A Little Brighter, A Little Lighter...

Things are looking up just a little bit. I'm hitting some stumbling blocks along the way but I'm doing my best to remain positive and I'm learning as I go along.

Boy, those were two of the most evasive sentences I've written in a long time, no? Let's put it this way, my lease for my townhome is due to expire in January and I've decided not to renew it. Instead I'm taking steps for a major move closer to my daughter's school and farther from my antagonists.

I can't tell you how fucking good that feels.

By making this move I'm considerably increasing my debt, but I'll be renting a home with the option to buy it once my credit situation improves. It's not my ideal home, but it's an excellent starter home and with a few modifications I could net a serious profit whenever I chose to sell it... um, after I buy it first of course. The house itself I dislike. It's a cape cod, a style of home I've never been attracted to, always thinking that it was the most boring of architechural designs. The rooms are awkwardly shaped and placed, the cabinetry in the kitchen is so damned ugly it's a shame. When talking it over with my girlfriend she actually put a hand out over mine and said "Honey, let it go. Shut up about the cabinets already." But, it's got 4 bedrooms, 2 full baths, a small deck, a huge totally fenced in backyard, a large front yard and a ginormous storage shed wired with electricity in the back. The owners live a 1/2 mile down the road (and they are awesome by the way) and the house is located just far enough off the beaten path so that anyone trying to find me will most likely get lost like I did despite my use of Google-fu and Mapquest. We'll be 8 minutes from Jaalyn's school, and it's only another 20 minutes to my job.

And best of all? I'll be so far out that I seriously doubt either of my antagonists will be visiting me frequently. Too far to use the "Oh I was just in the neighborhood" excuse. I'll be at least 45 minutes from baby daddy's house and well over an hour from his job. The house is only reachable (for him) by highway (did I mention he hates driving?) and his car is a little less than reliable. As a matter of fact, his primary excuse for not attending many of Jaalyn's school functions is his car. My mother on the other hand has a good car and loves long drives in the country but she's poor with directions and lazy as hell on top of it all. A quality shared by my baby daddy.

So my heart is singing. I'll be free of them both. I'll be in a safe neighborhood far, far away from mental oppressors, past stalkers, and hoodrats. My outdoor loving girls will have a yard of their own to play in for the first time ever and I'll be on my way to homeownership soon (I hope and pray). I'm afraid of the challenge; afraid of the debt. This is the most I've ever had to pay for rent and I'm desperately afraid of over-extending myself and falling deeper into debt.

But fuck it. I'm taking the plunge and running with it.

So... Again...

So. I took another hiatus from writing. Sue me.

It's been a busy couple of months. I think I've failed miserably from everything I tried to do and then some.

Let's see:

- college dropout? check.
- failure to buy a house? check.
- alienate your children, family and friends? check.
- accept defeat and admit that you're a lousy person, fat to boot, and slink into the worst type of self pity and cry repeatedly about it all? check.

I've sat and cried many nights. Too many nights in my opinion. I've been wallowing in a pity pit. I've screamed and raged and been so depressed I'd have done the unthinkable were it not for my kids. **

But oddly enough I'm okay with things. Every December, or really, the final quarter of the year, is always a terrible time in my life. Even in childhood I can remember being thrilled at the holidays approaching, but having awful sense of dread with it. So, I'm kind of used to the shit hitting the fan. And once I put things into perspective, it's not quite so bad. Things have a way of working out for the good.

But don't get me wrong, I still have those bad days. My depression has never truly departed from me and it's what keeps me from moving forward. I'm determined to beat it but it's very difficult. And though my self esteem is at rock bottom, I'm amused to find myself with several suitors. My darling little infactuation from the past has reappeared and re-stated his, ahem, love for me. He simultaneously amuses me and irritates the shit out of me. I've another friend that has stated he has a serious interest in me and hoped that I felt the same for him (I don't). And then I have another gent that I have had an interest in for quite some time but really never put much stock into that feeling because he was married. Imagine my shock to discover that he is no longer. But even for him, I haven't generated much depth of feeling; perhaps due to my gloomy sadness that I can't seem to shake for the life of me.

That gloom... I wish to be rid of it. It does lift, for days at a time, but then it descends again at the slightest sign of trauma. The part of me that I miss the most is my determination. In the past I was able to make a decision and stick to it or to identify a problem, find a solution and just do it. But I can't seem to do that anymore. I make a decision, then change my mind, and I constantly doubt myself which I positively HATE to do. It's not me, nothing like me to give in to self doubt. Hell, I was the person that would jump into the fire just to see what happens, for it was better to know than not to know and I even earned (rightly) the fucking nickname BLAZE because of it. Because of my blazing personality, because I was the risk taker, the shit talker, the determined one.

And now that part of me is missing. I've gotten my chip back on my shoulder (the man hating chip that is...), I've sort of gotten my esteem just above rock bottom, but that self doubting crybaby shit I can't seem to shake. I miss being firm. I miss being fun. I miss being happy.

I miss being ME.



**And if you thought for one minute I meant suicide you're out of your fucking mind. Anyone that knows me knows I'd never do such a thing. I meant marriage... the fate worse than death.

Not tonight...

Sooo... I took a little hiatus from blogging. Wasn't intentional though. Just had one of those days where I really should've written about a few things but I really didn't feel like it. So I decided not to write that day. And then that day morphed into days and a month and a half later I still don't really feel like writing. I'm forcing myself to do so even now.

A great deal went on the past month or so. I've gone back to college and since dropped out. I've become more active in my daughter's school. I'm freelancing. I'm trying to purchase a home. And I'm still trying to be a supermom, superdaughter and a super employee. Just... a lot. It's been hectic. There've been nights I've cried from sheer exhaustion, frustration, fury or just plain ol' loneliness. There's been days I've been so happy I could burst. There've been many lessons I've learned and mistakes I've made. And I'll write about them, I promise.

Just not tonight.

Emoting...

I hate having emotions.

A fav author of mine once made the comparison of her young self to a giant, sloshing milk filled breast. Meaning, she was so chock full of nurturing compassion and oodles of love she could've exploded; except that she had no one to give it to.

That's how I feel sometimes. I have love. Much love. But I have no one to give it to and that makes me sad.

Hate sad. It's so... not happy. Ha.

Emotions are so dang pesky. I wish I could be rid of mine, with the exception of when it comes to my kids. I wonder can I train myself not to have emotions about anything or anyone except for my children?

When I was in my teens I was indifferent. Didn't care, nothing mattered, dark, despair... a bomb could go off next to me and blow off my left tit and I wouldn't have given two fucks. But didn't we feel that way at that age? No? Just me?

