P@@P my stepdaughter says...

"Daddy says can you bring him the bigger screw-up driver please."


<re: Justin Bieber being too old to be her boyfriend> "I know. When I'm a teenager he'll be an adult, and when I'm an adult he'll be even older, and when I'm even older, he'll be dead!"

"Nan is afraid of dogs, but she would like mine. Except I wouldn't let her near Ace. He bit my vagina yesterday!"

The Truth

Having tried in vain since November to change it, or at least avoid it, I must now swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth:

I don't like being a stepmom.

"Buh buh buh buh...."

(c) Kentuckians for the Commonwealth

Ack! I didn't post anything this week. Big sad face. :-(  Monday I was getting ready for I Love Mountains Day, Tuesday I was at I Love Mountains Day marching onto the Governor's mansion lawn (yay!), and then mid-day Wednesday my stepdaughter came home early with chronic constipation. After two whole days at home being a full-time stepmom by myself and weekend full of even more 5-year-old exuberance, my week has left me full of writing material and devoid of writing faculties. Think Goldie Hawn in Overboard: "Buh buh buh buh buh...." (minus the diatribe about the spawn of Satan at the end of the clip):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RndG23-Vu-k

I promise to share these stories of fun and flatulence in the week ahead. ;)

"Hairy(ette) and the Hendersons"

Any conversation with your partner that begins with "Your daughter just --" is headed nowhere good. I could have led with "Sophie" or "my future stepdaughter" or "the munchkin." But I didn't. Yet, sitting across the table from me at Cracker Barrel, his shoulder within easy slugging distance, Tristan just laughed as he read my text. After all, it was funny.

Immediately upon becoming Tristan's girlfriend, I also became his five-year-old daughter's go-to public potty partner. I found this endearing. Even when she insisted we always use the same stall together. Despite the awkwardness when she told me she liked my panties. Even when the first time I flushed the toilet she freaked out and covered her ears as if a 747 engine had blasted out her eardrums making me temporarily fear she had some OCD issue I hadn't learned about yet and that I'd scarred her with a simple act of sanitation. Especially when I realized my fly had been unzipped the whole time we'd been wandering around Chuck E. Cheese's, and she told me, "It's okay." Not-so-much to not-at-all when she insisted I had to stand guard inside the "big stall" only for her then to take a big stinky dump, assaulting my unguarded nasal cavities.