Yes; I hate the term...but since I'm not delusional to think most people will call me anything else, I will accept that and whatever else anyone wants to deem me.
Single mother. Baby Mama. Unwed mother. The list goes on.
But this isn't about what I'm called or even what I consider myself. This blog is a much needed reminder that at the beginning AND end of the day--I do what is required for my children. Without complaint. Without reward. I just DO it. And what burns me more than just about anything on this earth are people who don't do it, yet speak as if its from a place of knowledge about what I, and women like ME go through.
I've said before; I could have married my oldest daughter's father. I could have, but we'd certainly be divorced, and I'd probably have been beaten to death by now to boot. I have no regrets about being a single mother at all. In fact, I prefer it most days. I am the decider if you will. I don't have to run shit past anyone, I don't have to wait for Daddy to get home, I don't have to cook anything more taxing than meals than a 10 and 3 year old want. LOL.
But at the same time...this is MY shit. Yeah; they have fathers...but I'M the one who pays the bills. I'm the one who wipes the asses. I'm the one who holds their heads in the toilet when they are vomiting. I'm the one who drops them off, picks them up, takes them to gymnastics, doctors, library, ice skating, parades, Girl Scouts, field trips. I'm the one who is up in the middle of the night when they have nightmares. I'm the one that is called when they are sick at school. I'm the one who has to arrange a babysitter to make a Costco run. I'm the one who has to shop at Costco!! I'm the one who has to worry about the values I'm instilling, because I observe them daily, 24 hours a day to measure whether or not those values are sticking. I'm the one who shops for clothes and has to consider whether its a shorts day or a pants day...and whether to wear socks or anklets...and whether the hair should be up or down. I'm the one checking the teeth after they are brushed. I'm the one brushing teeth. I'm the one teaching them how to wash themselves and how to wash dishes. I'm the one helping with research projects and identifying the alphabet. I do this all day, every day. This is what I'm supposed to do. And did I mention I get $150 in child support every few months??? LOL. I do all of this on MY 4 job-having dime.
So when mofos jump out the woodwork and act like is easy, or like I'm not doing all that I'm supposed to, or like they KNOW...it gets my back up. If you think its easy, if you think its no biggie, its only because I don't let you know what it REALLY is, because its my job. But when you come out of your face acting like you can do it, oh, you want them for 2 hours---that is NOT parenting. You want your monthly visit---not parenting.
And then I know I get called names. I've been called selfish. A bitch. How about I don't care? What you won't call me is a neglectful mother. My kids are my first priority. I don't give a damn about your feelings and your need to stunt, or pretend like these beautiful, smart, personable children are the result of your daily interaction with them--because they aren't. I ALWAYS think of them first. People, including their fathers, that don't wake up with these children as their first priority EVERY DAY---not just when they are in their possession, or when they call on the phone, or the few times the money is paid--don't get a seat at the decision making table. You coach from the booth, I coach on the sidelines. From the booth you get the luxury of being able to sit up there loftily, and see the sum total of the game. From the sidelines, I see the hurt, the dirt, I get hit too sometimes. I'm not sitting in air conditioning with headsets on. I'm screaming and yelling and on their level WITH them.
Now; if you are a coach on the sidelines with the other parent, then that is great. But I don't know many people that are "in" it 50% like that. If you are; then that is awesome for you and the child.
But if you're not; and that burden is falling a little or a lot heavier on the other parent-- next time you fix your mouth to talk about the "baby mama"--yours or your man's, check to make sure you aren't coaching from the booth trying to tell the head coach about shit you just don't know.
