You know the scene in You’ve Got Mail, where Joe Fox (played by Tom Hanks) is spending the day with his father's son, and his grandfather's daughter? He explains to Kathleen Kelly (the character played by Meg Ryan) how they are all connected to each other, and he wraps it all up by stating "We are… an American family."

I just love it so much.

My mom and stepdad got married the Summer between my Junior and Senior years of high school. Their marriage required that we move ninety(ish) miles south from our rural, small town, to Charlotte, the largest city in North Carolina. It was a big change for this once country-mouse.

That first year was full of much transition. During that time, I was introduced to so many new people. Sometimes I was introduced as “our daughter” sometimes “Teresa’s daughter” sometimes just by my name without much of an explanation. I didn’t really know how to introduce my new stepdad. I mostly tried to quickly move past it, referring to Mom and Rick “my parents”. It was easier as “Stepdad” had weird baggage attached to it that I couldn’t name at the time.

After Jacob and I married, some folks referred to my stepchildren as my “bonus kids”, as that language had entered the cultural landscape. It’s even been reported that the adult stepchildren of Vice President Kamala Harris, refer to her “Momala”, as “stepmom” didn’t feel right for them. Having had certain lived experiences, I am keenly aware of the impact on my stepchildren by the nuances of these seemingly simple interactions. The real question may simply be; “Who are we to each other”?

While getting caught up in that dialogue no longer feels necessary, I am asking: what’s so wrong with “step”?

I was recently chatting with a therapist friend of mine (not my therapist, just a friend who happens to be a therapist :)) and he asked about what it was like becoming a stepparent. I replied by saying it was going well, the kids are amazing and doing our best to practice being patient while we get to know each other in this new context. After a quick pause, I added, “Sometimes I wish I could take a big dose of whatever those magical, “mom-hormones” are… I bet there are somedays where that would be SUPER HELPFUL”. He responded with “yeah, me too””. As apparently men also don’t received the rush of hormones which promote bonding with their children that biological mothers do.

There are very few words in the English language more comforting than “me too”.

This coming August, my mom and stepdad will have been married for 25 years and this past year was the first time that my stepsiblings and I have spent any time of significance together. While, there has been the occasional family event which threw us together, this was the first time we sought each other out and invested in these relationships. It was mostly a massive treat and a little bit an exercise in how to show up in the awkward unknown. So here I am, entering 2024, with my stepchildren, my stepdad, my stepsiblings, etc. etc. and I am aware that we too, are… an American family, and I am overcome with gratitude for it all.