Tag Archives: D-bags

Being a Parent is No Easy Task

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Oh holy heaven and everything in it’s glory, it’s so hard being a mom.

Fun as hell, but hard!

I would say no one tells you that but there is a reason people ask, “are you sure you’re ready for a baby?” And from what I’ve heard and seen, this shit doesn’t get any easier. But it is rewarding.

Along with the joys of the first coo’s and ahh’s, I find myself wondering, “am I making the right decisions for him, is this going to be okay, how will that effect him later?”

Then it hits me.

You just have to roll with the punches and trust those gut retching instincts I’m always going on about. Everything I do is for the benefit of my son and in his best interest. So when his father finally decides that he wants to see my son after two months of no interest or interaction, more than three quarters of his short little life thus far, I have to trust my decision that not letting him have an undependable father is the best choice. The last thing I want for DC, later in life, is to have to explain to him why he is forced to spend time with a man he doesn’t know because he hasn’t been around for X amount of time or why he isn’t coming even though he promised he would. I know that standing firm on my decision is what’s best but it doesn’t make it any easier. Of course I want him to have a father but there is a catch to getting the honor of playing that roll.

-That father doesn’t choose what parts he gets to be involved in.
-He doesn’t get to have that part-time roll just because we aren’t together.
-He doesn’t make promises he’ll never fulfill.
-He won’t make him cry due to his own selfishness.

So when I start to doubt or second guess myself, I don’t have to remind myself that parenting isn’t easy. I have to remind myself that it has been for him. He hasn’t changed a single diaper, he hasn’t been pooped or peed or spit up on. He hasn’t had to spend an entire night awake, not because of partying but because of an inconsolable baby then still wake up at the crack of dawn to go about the daily routine. He wasn’t there to console his child during a fever caused by this, that, or the other. He has gotten to sit back and continue life as though nothing in it changed while sending the occasional, “how’s my son?” message (and that’s all it contains) and finishing the conversation (for lack of a better word) with, “ok.” So when he asks to see MY son after eight weeks of nothing (and I mean that in every sense of the word) yes it’s hard to state the truth. A hurtful and resounding no. But I have to do what’s best for him and not allow my judgment to be clouded by empty promises.

And so new parents and those soon to be, single or otherwise, the choices ahead of us are hard ones with the difficulty gradually increasing. (How I see it each year is like another level in a video game only there are no extra Mario’s to get you through the harder parts.) But no matter what we decide we must stand firm by that decision and support it or support our loved one’s decision and never waver. We can do this, with a bit of perseverance and maybe a glass or two of wine.

P.S. He also didn’t get to experience my son opening his eyes from sleep and falling back to sleep with a smile on his face because he saw his favorite person.

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In Weakness We Find Strength

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“I’m doing everything I can.” I suppose everything he can is never going to the doctors appointments he had promised to attend, “I’ll go to every single one,” giving away money that was meant for his children’s mouths to someone in need (by someone in need I mean his drug habit,) putting a pregnant woman (make that two) through hell and somehow, amazingly, not causing a miscarriage, playing daddy to a kid he has not fathered, trying to be the “playa,” promising to be at his son’s birth and going on about how his vacation is saved up for when he arrives then two weeks prior to the due date says, “I’m not taking off work, WE need the money.” Isn’t that what vacation time does? I want to scream at him, “VACATION PAYS YOU TO TAKE TIME OFF YOU LYING MORON!” But instead I sit and smile and nod. I’m not going to see any of that money until child support forces it from him. I think I may need an appointment with my therapist after all. Just one more. Although I do not communicate with Mr. Flip-flop beyond what I need I just can’t wrap my head around him. I feel no matter how much I regurgitate my frustration through blog it isn’t enough, I should see my therapist before I slam my head through this wall in my head. He’s doing everything he can??? What exactly is that? What has he’s been doing? What does that mean?

The above was written a few days ago. But the more I wrote, the less I could stand to listen to myself. How will my readers bare it if I can’t bare it myself? These last few days have been rough so I have swallowed my pride and gathered my strength and contacted my therapist requesting an appointment since writing seems to be doing very little recently. But I must find strength within the weakness, if for no one else than for my son.

