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Signs, Signs, Everwhere there's signs!

We were driving in the car the other day and we saw a sign that said "Signage available." This started a great debate amoung the tribe. Is signage even a word?

The Tyrant brought up a Spongbob episode where Mr. Krabs says it. The Mother Hen chimes in, "That is a cartoon, so it doesn't have to use real words and I don't think it is a real word." The Show wonders, "But is if is not a real word, why is it on that sign?" Bear rolls his eyes at us, "You guys are crazy... Some body pease save me from this conversation!"

So, when I got home, I went so Wikipedia. And according to them signage, is in fact a real word. Mystery solved!

I finally understand, Dad...

I will always remember my favorite Christmas present from when I was a kid. I was about 9 years old when my parents gave me a set of Fisher Price adjustable in-line skates. They were the kind that you wore tennis shoes and tightened the skate around them. I don't really even remember if I asked for them, or it it was just something they thought we might enjoy. At first thaw, I remember being very excited because I could finally go and try them out.


The first ride was pretty painful because I spent more time on my butt then on my skates. The second and third were better. By the end of the week, I couldn't stay off of them. When my friends would ride their bikes, I would skate along side them. My dad use to watch me all of the time when I was skating. He use to insist that I stay close to the house, so that he could watch. I use to get so mad because I thought he didn't trust me or was too scared that I would get hurt.

As I got older and I got new pairs of skates, he still would insist that I spent some time skating near the house. He would tell that me that he enjoyed to watch me. Being a kid, I didn't understand so I thought that he was just smothering me. I use to deliberately try to not skate near the house. I would even take my skates off down the block and walk the rest of the way home.

When I started college and there was less time for fun, I stopped skating as much. He would ask every time that he saw me if I was still skating. I would say "No, too much stuff to do." He would always look disappointed and I was never really sure why. I wasn't sure if he thought that I was getting overweight or if I was less healthy or something.

But, on Father's Day, I finally understood. I was sitting with him watching the girls and Bear play with his dog Max. They were running around, laughing and having fun. He and I just sat there and watched them for a while. That is when I finally got it. I was an awkward kid and I still don't really fit in well with my family, but when I was skating I was truly happy and having fun. He would enjoy watching me have fun, just as I enjoyed watching the girls on Sunday. So Dad, I finally understand why you wanted to watch me so much. I am sorry I was kind of a butt-hole about it.

The moment ended, as all touching moments do. Bear announced that it was time to leave. The Tyrant asked, "Why Daddy?" And Bear said, "Because Sonny wants some peace for Father's Day, you dog terrorists!"

Happy Father's Day!

First, I wanted to say Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there in blogger-land. I hope that you all have a good day.

Second, I wanted to wish Happy Father's Day to my dad. I hope you like your gifts!

Finally, I wanted to say Happy Father's Day to Bear. Thank you for sharing your day with me, as well as the girls. I hope it turns out exactly the way you want it to.

So much for that trick...

As a parent, from time to time, I find myself spelling words to Bear so that the youngest won't know what we are saying specifically. I know all parents have done it and it is a pretty useful thing when you are talking about upcoming trips either the fun ones or the not so fun ones.

Tonight, we were all eating dinner together and Bear asks me, "When are we going to the z-o-o?" I replied, "I am not sure." The Tyrant's face lights up, "Sweet! We are going to the zoo!" Bear looks at her, blinks and then huffs, "Stupid second-grade reading level!"

It is the end of an era, we will no longer be able to spell out small/medium sized words to trick her. I couldn't be more proud of our little first grade graduate.

P.S. I am moving! I got myself one of those fancy domain names. I will now be available at www.lifeandtimesofawickedstepmom.com. I will leave this site up while I transition over but please start using the new address. I am eventually going to change blog hosting too.

We shall have grips like Iron!