From age 18-20 I'd had a couple of heartbreaks (and rapes) under my belt and I was no longer indifferent. I was a ruthless, cold hearted, down right mean bitch. I dated, I dropped them and didn't give a damn about anyone. I wanted to hurt guys just as much as they hurt me. I wanted to lead them on, turn them on, fuck them stupid and get up and walk away without a backward glance. And I did. Many times. And the insanely funny thing is that I warned each and every guy how this "thing" would work. And each and every guy just knew that he would be different. He would be the one to change things. He would make the ice on my heart melt. And all those "he"'s were dead ass wrong.

But the moment I became pregnant with Jaalyn at age 23 all that changed. All the ice melted off my heart and the moment she entered my arms and turned and looked at me as I first uttered her name I was hooked on this love thing. I never knew you could feel such an intense love for another human being in such a short period of time. And since the Love flood gate was open, I left it that way; thinking that I could get to like this intensity elsewhere in my life.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance. In. HELL.

My God Almighty. I know this much is true: Love hurts. A helluva lot. And even when you think it's gone from your heart for good, even when you try your damnedest to turn it off, you can't.

Or maybe I am not trying hard enough? Right now, I hate loving someone that doesn't love me back. I am sick of loving another woman's man/men. I HATE LOVE. Period. It sucks.

So maybe I should give the cold hearted chick another try, eh? Maybe I should return to those grass roots, dig a little deeper and make sure the roots go down much, much farther so that they can't be removed. Maybe I should build up my impregnable wall of strength, double checking for cracks and let no one in. Except my girls. Sloshing milk filled breast for those two for sure.

But for anyone else? I don't think so. I'm starting to think that cold, mean, bitch is the way to go. Certainly the way to protect the heart. Certainly.

Bring Some Cheese For All This W(h)ine...

Oh my holy hell.

I feel like shit. Total and complete shit. It sucks donkey dick to be a girl sometimes. Period came this morning, totally unexpected and of course the day before I see my physician who was supposed to inspect me from head to toe, inside and out and up the yonni.

Obviously there's one spot he can't go. Damn. Was hoping to get that pesky annual exam over and done with.

But I'm crampy; horribly, horribly crampy. My back is aching, I'm tired as hell and I'm cold which is odd since I've heard people complaining that it's warm in here (at work). My neck aches, knees hurt. Wah, wah, wah. Yes I am a big fat baby. Who knew this thing was going to come today? I figured the early part of next week, but not today. I got the oldest kid to school and was walking down the sidewalk when I felt something amiss. No... NOOOO!!!! Not yet! Was making weekend plans! FUN weekend plans! ADULT FUN weekend plans! With a guy! A really hot, heavily tattooed, adorably accented guy!

Damn, damn, DAMN.

Now I'm bleeding, I'm cold, I'm tired. I need ibuprofen, hot coffee, a nice hot shower and a nap.

Oh man...

I hate YouTube.

I rarely go to the site, and only visited because I was looking at this insanely old video I couldn't recall in the ole memory banks.

And then I looked up another video.

And another...

And I was smiling from the memories. Things I hadn't seen since grade school. Hell, things I hadn't thought of since grade school. School girl crushes on boy bands. Friendship bracelets and jelly shoes. Back when you could buy candy from the ice cream man and getting a boyfriend meant beating his ass on the playground to gain both his attention and respect.

Wow. And man I feel old. I wonder... did we realize how unbelievably WHACK we were back then? As if the fashions weren't bad enough, with the mushroom/gumby hairstyles and biker shorts with tanks and suspenders (Hello, Bobby Brown a la "Every Little Step") and rope chains. But the dances? And the... the... innocence of it all. Despite the corruption everywhere - and back then it was the War on Drugs, not terror- there was a certain underlying innocence that is gone today.

Call me old fashioned, but I miss that.

Funny things my kid says, Pt II

I often let the kids play in some sort of dry food when we're home since I never EVER let them set foot into the sandbox (re: nature's giant litter box) at the playground. Some dried lentils or dry beans and a few scoops and bowls and their happy as pigs in mud.

This afternoon they played in dry oats. Just a plain ole giant tub of old fashioned oatmeal I got for about $2.50 from Food Lion.

Jaalyn tells me she's opening a restaurant and she'll slide me in the back door because her restaurant is VERY expensive and popular (who knew I had a hotspot equivilant to the Ivy in my own living room?).

Jaalyn: Today we are serving Kitten Boodle.
Me: Wha? You're serving what?
Jaalyn: Kitten Boodle. It's got some of everything in it and it's VERY good. We're serving the whole thing today. We only served half of it yesterday.
Me: ... do you mean it's got the "whole kit and kaboodle?"
Jaalyn: Yeah, that's it! We're serving the whole Kitten Boodle today.

And now...

How many times has my finger hovered above the "Delete Blog" button?

I'm not sure why I even keep this blog going. It's taken an entirely different direction than I intended. I wanted it to be one thing but it's morphed into a far more personal journal; more personal than I ever expected.

I suppose the biggest "fear" I have, which I know I share with many other bloggers, is that fear of being judged. Yes, I write what I am feeling, but it's not a true embodiement of who I am as a person or an accurate summation of my character. On the other hand, I don't really care how I am judged for the exact same reasons stated. Because I know that this blog is not a full representation of me.

When I write, I write how I feel. Whether it's happiness, or anger, frustration, depression... it's all very spur-of-the-moment. Just as a diary would be. Only this diary is open to the world and some very mean people.

So, I don't know. This may be my last entry. I may decide to print the things I wrote about the kids, tuck it away in their baby books and delete this blog altogether. May decide to start up another. I'm not sure.

So...

*Inhales deeply*

*Exhales slowly*


Now, don't we all feel just a lil bit better? Having gotten all sorts of shit off our chests?

No?

Me neither but hey, it's a new day. Lots of sunshine outside, plenty of heat and the world is full of lovely half naked creatures to gawk at.

I'm doing my best to keep my head up. Doing my best to stay upbeat. I think this evening when I go home I will put Beyonce's DVD into the player, crank up the volume and watch the little ones shake their little booties. Jaalyn knows nearly every move for "Upgrade U" and when "Get Me Bodied" comes on... I get a cramp in my stomach from laughing at Trinity. I mean that diapered butt gets to bouncing, hands clapping and arms akimbo that girl gets it.

Those two are enough to make my spirits soar on any given day. Then again they are also enough to put me in the nuthouse on the other given days.

I'll post pictures of them soon. Just as soon as I can get my brand spanking new Dell fixed.