There is no room to be numb anymore. Not in my new life. This life is no longer about me. Those who have hurt me or broke my heart is now irrelevant. Who lied about what no longer matters. Father’s who are not up to par and lost lovers are to be a thing of the past. I must remember to put my son first and foremost above all others, I have myself to rely on and my army of friends and always growing family. I do not need anyone else. When I lack the ability to dig through the weakness for my strength I have my soldiers, including our new recruit, Ms. Mommy, along with DC’s own battle buddy, AE.

That, in itself, gives me strength. In times when I cannot comfort my son, when this all hurts the most, he has his sibling to give him strength and love. Two children brought together by unfortunate circumstances and finding the best of friends in each other. We will all overcome this and we will allow this to make us stronger. Meanwhile, when we find ourselves between the rock and hard place, we all have each other for support and encouragement.

Our own, unique family, different but in no way broken or dysfunctional.

The Dance Ends Now

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I have reached my limit for tolerable bull shit. My niceness, my ass covering, my tongue biting is done. I tango no more with the ever stumbling Mr. Flip-flop and can no longer tolerate the pain in my toes.

THE DANCE ENDS NOW.

For nine and a half months I have bent over backwards to make sure no matter what happened, I was covered should he try to fight for custody of any sort and have been willing to work with him and have cooperated just to be slapped in the face. This will no longer fly. I am human, not superhuman, and I can only take so much before I lose it all and that limit has been reached. My tongue is sore from the weight of unsaid words, my muscles are pulled out of place from the impossible acrobatics I have been forced to perform to keep stress levels down. They aren’t really down, no, just ignored and put aside until that corner is filled up and begins to fill the room to the point of being unable to move freely.

I will no longer partake in his stories, excuses, and down right lies. It is his turn to contort himself. I have bigger things to worry about with the upcoming birth of my son. I feel I have done all that I can throughout my pregnancy. His level of participation is obvious and I am not going out of my way anymore to keep him involved  when he shows no interest regardless of the contradicting statements he has told me. His words mean nothing.

The dance ends now.

Hello December

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Hello to yet another beautiful day in the world and one day closer to my son’s birth. One of very few shimmering lights in my world right now.

These last few days should have been relaxing and enjoyable as everyone stuffed their tummies full to breaking points and remembered the people they love most and those they are most thankful for in their lives. While my family did just that I sat inside my head screaming and slamming my head into that poor, severely dented wall wondering why in the world it was so hard for one particular man child (no man I know would act this way) to be there for his child and hold to his word, keep his promises, and simply tell the truth when things did not go his way.

He allowed me to believe, for however fleeting the moment was, that he was gaining responsibility and opening his eyes to the life we were bringing into the world. I believed for one-eighth of a millisecond that he was going to follow through on something for the first time since I have met him. I thought with him stepping up, I could actually provide my baby boy with his first Christmas and show my parents how much I appreciate their help and support, but even one-eighth of a millisecond was too long. He was simply doing the two-step I should expect and know all too well. I had even told myself and had been told by my former therapist, “Expect to expect nothing of him.” I do not know why I slipped.

As those I loved unbuttoned their pants to allow more room to breathe, watched Christmas specials, and broke out the Holiday decorations, I ran block on myself. Running to my room or the bathroom to catch the tears of anger and frustration that forced their way out. Tears that held the words of hurt I long to hurl at him for the pain he causes me but do not dare to share with him, then washing those words off my face and painting on a smile in their place, standing up straight and walking out to the Christmas tree with my head held high.

It feels overwhelmingly difficult most days, I wonder how I will possibly do this for the rest of our son’s life without landing myself into some sort of trouble because I’ll have no tongue left to bite. Due to my son’s father’s inability to think of anyone other than himself, I do not get to buy my son his first Christmas gift. I am now on maternity leave and here in the “Land of the Free” there is no paid maternity leave offered for those expecting. I had my last shift taken from me and will only have three hours for two weeks on this last check, if I am lucky, at minimum wage, no less. But at least I have a few cards up my sleeves. After this ordeal to get money he owes his son, he still believes I will not go through the proper channels for child support. He believes me to be an airheaded bimbo who cannot think or act for herself and believes the lies he tells with nothing to show for it. He believes I will lay down to be his doormat; allowing him to pay what he wants, when he wants, and visit as he pleases. I will allow him to think this of me, it will only be that much more of a surprise when he realizes all the lies I caught him in and that I am not so naïve to simply sit back and allow him to treat his son anyways he pleases.