Yesterday, The Tyrant managed to get silly putty all over the couch and her shorts. Bright, neon yellow silly putty... The Mother Hen, Bear and I started trying to clean it up. (Thank the intar-web for GoodHouseKeeping!) As we are sitting there scrapping silly putty of shorts and the couch, I looked over at the The Tyrant and asked, "How did this happen?" And she looks at me with tears in her eyes and says "I don't know!" (This link goes to a classic parenting skit, it is a must see!)

I shook my head and continued scrapping. After about 20 minutes of scrapping, The Mother Hen and I both have cramps in our hands but it is finally coming almost all the way off. The Mother Hen said, "I need a break, my hand hurts!" I looked at her, as seriously as I could, "No you can't, you must keep working! We shall have grips like IRON!" We both starting laughing and continued to scrape.

Next, we started dabbing cotton balls of alcohol on the yellow remnants. The Tyrant, who was still showing little remorse for what happened, started playing a video game. I almost lost my temper completely. Instead, I very firmly said "You are going to have to stop playing that game." Bear said, "If you are truly remorseful as you told me you were, you would be trying to help us instead of playing that game." The Tyrant drops her controller and very quietly asks, "Can I help?" Bear, who is working on her shorts, looks up and says "Yes, you can tell us how this happened." The Tyrant says again, "I don't know!" Thoroughly frustrated, Bear leaves the room to pre-treat her shorts so that they can be washed.

After about a half hour of dabbing, the couch is almost clean. The Tyrant has gone back to her video game and The Mother Hen is mad because she has been working and her younger sister is just sitting there. So, in the snarkiest tone possible she looks at The Tyrant and says, "That's okay, when we have grips like iron I am going to use my grip to strangle you!"

They way we think...

So, I was in the car with my mom the other day. Something I usually avoid as much as possible. She and I just don't really understand each other much and talking for extended periods can become awkward. But, she said she really wanted to talk to me and it seemed like a good time to do it.

The first thing that she tells me is that she finally realized something about me. She said, "People think differently and that is okay, but I think I finally realize that you and I think differently and that is why we have to try so hard to understand each other. Your Dad and your brother think the same way that I do. And, it must have been really hard for you growing up with all of us. I think you are brilliant and you use your mind in ways that the rest of us just don't understand. You and I just don't think the same. Sometimes I wish I thought more like you, so that I could understand you better and so that you wouldn't have had it so hard." I was stunned into silence. (Pretty amazing if you ask most people that know me.) So, she continued,
"I just feel really bad that you had to adapt and you had to work so hard at getting along with us and we never even met you half way."

So, I looked at her and said, "That's stupid. If you are going to carry around guilt for not understanding me and not getting the way I think, that is just stupid. If you want to feel guilty, go ahead and feel guilty but not over me and not over this." She didn't really know what to say to that. But, we continued to talk and she said she would work on letting the guilt go.

This conversation with her really made me think about my relationship with the girls and Bear. Growing up, I always felt alone and like an outsider. I don't want anyone to feel that and I try really hard to make sure that it doesn't turn out that way for any of them. But, I thought about it a lot over the last few days. I realized that the five of us laugh at the same jokes, cry at the same sad movies and always try to include everyone. Maybe we try to hard.. there is family movie night, dinner is always eaten together, and no one sits on the side lines for group activities (even the teenager gets involved!). But, I really don't care if we try to hard to include everyone. Its better than not trying at all.

The B-word

The other day we asked The Tyrant and The Show to clean their room. Our request was quickly followed by alot of whining, deep exaggerated sighs and stomping feet. Their room is much like any other kid's; toys and clothes can be found all over the floors, desks, beds, chairs, etc. But their closet has to be the worst. They share a huge walk-in closet that is so messy you must open the door with extreme caution.

Asking them to clean their room and closet is usually a bi-monthly event that always ends up with one of the two of them in tears. It is almost always The Tyrant who tries very hard to just sit around because she "doesn't know what to do." So, The Show will usually yell at her until she starts helping.