Congratulations Honey! You made the BLOG!!!

This post is dedicated to one and only one person because I can't effectively say what I would like to over email. At work. In public. And refrain from screaming obscenities.

Hence the reason I have not called you to tell you EXACTLY how I feel. So much more mannerable to do it in written form.

All those not involved in this little tete a la tete you can go bout your merry way...

And honestly if you don't know WHO you are... well then you're about as dense as dino shit. If you suspect it's you...

It's YOU.

It's funny. We've been beefing for the past several days over some really stupid shit. Well, to me it's stupid because it started from fabrication effectively spun by your idiotic co-worker and you despite your lofty intellect took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

So let's just lay it all out on the table m'kay?

We've been kicking it for what? about 2 years? Which not-so-ironically is the amount of time you and your bitc... ahem, lady have been together. (to my lovely readers, if you could not tell, I do not like her. At all.) And we've known each other perhaps almost a year prior to that.

It took me a while to admit how I felt about you. The feelings were always there but I was afraid of being hurt again. By the time they'd bubbled to the surface you were already involved with her. But, as you said, it wasn't anything serious. So, hey, I thought I had a shot.

Fast forward to you telling me you didn't know who you wanted. Then you said you knew who you wanted and it wasn't me. You opted to see where things would go with her.

Insert knife into heart <here>.

It hurt but I did my best to accept it. My love for you never dissipated. We talked about it and I agreed to be the other woman.

That was big assed mistake Numero Uno. Will make mental note to get "FUCKING IDIOT" tattooed upon forehead...

Ordinarily, I'm a good "other" woman. But the depth of my love for you made me jealous. A new experience for me. And bitter.... Reeeaaaallly bitter. So when, in a moment of anger you threw the "Well, it could've been you if you'd done this that and the other" oh hell fucking no. I wasn't even available at the time you expressed interest in me and unlike SOME FUCKING PEOPLE I remain faithful to the one I'm with until the relationship is over. Ah...Remember those arguments?

Ah, the good ole days... of earlier this year.

Fast forward to the end of last week. The straw that broke the camel, that fine line that was crossed, the piss in my Cheerios... you get the point. You listen to O.F. (note: use of initials to protect the stupid) and the bullshit he spouts. Not only do you listen to him but you believe that shit.

The fuck? Are you out of your fucking mind? What in the name of all that is holy is fucking wrong with you? Why would I want such a troglodyte? A lying, cheating married fucker that's shallower than that prick Pangman? I said he was cute once. He shows up at my cube unannounced. Call me crazy but some people would consider that stalking. And then when he gets here all his advances are rebuffed. He calls, I don't call back. He brags, I tell him I'm uninterested. He pursued, I dodged.

Someone out there that's sane, please tell me how this means I want this man in particular.

Oh I see. I love one cheater that must mean I love them all right? After all I am the whore of the Center aren't I? So says Pangman. And Johnson. And Parker. And a host of others.

And then to suggest that you're just looking out for me and don't want me to waste my time and energies on someone that's obviously not good for me.

*crickets*

Yeeeeaah... okay. I appreciate ya lookin' out for this feebleminded ole gal but honey I could tell long before you returned from the academy that Mr. I-gots-me-a-Lexus wasn't bout shit. The fact that you told me he was married only cemented the idea of him being a wholly big assed egotistical jerk.

But good lookin' out.

And then came the statement that totally threw me for a loop: "...in no way shape or form are he and I alike, except the fact we both are interested in you, but even that is for different reasons. You can say we both cheat but that is generic."

*even the crickets went silent on that one*

Generic? GENERIC?! Cheating is cheating is cheating. You can't one up when you both do the exact same fucking thing. He married and he cheats. You've got a bitch, chick, whatever the fuck you call her and you CHEAT. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GODDAMNED DIFFERENCE?!

Sorry... lost the happy persona.

No, I'm not sorry. Look, if you don't like how he carries himself when it comes to me this is my assvice: Stop listening. It's just that fucking simple. But this isn't about him, at least I don't think it is. It goes far deeper but fuck it. It's not worth scratching the surface because it's a waste of time. You are with her. You made your choice and I have to accept it. And to be truthful, I told you a while back that even if you were free at this moment I still wouldn't want you. You didn't want me then, I don't believe you want me now. So fuck your bitch and be happy about your decision. Hey, you could always marry her and then be JUST like O.F.

And yes, I've been mean to you the past several days. There's a good reason for that.

1. I'm angry.
2. I'm bitter. Verrrry bitter. Not just about you. About all men that knife up a heart till it's bloody but still say they care.
3. I'm still angry. You insulted my pride first when you chose Casey over me. I could deal with that. I can nurse my pride and creep to a corner to lick my wounds. But this time? You insulted my intellect. You believed an asshat over me, despite my attempts to keep you well informed. That was what truly pissed me off and makes me think you don't have a shred of respect for me.

And you my dear have succeeded in giving O.F. exactly what he wanted. A nice deep wedge between you and I. That was his goal all along and he won.

And you won. Because you still have someone to retreat to. So I'm the loser all the way 'round.

Looo-zer. Yep, that's me. But it's cool though.

An aside... was listening to Mary J in the car. God that woman can blow can't she? I think that Mary was her best album to date. That was the scorned woman's anthem of the late 90s. I particularly love "The Love I Never Had" and for you, my love, my not-love, the never-mine love, I dedicate it to you.

The Love I Never Had
Artist: Mary J. Blige
Album: MaryYear: 1999

You know sometimes
There come a time in your life
When you love something
You have to let it go
And even though
You might feel there's still something there
You have to wake up
Stop living in a dream
Cause it's over now
You got to think about you

I have always wondered why,
Why I can't live without you babe
And I'm longing to be your lady
I understand that you are leaving
Please don't live here without me babe
Cause I think I might go insane

Chorus:
Cause everybody needs someone to love
And I know that it's true
And I know that it's you
I don't understand
Why you can't be my man
So I better wake up
Stop living in a dream
Yes I better wake up
Cause I can't lose the love I never had
Oh I better wake up
As painful as it seems
Yes I better wake up
I cannot lose the love I never had

Every time I close my eyes
I see visions of you and I
Sharing love of a special kind
I got to laugh to keep from crying
To hide all the pain inside
Cause I can't get you off my mind

Chorus

Oh it made me realize
But you don't know how hard I tried
What do I have to lose?
Oh I think a little bit more than you
And I doubt you will see things clearly
Before it's too late

Chorus

All the times I've cried
It made me realize
That I was only living a lie
But you don't know how hard I tried
To make sure you were satisfied
yeah
Cause I thought you were only mine (Correction: I NEVA thought that shit.)
And I doubt if you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, too late, too late
I don't understand why you can't be my man
Oh everybody needs somebody to love
Everybody needs somebody
yeah
Oh, do do do
Baby, I can't live with you
And I doubt that you will see things clearly
Before it's too late, yeah
Oh you hurt me so, you hurt me soI can't lose, I can't loseI can not lose, I can not lose
Oh I can't lose a love I never had
---------------------------------

Remember the story of Sleeping Beauty? She slept 100 years waiting for Prince Charming to kiss her awake.