He had been warned and given plenty of opportunities. “You’re either in his life or you’re not. We are not your swinging door or your doormats. I will not allow you to come and go in DC’s life as you please and break his heart.” He thinks because he is the father I cannot see to just that. I am done playing Mr. Nice-Guy. I’ve cried too much for my son over these last nine and a half months and I refuse to see those same tears, filled with words he cannot bring himself to say, on my son’s face as he gets older. I AM DONE! I have reached my limit, he WILL NOT hurt my baby. I do not give a shit who he is because as far as I am concerned, just because he shares my son’s DNA it does not magically make him a daddy. My distaste for my child’s donor runs deeper than I could have ever imagined it could run for anyone.

Dear God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage the change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen

An Irresponsible Responsibility

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At the close of my session with my psychologist last night she suggested that Mr. Flip-flop and I get together to discuss how we would like to handle the care of our son for the next few months and how we will handle the delivery. “Have that difficult conversation,” as she put it, while making sure we are, in fact, on the same page.

I somewhat laughed at her. We were suppose to have one of those meetings, WITH HER! So we would have a mediator. Guess what Mr. Flip-flop did.

Y’all are so smart. He sure did say he would go, but did he? Hahahaha.

She asked me what was keeping me from trying again. I told her:

1.  I would prefer a witness if I cannot have documentation.
2.  The last thing I want is for him to think it is a date. Which he will, no matter how many times I tell him it isn’t.
3.  He doesn’t have a car of his own. I do not want to pick him up for this meeting then get wrangled into driving him all over town plus he lives at least a half hour away from me and that is with no traffic.
4.  Lastly, I flat out do not want to see him.

Was there any way at all I would meet with him then afterwards send a message sort of recapping what we discussed so that I can have the documentation I want? I suppose so. I guess if I really wanted to I could ask to meet him on his lunch break, he works closer to me than he lives and this way IF I did agree to pick him up he can’t go anywhere but back to work.

Now, I had messaged him a few days ago informing him of my next three appointments and also reminded him that the fee for the circumcision is due by this coming Tuesday and if he was still going to pay for it. No response and no show to the first of the three appointments. Now because I was being told one at a time when these appointments were, he was sent the messages as such, one at a time and the circumcision message was a separate message of its own as well. Today, I asked him if we could meet for lunch next week to discuss a few things concerning our son before his delivery. I got a response immediately,”yes, Sunday.”

I wish I could convey facial expressions on here but my technology hates me and won’t load a picture for me. Trust me, though, it is not an amused expression. Unfortunately for him I am not available this weekend to get together which was why I asked him to meet me, “sometime next week, during lunch.” I do not enjoy repeating myself. I am his personal broken record.

He states that he has an appointment on Monday and suggests we meet up on Tuesday. I have an appointment Tuesday, which I told him about. I reminded him of the appointment nicely, even though that isn’t how I currently feel, and suggested that I can do lunch that day if he goes to that appointment. Otherwise, I cannot drive all over town. I also gave him a friendly reminder that I sent him messages containing my appointment information. He states he never got the message. Uh-huh, okay, what about the one concerning the circumcision? And I asked again if he is going to have the fee ready by that date. If not, I need to know so I can make sure I have it covered.

*crickets chirping*

I am so beyond annoyed that I do not know if it can be called that anymore. It isn’t as though any hopes are dashed or I am let down. I have come to expect this sort of behavior from him. I do not actually expect him to step up and pay for his son’s circumcision but I am giving him the opportunity to step up and surprise me. This was exactly the sort of thing my psychologist wanted me to discuss with him.

Are you going to step up for your son and be there for him? Are you going to be responsible and reliable?

But why would I waste my time on that when I already know his answer versus the actual outcome?