This time was really no different from the last time. The Tyrant came running up to us, in tears. Gasping she yelled, "She.. (gasp) called.. (gasp) ME.. (gasp) the.. (gasp) b-word!" My first reaction was one of shock. Which word was she talking about? So, I asked her, "Did she call you a brat?" (Brat and stupid are considered swear words in our house.) The Tyrant glares and cries, "NO!! The other B-WORD!"

The Show has now made it down the hallway and to us. She is blinking at her sister and looking offended. Bear and I are tensed up because we are thinking it's that B-word. The Show looks at us and rolls her eyes, "I told her to stop being a butthead and throwing things at me." The Tyrant stand ups "SEE!! SEE!! SHE DID IT AGAIN!!"

Dances, Boys, and Tears: The aftermath

The fued between The Mother Hen and her former best friend started as soon as they got back to school. It started as any other girl fight... "You are a jerk because you stole my boyfriend!" "Well, I wouldn't have stole him if you weren't so ugly!" And so on...

Then, it started to evolve. The former best friend started threatening her and then hiding behind her friends that were no long friends with The Mother Hen. So, The Mother Hen, taking advice from her mother, decided to turn the "whole school" against this girl. When she told Bear and I about this, she was so proud of herself. But, honestly, I have never been more disappointed in her. Not only did she not try to fix the problem but she escalated it so that it was getting well out of control. I had to tell her what I thought. (Because I am an opiniated big mouth.) She was furious with me because I told her that she was wrong. I suggested talking to this girl one-on-one. If she hid behind her friends, I suggested that she talk to her anyway. I also told her at this point, if you won't confront her about it all, just ignore her.

The Mother Hen's pride got the best of her when her former friend started sending threating text messages and myspace messages. Since her profile is set to private (only friends can see it and leave comments) I told her to delete her from her friends list and ignore the messages. She didn't and it got worse. Then her mother got involved. She called the school and threatened to call the police on the school and this girl. The Mother Hen was called into the principal's office as soon as she arrived at school and was told a couple of things. 1) Since you sent threatening messages too, if the police get involved you will be charged and expelled from school and 2) if anything like this happens again that she would be suspended.

Personally, I feel pretty damn lucky that she wasn't suspended. With as many stories in the news lately of teen girl violence, I thought for sure that she was going to be sent home for a few days. Here is what I don't really understand why the social war? Why turn the school against anyone and why respond to the threats on your cell phone? Maybe I was raised around too many boys, but if it were me, I wouldn't have responded to the threats over my cell phone or the internet (chat rooms were the big thing when I was a teen and pagers too... yikes, I am old). I would have confronted the girl at school. I would have said "Why don't you say that to my face? Are you too scared?" Girls just don't fight that way.

That is the one thing I learned from watching Mean Girls. (Besides that it is 90 minutes of my life that I will never get back). Girls are taught that violence is not an option and they must be prim and proper at all times. So, they fight these crazy passive aggressive wars that end up with ruined reputations and tears. That is starting to change but the idea of escalation hasn't. I mean, can you seriously believe some of this shit? Now mom's are getting involved in teen girl battles so that the escalation continues.

It is no longer enough to beat up a girl that wronged you. You now have to post it on MySpace, YouTube and Facebook. I am personally disgusted by this whole business. It is past time that we as mothers to daughters start setting the example. We need to show girls to fight together rather than fight each other. Maybe I am the only one that feels this way, and I am an opinionated loud mouth so I say/write what I feel.

What is normal anyway?

This weekend, a friend of The Mother Hen's came over and spent the day and night with us. It went really well but I can't help but wonder what that kid is thinking now that she is home. She and her parents do not get along very well and are rarely home.

We had a normal weekend for us... Saturday night we all sat down on the porch on a blanket and had dinner. We made quesadillas and passed around salsa and jokes. Every night that we are together we all have dinner together. Most of the time there is a lot of laughing involved. And dinner is not over until someone says, "Hey, I was trying to take a drink. Are you trying to make it come out of my nose?" My understanding is that this kid almost never has dinner with her parents and if she does, it is for a holiday.