Honey, fuck Prince Charming. I'm kissing myself awake and I'm seeing things VERY clearly.

I love you still. I always will.

We can be friends, never again will we be lovers though. My heart can't take it and neither can my pride.

Kids say the darnedest things...

Mo-ooom! Come here! I got a mergency!

Me: A what??

I hit my big toe, take me to the hospital it’s a mergency!

*******

I know where fish heaven is mommy. It’s right here (points to stomach). Because when they die we eat them so heaven must be here in my tummy. It must be where pig heaven, cow heaven and chicken heaven are too.

******
Our neighbor three apts down has 5 (five!) albino pythons. He had one draped around his neck and we (the kids and I) stared and spoke to him from a distance. He went into his apartment briefly and emerged with another, larger snake which he placed on the ground so it could exercise and explore a bit. I asked could I let the girls come over to see it and he acquiesced. Jaalyn stopped about 5 feet from the snake and announced “You know what? I can see it just fine from here.” The snake had other ideas though since she continued to make a beeline for my feet. Trinity stared and stared at the snake while I repeated “See the snake? See? See SNAKE?!” as if she could possibly miss the giant 14 foot yellow snake slithering towards us.

Trinity stared at it, pointed and yelled “SEE MOMMY?! SEE KITTY! KITTY-KITTY!”

“Uh, no baby, it’s a snake. S-N-A-K-E.”

*looks at snake*

*looks at me incredulously*

*sighs and shakes head*

“Kitty, mama…”

***********

I swear if I didn't have my girls to keep me going I'd go totally bonkers. Come to think of it, sometimes I think I'm totally bonkers because of my kids so I guess that means that I'm cancelling out something somewhere. But they are always a source of happiness and laughter for me. Whether it's Jaalyn's thoughtful theories of fish heaven or a discussion about how everyone, even the divine Beyonce poops and has to wipe their butt, or watching Trinity dance to anything remotely musical. I swear that girl is so much like me. She can find the melody in any noise, whether it's water rushing out of the drainspout, cicadas singing in the trees or the jingles of the neighborhood ice cream truck. That diapered booty gets to shaking, knees bend and lately she's added a head bop that would put the best acid rock head banger to shame. Sends me into peals of laughter and delight every time I see it. One day I will have to post a video of her dancing to Beyonce's "Get Me Bodied" video. When the "pat yo weave ladies" part comes on... believe me, if you're not laughing at her you'll be flinching from the enthusiastic way she, uh, pats.

I seem to be losing more friends nowadays. Some I'm voluntarily letting go and others are blowing up in my face. I think I lost one Friday over something un-fucking-believable. (I wrote about it here.) But I suppose if the friendship is lost over something so damned stupid, perhaps it wasn't true to begin with. Very difficult to have a platonic friendship after you've sampled the merchandise. Perhaps that friendship should've been put to rest a while ago. After Friday I think you could stick a fork in it though; it's done.

Another friendship thats unraveling at the seam involves my BFF (I totally feel like an ass using such a trendy phrase.) but I think I will have to discuss that at another time. Kiddos are antsy and they come first before blogging.

More musings...

Enough of the sappy stuff, let's get back to what we all know and love, eh? My bitching, moaning and whining.

You know, I am more than willing enough to admit I am having a serious issue with depression. As a matter of fact, I'd written about it in a previous post before Blogger's "Autosave" devoured it. And since I'm in a self deprecating mood this morning, let's explore that issue in-depth.

And yes, this is more for my benefit than any of my reading audience's and well... whatever. Don't like it, skip on to the next blog. I won't be mad or blame you if you do.

Still here?

So I sat back and thought how long have I had this lethargy of mine, how long my house has been in it's current state (more on that in a bit) and how long I've been fighting this overwhelming sadness and defeatest (defeatist? is it even a word??) attitude of mine.

And by my calculations that answer would be somewhere around January 2005. Helluva long time to be sad. In January 05, specifically the 22nd of that month, I miscarried. My baby fell into my palm and my whole world caved in on me. Naturally I mourned the loss and was confused as to why it happened. I made my peace with it, got into a whirlwind relationship that unraveled nearly as fast as it developed and eventually decided that my doctors were correct when they said the fastest way to get past the terrible loss of one child is to create another. My lost child will never, ever be forgotten, but the creation of the newest helped me move past that awful pain and I did indeed desperately want another child.

Then came the first trimester and the bleeding. Miscarriage overted, yay yay yay, on to the second trimester... yay, yay, yay. On to the third trimester, yay, yay.... uh-oh. What's that in the baby's stomach? A blockage? A tumor? Will the fetus survive? What the hell did I do God to deserve this agony and worry? The baby was fine, wasn't bothered by whatever it was but my heart, my nerves, my God. I worried myself sick, didn't look forward to the birth because I was too worried that the nurses would yank the baby out of my womb and then whisk her off to surgery before I would even get to hold her. And there was no guarantee she'd survive the surgery either since they weren't sure what the hell they were removing. Then she was born, beautiful and healthy, except for a dead, twisted ovary. Into the NICU at two days old, operated on at 5 days old and on morphine for 2 more days before being released to my waiting arms. Oh my God.

Bring on the postpartum depression, full blast. Dedication and determination to breastfeed Trinity until her first birthday prevented me from getting medication to help me get through the hormonal nightmare. Quit the booby love the week of her birthday this June and now... I've gotten medication. And quit it. And gotten more. And quit it. It seems the medications I've been on have this nasty side effect. While the first one made me feel GREAT it also made my throat constrict to the point I couldn't eat more than three bites of a meal and I'd gag when I yawned. And since I have this thing about breathing and being alive I stopped the medication. Tried another that made me feel, eh, okay, but it too had the same side effect. Not as drastic but still the same throat closing issue. Not due to go back to the doctor until the 31st so... I'm stuck in limbo until then.

