Questioning my parenting skills

I'm looking for an instructional video on how to be a stepmother, because I'm sure not doing a good job here.

When I first started seeing their father seriously, Frodo and Mini Me were 3 and 5 years old. Now they're 7 and 9, and I don't feel like I'm any further ahead than I was four years ago. After my husband and I moved in together, things started to go off the rails when the kids were around. I realized that I was turning into an oozing pot of resentment because I was being treated by all three of the testosterone carriers like nothing better than a cook, maid and disciplinarian.

I did some reading on stepfamilies. That's the social worker in me ... research and get thyself prepared with a case plan. I found an article on something called "disengagement" which made a lot of sense to my 12-stepping self. It's similiar to the Al-Anon philosophy of detaching with love.

So I sat my husband down, and explained to him that I loved him and the kids, but that I loved myself as well. And I laid out the boundaries. I was not their mother. They had a mother. Therefore, I would not try to act like their mother, or even their parent. Which means, for example, that if I happen to be cooking, I will include them in the meal plan, but don't get up and walk away from the table assuming that I will also do the dishes. I had a list of other stuff that I wouldn't do, including disciplining them (because you can't have your cake and eat it too), monitoring whether he was getting them out the door on time, clean and dressed appropriately, nagging him, etc.

And this has been for the most part working. I no longer am the bitch that does nothing but nag at everyone to pick up after themselves, eat with their mouth closed, wash their face, etc. And it was working because my husband took that stuff on while the kids were here.

But lately he has been slowing down on that stuff. And the 9 year old is turning out to be (God forgive me for saying this) the most spoiled rotten child I have ever met. His behaviour is less than likeable most days, and I'm not exaggerating. This child will literally throw himself on the floor, crying and bawling, to get what he wants. He will look his father straight in the eye and refuse to do something he was just told to do. He will manipulate. He has the "gimme right now" attitude, and then when he does get whatever it was he wanted, he has total disregard for caring for it. I can't begin to tell you how many baseball caps he has "had to have", only to have us buy it for him and him lose it within 24 hours.

And through it all, I have been growing the understanding that on the nights that the kids are here, I am excess luggage. This became glaringly clear on Friday night. Now understand that my husband and the kids' mother had made plans for the kids to be here all weekend, and I wasn't even consulted. That's another story, and I've dealt with that piece of it (Grant me the courage to change the things I can...) with my husband. Anyhow, back to Friday night.

I've been working 12 and 13 hour days at my job lately. So I'm at work at 7:30 a.m. Friday, and finally get to leave at 6:30 p.m. to go home. I had been talking to my husband earlier in the afternoon and told him I'd stop and get groceries on the way home, and he agreed to cook up the tacos we had decided upon for supper. Ok, so I didn't actually say the words "save me some supper". My bad.

I walk into the house at about 8:15 p.m., dragging the groceries. Hubby gets up off the couch and goes out to the truck to get the rest of the groceries ... his face looking like he just ate the sourest pickle in the world. Not a word to me ... no "how was your day?" or "glad you're home" or "thanks for getting the groceries after your 11 hour day hon". But that's ok. I'm understanding that he has the kids, and he also has had a long day.

He drops the groceries on the table, and then goes back to the couch, leaving me to unpack and put away. Which I stupidly did without saying anything to him ... brewing and stewing all the time. Then I look on the counter, and there's an extra large pizza box. Empty.

Not only had he not cooked what we had planned for supper, he hadn't even saved me one piece of frigging pizza for supper.

I was pissed. You can imagine how the rest of the weekend has gone. The kids have been disrespectful to me, he hasn't kept me informed about where anyone is going or what their schedules are, and on it goes. I cooked breakfast this morning, and Mr. 9 year old decided to throw a fit. That was the last straw for me. He sat there at the table, refusing to eat, with his chin literally resting on his plate. I told him to get his chin off the plate. So then he started to kick my chair. I told him to stop. When we finally got up from the table, he walks away leaving his plate and cutlery on the table. I told him to take it to the sink. "I didn't eat" says Mr. Attitude.

So I do the dishes, willingly because they really did have to get to Sunday School and Mass, and hubby had to help them get bathed and dressed. I leave his plate on the table. Now I would have left it there all day until he put it away. Hubby comes home after dropping them off, and puts the plate away. So once again, this child has learned that bad behaviour is acceptable and that he can get what he wants through inappropriate action or inaction.

My husband is a teacher and has much more patience with kids than I do. When he came home from dropping them at Sunday School, we were able to have a talk. We are very lucky in that we do have good communication, and as long as we both do the "I feel" and not the "you dirty rotten prick, you always..." thing, we can resolve almost anything. He asked me if I had something on my mind. I told him how I was feeling. Like an outsider in my own home. Like I could easily check into a hotel on the nights the kids were here and no one would even notice (well, maybe the dawgs, but even that I'm not sure of). Like I felt that he and his ex wife made mega plans all the time without consulting me, and that even though 99 times out of 100 I'm not going to disagree, I want to be given the opportunity.

He listened. He said all the right things. And knowing my husband, he will take this and do what he can about it. I have to learn to accept those things that I cannot change, but it feels good to be taking responsibility for what I can change or ask to have changed.

But the last thing I said to him, before I completely broke down in tears, was that all of this was making me question my ability to be a mother.

Are we making a huge mistake trying to introduce yet another child into this step-mess? Do I have a freaking clue about how to be a mother? A parent? Am I out of my mind? I'm almost 42 years old. Pretty set in my ways apparently, judging from this step family experience.