Step-kids lack a sense of humour.

Hubby & YSD are convinced that the Lolo is going to become Calvin (of Calvin & Hobbes). Hubby has taken to calling her Calvina. They sit and read the comics before going to bed and worry that the Lolo is getting inspired.
YSD: I really feel sorry for whoever is going to babysit Lolo when she gets older.
Hubby: You should since it's going to be YOU!
YSD: That's not nice!
Me: *snicker*

While picking up the kids from school, a friend, who is also collecting her kids, comments on how smiley the Lolo is. And she really is, almost always, except at nap time.
Me: Someone up there saw that I had 3 step-kids and decided to send me a good natured baby.
Friend: You would need it.
ESD: That's not nice!
Friend and me: *snicker*

This morning, the kitchen was left in a complete mess despite there being room in the dishwasher to put dishes, etc. I took photos and plan the following the speech.
Me: For every morning I have to wake up and deal with your mess, you lose a request. For example: D can I get a lift? Answer: No.
Predicted response from the step-kids: That's not nice!

( YSD got an invitation today that I found so insane that I am going to photograph it and post it for your viewing. )

I am going to firstly present my excuses for what happened. I have been incredibly preoccupied this week with two things : Lolo's nap habits and getting a bunch of to-do things off my list.
So I think it could be understandable that I would get a little distracted when those two items coincided. After my Thursday 1 to 3 pm baby group, on the walk home, noticing that the Lolo has fallen asleep in the stroller, I rush home, bring the stroller into the house and zoom down to my basement office to get some work done - completely forgetting that I am supposed to walk to my step-kid's school to collect my youngest step-daughter who finishes classes at 3:30...
ahhh yeahhh...oops
I get a phone call at 4 and a plaintif voice says: aren't you coming to pick me up? By this time, not only is it late, but it has started to rain and I don't have the car.
I tell her I will walk to get her and bring her a raincoat and an umbrella. Another plaintive whine is heard on the line. I go with the Lolo still asleep in the stroller (!) and we all walk home together, a little wet (and feeling a little guilty).
*sigh* does this count as neglect?

I know there is a universal mystery about disappearing socks and the dryer. It shall remain one of life's unsolved mysteries and I have come to accept that.

I, however, have more difficulty in accepting the mystery of what my step-son does with MY socks. I am convinced that he either eats them (and being a 15yr old, I would not put it past him to feast on them after wearing them), or that somewhere he keeps stashs of stinky smelly socks a bit like a squirrel hides its food for the winter and, like the squirrel, he then proceeds to forget where he has hidden them.

I have no more socks. Step-son comes into my room and then dares complain that he can't find socks in MY sock drawer. I point out that a) they are MY socks, b) his feet are a size 11 and mine are a size 8 and my socks are too small for his feet, and c) the reason there may be no more socks in my drawer is because he keeps taking them.

The kids (the three steps and even little Lolo) have a habit of removing their socks everywhere in the house. I know this, they know this, and till recently the laundry has somehow managed to cycle enough pairs that despite the scattering, our feet still get covered. This no longer seems to be the case as for the past few washes there have been no socks.

So evil stepmother edict (ESE) no. 1 (I am starting a list): no TV till at least 20 pairs of socks have been recovered and paired up and placed in the wash.
ESE no. 2: Step-son forbidden to wear my socks (yeah, right!)

The kids come back from their mother's house this sunday (we have a 50-50 arrangement) and I am calling and ordering (I can dream) a return of all my socks that may have migrated to that household (as well as my cd player that apparently somehow ended up there...grrr)

Will I find socks for my little feet? Stay tuned...

I love having step-kids. There is so much potential for being evil... I keep telling them in answer to grumpy complaints (do I have to clean my room?), I HAVE to be evil or I will lose my membership to the Evil Stepmother's Club (ESC). I remind them that there are NO nice stepmothers in literature - all the cool and famous ones were mean, and that I have expectations, cultural precedents and peer pressure to live up to. And if I can be so evil, it is because I stand on the shoulders of the great giants of evil stepmotherhood who have paved the way for my pale imitations...
Hee hee - too much fun.
The only problem I am having is all my nagging of their various bad habits are generally negated by my husbad who has the same ones. Grrr. Autmatic step-kids response : don't get mad at us, it's not our fault, we got it from Daddy.
And Daddy, unfortunately is almost in the old dogs/new tricks category, and may be a lost cause for any improvement. And as he reminds me daily, his habits were "not hidden defects". I knew about them before getting married and now it is TOO LATE!
All memebers of the family have been warned not to pass on their collective bad habits to the Lolo - she is my last little hope of having someone on my side in all this craziness. Listen to your mummy, Lolo.