“He’s my son, I’ll be there to support you and him. I want to be fully involved.” Then turn around and do that flip-flop jig. She knows all that is going to do is piss me off to hear him say that AGAIN and then show nothing for it AGAIN. I think I am just more frustrated for my son and having a difficult understanding of how a person can be so nonchalant about their own child. People have said, “A woman becomes a mother the moment she learns she is pregnant, a man becomes a father the moment he holds his child.” Personally, I think that is a bunch of bull for a couple of reasons, first off, I do not feel like I became a mother until my second trimester. I carried a lot of anger, resentment, and border lined on hate before I embraced motherhood. Secondly, that is just an extremely poor excuse for the father to act completely irresponsible and ignore the mother of his child and take absolutely no responsibility.

I think I’ve gone slightly off subject with this and lost my train of thought. I have gotten bogged down by my frustration of the situation. My psychologist called it, being the bigger person. I call it, completely annoying. Thank god for blogs, right? The perfect place too vent. You guys are awesome!

Help Needed from Other Single Mothers

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With the exception of very few people in my small circle of friends (and they know who they are, love yall), who the heck calls or texts a woman who is nine months pregnant in the middle of the night!? It wasn’t even from someone I look forward to hearing from so naturally it was incredibly frustrating. Especially when I’m already having difficulty falling asleep. For an instance, I thought, “so much for my massage!” As I have mentioned in one of my previous blogs though, I will not let him dictate my life, dangit!! My massage will not become a total waste because of his lack of thoughtfulness.

I would now like to appeal to other single mothers out in the world and ask you, how do you make it work? He drives me mad! We have tried to be civil. Unfortunately, he only puts his son first as long as he is single. It is extremely difficult for me because during that time something as simple as, “How are you?” gets misconstrued as, “I love you, I want to marry you and carry 25 more of your babies.” Then when he finally hears my words of, “no, I do not want to be with you romantically,” he stops checking up on the well being of his child for weeks at a time. How do I not let him drive my world completely bonkers should he actually claim paternity of his son? What can I do in general?

As it stands he does not want to claim paternity. He wants a test to establish paternity but does not want to pay for it, so instead he wants to wait till I go into labor and see the baby and from there determine if the baby is his or not based on looks. If the baby looks like me he will not claim paternity. Little does he know, I will take him to court for child support (I don’t think he’s that ignorant though) and I know he doesn’t want to pay child support. If we do go to court for child support though I run the risk of having to share custody, granted I do have a few cards in my hand that will play to my favor. He has a felony of his record and has been in jail a couple of times and, as far as I know, cannot currently pass a drug test. But I know he knows way around that so once he passes it he can have unsupervised visits and overnighters. I have kept an extensive record of our communications and his unreliability but I am afraid it won’t be enough. I fear the environment my son could be exposed to. Mr. Flip-flop’s mother, for example, who he lives with, is close to the bottle since her husband passed. She is prescribed a variety of medications. Then there are his friends, where everyone takes their kid to when s/he is visiting a parent. Of course with most of the inhabitants being young, there’s alcohol and drugs everywhere.

I do not know what to do most days. My family doesn’t understand why I want him to deny paternity. I know that is extremely selfish but it is for the protection of my son. They see it as, I should get money from him. I don’t care about the money if it means exposing my child to a dangerous life.

What more can I do to ensure my son’s safety??

Reality TV and Reality

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So I have been a bit of a fireball lately, in case some of you haven’t noticed. I have been having difficulty accepting inevitable changes (or lack of) concerning Mr. Flip-flop. Will he, won’t he, is he, isn’t he? Who cares? It is what it is.

Luckily, when I go through these phases there is always something that reminds me of what I do have. Or in this case, don’t have. Which is not a bad thing.

This evening, I sit with my cousin watching Teen Mom 3 Reunion and I see these incredibly young mothers just fight with the father of their children and struggle beyond anything I can imagine to just make it work. They fight so much to have that picturesque family. I told my cousin that although it is hard to go through this pregnancy without the father I am grateful I do not have that struggle and stress. Granted I made it clear to him from the beginning that I would not deal with unnecessary stress and risk any complications because he’s too worried about not being alone. I couldn’t tell you how many girlfriends he has had in the last 6 months alone. How many boyfriends have I had throughout my pregnancy? ZERO! Why? Because my son comes first, not my love life. But I’m venturing off topic. The topic right here, right now, is that I do not have to deal with that in my life because I know I do not have to tolerate it.