Later that evening, we rented movies from the video store and prepared snacks for movie night. Normally, we all watch a few movies together, but Bear and I skipped this time (much to everyone's disappointment) and watched game one of the Stanley Cup playoffs. The Mother Hen's friend had to ask why everyone was upset. And the answer she received was "We love Movie night when we are all together. It is just not as fun without our parents."

Sunday started with breakfast and insults from room to room and more laughter. Most families probably don't insult each other and laugh as much as we do. Our parenting theory is, there are two kinds of bullies, physical ones and emotional ones. Our kids have thick skin and a sharp wit because we foster it. We call our home "The Shark Tank." The friend spent most of Sunday morning with her eyes really big. She had never seen anything like it.

In the afternoon, we went to the park. Both Bear and I got involved in chasing the kids around the park. She would just stare at us. She didn't even know how to react. I honestly felt really bad for her and her parents. Our kids talk to us about everything. They aren't afraid to ask questions and truly talk to us.

I know that sounds really naive because anyone out there with teenagers will think I am crazy. But, we have earned their trust and their respect because we had to fight for them and still do. Most teenagers think that their parents don't care or don't get it. We have had the luxury (or challenge, depending on how you look at it) of being tested. We still have to fight for them because their mother just doesn't care about them.

I wish that more families were like ours. I know that there are some out there but I think the world would be a better place if every child knew for a fact that their parents truly cared and truly had their best interests in mind.

"I am not an oxsious!"

When I was a kid, my brother and I never got along. We were always bickering and fighting about one thing or another. I know that Bear and I are lucky, because the kids honestly just don't fight that much. When The Tyrant is a bad mood, she fights with everyone. Most of the time though, they get along very well.

We were driving in the car this weekend, with all three kids crammed in the back of a Ford Focus. The kids were all kind of having a bad day. There was a lot of pushing and shoving going on. "Stop touching me!" "You squishing me!" "Stop hitting me!" Just as Bear and I were about to say something about it, The Mother Hen looks at The Tyrant, "Stop being obnoxious!" The Tyrant gasped and then shrieks, "I am not an oxsious!" The entire car starts laughing. And the fight has finally been forgotten.

There are rules?!?!

Actual conversation between Bear and I yesterday morning:

Me: You know, Bear, I love that you comment on my blog but I really would like it if you commented as Bear instead of pkinsella. After all, HotWife comments as HotWife on DadGoneMad. It is proper etiquette.

Bear: You mean to tell me there are rules?!?! This whole blog thing has gone to your head!

We have come so far....

I was looking at pictures today from the last 2 years. And I realized how far we have come as a family. We really are a family now, we weren't in the begining.

The Mother Hen did not like me one bit. She use to tell her dad that I gave her dirty looks all the time. Now, I am the first person she looks for when she has a boy that needs to be talked about. She trusts me and that means so much to me.

The Show really didn't care one way or another about me. She did what she always does and tried to make everyone laugh and smile. Now, that we know eachother she shows me her true self. She has more depth than anyone would believe and she is wise beyond her years. When everyone is looking at her performance, she always looks back and sees right through them.

The Tyrant and I have always gotten along in our own way. She is really rather shy with most people so she always kept me at arms length. Now, when she is tired, she will crawl up into my lap and rest her head on my shoulder.

Of course, Bear and I have grown too. The kids calls us an old married couple and always laugh when we act that way. We still hold hands and laugh a lot, but we are so much closer now.

In the begining, the idea that he had three kids scared the hell out of me. Now, I don't know what I would do without them. The four of them make me feel whole. I just hope that I do the same for them.

Mother's Day Cake

The Joker wears flip-flops! (The cake was delicious, even if a looked a bit wierd.)

