The holidays are here – and instead of embracing the yuletide season as a time for refreshment and joy – so many of us would rather hide til the New Year dawns. I’m among them this year. Only a week ago I was gung-ho – ready to whip up the tree and hose down with mistletoe after a whirlwind Thanksgiving trip to New York.

For once I thought, we had actually planned a tolerable holiday season – but my merrymaking melodies got waylaid by Thanksgiving weekend. The trimmings are still in the attic and the wreath isn’t on the door.

After one blissful incredible day at the Macy’s parade with my husband and two of his teen children, our trip descended into a venomic cesspool and never quite recovered. It was a 36 hour emotional roller coaster ride through hell.

Their dad triumphantly returned with tickets to a real Broadway show, after spending hours in the cold in Times Square. But the tickets weren’t to the show that they wanted. He explained that none were available. And his children turned into profanity-spitting vipers. It went downhill from there – and stayed there for the next 36 hours.

It seemed impossible to think that these were the same kids who the day before phoned their friends to gush over how much fun it was to see the celebrities in the parade, eat dessert at Sardi’s and watch the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. Or that they were the same ones who sang “Take Me Out to Manhattan” over and over for hours on the way into the city.

These were not seasoned theater-goers - they had never been to a show on Broadway in their lives. And had hardly researched the shows at all. I have never seen them treat their father so horribly and cruelly. I stood there flabbergasted thinking of the money we had carefully saved for this trip – reviewing in my mind how well things had perked along only hours before - and here they were screeching curse words at their father and declaring the weekend the worst Thanksgiving ever.

This is what we get for letting them watch MTV, where $50,000 Sweet Sixteen parties and a celebrity culture make kids think they’re entitled to life on a silver spoon. Or maybe it was because they had let their guard down – and started having a good time with their dad and his wife. And we landed back right where we always are – the place where good intentions get you a kick in the teeth.

You know what I’m talking about. I can hear the stepmoms out there nodding – they all know that sinking feeling – when you hope so much for something to just go OK - not spectacularly, just OK – and then you see it all go to heck in an instant. It’s a helluva drop.

We survived of course. One of the kids half-heartedly apologized to their dad – and even said sorry to me for their bad and immature behavior. A day later at home, we postponed putting up the tree til after the kids are gone and back at their mom’s – we’re too bruised to deal with them ruining another holiday tradition.

My husband dealt with his kids in his own way. We circled hands to say a dinner blessing, and he prayed. A lot. He prayed for each of them, saying how much he loves them and treasures time with them. He prayed for their mother who also guides them and thanked God for me and what I do to care for our family’s needs. And he thanked God for the many blessings we have in our lives and the bounty we take for granted.

His children squirmed and looked guilty. Incredibly guilty.

Like many a stepmom – I’m amazed at the ever-rejuvenating and forgiving heart of a father for his children. Perhaps God is trying to teach us a lesson or two about forgiveness and how we treat each other.

Maybe in a few days we’ll be up to putting up the tree finally. Until then – we just have to hang on.

Dawn Miller writes a column on life in blended families at thestepfamilylife.com. 
Visit Dawn's blog for a daily dose of life in the blender.
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