And Thursday I was reading one of those Dear Help-Me-Out columns online (did I ever mention my obsession with those things? Love them.) and someone had written in about their home. How slovenly they'd become in the past several years; they wish they could have company and friends over but they were too embarrassed; how it was WAY more than packrat paradise and clutterbug cave but extended to trash, dirty dishes and their mom had a house where you could eat off her floors my God what's the problem? Oh and by the way Miss-so-and-so I've been fighting depression for a while.

*forehead slap*

Forgot bout that one. Makes sense though. When I am happy, I have no problem keeping every aspect of my life clean. But lately instead of operating out of logic, as I used to do, I operate off pure emotion. One minute I'm happy and the next I'm in the bottom of gloom lagoon. It's terrible. I can't imagine how people that are bipolar must feel. And to make matters worse I have all sorts of catalysts to trigger my plummeting spirits that I can't rid myself of. Primary antagonist du jour is my mother. I swear sometimes I wonder if she didn't pick me up off a doorstep or something. I can't be that woman's biological child, the way she treats me. I've never known anyone so discouraging, disparaging and more. But short of cutting her off completely, which I don't think I could ever fully do since we do work at the same place, I don't think I could ever rid myself of her.

So, all of this is to say, I am understanding more about my depression, but I haven't set a path of reconstruction yet because I just don't know how to. I want a quick fix for this, but I know there is none. Just like everything else it will take time.

And even if I can't rid myself of my primary antagonist, I can rid myself of other negative things and people that do me more harm than good. Right?

I just don't know anymore.

Of Rats and Men...

Let's switch gears for a moment or two.

Instead of my usual bitching and moaning and griping about men and what absolute fucktards they all happen to be, allow me to tell you why I don't give up on men entirely. What keeps me going and keeps me inspired.

All men aren't lying, cheating, deceitful, craven little fucking shitheads. It's just that all the men I know are lying, cheating, deceitful, craven little fucking shitheads. I don't despise them entirely, primarily because every time I decide I am "through with them" (a.k.a. "I don't need/want a man") I find an all new reason to not give up hope on the species as a whole.

Men are sexy, plain and simple. And I don't mean just in the physical sense. There have been men that I've come across that I do not find attractive in the least physically. But then there will be one feature on him that can make him sexy. Things that I notice and find sexy are probably different that what other women note. To me the way a man walks can be sexy, whether it's the soft handed businessman in a suit that hustles off to his morning meeting with that tight little "white" walk; or the thug on the corner in the worst of neighborhoods with his pants, not down by his knees but resting comfortably on his waist and his pace is more of a glide as he walks down the sidewalk to the beat of the music blasting 3 blocks away.

So many things men do that can drive me mad with desire. The sight of a thin gold bracelet nestled in arm hair, peeking from underneath the cuff of his shirt. The timbre of his voice as it resonates deep in his chest as he patiently describes something I haven't the least bit of interest in... A man with a fresh haircut, freshly groomed and showered can make me swoon. Even if I don't know him I can still envision and feel the back of his head and neck in my mind's eye. A black man in a well tailored suit, outside a courtroom and not attending a funeral or making a spectacle of himself on Sunday drives me wild. I love a man's natural scent, his fresh out of the shower smell. Not the layers of thick, cloying cologne that EVERYONE seems to preserve themselves in like formaldehyde.

His face doesn't matter, nor his physique, all men have something of beauty on them. I'm actually partial to men that aren't slender. I love a big man. Something about their girth appeals to me though I can't put my finger on it exactly. I love the power they exude.

That's it... that is the single, sexiest thing I think any man could possess. Power. It's what draws women in to him. Men like Bill Clinton, for example. Bill isn't exactly a dreamy hunk of a man. He wasn't particularly handsome as a young man either. But as President of the world's strongest nation he skyrocketed to the top of the sexy list. He had power and he wielded well. Monica Lewinsky is and was a fool for what she did. But power doesn't have to be over a nation, or even a person to be noticed. Power of the mind and body (notice I did not say over... I said of...), power over machinery, power period in any form is the ultimate aphrodesiac.

I don't give up on all men. I just give up on the ones I know. But truthfully, I'm not looking for a man. I don't frequent the places that would bring me the right "type" of guy. The intellect, the passion, the power I seek I would never find in the places I go routinely. All the men I usually meet are at work or around it.

And they're all lying, deceitful, cheating...

The TRUE Confessions of the Single Supermom...

Yeah, well...

I had the true confessions all written out. Ranting and raging on and on about my "truths": my hurts, my fears, my depression and my slight addiction and my need to insert the work fuck or any derivitive of the word fuck (i.e. fucker, fuckage, fuckity fuck fucks, etc) into every sentence uttered.

And Blogger deleted it. (Autosave my ass.)

Blogger delights in fucking with it's patrons. Beware.

So, I was going to rewrite it. But it's too long to rewrite and it's just too damned hot. It's nearly 8 and it's still boiling in the apt. My poor kids, whom I tricked into going to bed early (I swear I thought it was nearly 8...honest.) are upstairs where it's getting cool but its still slightly uncomfortable up there.

And I was all set to truly bare my soul to the Internet.

Oh well.

Things You Should Know About Me...

1. Math is not my strong point. Hence me thinking my period was late when it really wasn't time for it to come. Like I was a whole week or more off.

2. My boob ache is more than likely from the coming-not-late period and no breastfeeding in the past 30 days than anything else.

3. I spazz over everything when I'm PMSing, when I'm not PMSing... basically around the clock spazz.

4. Am tired. Carrying my ass to bed.

Sux2BU...

Why, might you ask?

Well, why wouldn't you want to be me?

After all, I'm the chick that missed work today because she couldn't find her fucking ID badge. The same badge used to log onto her computer, you know, so I can do my fucking job. The same badge that is used to open doors after hours. Same badge needed to take my kid to daycare. Same stupid fucking badge that I'd have to file a police report for if I lost it.

And I lost it.

Fuck me.

I can't find it anywhere. I brought it home Friday. I put it in the same location I ALWAYS put it, and it's gone. No one's been here but me on Friday, didn't get the kids until Saturday morning and didn't return with them to the house until that evening. Where in the hell is it?

Pissed doesn't describe how I feel right now.

Reason #2 you'd wish you were me: my period is late.

Don't fuck me.

Get your mind out of the gutter. It's not late because of that. (Yes, I peed on a stick to make sure the impossible hadn't happened.)

Reason #3 you wish you were me: my left breast aches off and on and it has been happening for quite some time. Could be hormones, could be one too many underwire bras, could've been a pulled muscle... who knows? I feel no lumps, no difference between the left or right breasts... still scary. Scary enough to make a doctor's appointment.