Dances, Boys and Tears

This past Friday The Mother Hen had her eight-grade farewell dance. She was so looking forward to it because she had been talking to a boy on the phone for the past two weeks and they were suppose to meet there and hang out.

When we dropped her off, she perked right up and started looking for the boy. He was no where in site, but she wasn't discouraged. "He's probably not here yet. Love you guys! Thanks! See you later!" was the last thing she said before she got out of the car. As it turns out the begining of the dance was great. Things were going well and she and the boy were really having fun. But later, she lost track of him. When she found him again, he was dancing, holding hands and flirting with her best friend. When she got home, I had no idea what to say to her.

When I was in 8th grade, my best friend was a boy. And he didn't dance or flirt with other boys. So, I had no real danger of the situation ever happening to me. But I held her close for a while and tried to come up with something to say. The best I had was, "You will feel better in the morning and besides, boys are stupid." She did laugh but it didn't stop the tears. Bear's only plan was to get the shotgun and hunt the boy down. While the plan sounds good on paper, it wasn't very practical.

By Sunday, she was feeling better. But, I still wish that I could have done more. I wanted to hunt that kid down and make him cry for him mommy. All I could do was tell her that I love her.

The Show has earned her golden gloves

I got the phone call yesterday at work. The Show got into her very first fight, at school. A million things go through my head at once. Is she okay? Did she get hurt? What happened? Who started it? Was she helping someone or stand up for herself? Deep down I knew that she didn't start it but I just couldn't handle the not knowing.

I remember when I was about her age, I got into my first fight. In gym class, we were playing floor hockey for about a week. Monday through Thursday these two girls were picking on me and would hit me accross the shins with thier sticks whenever possible. I talked to the Gym teacher about it on Tuesday after class. He just shrugged and said he would pay more attention. Wednesday, they had gotten worse and I could have sworn that he saw them do it. Thursday one of them hit my leg so hard, it bleed. So, by Friday, I had had enough. The first time that one of them took at swing at my legs, I pulled the classic hockey move.. Stick-Gloves-Shirt and started punching her. The other girl jumped in and I got my ass handed to me. I got suspended for a few days but I was left alone after that.

The Show finally told us what happened, after icing her fat lip. Apparently, the girl she fought was a new girl and she had been picking on her all week. The Show asked her a few times to stop but it wasn't helping. Finally, she asked a friend to tag along to make sure it wouldn't turn into a fight and went and confronted her directly. The Show asked her again to stop messing with her. The new girl said, "I bet you want me to back down now?" The Show says, "Yeah, please." But the girl heard, "Yeah, pussy." And attacked her. The Show fought back and ended up sitting on top of her attacker. When the girl wouldn't give up, she bounced her head off the floor and ask "Are you done, yet?"

I can't help the feeling of pride that has surged through me. She stood up for herself and even tried to stop the problem for getting bigger. But when push came ot shove, she shoved back.

The War for Dinner

The Tyrant is a very picky eater. She won't eat potatoes, "crunchy" chicken or just about anything healthy. The new thing is to call someone like her a "choosey-eater" but lets be honest, she is just plain picky.

I decided to try something new this past Saturday. All the parent books and web sites say "Get a choosey-eater to help pick out dinner and they will eat." So, I said to her, "What kind of chicken would you like to eat? And what sides?" She chose BBQ chicken, Mexican Rice and Corn. (I know wierd combo but it was an experiment.)

The entire time that I am cooking she asks "Is it done yet? I am starving." Each time I smile and say "Just a few more minutes, baby." When we finally sit down to eat, she looks at her dish and declares "I am not very hungry." Bear and I just look at each other. KK aka The Mother Hen says, "You were just straving, why don't you give it a try?" The Tyrants takes one bit of the chicken and says "Its too spicy!" The Show, blinks and shouts "You wanted BBQ! We always have this BBQ and you have loved it every time! Geez!" I suddenly get visions in my head of the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.. Of course you realize, this means war!

