Mr. Wizard meets Martha Stewart

OH MY GOD. Do you see this…this…this CREATURE? It is some concoction MrZ and LilZ whipped up tonight. MrZ was craving something sweet, so he started by mixing brown sugar, peanut butter, and maybe some chocolate chips together. As I mocked his creation from the living room, he decided to add an entire stick of butter. Several cups of sugar, flower, and eggs later, LilZ had joined in with the suggestion, “Hey! Lets add some yogurt!” and so went the strawberry/kiwi yogurt into this “dessert”. MrZ recalled that most desserts call for baking powder so he added, what he would later tell me to be, “several tablespoons” which is probably why this thing go so DAMN HUGE. I think they added several more ingredients before deciding it needed to be cooked at 400 degrees for long enough to fill up the house with smoke and VOILA.

MrZ said it tasted like glue. But they both had a blast making it, so that’s all that matters, right?


Hold me. I’m scared of it.

Sometimes parenting makes me cry.

“You’re about as straight as a circle.”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is what someone told my 11-yr-old son recently. I asked him what spawned it, and he couldn’t remember. “He’s always calling me gay and stuff…he’s just weird.” He hears those comments so much he can’t even remember which ones came from what person. It breaks my heart.

LilZ has always been picked on for his interests. He’s never been, what many call, “all boy”. A lot of people would say this is because of my influence, but those close to us know that has nothing to do with it. I’m about as tomboy as a grown woman can be. I tried to forced a love of football on the boy before he was old enough to walk, but he’s never cared for any of it.

(Except the cheerleaders, like any good man, he loves him some cheerleaders.)

I don’t know why his interests have always tended to sway away from sports and games and towards music and dance, but it has. And all I care about is supporting whatever he likes. He’s recently shown interest in dancing and has even asked to take ballroom dance classes with me. (That can be blamed on Drew Lachey who makes it look so DAMN COOL.) There is a huge part of me that wants to call today to find a class for us because he wants to so bad, but I’m also afraid to draw more of a target on him than there already is.

But, why? Why do we live in a society where a girl who plays sports is a tomboy but a boy who likes dancing is called a sissy? And what do we do to change that? I could not be more proud of how little LilZ has never cared about what people say about him. Does he stop liking musicals or dancing because the kids might make fun of him? No. He tends to the wounds they leave with their words, rolls his eyes, and carries on. I don’t know if I could have been as strong.

There is a part of me who wishes he liked more typical boy things so that he wouldn’t be as much of a target of ridicule. But – there is also a huge part of me that finds pride in his uniqueness.

I have never forced anything on him. I expose him to whatever I can, sports, art, music, movies, and then try to pay attention to what peaks his interests. Once I find something he likes? I try to talk to him about it and find ways to nurture those interests. He’s always loved art and drawing, so I sent him to art workshops during the summers. He loves when we pamper ourselves at home with foot soaks and face masks, so I made appointments for us to have a spa day during his spring break. Am I making him more of a target of ridicule when I do things like that? Or am I being a good mom to let him find his own path.

I have no idea. I just try to do what I can to make sure we always have stuff to talk about. I want to participate in his life, whether it’s cheering at his soccer games or singing with his favorite movies. But whatever road he takes, I have always promised to walk with him on it.

I just wish I could kick the asses of the kids mocking him on his journey.

Don’t you mess with my boyfriend.

MrZ survived the pediatrician trip. And that is impressive considering that he had to wait an hour and a HALF before even seeing the doctor. And considering I had just fed her before they left and she didn’t eat very well even then (she gets bored with eating when there are kids around to watch) he was dealing with a VERY hungry NikkiZ pre-shots. Hungry and irritable babies make shots ten times more fun. Guaranteed! You should try it sometime.

He evidently explained NikkiZ’s fussiness by telling the doctor, “She’s hungry.” The doctor, of course, asked where her bottle was. MrZ had to explain that NIkkiZ doesn’t/won’t take a bottle. Her doctor expressed shock and awe and simply said, “Next time? Bring a bottle.”

“I felt so bad. Like she was telling me I was a bad parent.”

It was funny. When MrZ said that? I kinda wanted to go kick the doctor’s ass for even hinting in the slightest manner that my husband was a bad father. Or, even if she wasn’t really hinting at that? I wanted to kick her ass for making him think she was saying that. I got really defensive in that moment and seriously considered storming the playground and kicking dirt on her dress for making my man doubt himself. Even for a moment.

Thats true love. Loving someone so much you’re willing to kick an older woman’s ass to defend their honor. MrZ should be proud.

We’re grown-ups

Right now – MrZ is alone at NIkkiZ’s 4 month check-up. Well, he’s got her with him (I hope), but I’m not there with him. After he missed her last two check-ups, and then admitted he skipped them because he can’t handle her getting shots, I did what any 2-yr-old would do and pitched a temper tantrum whining, “It’s not FAIR! You have to do it next time! WAH!”

This morning he asked me to send him an email with everything he needed to ask or tell our Pediatrian. I immediately told him if I emailed it to him it defeated the purpose of him doing this by himself. “You should just write it down as I tell you right now.” And he did what any 2-yr-old would do and pitched a tantrum whining, “Its not FAIR! I don’t like to write! You do it!”

We’re SO mature.

He ended up getting a notecard and and a pen (pen? what’s that?) and wrote down things like “Poops once a day,” “What solids should we give her and when,” and “Doesn’t sleep more than 2 hours at a time – FIX HER.” I’m hoping all goes well and that he won’t refuse to ever do this again. I’m really trying to let him help more, since I’m losing my mind doing everything myself. But at the same time? It’s very hard for me to trust him to do it the RIGHT WAY. This is a learning experience for us both. MrZ is learning to do some things by himself while I’m learning to quit being a controlling bitch. It’s a win/win situation.

But also?

Neener! Neener! Neener! I totally got HIM to take her to get shots and I don’t have to! Woo Hoo! Sucks to be him!

Please, save me. I can’t stop thinking/talking/writing about the damn movie already.

I read Dooce’s new comment policy this morning and when I read the last line, I convinced myself that LilZ has somehow contacted her and convinced her to join his efforts to drive me batshit using songs from High School Musical as a primary attack. I told myself that he read yesterday’s entry and thought he would be funny and torture me more by finding ways to subtly hide lyrics from the soundtrack in anything and everything I might read today. It’s so bad that when I read that last line of her new policy, I even clapped at the appropriate time (after the word “together”, in case you were wondering) and have been singing the song in my head ever since.

It’s officially out of control. Maybe I can get a doctor’s note that forces LilZ to stop mentioning it ever again? Do you think? Maybe they’ll name the disease after me.

Zootalitus: noun A mental condition whereby the afflicted erupts into spontaneous re-enactments of songs and/or dances from movies and/or songs their children have overplayed.