Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find the delightful creature of a boy.

It’s Mojo’s birthday, but the one to receive the gift was me.

I was playing catch with Mojo outside last week. I find that deeper conversations sprout when I keep my boys hands busy.

“Why don’t you bring me my birthday treats at school?”

“That’s kinda your Mom’s thing.”

“Why?  Why don’t you go on my field trips?”

“Well, Mom feels strongly that is her role, I respect that.”

“I want you to bring my birthday treat this year.”

“That is something you are going to have to talk to your Mother about.”  I was giddy at the idea, but realized that it more than likely would not happen.

“Hand me your phone, I will call her right now.”

“Mojo, that needs to be a face to face conversation.  You are old enough to know that this may be difficult for your Mom.”

Just like that things shifted.  My little boy began to put the pieces together at age ten.  Fifty percent of the time I handle all of the duties that his Mother does, but he started to sense that things were off balance.  That simple conversationmarked a tipping point in our relationship.  He is growing up and becoming more aware of the things around him.  In an instant I was transformed from Momo the mommy figure in Daddy’s house to Momo, the lady that chooses to care for me and isn’t always treated fairly.

Mojo did have that conversation with his Mother.  Her response apparently was that it was his choice and that she “really didn’t care.”   Mojo was thrilled, he told me exactly what he wanted for a treat.  “I saw it on Pinterest! (Love that kid…)  It is dirt cake, in little pots, with spoons that look like spoons!”  He knew that I would make his vision come true the best that I could.

He spent this past weekend with his Mother, but called daily, including this morning, to be sure that I was going to be there at 9AM sharp with his birthday treat.  I walked into the classroom nervous more than I had anticipated.  I don’t know where he even came from, but suddenly there was a little boy wrapped around my waist giving me a tight squeeze.  “Thank You Momo!”

Dirt Cake

That moment, meant more to me than he could ever know.  That moment, made all of the stressful garbage that I deal with okay.  That moment, I really became a Step Mom.

~ Amy Elizabeth

Have you experienced this tipping point with your Step Children?  I would love to hear about it.  It is the smallest things in life that bring us so much joy.  Please leave me a comment about your tipping point.