FINALLY. The important stuff.

Yeah, it’s been a crazy day, hasn’t it? Well, let me finally throw out my two cents about Survivor last night:

I still love Stephanie and I totally played basketball (don’t laugh, I really did!) for a couple of years and would have known what a pick is and then she and I could have been BFFs forever.

But Briana? Come ON! She just STOOD there during that challenge and LilZ and I were screaming at the TV “DO SOMETHING!!!!!” and she ignored us. She may not have known what setting a pick meant, but she had to know that standing there was doing absolutely NOTHING.

I have big issues with that chick, Danni? from Kansas City? I don’t know what it is, but something really bugs me about her. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is yet, though.

Oh – and I finally saw the Amazing Race: Family Edition last night too. LilZ took notes and we have gobs of opinions on the teams. I was really sad to see the Black family go, they were great. But – they handled it with such class and acted in a way that truly showed how much they loved their boys. It was awesome. The Paulos? I want to kick the crap out of ALL of them. Those boys just YELL at their mother constantly and she’s not a whole heck of a lot better. I loved that the big strong sibling team almost came in LAST. Who knew there would be such a HUGE difference between “Build it” and “Buggy it”. I think this will be a good season to watch. I wasn’t into the concept, but now that I’ve seen the first episode? I think I kinda dig it.

Yes. I said, “Dig it.” Shut it.

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Just like his mother

I’ve had a parenting revelation today (I know!) It has occurred to me that the thing that LilZ does that drives me the craziest is the quality I most want him to have as an adult. And this sucks royal donkey ass.

Let me explain: LilZ was supposed to go to school dressed from the 50s today, to celebrate his principal’s 50th birthday. Earlier in the week he said he was going to roll down his socks like his teacher said to do. I said, “Huh?” And he explained that he wanted to wear “Bobby Socks” and no matter HOW much I tried to convince him that the GIRLS did that, not the BOYS, he would NOT listen to me OR give in. I mean we ARGUED over it and he said “Mom! You weren’t even ALIVE during the 50s” (Which, good point.) and I was all “But I KNOW this for a FACT!” and he was all “But my teacher SAID…” and I was all, “But what she MEANT was…” and it was insane.

I finally gave up and just “Whatever…”-ed the rest of the discussion.

(I’m mature)

Today, he comes out with GREEN socks rolled down around his ankles. I finally said “Okay. If you’re GOING to wear your socks like that, CONVINCED you are supposed to, you HAVE to AT LEAST wear WHITE ONES.” Which he VERY begrudgingly agreed to do. But then? He rolled his jeans up to his knees almost. “She SAID to do that!” And I didn’t even BOTHER arguing this time.

But then? MrZ saw him and started it all over again. (He had missed all the other discussions about it). We finally got the internet to back us up and sent him on his way looking VERY cute VERY greasy and VERY 50s. I still think there was a part of him hoping someone would tell him he rolled up his jeans wrong or his socks wrong so he could come home and be “I TOLD YOU SO!”

Of course, we KNOW that won’t happen because, well, I’m always right.

(hehe)

So here it is: He is as stubborn as a mule and if he believes something he will argue it to the death. And this makes me furious because I want him to respect the fact that I know more than him and he should trust my infinite wisdom.

(hehe)

But he WONT. He argues and fights and LONGS for those few moments where he can be right and we (because he does the same thing to MrZ) are WRONG WRONG WRONG. He’ll fight to the DEATH over some things. And it makes us INSANE.

But you know what? He is just like us. I mean, EXACTLY like us. MrZ and I do the same thing to each other all the time. And we both find sick pleasure in proving the other person wrong. We’re SICK. And in reality? That is the type of adult I want LilZ to be. I want him to have STRONG opinions. I want him to firmly believe and not be wishy washy. I want him to argue and fight for what he believes. I want him to be an activist.

I just wish he could be passionate and argumentative with OTHER people because he acknowledges that his mother is right about everything.

Kids…

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A break in waiting for…PIMPING!

This is like my 10th revision of this entry. I’m trying not to sound like a huge dork and I’m failing miserably. I decided to erase it all and keep it short, sweet, and to the point.

MrZ played in several punk bands in his youth. One of his oldest friends (Andrew) is still in a band (the bass player) called Against Me. They are going to be on Conan O’Brien tonight. Please watch it. Thank you.

(insert goofy giggling here)

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What was I going to say?

Yeah. I had an entry planned about the television from last night. And maybe I was going to talk about how unsuccessful I was staying on my left side all night. I was probably also going to discuss ass sweat and donuts (those are usually givens). But instead? I waked up to an email from amalah. Hopefully? By now? She’s already had her baby. But, since she’s a first timer, she could still be in labor. Either way – it’s happening (at least it had better be). I’m so excited.

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Bitchy McBitcherson

GRRR. I ended up getting really woozy at work (probably the extended time rolling around on the ultrasound table) and puking. Good times. I came home and began dealing with red tape and beauracracy in other financial issues in my life. Good times. I can’t seem to get anyone to help me with any of my questions or problems. All they can say is “there is definitely a problem.” Which, you know, really? Thanks. I knew that. That’s why I called.

I still don’t feel great. Of course it all goes back to my inability to breathe which we can now blame on NikkiZ laying SIDEWAYS under my ribcage. Which, did I mention she’s SIDEWAYS? And have I mentioned that I want her to be in the RIGHT position so that I can wow my husband with my amazing pain tolerance and make it through natural childbirth never once muttering anything other than “Honey, can I have some ice chips, please?” whereby assuring he’ll always worship me as the amazingly brave and strong woman I know I can be?

(Yes. I’m delusional. In my fantasy world, that’s how it works and he spends the rest of our lives together bragging about me and my brilliance to anyone and everyone he encounters. I’m in a foul mood. Don’t burst my bubble.)

I’m just feeling a little pissy. Can you tell?

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