Reason #4 you wish you were me: I've been having nightmares daily (or should it be nightly?). Already don't get enough sleep, now enter another irritant to further rob me of it.

Fuck.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An aside... my primary complaint, can be remedied. I can get another badge. Shitload of things to go through to get it but it can be done. Looking at the other things I listed, and things I haven't mentioned... it just amazes me how some people behave sometimes. Men... are so FAR from my thoughts right now; yet people, men in particular, seem to think they hold the foremost place in my thoughts.

Really, y'all ain't shit. Ain't been shit. Ain't shit to me. All I am to you (men) is a filler until you get what you want, whether it's pussy, companionship, or whatever. Fine. Whatever. Doesn't bother me much. But PLEASE don't think that you and only you are what matters to me. Because I know damned well how little I matter to you. N*gga please. Yes, some of you I know I hold a special spot in your heart; and it's returned believe me. But right now, sex, cuddling, talking about what your wife/girlfriend has/hasn't done to you/for you... really not caring bout it at all. It amuses me to note how offended men get when they can't have their way. So quick to assume I'm being a bitch.

No one ever bothers to ask what might be wrong.

2 Days and 3 Nights...

Jesus God I am tired.

No, I'm not tired for the usual reasons. I sent the kiddies packing earlier in the week so I could attempt to get this house straight. Gonna take a LOT more than 2 days to get this place together but I got a lot done and I'm feeling good about it.

I dropped the girls off at my parents house Wednesday evening. The plan was to go home and clean and pull something close to an all nighter; Get up early Thursday morning and get in to work by 6 so I could get off at 2:30 and come home, clean and pull another late nighter and repeat on Friday. Pick the kids up on Saturday.

What happened was this:

-got home Wednesday night. I ate dinner while it was still piping hot and did not have to share it, get up and refill plates or glasses, nor did I have to coax a certain someone to "eat for mommy" or tell anyone to "stop hurling food this minute".

-looked at all that needed to be done, cuddled the cat for about 5 minutes and promptly hauled my tired ass to bed. I slept all night, HARD, in one position and woke with a hellified crick in my neck.

- Thursday after work was really when I dove into the muck. Tired my ass out completely, but not so much that I couldn't go out for Chinese food which, once again, I didn't have to share... well, I shared with the cat but she doesn't eat much so it didn't count. Another lovely, childless evening marred only by the fact that I had to toss out every single speck of food in my refridgerator and freezer because of the amount of time the power was off. I opened the door to the fridge and was hit with rancid food smell. Nothing salvaged but some freeze pops and ketchup. Bummer.

-by Friday I am worn the fuck out. Who knew I had so much shit? I started with nothing and now... even after purging tons of stuff I still feel like I have too much. And I do. The kids have way too many toys and stuffed animals (I swear they are humping the night away because they seem to multiply like jackrabbits). I have clothes and crap everywhere. But I'm working through it. I can see floors again and I hauled bag after bag of trash, toys, and clothes to the dumpster.

And before anyone emails me scolding that I should've donated the clothes, I normally do donate. But not clothing soaked in cat pee. That's just gross.

I also discovered why the cat has been on a pissing spree as of late but I'm too tired to go into it right now.

I'm going to bed.

The Sun'll Come Out?

Still power-less.

No sunshine outside. Just rain.

*sigh*

When Life Hands You Lemons...

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade...
-anonymous

Then pour it into your finest crystal and throw that shit straight up against the wall.
-me

Forget optimism. I tried to remain optimistic all fucking day and hell I feel like being a pessimist. So if you are tired of my whining, tired of my complaints, this is clearly not the entry for you. Come back tomorrow when the sun is sun-sunny and I will clearly tell you how excited I am about life and how I'm changing this and that and...

Bah.

Look, it's been a hellified day and I'm moody and depressed with a yeast infection and I'm in the dark.

The dark people. Anyone care to guess why?

Because my dumbass forgot to pay the bill. I misread the due date. By the time I found out the power was off customer service was closed and thus it's been a very stressful, sweaty evening. Avoidable? Entirely, simply pay the bill on time. I know. Annoying as fuck when you realize the bill's due date was the 23rd for the past due amount and the 31st for the current amount. More annoying is the fact that you realize as you dial customer service at approximately 7:03 that they turn their phones off at exactly 7.

Fuck. Thank you Dominion Power.

So id I make spelling errors, it;s because I am typing in the dark and cannot see the keys and I am SICK to death of squinting to find the backspace key on this laptop keyboard.

Fuck.

On the positive side, it's a relatively cool evening/night so the kids are sleeping in their diapers and panties, respectively after being allowed to play outside way after the street lights came on. I brought them in, gave them benadryl to help them sleep, I mean to help with their allergies, wiped them down with a cool wet washcloth and sprinkled their limp tired bodies with baby powder to help cool them down.

On the negative side my cell is about to die, as is my laptop battery, I am wide awake despite the fact that I could barely keep my eyes open all day. Adding to the negative side, last night the cat peed on my backpack, the baby's diaper bag, my newspaper and my brand new purse I just bought Friday.

Jesus God I wish that bitch would die.

I love animals. I love PETA. I love cats, just not mine. She can be the sweetest thing, but if things don;t go her way there will be hell to pay. Hence when I changed the brand of litter to something better (Tidy Cats with crystal shit in it) and she opposed I get cat piss all over the fucking house.

And I take it back. I do not love all animals. Am currently hating mosquitoes since they think I am tasty. Thanks you flying leeches, now I get to itch in more spots than just below the equator.

The sun'll come out tomorrow,
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow...
There'll be sun...

Bah.

Jesus Take the Wheel

Boy am I a moody bitch these past several days.

I know most ladies are a wee sensitive when PMSing and let me tell you when it happens to me every month, I am no trip to the beach. Some things genuinely tick me off, PMS or not... Like I have this thing about respect. I feel that if I respect you, you respect me. Not hard right? So hypothetically if I say No to something or Yes to something you respect my answer one way or the other. Or is that just me? Like if you asked me hey do you want to go jump off a cliff with me and my response was No, I'll catch you later on that one... don't try and convince me to do it. I said no, so leave it at that. It irritates the shit out of me for people to try and change my mind instead of respecting the answer that I initially gave.

Uh, not that this happened recently or anything. Heh.

Told you I was a moody bitch.

Anyway, I've been off all day today because the baby was sick (but not really since she miraculously healed herself of fever and pain by the time the doctor arrived) and in between bouts of worry, bitchiness and dementia from lack of sleep I noticed my mood taking a serious nosedive (that's never a good thing prior to 10 a.m.) so as I drove along I decided to do a wee bit of mental stimulation.