Do not get the wrong idea, I am not keeping him from anything, he does that to himself. I have kept him in the loop of everything, he said he wanted to be involved so I have kept him involved. Beyond that, it has been his own doing. He has known the date of every single appointment (has attended 4 out of 14, late to all) and been kept in the loop when the doctors thought I had preeclampsia. That was probably the most terrifying moment of my pregnancy and I made it clear to him that I needed his support as the father of my child. He PROMISED he would be at the appointments that tested me for the condition. We needed to be a team if nothing else. But Flip-flop did just what a flip-flops does. But again I am grateful I do not have these fights or screaming matches that my child could be subjected to. I will have a struggle ahead of me but it will not be nearly as difficult with the fights out of the picture. Because again, I do not tolerate it. It is a struggle in and of itself to bite my tongue but it does pay off. I no longer engage in his ignorance and extremely poor excuses and it helps my child and my health.

Single mommas, you do not have to tolerate the B.S. Trust me, I know how hard it is to just finally let go. After all, he is the father of your child. But what will be better for your child in the long run? THAT is what has to be put first, not ones own fear of being alone, you are momma, you’ll never be alone again. You are strong and you can do this. Mr. Right will come along when the time is right.

Note: please excuse any mistakes in this post. I am currently putting Broken Condom’s Baby O to sleep and do not have time to edit at the moment.

Have you noticed how parenting books don’t cover the real life stuff?

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There are so many things and so few words to describe them. Maybe it’s just me, perhaps I need to further expand on my vocabulary or maybe it’s just part of the third trimester.

It is hard to say exactly how I feel lately. I love my son, I mean LOVE him! But I would be a liar if I said I don’t still think about the life I had before him and where I would be at now if things turned out differently. I guess this would be the apprehension that comes with the closing of a pregnancy. In all honesty though I do have my son to thank for making me clean up my life, take myself seriously, and grow up. He even helped me fish out the fake friends that were infused in my life. He also helped me form a stronger bond with my family but everything is different now and it scares me. It scares me so much! I have to continuously remind myself that I am not on my own. Yes, I am a single mother but I have the help of my parents and the support of my other family members. But this isn’t how this was suppose to go. I wasn’t suppose to have children in my mid-twenties or be on my own doing so while I’m still in school. I wasn’t suppose to be working at a joke of a place making minimum wage barely even working part-time, if you want to call one day a week part-time. I was suppose to travel around the world learning different cuisines expanding my knowledge in business. I cannot help but feel that I need to put myself in a different field than the food business and do something more practical. Mr. Love tells me, “but it’s what you love to do.” But it is a business that requires you to work full-time all the time in order to be successful and unless you have already made a name for yourself it seems almost impossible to be able to focus on with a small child demanding as much of your attention as the company. Like motherhood, establishing yourself in the food industry, there are no days off. A “short” day, which rarely comes around but does more often than in motherhood, is a ten hour day AT the “office” but when you leave you’re still working. I’m afraid of failing my son. I don’t want to remain on government assistance. I hate, hate, hate that I’m on it now even though I have a legitimate need for it. How will I ever support us and get us on our own feet so we don’t have to lean on my parents? After all, he’s my son I need to care for and my responsibility, not theirs. And how do all the other single mothers manage it on their own? I can’t help but feel the only way I can really be successful in raising my son and supporting us is if I were to get married. And I HATE that! I have NEVER, EVER in my life depended on a man for anything! I rely on myself and me alone! That feeling is so defeating and so degrading. If I ever marry I want to do so because I’m in love and no other reason, period. But I have really, I mean really, poor taste in men and I can’t think about myself anymore. My days of selfishness flew out the window the day I collapsed in the bathroom after the first pregnancy test read positive. (I took three total hoping they were false positives.)

