Updated: Aug. 29, 2023
Originally Published: May 4, 2023
When I began dating their father, my stepsons were 8 and 12 years old. Over the decade that followed, we shared custody with their mother, alternating weeks between homes. Through their formative years, I took on the responsibilities of carpooling, preparing lunches, and even refraining from doing their school projects for them—despite the fact that many other parents didn’t follow the rules. I stayed home from work when they were ill, drove them to their extracurricular activities, threw birthday parties, and signed countless permission slips.
I am their mom.
And I’m not alone; their biological mother plays an essential part in their lives too. She is 100% their mother. I never intended to replace her during the weeks the boys stayed with us. Instead, I see us as a team—two mothers who love our sons in different but equally valid ways.
When I married their father, I anticipated that his ex-wife might have opinions about my role as a stepmother. What I didn’t foresee was the judgment from others.
One day, while picking up Henry’s homework from school—he was home sick with the flu—the receptionist asked, “Whose mom are you?” I replied, “Henry’s.” Just then, the principal barged in and said, “She’s Henry’s stepmother. Not his mother.” I was taken aback. I hadn’t even considered how I identified myself; I simply responded to the question about the homework.
The boys and I had a brief discussion about what they wanted to call me early on. Henry, wanting to avoid too many names starting with “J,” came up with “Pia.” I found the nickname amusing and it stuck. Now, as they are 20 and 24, they still refer to me as Pia. Their friends and even my own do too, and in various situations, I am called their stepmom, parent, or simply mom.
When Henry’s Little League teammates would ask if I was his mom, I’d say, “Yes, I’m Henry’s stepmother. His mom is here too.” The kids understood perfectly; they knew who I was and who his mother was. Why is it that adults struggled with this?
Interestingly, while people seem to appreciate my involvement in the boys’ lives, they often take issue with me calling myself their mother. It seems to be a semantic debate—many equate “mother” with biological ties, and “stepmother” as a lesser role. If I had walked in with a pet and claimed to be its “mom,” there would have been no eyebrows raised. But asserting my role as a mother to my stepchild was somehow seen as controversial.
I acknowledge that being a stepmother is distinct from being a biological mother, just as being a father has its own nuances. Yet, in the end, we are all parents. For those of us who actively participate in our stepchildren’s lives, stepparenting is indeed parenting.
This belief even cost me a pilot deal at a major network. While pitching a show about our blended family, I confidently stated, “stepparenting is parenting.” The female executive present, also a mother, visibly recoiled. Ultimately, another network picked up our show, but during the rewriting phase, they insisted I include a scene with the boys’ mother to ensure viewers didn’t think she was negligent for allowing her children to spend a whole episode with their father and stepmother.
I eventually left the show after filming the pilot. A male executive without kids later told me he thought my challenge to the note about showing the mother was inappropriate. I expressed my frustration at the implication that their mother was irresponsible for trusting me with her children. That conversation did not go as planned.
Since then, my husband and I have adopted a son, Leo. While I didn’t give birth to him, nobody disputes that he is my son. No one raises eyebrows when I refer to myself as his mother. My parenting role with him differs from that of my older stepsons, but the love I have for all three boys is identical. They are my sons, and regardless of the labels applied, I am their mother.
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In summary, the dynamics of blended families can be complex, but love knows no boundaries. As a stepmother, I embrace my role fully, and I believe that parenting—regardless of the title—comes down to the love and care we give our children.