I was looking at all the personalized license plates and remembering how when I was a kid there was never any type of variations available. You simply got a state issued plate with the first three characters being alpha, a hyphen, followed by three numeric characters. Now it seems everyone has a personalized plate of some sort (including yours truly).

So, back to my mental stimulation. I got to thinking about the types of plates certain people could have or should have.

Like a dentist that is a member of the Y where Jaalyn attends has the plate: JAW DR

So could an orthodontist get MBRC THS?

Or a plumber? PIPE DWN

A Roofer? OVRHEAD

A Comcast employee? FCKUOVR

How bout those man whores? NSEMN8U

I had to stop at that one. I was having WAY too much fun.

Hiatus

I know, I haven't posted in almost a month.

I suck.

I'll be back shortly though. With plenty of lengthy explainations and musings and photographic evidence that my children are in fact still driving me insane.

I've no excuse not to post anymore. I'm all technologically inclined now. I've got WiFi. I can post from anywhere now cause:

Duuuuude! I got a Dell!

My Apologies...

Lately I've been sitting and instead of whining and having my mini pity parties by my lonesome, I try and count my blessings instead. But it's like the more I feel I am blessed the worse certain situations become until I just feel hopeless.

I'm constantly in fear of fucking up my kids the way my folks did me. True, now I have more respect for my father despite his wrongdoing in the past. But I don't want my kids to feel like I feel towards my mother. Sometimes, I'm not going to lie, I feel like I hate her. Most times, I am certain she hates me.

I feel certain I'm fucking up my kids in advance. And child rearing isn't something where you sit there and say, you know what? I was awful to my kids today but tomorrow I'll do better I promise. Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. And as the days go by I don't know... it's like I feel the little bit of time I spend with my kids... let's just say I'd prefer them not to remember many a afternoon with mommy dearest.

And the girls are so little and SO sweet. There are no end to kisses and hugs, no limiting the number of spoken "I love you"'s. All our bonding time isn't bad. I think it's sweet when the girls know mommy is bone tired and I'm told to stretch out on the carpet and let them pretend to put makeup on me. All they need is a cup of tepid water and my supply of unused blush, lipstick and eyeshadow brushes and they will happily "paint" my face (back, tummy, feet). Jaalyn said she thinks it relaxes me and it gives us an opportunity to bond without words, without yelling, without tears.

And then there are those times that the crying has worn my last nerve, or Jaalyn's lied (boldly, I might add) about the most asinine thing, or their father has done something stupid or done nothing at all and I'm pissed about it. Or I'll get laid out by my mother, argued with the girls father AND the baby's screaming nonstop, Jaalyn's knocked over something sticky and sweet near the endless trail of ants streaming through our living room and refused to pick it up, AND she's lied about it despite the fact that she did it in front of me... and on and on.

And I get angry.

And I yell.

And I fuss.

And it's happening too often. Too regularly. And I could offer excuses: I'm beyond exhaustion. I'm working 6 days a week. I'm stressed because of *insert multitude of problems here*. But the bottom line is that I'm the adult. I am the parent. There is no excuse, period. Yes, there will be days that I lose my temper. Days where I justifiably want to sink to the floor, put my head in my hands and just cry. Single parenting is hard. Extremely hard especially when you feel like you have no one of value in your corner.

Ever go to a little league softball game and hear various parents cheer on other people's kids? "You can do it Tyler!" "Way to go Mary!" "Don't worry about it Bobby!" But when it's their own kid you can tell by the emphasis in their voice and body language. You can tell that they mean what they say. They have a vested interest in that kid and that kid is their #1 player, the MVP. Cheering on a single parent it kinda like that. Dotted here and there are well wishers and a few cheers. But they aren't heartfelt; more like rehearsed and automated. So that means that, well, it doesn't mean much at all to hear it. Wasted words, wasted breathe.

Anyway, I'm off subject. Jaalyn, my love, my heart and my first... if you should ever read this please know how much I love you. I don't want to be mean, I don't want to yell. I would love to simply be the best mommy in the world to you. It's what I live for and strive to be. We are both growing and learning and together I know we can do this. The bond we have is unlike anything I've ever known or seen. I want to continuously feed and nurture it so that it will continue to grow. I will make time for you. We will have our mommy-daughter days again I promise. We can send Trin to her daycare and spend time together, just me and you.

I promise.

Is it me?

I have no justifiable excuse. I willingly surround myself with people that are poison to me. It like an addiction I think because I do the same thing, experience the same hurt, anger and frustration, yet I'm not eliminating the cause of the problem in it's entirety.

People.

I swear evil and stupid people are like a cancer. (I swear I'll quit with the analogies after this post.) If you don't cut out that cancer entirely, it comes back stronger and threatens to consume. I am so frustated and so... so... rage filled. I mean it's scary. My temper is short as hell these days. I snap on Jaalyn, I snap on Trinity and it hurts me to my heart.

But it's all caused by people. People in my life. People I allow to be in my life.

I need to purge. I keep saying I'll do it. But when it comes to those that I love I am reluctant to let go. Life is so short.

But then, life, is short. I need to live again. Live for what matters most and fuck the rest.

In Honor of Father's Day...

Yet one more angry note...

A shame I have to post angry letters and notifications here in order to let off steam from dealing with your stupid ass. It's a shame too that I write about it instead of telling you to your face. Then again, that's a mixed blessing of sorts.

The reason why I write these things, the way I do, instead of saying all sorts of nasty shit to your face is because I hate the drama that ensues. I hate arguing, I hate fighting, especially in front of the children. Trinity already wails when I raise my voice thanks to that last time you drew me into arguing with your retarded ass when you cussed me out in the parking lot in front of my townhouse. Ever since then she cries and cowers with fear whenever I raise my voice. I despise you for making me show that side, that angry side, to my child and every time I see her reaction it makes me loathe you more.

So to avoid the shouting matches and the stress and strain, I keep calm and quiet in front of you. You never know what I am thinking and I can see your mind is baffled by my pacifist persona. It's so unlike me isn't it? I, the one that would bitch and scream and cuss and cry just to get you to come see your child or to get a measly gallon of milk from you. And now? I don't have the heart for it. Between you and my mother you're both killing me. Blood pressure, stress, headaches, heartaches. No more. God forbid something happens to me, where would the girls go? To my mother to be belittled, antagonized and warped? Or to you, briefly before you willingly hand them over to social services? (And yes, this is a true statement uttered from his lips that should something happen to me he would in fact give my kids away.)

