My husband and 12 year old step son have hit the road to go bear hunting in Canada again. If you will recall, I said they could never leave me out on a bear trip again, but they did. In their defense, I couldn’t miss work. It’s harvest time, and for us in QC, that means no breaks until it’s over. They were texting from the road until they no longer could. Kendall told me that Hunter said there were lots of hot girls there. I asked if Hunter was trying to trade me in for a hotter model. About 10 minutes later I receive, “no he could never replace you, you are his.” Que in the tears, I’m his.
That simple statement had me pondering, why on earth did I ever care what they called me. No title could be greater than those words, I’m his. It doesn’t matter what I am to him as far as title. I’m his. We often tie too much of our identity to a title. A title doesn’t mean jack flip. I can say this after coming home the night before they left and my s-son wouldn’t leave my lap. That has become the biggest term of endearment with him to me. I know probably in just a few months, he will suddenly think he is too big for that. I secretly hope he never does.
He has his mother, whom I never can nor want to, replace. As step moms though we often wonder how they see us, how they feel about us, what they secretly call us when no adult is around. I don’t even care anymore, he sees me as his, and folks that’s all I need. Honestly. It’s that simple.
I’m his go to lap after a game, I’m his go to lap watching a movie, I’m his go to lap when he is going to miss me on a weeklong bear hunt. I’m his. So, who honestly needs a title? They are highly overrated.