Let me say this much.....

...my life is effing boring…. It is a complete drab of disconnected uneventful comings and goings but that isn’t what I’m about to elaborate on... it is the routine of it all. Now the run down is this, good to know for you mom to bes… ish ain’t all gravy…. I wake up to feed G around six… that is if he is awake… most time he isn’t … or get ready for work. I work at this horrible place for eight hours… oh, let me not forget … the train ride…. I walk ten blocks to the train station and take a 45-vulgarity filled-baby crying-loud talking-uncomfortable seating-hotandsweaty-teenagerssimulatingsex-minute ride to work. I’m usually right on time… cause you and I both know just like money, my time is better in my pocket. I do this that and the third here for eight hours… barf….and take the same 45 vulgarity filled-baby crying-loud talking-uncomfortable seating-hotandsweaty-teenagerssimulatingsex minute ride home… walk ten more blocks get in the ride to find parking on the right side of the street… (a new york thing). I get home and feed G again… this is our bonding time… I’m ye-yo (depending on the day, that could be a statement, question or exclamation)…. and then get undone from the days work. So about this damn time, it is seven. Now, I must watch my jeopardy....an absolute must. It is now 7:30 and I have to wash G and get him in order for the next day. 8:30-9. I clean our room… which basically means I either put ish in the hamper or shove things in the storage bin… yeah… I’m operating with THAT much… or should I say that much space? I have to feed myself and then feed him, which takes about an hour because he’s being spoon-fed. 10:00pm. I brush his gums and read him a story and then beg and plea with him to sleep so momma can have a moments rest. He looks at me and smiles…he couldn’t care less. 10:30 mr.man calls and we talk about things here and there… and if you really want to know the truth… could have discussed in instant messaging throughout the day but who can blame the man for wanting my voice to be the last thing he hears before falling asleep? (wink) Now it is midnight… and I still haven’t curled my wig… so when a bastid ask what I’m pissy, I shall refer him to this post….

In other arenas…. I have been discussing with ms.thing my pending move to the peach state and I am no closer to a decision than I was when I first thought this move up five, six years ago. So many variables when it comes to picking up myself and G to move our asses hundreds of miles away. Baddy has been making a solid effort to obtain and maintain a sturdy existence (what kind? I don’t know) in Grant’s life but who knows how long that is going to last. My mom and my son have a relationship in which even I envy to some extent. I know this move would be best for Grant and I… there isn’t a doubt in my mind. What has been concerning me is snatching him away from his father… I don’t want to ever be the reason for their relationship going to shit…. but who really knows that outcome. I am bothered by a complete disconnect from my mom because not only have they created this incredible bond, I too have grown to appreciate and adore the relationship that they have… they both give each other so very much. He is my mom’s favorite grandchild, hands down. And just like most children do, he puts moves on her heart. On the flip side, my mom has lived her life and G is my responsibility. In all of my decisions, there is always an unhappy camper. A friend of mine said I should file for full custody so G’s dad won’t fight me on the move but why would I want to do that? He is G’s parent just as much as I am, why would I want to deliberately sabotage that relationship by demanding his ‘presence in court’ for some type of personal gain? I’m so confused and drained and pissed off I didn’t make this move five years ago when I really had ample means to do so…. when I didn’t have so many other variables to consider. But later from them damn shoulda, woulda, couldas… things are real this time around. One thing is for certain, I’m not….NOT… raising G in NYC…. Period. End of story.

I haven’t posted in a while. Something called a brain fart. … I yelled all day Saturday. I felt wronged… I felt disrespected, I felt I was going to lose.my.damn.mind. G’s father is a bum… I wanted to fight him…. Like roll up on that nigga and bust him in his grill. A little back ground so yall won’t think I’m a violent baby mama. No, I’m not that chick. So being that my mom is on hiatus from working… (she quit with no type of back-up plan. My momma gangsta, yall), she has been taking care of G while I’m at work. My normal routine beforehand was to take G over to his father’s house for the morning/early afternoon. G’s father (aka that bum) then leaves him with the babysitter until I pick him up which is around six. Well since it is more convenient for me to just leave him with my mom, that is what I have been doing. Now, this doesn’t mean the bum isn’t allowed to see his son or that the bum is relieve of his ‘babysitting’ duties, it just means this is more convenient for me as his primary care taker. Don’t you know this motherfer hasn’t even seen his son in over a week? A whole week. He lives ten mins from me. No lie…. Ten damn minutes. So…. I’m no punk about my ish. I called him up and remind his ass he has a son. He gets flippant and i.lose.my.damn.mind….

