In my mid-forties, I married a man who had joint custody of two children, both boys, from a previous marriage. The boys, Jed and Jason, were nineteen and fifteen. Not having any children of my own, I didn’t have a clue about parenting, much less stepparenting. In the early days, I didn’t know how I was supposed to act around them, and they probably didn’t know how to act around me. When my husband first told Jason that we were getting married, he asked me, “Do I have to call you Mommy, then?” I told him, “No, you have…