Having read Devora Weinberger's article about stepmothers, I
would like to write about my feelings towards my husband's
four married daughters and twenty-six grandchildren.
I was fortunate to marry into a wonderful family. The first
thing his children asked me was, "What shall we call you?"
They suggested Tante. I remember that my neighbor's new wife
was called Tanty; we never even knew her real name. With a
second marriage where all the children are already married,
this is convenient. I told them my own children and
grandchildren call me Bubbie Tzipporah. And so it was.
His children accepted me as their father's wife. When they
introduced me this way, I would cringe inside. So one day, I
said in a formal tone, in Yiddish, "Ich bin die shtif
mutter (the stepmother). (Sounds big and bad in either
language.) Never again did they call me "my father's
wife."
The grandchildren, aged 8, 9 and 10, did not try to accept
me. At a family dinner, they closed the door to the bedroom
so they could discuss whether they did or did not like me.
But then one eight-year-old came out and announced, "I don't
care what they think. I like you." He has always been my best
friend.
My family became my husband's, and his — mine. They
only knew us as Bubbie and Zeidie. We got married six months
after his wife passed away. Maybe the children thought it was
too soon but they didn't say so. We only gave them a week's
notice, anyway...
Now, three years after his death, they are still my family.
Someone from the New York family calls each week to find out
how I am doing. A tragedy happened in the family this past
month, but they called my son to let him know. Knowing how
close we have been, they knew it would be hard for me to take
it.
Last week, two new great-grandchildren were born in the New
York families and they each called me the same day to let me
know.
At the shloshim after my husband's death, we all got
together and the speeches were all centered around me. The
oldest grandchild of each family spoke in detail how we had
lived so happily together and become one happy family.
It is all a matter of maturing and learning to accept one
another.
Tzipporah Hoffman
