In reply to marsbar:
> But being a step mum has made me very very happy. I love my step daughter very dearly.
Children: I posted this on Facebook a couple of years ago:
I've not been sleeping well the last few days, and so doing what I usually do, which is trying to recall happy moments to summon up some calm.
And it dawns on me that many of them involve children and friends. Children reaching out to be held; my nieces Meg and Ella as tiny babies, flipping a hard-coded switch in my brain to 'love'; Kate's Tasha at the sculpture park, jumping down from a rock; Tim & Ann's Ailith on the climbing frame; my cousins' children; sweeping up into my arms the tiny toddler of a friend of a friend, before she got under the feet of the waitress. All inducing a feeling of calm and well-being. There must be an instinctive primate social bonding response: children naturally reach out, and family/social group adults respond, probably with an oxytocin release to give the feeling of love and well-being.
Or sitting in a quiet corner of a ski chalet, with Juliet on one side, Edward on the other, and little Holly in my lap, whilst I read Mr Men books to them. Or having Edward squirm and giggle with delight as I peppered him with kisses when saying goodbye, and then insisting it was Holly's turn.
Or comforting upset friends with hugs, sometimes squeezing so hard as if I could squeeze out the upset.
And the somewhat sad part is that these memories are one sided; the children won't remember, and I can't really say to the friends "hey, remember that time...", because they will want to forget a time when they were so upset.
But they are the times I most want to remember; the times that I felt closest to my friends, when I could show how much I cared for them. So I store them away, and recall them when I need them to try to bring back that sense of wellbeing. It doesn't always work, but it's nice to remember.