The Tyrant stands up, "NO, I DIDN'T! WE NEVER HAD THIS! YOU ARE LYING! I HATE YOU!" We all stare at her for a moment, which is a fatal mistake. "YOU GUYS ALWAYS PICK DINNER! YOU NEVER LET ME PICK! THAT IS WHY I HATE IT!" The Mother Hen sighed deeply. She very calmly stood up, took the Tyrant's plate to the sink and rinsed off the chicken. She walks back and sets the plate back down. The Tyrant looks at her plate and decides to nibble at a piece of chicken.

This is where it got crazy. She spit out the chicken and screamed "THANKS A LOT!! NOW ITS ALL WATERY!" Bear couldn't stand it any more and tapped his fork off the side of her plate to get her attention. That is when the tears started... She started crying "She ruined my dinner! Why am I in trouble!!?" Bear looked at her and said "You need to eat your dinner. You said it was too spicy and she cleaned it off. You are lucky because I wouldn't have done that. You are going to sit here until you eat or you are just going ot go hungry." So, for the rest of the dinner we listen to the Tyrant cry.

Forty-five minutes later, her plate has gone cold and Bear has lost all patience with her. "Fine, if you aren't going to eat, you need to clean your plate and put it in the sink." She gets up and does just that. As soon as she sets the plate down, she declares "I was going to eat it and now I can't! Now, I am going to have to be hungry!" Bear, in his best Dad voice, says "THAT IS IT! I have had enough, go to your room!" Sniffling as she goes, "I just wanted to eat my dinner!"

So, to all those lovely parent books and websites, I say CRAM IT!

My nails match my straw!!

Every so often we have a be nice to "insert kid or parent name here" day. If it is for one of the kids, Bear or I will take her out and do something special for her. This Saturday was the Show's turn.

We decided to take her out for her first mani-pedi combo. Bear obviously was not going to take part in this "bizarre girl ritual," so I was nominated. I am not very girly and the idea of spending hours at a nail salon makes my stomach turn but I love my girl and she really needed to be appreciated. Before we went to get our nails done, we stopped and picked her up a new set of flip-flops, so that here newly painted toes wouldn't smudge. She also found a set of bendy-straws in the shape of flip-flops. She chose to take the blue one for herself. We went to one of those asian owned, open late because they have to be places. The staff was really very nie but had troubl with English. After being welcomed, they asked us to pick out our nail polish colors. The Show went with a nice dark blue (her favorite color) and I went with a French manicure.

As we are picking out our colors though, we ran into a woman that we shall call "The Ugly American." The first thing that she does is ask us very politely to grab her color off the wall. Trying to be nice I start looking for it. The Ugly American, "Its the first row there, 5th one down." So, I point to the first row and look back at her. "Five! Row Five! Geez, its five! Can't you count!" she starts shouting. I look bak at her hand her a random polish and turn back to my girl. If I had been alone, I probably would have said a few choice phrases. Instead, I look at the Show and say, "That woman is kind of a bitch, stick close to me. She can be a jerk to be, but she had better leave you alone." I didn't realize how loud I was, because the entire shop looked at us and a few people giggled.

The Ugly American and her 4 year old daughter terrorize the nail salon staff for the next hour. This woman yells loudly at anyone who is slightly asian looking. Her daughter keeps moving chairs around and leaving her toys in various locations on the floor. The Show who is now starting to feel bad, looks at me and says loudly, "Wow, she really is kind of a B-word." This puts the shop into another fit of giggles.

As we get in the car to leave, she is so happy and excited. "My nails match my eyes! My nails match my shirt! My nails match my straw!" Girls are wierd!

Second Chances

For many years, I wrote daily. I wrote stories, poems, books and anything else you can write. I use to have multiple notebooks and journals laying about. They were unfinished works or my writer's journals with ideas and random thoughts. I can't remember when I stopped writing. It was somewhere inbetween college, bills, failed relationships and new jobs. I can't even remember if I meant to start again. Instead of trying to remember when it all fell apart, I will write about the time I almost gave up for good.

