do me? My only hope is that my children will benefit. I'm not sure the world will grasp the significance and deeper meaning of my poetry before the copyright runs out so my guess is my poetry will not be their winning lottery ticket.
Aspirations of healing the ills of man - This is likely where my fame and legend will come from. I will be on an alphabetical list of notable, benevolent healers, just above Jack Kevorkian.
Attracts good luck - Yes! This is new. Luck didn't play a part in my life as a Sag, good or bad. I'm going to Google sweepstakes.
My new sign relieves some stress. As a Sag, I was athletic. My new sign says nothing about being athletic. The conflict of trying to get my two left feet to live up to the athlete that I was is over.
My husband is no longer a Taurus. He is now an Aries. There aren't any charts yet that let me know if Osomething is compatible with Aries. Our relationship is on hold until further notice. We weren't compatible as Taurus and Sag except in a certain 'energy' that I won't discuss here because the children are reading. I have been able to maintain a certain persona with them. Mom may shoot babies out of her body like machine gun fire, but she doesn't do THAT.
As a Sagittarius, I would tend to take on more than I can handle. Osomething doesn't mention anything like that so I am looking forward to more balance in my life.
I am no longer loyal but I am idealistic which should eliminate any external change in my behavior. This will be strictly an internal motivation for my actions.
Many of my family members have a shift in signs. A son has moved from Taurus to Aries. Now, rather than being stubborn, he is hard-headed. A daughter will move from practical and prudent to adventurous and free spirited. I don't care for that. Now she will leave the comfort of home to take advantage of all of those invitations for extended stays in some of the biggest cultural meccas in the world. Another daughter will move from perfectionist to loving. She will love me regardless of my imperfections. I do have fewer imperfections now. My grandiosity with my Osomething sign is my validation of my perfection.
The maker of my bullet points used feelings of granular as a characteristic. I don't know what granular is in this context and neither does Google. I am assuming the writer, in a hurry and from one of those less intelligent signs, meant to say feelings of grandeur. Being a wise visionary with feelings of grandeur, I prefer to think of myself as somewhat of a sage. Given that I am an idealistic sage, I have an obligation to share my wisdom with any that ask. My kids don't have to ask. I will share anyway. Feel free to touch my vibrant colored robe.
Does this mean I'm no longer a Chinese Rat, either?
Some of the more notable bullet points of my new sign:
Has secret enemies in family or close associations - This is troubling. I was well loved as a Sag and had no enemies. I am inventorying my friends and family, trying to determine my secret enemies. It is plural so there are more than one.
I have noticed a new characteristic that probably should be added. Paranoid. I wasn't experiencing it before my sign change.
Likes to wear vibrant clothing - My wardrobe is black. I need to go shopping.
Poetical - This is true. I do a lot of rhyming. I did it as a Sag, too, but now that I am poetical, I expect it will be more appreciated. I thought this was a good opportunity to review some of my poetry. One of my most recent is called, "Mirror". I was washing my face early one morning and going through my normal routine. When I put my contacts in and looked up into the mirror, I had a Whoa! experience which inspired "Mirror".
Mirror, mirror on the wall
You look like my mother except for tall
Highest fame and legend comes after death - Crap! What good does fame and legend after death do me? My only hope is that my children will benefit. I'm not sure the world will grasp the significance and deeper meaning of my poetry before the copyright runs out so my guess is my poetry will not be their winning lottery ticket.
Aspirations of healing the ills of man - This is likely where my fame and legend will come from. I will be on an alphabetical list of notable, benevolent healers, just above Jack Kevorkian.
Attracts good luck - Yes! This is new. Luck didn't play a part in my life as a Sag, good or bad. I'm going to Google sweepstakes.
My new sign relieves some stress. As a Sag, I was athletic. My new sign says nothing about being athletic. The conflict of trying to get my two left feet to live up to the athlete that I was is over.
My husband is no longer a Taurus. He is now an Aries. There aren't any charts yet that let me know if Osomething is compatible with Aries. Our relationship is on hold until further notice. We weren't compatible as Taurus and Sag except in a certain 'energy' that I won't discuss here because the children are reading. I have been able to maintain a certain persona with them. Mom may shoot babies out of her body like machine gun fire, but she doesn't do THAT.
As a Sagittarius, I would tend to take on more than I can handle. Osomething doesn't mention anything like that so I am looking forward to more balance in my life.
I am no longer loyal but I am idealistic which should eliminate any external change in my behavior. This will be strictly an internal motivation for my actions.
Many of my family members have a shift in signs. A son has moved from Taurus to Aries. Now, rather than being stubborn, he is hard-headed. A daughter will move from practical and prudent to adventurous and free spirited. I don't care for that. Now she will leave the comfort of home to take advantage of all of those invitations for extended stays in some of the biggest cultural meccas in the world. Another daughter will move from perfectionist to loving. She will love me regardless of my imperfections. I do have fewer imperfections now. My grandiosity with my Osomething sign is my validation of my perfection.
The maker of my bullet points used feelings of granular as a characteristic. I don't know what granular is in this context and neither does Google. I am assuming the writer, in a hurry and from one of those less intelligent signs, meant to say feelings of grandeur. Being a wise visionary with feelings of grandeur, I prefer to think of myself as somewhat of a sage. Given that I am an idealistic sage, I have an obligation to share my wisdom with any that ask. My kids don't have to ask. I will share anyway. Feel free to touch my vibrant colored robe.
Does this mean I'm no longer a Chinese Rat, either?
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