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. )

Step-son and youngest step-daughter are complaining about classmates : so and so is annoying, so and so is really dumb, so and so is weird...
Hubby, recognizing all the last names being thrown about, comments: Well, they are lawyers' kids, and you know how they say that lawyers' kids turn out strange ... [pause *kiddie death glares*]... well maybe not all of them, concludes Hubby, the lawyer.
Me *snicker*

The Lolo woke up at 5:20 on Sunday, 6:00 on Monday and 4:15 last night. The good news is that at her 4:15 wake-up, Plan C was put into action and it worked (sort of). It took me only one failed attempt at exiting before she was asleep - for about half an hour, just about enough time for me to fall back asleep before she started her protests. Hubby's turn, again one failed attempt and then success. She slept till about 6:15 and then after a bit of nursing in our bed, she slept till 8:00am. Victory !! (till she figures out our plan and changes her tactics again).
I am hopeful. I have been putting her down for naps during the day (versus sleeping on me or in the stroller) and although, there is much much screaming involved, she has fallen asleep in her crib with the blanket tucked tightly around her. The moment I put her down, there are the howls of protest and then after going in and tucking her in again and again, she eventually falls asleep. (I have my fingers crossed as at present she is standing in her crib and protesting - I think her howls have evolved to "You are lucky I can't dial a phone because I would call the child protection agency and signal this abuse... Abuse... Neighbours, alert...")
*break - tucked her back in - she is calm and falling asleep - I leave - howls of protest*
I am going to let her scream it out for a bit.

On the stepmother front, youngest step daughter YSD's bedtime ritual involves reading Calvin and Hobbes (or some other book) in our bed. Generally, Hubby reads to her and then she goes off to sleep in her own room. When Hubby is working late, she still comes and sits with me do her reading. So last night, it was just her and I and she is sort of complaining about being too tired to get to her room, I say : wouldn't it be cool if you could just blink your eyes and disappear from this bed and appear in yours? YSD's response (while putting on a fake offended look): that's not nice! I could blink my eyes and make you disappear ! At this point, I am laughing hard. She stomps out of bed, pronounces me an evil stepmother and leaves the room, only to come back a minute later, glare at me from the doorway and leave again. I was laughing so hard and it wasn't even that funny.

YSD introduces me as her Evil Stepmother, so this is long standing joke with us - and let me tell you, there are lots of people out there with no sense of humour. We get far too many strange looks following those introductions... oh well.

No sign of more socks, but the kids' mother said she would look through the laundry at her house. I did get my CD player back though.
I show step-son my last pair of abused socks that are completely thread bare because his feet are too big for them. He denies all guilt. I point out that if he wears them again, I will string him up by his finger nails outside on the front porch as a warning sign to sock thieves everywhere.
His answer: Oh, that's nice; can we go to school already?
Hmm, must read E.S.C. hand-book for effective threat delivery.
Hubby promises to buy me socks, but is completely missing the point.

*need more userpics*

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.

I have been on a high since I last posted. That little bit of work I got done when the nanny was here was followed by a couple more little bits of work, and my mood has been incredibly (annoyingly perhaps tp the rest of the family) upbeat. I have finally gotten my creativity started again, and it feels like a profound renewal of my whole being is taking place.

I worked on the house plans of a friend of mine (I have been promising them for ages) and I am rather pleased with the results. AND I finally figured out how to add a second bathroom to our upstairs - a master's suite. This will, of course, be done when we win the lottery, but nonetheless, I already picture it in it's full glory and am fine tuning it for the fateful day when it will get done.

Hubby is rather amused by my chipper-ness and in typical Hubby fashion comments: You are just happy because you figured out a way to pee in our bedroom.

Somehow the glorious-ness of my triumph over a rather difficult design problem and the greatness of my solution (if I may say so myself) is now reduced to having found a way to pee in our bedroom. My creativity will NOT be stifled. I must now work on my Christmas cards. Fortunatly, nanny comes on Monday for a few hours.

Other creative attempts and Hubby comments:
The youngest of my step-kids, aged 12, is learning how to play the tenor clarinet (not her choice). It is a rather huge instrument which in theory can make a nice sound, but at the moment is rather painful to listen to. She is trying quite hard, so I have no doubt that her perseverance will pay off. The Lolo seems to like her playing enough to echo whatever noise the instrument makes. It is really funny to see the baby sitting there imitating an instrument twice her size. Hubby, in his brilliancy, comments again that when Lolo decides to be a vet specializing in sick hippos, we will know when the inspiration was planted.

Forunetly, we all rather love his silliness and as he points out on a regular basis, I should have caught on before I married him. Now it is too late!