revelations and other shi

I really got to stop cussing.... i will... before baby is born... and i can because i have will-power, damnit!

you know... everyday all damn day, i feel shawty move, twirling a banton in my damn belly dropping it, picking it up, twirling it, dropping it... never ending saga. i'm ready to pop... all of this is making me damn near crazy but... i loves shawty... can i be a ride or die mom? a do or die momma? shawty might say... 'nah ma, get your own geriatric posse and allow me to shoot these hoops, dun.'  as long as he has subject verb agreements and the proper use of prepositions, it is all good. he can talk that new age jive all it wants. So, i went out on sat. to the club. yeah, all of five months pregnant... but my homeboy's girlfriend had a surprised birthday party for him at this expensive ass club and, i have known him more than half of my life, so i couldn't not go. had a good time.... shawty didn't because it kicked punched and elbowed me to whole damn night. even after i go home, it was still twirking and dropping that got damn banton. so needless to say, no more clubbing until shawty is born...at the very, very least. i don't want to be like its father and shawty asking where i'm at and somebody telling them go check at the club and crazy shit like that. that will never...like me reiterate, NEVER be the case sure is my name's what my name is. other than that, nothing more has transpire... well in accordance with shawty. i'm tired as hell. wonder sometimes how i manage to get up and down to go to the bathroom five six seven eight times a day. i'm slowly beginning to favor the grinch in 'how the grinch stole christmas'... yeah... my belly is that BIG in proportion to my very slender build. nah, i'm lying... my body isn't near slender... more like a fender bender... what can i expect when i'm delivering a miracle... i bet you men wish you can say that.

so, the whole marriage thing came up more time than i thought it would being that we are all progressive and stuff... (i'm lying and talking a whole lot of bull but just let me speak on it). so my mom, in all of her glory, asked me about marriage. i'm calmly told her i never knew a wedding band to take care of a baby in my life. i'm not in love with the father. i love him dearly, but i'm not in love with him. i'm not going to marry near a body just to get a divorce, to cave in to societal pressure that is so hypocritical in nature that for me to even begin i would have to use all nine lives of mine. and i'm already operating on life five.  if he wants to be a good father, attentive one, a patient one... we don't have to marry for him to do so. i'm trying to raise my child to be healthy, productive, proud, honest, outstanding and most importantly, loved.... with the least amount of confusion as possible. i will not present before shawty lies of enormous amounts so it can feels a sense of security (fake, it nothing more). i don't think my baby will understand a lot of my decisions and will probably blame me until Christ walks the earth again  but i'm going to do what i think is best for me which i believe will be best for it. okay, enough before i start bawling over here. it is amazing how emotional i have gotten since becoming pregnant... one might mistake me for a punk... but don't get it twisted, i will f something up.... toodles.