It's Hard to Believe

...how ignorant some people can be. 

It started with me perusing the Single Dad Laughing blog. Every now and then I do that. Because he makes me think. I don't always like his language. And I don't always agree with him. But he makes me think, and I do like that.

The post that caught my attention last night was this one. I suggest you read it before you finish my own blog post.

Sure enough, as usual, SDL had me thinking. And in this case, I thought it was pretty amazing that two men who could have been enemies laid aside their differences for the sake of one little boy they both loved, and did what was best for him. 

It wasn't the blog post that annoyed me and reminded me just how ignorant some people can be. It was a comment from a reader. Here it is (edited to fix their spelling errors):

"My only comment would be that no step parent will ever love a son or daughter as much as their actual parent. I don't care who, what, where or how. They can be the absolute best persons in the world. They may even be better at certain parenting skills, or have a unique perspective or special skill set that the parent (father) in my case does not. They may be a wonderful influence and great addition to the life of the child HOWEVER they will never ever love the same way. They may love and even sacrifice but they cannot and will not understand the take me instead or throw yourself in front of a bullet for kind of love a parent has for his own. Great article and good sentiment but the loves are profoundly different!!"

Excuse me?!? Maybe it's been that way for that particular reader. But it certainly isn't that way all the time. 

Tell me just how loving it is for a mom to completely abandon her two little sons - at ages 3 & 5. Tell me just how self-sacrificing it is to live within 20 minutes of their house, and not make time to see them more than once or twice a year. Tell me just what a wonderful influence it is for her to have man after man after man living with her - a constant revolving door. Tell me just how protective it is to watch your boyfriend abuse your sons, and not step in to stop the abuse. Tell me just how loving it is to forget birthdays and holidays over and over again, to call (maybe) four times in a year, to make promises you never keep about having them for the summer, or the weekend, or a couple weeks. Tell me how giving and sacrificing it is to move out of the country for three years straight, to lie to them, to disappoint them, to tell them how much you miss them and love them - and then prove by your actions (over and over again) that the exact opposite is true.

Yeah, tell me about all of that. Go ahead.

But then I get my turn. 

I get to tell you about the tears I've dried when they're hurting or sick, the day in and day out care of them, the teaching, the training, the hugs, the hikes, the laughter, the birthday parties, the Christmases, the Thanksgivings, the 4th of July parades, the picnics in the park, the sledding on the mountain. I get to tell you about BB's first shave, about LM's quickly changing voice. I get to tell you about LM's excitement over having a little brother or sister soon, and BB's apprehensions. I get to tell you about the huge changes in maturity, the growing - and not just in physical ways. I get to tell you about BB stepping out of his comfort zone to go greet visitors at church, and about LM's attitudes for two weeks every time you call (literally for five minutes) and upset him all over again. I get to tell you about the struggles with fractions and algebra, about the long hours I've spent explaining (for the 50th day in a row) how to multiply mixed numbers. I get to tell you about the alter calls I've watched them in, about seeing God's presence all over them. I get to tell you about BB becoming more thoughtful, more loving, more compassionate. About LM going through the dawdle-y stage, and having to continually call him back to complete the job. I get to tell you about the hundreds of hours I've spent prepping school plans so I could help get them up to speed with where they SHOULD have been while you were out bar-hopping. I get to tell you about the library trips, the laundry, the dishes, the cleaning, the jokes and puns, the Costco trips, the no-budget/low-budget while their dad has been out of work. I get to tell you about the things I've gone without, so that they could have what they needed. I get to tell you about the days I would have LOVED to have some quiet-by-myself time, but put their needs ahead of my own. I get to tell you about the times I have defended them, fought for them, prayed for them.

If a "take me instead or throw yourself in front of a bullet for kind of love" is the kind a parent has for his/her own... guess who wins this one, bio-mom. Guess who wins. 

Because we BOTH know, even without saying it to each other, that I would, and you would not.

Tell me again whose kids these are?

Yep. That's right. Just as much as the Tiny One growing inside me.