Our unlucky-in-love Sun girl makes up with her man — but doesn’t want to share the attention with his kids
Sun columnist Tinderella understands that Will's needs come second to his kids, but should they come second to hers?
I’M not sure I’m up for this stepmum lark.
I haven’t even met Will’s two yet – but Rachel has filled me in over a gin and the reality of stepkids sounds godawful.
Forget every cheery Sound of Music fantasy you’ve ever entertained. Apparently, you get to marry the Captain . . . but you also get to take a backseat to the never-ending demands of his Do Re Me, Me, Me children.
A seething cauldron of suspicion or rejection greets most kind gestures – and your beloved will take their side in every argument.
One of Rach’s step-sulkers called her a “stale bitch” the other day – and her partner’s first reaction was: “Rachel, what did you DO? Please say sorry.”
The situation sounds horrific – I’m not really the unsung hero type.
What’s even worse, I hear being a mum in general is like this.
My nieces are adorable but when they’re not telling my sister her hair looks weird or they prefer the way Daddy makes breakfast, they’re yelling “Borrrriinnnggg” over every story she tries to tell.
Will doesn’t get it. He thinks I’ve got the fear over his ex and kids because of my own “longing to be a mother”.
The truth is I’d like to start a family with the right man – but I’ve never felt a biological need to reproduce.
Our pathetic fall-out in the pub was more about my egomaniacal need to be the centre of his world.
I was embarrassed about losing it so turned up at his house the next day mumbling an apology.
We fell into bed – thank god for make-up sex – and I’ve promised to lower the drama.
But it’s hard. I wanted to spend Sunday having a lie-in and then a walk along the river but he can’t as he’s taking the kids out.
I suggest a hot holiday in February . . . but he’s already taking the kids to Dubai for half-term and he can’t afford both.
I smile, shrug and suggest the summer instead.
He replies: “Sure, so long as it’s not the second week in August. I’m camping with the kids.”
Great. My birthday is the 10th.
Yes, it is childish to care about birthdays and we may not even be dating still by then but . . .
I think it’s easier to suck it up and put your own needs second with your own brood.
But someone else’s? Maybe that’s a “step” too far.