Me: I told you I’m not going to allow this to happen
Bum: I text you all the time
Me: I don’t give a fuck.. I’m talking about coming to see him… playing a role in his life
Bum: why you raising you voice? (not 'why are you'… but 'why you')
Me: because I told you that I wasn’t going to allow you to play with his life. he isn’t a story for me to report back to you with… he is a live person
Bum: I work
Me: I work too, what the hell does that mean? The same 24 hours you have in your day are the same 24 hours that I have in mine. He deserves better than this. He deserves the best. (doesn’t that sound cliché?) I tell you what, you don’t even have to see me… call my mom and make arrangements to see your son… you know, Grant? You remember him, right?
Bum: yeah, cause you don’t have to raise your voice at me
Me: maybe if you acted responsible like an adult, I wouldn’t have to yell at you like a child. Talk to you later, you stupid motherfer.

I didn’t call him a stupid motherfer but lawd if I wasn’t thinking it. I cried because I’m tired of yelling. I’m tired of the fussing and fighting and struggling. But if I gave it all up, I would be allowing him to treat my son like a second class citizen and there is no way… not on God’s green earth or in satan’s firey hell that I’m going to allow him to be treated other than what he is…. The most sought after hotness. Holla!

And do you know the bum texted me last night to tell me to tell my mom that he is coming over to see G. my efforts aren’t fruitless but how long can I carry on like a mad woman?

Anyway, I made some decisions about this here life… I’m moving next year… if all else stays the same. After the Saturday exchange and my need to leave this job and not being able to go to the playground with out dodging 161610358 kids, bullets, knives and fistfights, I think it is high time I high tail my ass on out of this place to another where G can have his own damn swing set. It is the little things that make the biggest impacts. Alrighty, let me do work… or at least pretend.

I'm feeling like...

a lost little girl but not one who’s searching for her mommy.

...like mommie2b, reflective on my life and how the hell did I end up here.

I have no regrets.

Never would I have imagine being 28 living with my mom with my five month old son who I love ten times more than I love myself, unwed, underemployed and never happier.

If I didn’t have my mom, I would be homicidal. Somebody would have to die. There are days where I don’t get but two hours of sleep…. But my mom, the jizzoint herself, comes through and sacrifices her sleep so I can be some good to some job the following morning….yall don’t hear me. Thank God for her.

My son … very serene then very expressive then reclusive and the cycle never ends. From the moment he was born, I was waiting for that connection… the eye contact that shows me we have something much more deeper than the relationship. Today, I finally got it. Thank God for him.

I use to ponder what my coworkers felt about me being unwed and pregnant. Never a worry, never any shame, just pondered. I am the first ever to have a child out of wedlock in my workplace. Finally I’m a first at something…I have been waiting for this moment all of my life. Jokes aside, I’m a WIP. I know God wasn’t happy with my decision, but he wasn’t happy way before G was conceived. He wasn’t feeling how I was loving fornicating… or even now how I’m still on the enjoying side of it … but God also saw the responsibility in me when I didn’t chose to abort my child. Thank God for his understanding.

This job…. Screw them… they better be lucky Jesus is my homeboy… that is all I will say to keep from further implementation of myself in any possible future retaliations for the ish slinging that goes on here on a daily basis.

On other fronts, I have been dating a very, very wonderful guy. One that gets me. And that is hard to do because I’m tough. Not intentionally but I’m going to fling your ass everywhere but lose just to see how durable you are…. How much can you withstand before you hightail your ass towards the nearest exit. I just told baddy about letting G meet him. His behind gonna act like I never asked him such a thing. Play games if you want, nicca.
Like mo’nique said, ladies, take your birth control pills.