And I've failed them.
I figured this out after stumbling onto Steptalk ("where stepparents come to vent") the other night.
You really should check out the forums on this site. The tales they tell are sad, angry and harrowing.
If I read the posts correctly, I, as stepmother, should be much more miserable...and so should my stepdaughters.
How have I failed?
I have never used the following words to describe my stepdaughters:
I've never felt these emotions (nor uttered these phrases) during my tenure as Evil Stepmother:
"I'm so done with these kids"
I haven't provided them with loads of reasons to hate me.
I suck. I am preventing them from experiencing 'stephood' as the cesspool of negativity it was apparently meant to be.
Oh, it's not all my fault. When I met The Mister, his daughters were already adults - so I missed out on the years where I could have made them hate me by truly resenting their existence.
Caution: Sarcasm ahead.
When I thought about joining this family, I had such lofty goals about being the biggest, baddest stepmother who ever stomped the Earth.
I'd wring my evil hands and laugh maniacally, hatching up plots of supreme malevolence.
I wasted a lot of time, as my plans of evildoing never came to fruition.
If only I had arrived on a scene a decade sooner - they'd now be regaling friends with how spiteful I am.
Unfortunately for them, they'll have to find other adults to despise.
End of sarcasm...mostly.
My stepdaughters have warmly welcomed me into the fold. They may even like me a little...or a lot.
I feel so cheated. How I looked forward to screaming matches and plying them with poison apples.
As luck would have it, this stepmother gig is pretty sweet.
And THAT is not my fault at all...I lay all that blame on the girls.