My Latest Blog Entries

"A Stepmother, Losing Her Marbles"  

Iíd long lost the fun of the game.  I saw only how Iíd used the game like the smiling faÁade of a carnival barker, the mask I wore while I tried to figure out who the hell I was.  See the happy new wife, still having plenty of sex!  Plunk.  See the smiling stepmother, proving to all those who warned her off ó Do you know what youíre getting into?  Those kids will ruin your marriage. Have you lost your senses, your marbles, your mind? ó that she can love, and be loved by, someone elseís children.

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"The Real Mother"

Iíve barely been at this stepmother thing six months, but Iíve already learned an important lesson: there is always someone to remind me who I am not. Sometimes itís the mom across the street or at the bus stop; sometimes itís my sonís teacher at back-to-school night; and sometimes itís just me staring into a mirror.

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"The Hotel That Built Me"

My motherís farm never felt like home and, as I look back now, I see how childishly her husband and I fought over the only bathroom and clawed at each other to get her attention.  Though my mother was openly hurt when I started staying at the Lodge, she was also relieved. For the next years we enjoyed our limited time together so much more when I could be alone with her during the day and leave before supper.  Your motherís home, it turns out, is not always your home.  And that can be okay.  
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Teri Carter is a writer living in Kentucky and California.  She is working on her first book.

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