There are so many things I’m stressing over and I know I shouldn’t. I should be taking it easy, but how do you not worry as a parent? From what I’ve been told, that is an impossibility that I’ll never accomplish until the day I die and probably still fail to do so in death. Then, there’s Mr. Flip-flop. The name alone should say it all. I have come to expect nothing from him or of him but even when I do that he flops and does the opposite of what I do or don’t expect from him. In the beginning of the pregnancy I expected him to hold to his word and show up at every appointment support me as a friend and the mother of his child at the very least. Then when he didn’t, I stopped expecting him, especially when he stated he would no longer show up at ANY appointment but he even flipped on that THE VERY SAME WEEK! The hardest part out of everything is keeping my patience with him and the fact that for the first time in my official grown up life, I have to do things I do not want to do. In my old life, I did what the hell ever I pleased. In fact, that is what I was very well known for. Lil Gumdrop don’t do what she don’t want to. Now, though, I have to bite my tongue, quell my tears of sheer frustration, and silence my angry words of hatred. Otherwise, my own words could be used as weapons against me should Mr. Flip-flop actually put down the pipe long enough to save his money for the paternity test he requested and a lawyer. Chances are slim, but a chance is still a chance, right? There are a number of things I want to say and do and in reality I could, however, it would not be in my best interest to do so. Honestly, if I really thought about it, what satisfaction would I get out of it? Ultimately, none that I can see. I think, what I fear most from his father being involved is him being subjected to his unreliability and irresponsibility. I mean, the guy said, “You were the one that went out that night and got drunk, blackout sex happens, that’s not rape.” Okay, last I checked, drugged wasn’t drunk and if I can recall correctly, you cannot legally give consent when under any influence therefore defining it as rape! THAT is what my child could learn from him, THAT!!! Really!? Do any of you have any idea how hard it was not to fly off the handlebars at him and just flip the EFF out? I had to stop everything I was doing to go to the bathroom and break down, at work, yea I was at work! Just thinking about that day makes my blood boil. It nearly set me back with my therapy but I’m too stubborn. I told my therapist, “No, I do not want to push my appointment up. I will not let Mr. Flip-flop dictate my life.” But say he does claim my son, say he does clean himself up and gets visitation; how do I make sure my child isn’t brainwashed by this person? How do I assure my son’s future in being a well rounded man when he grows up? People say that it’s all in how you raise a child but what about that second environment you have absolutely no part in when he’s gone for the weekend and 6 weeks in the summer? I cannot control what he is exposed to and picks up when I’m not there. How do I know he won’t get my child stoned or drunk for goodness sakes or tell him no to having a sleepover with his girlfriend? And from what I know of, this guy can be pretty spiteful so how do I know he won’t do things simply out of pure spite? I pray he doesn’t expose our son in that way but if I’m being completely honest with all of you I cannot say I know him well enough to know if he would or wouldn’t.

There’s just too much! How do parents not rip out their hair and slam their head into a table, counter, and/or wall? How do you not end up in a straight jacket nearly comatose, rocking back and forth, repeating, “my baby, my baby, my baby, etc.?” Just how? How, to everything? Parenting books are bull shit! They don’t cover this. They only cover, “you and your spouse!” THANKS FOR MAKING ME FEEL LIKE A WHORE, YOU ASSHOLES! It’s too soon. I want him out but it’s too soon. I’m too young for this. Those planning for parenthood, my cousin may disagree with me and suggest waiting slightly longer, but wait till you’re at least 30ish before starting a family. It’s too much.

And the Stress Continues

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All I will say about ALW is that he continues to be Mr. Flip-Flop (Hey, I finally found a name for him that doesn’t involve profanity, woot!). If I continue, I will go off on a cussing tirade. I want the opposite of that, stress free. But how can I accomplish this, and quickly? Very quickly!

So far my plan is to finish this, finish one of my essays, then go home and nerd out on AC4. If I do that maybe I can avoid a complete break down. I want to curl into a corner with my teddy bear, that’s really a frog, and cry. But I’m too round to curl, let alone fit into a corner. Bet, I will still snuggle with my teddy bear-frog though.

On a lighter note, the video game enthusiasts I attend school with are the epitome of the word nerd. I mean that in the most loving way possible. They are making me giggle, after all. They have the goofy hair cuts, pants pulled up too high (better than too low, I say), nasally voices, thick glasses, and squinty eyes. All the while they are holding a politically correct debate about video games as they beat each other on Super Smash Bros. Interesting at the very least.