In highschool, it was my dream to one day be a journalist. I was editor of the school paper in my senior year. I had some of the most read articles and my name in print all of the time. So, when the assignment for interviewing the new teacher at our school came up, I was the most obvious choice for reporters.

I set the day for the interview and had all of my questions ready. I wanted to know what she did before she was a teacher and how she decided to become a high school teacher. As it turns out, even though she looked quite young, she did a lot before she went back to school for a teaching degree. She served in the Air Force and worked in several law offices as a paralegal. At the end of the interview, she said "Please don't include the stuff before I went back to college, I don't want everyone to know how old I am." Though the request seemed a little unreasonable to me, I honored it and wrote my article about everything she did from college and beyond. I turned in what I thought was a well written and respectful article.

My journalism teacher knew that there was more to the story than what I wrote. She demanded to know why I left out all of the details about the new teacher's past. When I stated that it was because she asked me too, she gave me a choice. Rewrite the article or get a failing grade on the assignment and someone else would take my notes and write the article. I was terrified of failing an assigment. Up until this point, I had always gotten A's in any writting class I took. So, I re-wrote the article. I still regret doing it.

Two days later, the paper came out. The new teacher stopped me in the hall way. She was in tears, "Why did you include all of that stuff I asked you not too?" I stammered, "My teacher said that if I didn't, she would give me a bad grade." We never spoke after that day. I stopped writting for a while after that. I took easy jobs, like the sports score board and general announcements. Finally, my journalist teacher asked me why I stopped writting the top stories. I told her, "I feel terrible about what I did to the new teacher and I don't want my words to hurt anyone." She looked at me disappointed, "I guess you aren't cut out to be a journalist after all." I smiled, "No, I guess not." I started writting again after that but mostly about world news, things that didn't really matter to many teenagers.

I continued to write stories and creative works well into college. Until now, I never even tried writting about my favorite topic: real life. But this blog is my second chance. Its my second chance to write about things that matter and to make a small difference, if only in my own life. I still vow to never hurt anyone with my written word. But, this is my chance to do it right.

Her foot in our mouths

A few months ago, Bear (my super awesome boyfriend) got really annoyed with a driver on the freeway. The kids were in the car so, he manages to keep it somewhat clean when he says "How appropriate! That guy is wearing a skull condom." In case you need help with the visual...
The comment was meant for just me. But I am pretty sure the Tyrant only hears things that she is not meant to and completely ignores anything she doesn't want to hear.

Later that evening, we stopped at a gas station/7-11 for a Slurpee. The Tyrant gets out of the back seat and sees a guy pumping gas with the aforemeantioned headgear. She shouts "DAD! Look! That guy is wearing a Skull Condom!!!" Her sisters burst out laughing. And of course, both Bear and I look at each other, not sure if we should laugh or turn bright red. The Tyrant looks at her giggling sisters and shouts, "Well, he is! Its a GIANT BLUE SKULL CONDOM!" By this point we are all laughing as we quickly usher her into the store.

First Post

So, okay I am not officially a Step Mom (we aren't married) but to the three girls I pretty much am. The girls are 15, 11 and 7. They are my boyfriends kids but we do all the step-mom/step-daughter things that you would expect. Buying dresses, sharing books and laughs.

KK, the oldest, is Mom when I am not around. (Basically Monday - Thursday) So, her and I have a unique relationship.

The Show, is the middle girl. She spends most of her time trying to make other people laugh. She is a natural entertainer.

The Tyrant, is the youngest. She likes things her way and right away. She can usually boss her sisters around pretty well. She doesn't try it with her Dad or I.

Then we have Bear, my best friend turned boyfriend. I am not sure what I would do without him but I can tell you one thing, it would be a lot harder and way less fun.