Let class begin.

What’s the Dealio, Daddy-O?

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First off, I would like all your beautiful faces to know that I am sacrificing precious video game time for you. YOU, you sexy beast!

I had my usual bi-weekly doctors appointment today telling me everything is fantastic; that my fat, fat baby is doing spectacular. I have grown used to attending these appointments alone. My mom and dad have come with me to a few, however I think it would be awkward having them there when the doc asks my to go bottomless so she can swab my whoo-whoo. (She doesn’t actually use those terms but it would be funny if she did.) So they haven’t been invited to many. ALW, the father of my baby, has only attended 3 out of 12 appointments before today. Today was my 13th appointment and guess what, he actually showed up. Late as usual, but he showed up.

He’s got me on a mental roller coaster ride. I do my best to keep my eyes fixated on one set spot so the twists, turns, and flips do not get to me but I slip sometimes and get dizzy. Before I go further, I should explain. Our background together is not extensive. We weren’t in love or serious or even “boyfriend/girlfriend.” It was, I guess you can say, convenience more than anything else (so as to not give away info for later blogs). At best, we were friends. Unfortunately, I cannot even say we were best friends or even good friends. More like, party friends.

We discovered I was pregnant and at first he was ecstatic. But I quickly found myself in something far more serious than I was ready to handle on top of an unplanned and very unexpected pregnancy while trying to finish school without losing my full-time status and work part-time at my new job. He had spoken with my father and wanted me to plan a wedding on top of my already very full plate. If I wasn’t willing to marry him he wanted me to live with him at the very least and quit school and work to be his “Suzy Homemaker” in a life I had no desire to live. There may be some women who see this as an opportunity but those who are headstrong and independent like myself, this was spiraling into hell. I had told him many times that because we had only being “dating” for less that a month before I got pregnant I wanted to wait. On everything. If he wanted to try to work things out after the baby came then we would see where we were. I needed as little stress as possible due to the fact that I suffered from severe depression at the beginning of my pregnancy. He appeared to be understanding at first.

My doctor helped me find a therapist who also agreed that in my state, it would be best that I not date anyone but keep myself open to ALW’s obvious attempts to be involve. So I did that. I made it clear that I could not hold a healthy relationship with the frame of mind I held but that I would keep myself open to him. I told him I wanted us to form a stronger friendship, go along the route we should have taken before the baby came along. Then the next day he asks me to be his girlfriend.

This is where I get dizzy. The day before, he was completely understanding and willing to help me. The very next day he shows the exact opposite. Had this been a one time thing I could overlook it and move on, but it wasn’t. For the weeks following if I showed anything more than the cold shoulder he’d say, “you want this, you’re just scared. I can tell you want it you just won’t say it.” I tried desperately to keep him involved in a way we could still be civil. But there is only so much of that I can take. He asked me again to be his girlfriend not too much later, as if I could wake up the next day and not be depressed anymore at the fact I was pregnant and a number of other things. I turned him down a final time, explaining to him, AGAIN, that my only concern for the time being was to get healthy for baby. That being in ANY relationship was very last on my list. I may not have been thrilled to learn I was pregnant but I refused to risk a miscarriage which I already felt I was at high risk for.

Less than a week later he found himself a new girlfriend; playing house to her son while ignoring the one son he already has, who is just shy of a year old now, and the one on the way. To add insult to injury, a month ago he says he wants a DNA test to prove paternity of a child he’s been bragging about from day one,and that he will not go to anymore appointments (not that he’s been to many) and risk becoming attached should it turn out not to be his. Then he shows up today with no warning being as nice as can be asking about the baby and me. He never asked the doctor about the paternity test but made sure to mention that he isn’t paying for the circumcision until he gets one when we were told the fee for the surgery will be due within the month.

With his track record of attending four appointments in eight months, I’ll be lucky to see him again when the baby is born. I’m just tired of his up and downs, twists and turns, and really bad excuses. No, I’m just tired in general.

Come on, guy, be a daddy. You’ve got a guy living thousands of miles away playing the part better and I haven’t seen him in a year.