So, instead I sit quietly. I rage inwardly. Have to stop it soon because holding it in is nearly as bad as making an ass of myself screaming obscenities at you. The anger, the bitterness, my God it eats at my soul like a canker. I can remember vividly being like this years ago; after Jaalyn was born and you refused to be a father; after I realized that you considered dropping off a gallon of milk after a year and a half to be "child support"; after my already meager paycheck began being garnished to pay for your debts; after I realized the high deposits and fees I'd have to pay for basic utilities because my name was attached to yours on previous bills and addresses; after I realized what a fool I'd been to ever hope you'd be half the man I thought you'd be, let alone the good father I wanted you to be.

What can I say? What do I do? For so long I've let things slide.

And when I did finally approach you for something, you denied me. Not just me, but our sick baby. You denied her her medication she so desperately needed all because there were things you said you wanted to do. That was the final straw for me. All goals set aside for now to focus on the main one, which would be to no longer be dependant on your help financially. Because really, that’s the only real way you help. Not like you do anything else of importance.

Oh and here’s a little tidbit I’d just love to share with you. All the questions Jaalyn had after our blowout on the phone. Bless her. She wanted to know why, if daddy loves us like he says, why won’t he get the baby her medicine. Mommy, How come you’re the one that always stays with me and Trinity when we’re sick. How come you’re the only one that takes us to the doctor and to school? I knew that she would eventually notice. Some of her questions I answered. Most I could not. I cannot explain to her why you won’t be the father she (or even I) want you to be. I cannot explain what I do not understand.

Burns me up to know that I have to tolerate you even in the most banal ways. Not for long though if I can help it. I’ve had it. I’m beyond tired, beyond disgust, beyond the beyonds with you.

I mean, between you and me, it’s kinda fucked up that I play two roles to our girls; both mom and dad. It’s sad that I end up trying to compensate for your foolishness by doing special things for the kids. Not that I wouldn’t do them ordinarily, but sometimes when money is low, tears are falling because once again daddy didn’t do what he said he would, I dig a little deeper in the pocketbook and I do my best to make the girls happy. Sometimes I feel like I’m overcompensating and that too makes me angry. Just that I’m put in a position to ever feel like I’m overcompensating for the want of a decent damned daddy.

My own fault really. You barely did for one child, what made me think having another would make you act right? Doesn’t really matter though… just like I tell the girls all the time:

Mama’ll make it better.

Just... Wow...

Did any of you see this last Sunday?

Or this, this past Sunday?

And then I looked at this...

And I wept.


Jesus people, we got to do better. The fool in the big chair is on his way out next year.

Get out, get informed, and vote dammit.

I'll go so far as to say that anyone has to be better than the fuckup we have now.

Drivel...

I long for simplicity in life sometimes. I mean complexity is good in certain circumstances, but for everyday situations I crave the mundane.

I don't know what is wrong with me these days. I mean the changes I'm experiencing are far more than just typical postpartum hormonal stuff. I joke with my girlfriends that I'm going through a mid-mid-life crisis since I'm about to cross the proverbial threshold into 30dom and old maid territory.

I'm very emotional; that's hormonal I know for fact. But it goes deeper than that. I am lonely. I would love to have a little attention thrown my way. A little affection, a little love. It bothers me that I don't have it or anyone special in my life. Everyone that could be considered special has that one very obvious flaw that I've talked about here, and here. That availability thing. The not married/taken thing. And because all I'm ever offered is the number 2 slot, I'm becoming bitter.

Well, not just bitter. Angry. VERY angry. And for every man that says I should just deal with it because: a) it's the perfect relationship -or- b) it's not like you're really number 2 because you're really #1 when it's just me and you in the room, for those men just... ugh. There's no greater way to express my disgust and this time FUCK YOU just doesn't cover it all. Let me think of a nice vivid description to convey my disgust with men... Fellas, imagine being forcibly fucked in your ass by a dude named Paco and having him take his shit covered dick and wiping it across your upper lip.

Yeah, that pretty much describes how I feel these days.

And it hurts. It hurts knowing you're not wanted by anyone, except for the brief creation of the two-backed beast between the sheets. But, I try and say whatever and keep on rolling.

The hurt remains though.

It's weird because I'm not the mushy type. I'm normally not feeling this vulnerable. I'm normally not this needy or emotional or pessimisstic. And I sit through movie after movie* with my daughters, all of which focus on the "happily ever after" theory and Jaalyn talks about how she can't wait for her happily ever after to come. Who am I to tell her that it doesn't always work that way? Who am I to tell her that sure, Prince Charming may come to your doorstep on his white stallion... but he'll come in the dead of night when Mrs. Charming isn't looking and he'll stash his steed out back so no one notices his visit. She looks at these movies, then I catch her looking at me and I can see clearly what she's thinking. How come this hasn't happened to Mommy?

*These movies by the way are enough to drive me insane. The music, romanticism, syrupy lovey dovey dialog and the primary point that love conquers all/your prince will always come is enough to make a bitch heave. The makers of such drivel ought to be shot.

I hope to God, please God please, let this be a phase I'm going through. I am the woman who says with confidence (and I still do despite how I feel at the present) that I do not need a man to complete me. And I don't.

It's just that with all that's going on with the kids and other things going on in life, I just want a little affection. A little attention and a little love. And I don't think I'd even want or need these things as much as I do if I had some outside interests. Things that don't necessarily involve the children. Typically, when I do an adult activity outside the interest of the girls I take it to the extreme and end up fucking someone, because really can you get a more adult activity than that? But I think it's time to hang up the condoms for a while and focus on different adult activities that aren't quite so, ahem, adult.

Maybe I'll learn to knit, eh? Sounds fun and exciting and mind consuming. Right?

Cough, hack, sneeze, *wheeze*...

Been out for a minute.

Kids been sick.

I've been sick. As a matter of fact, I'm still sick. Grown ass woman with an ear infection and strep throat. Kiddies are sick with thrush, yeast infections, wheezing and ear infection and pink eye (all Trinity) -or- 5 canker sores in one spot on the lower lip that swelled to enormous proportions and prevented food consumption for several days, slight fever, coughing, and pink eye (Jaalyn).

We are a sickly - but germ swapping - household.

Been deep in thought and evaluations (eh, when am I not?)... revelations to follow at another time. In the meantime, I've been tickling myself with some wonderful sites on the internet. They amuse me to no end, especially in my current man hating, die-you-dirty-rotten-sons-of-motherfuckers, stage.

I mean this site here? LOVES it. It's delightfully wicked. Were it not for a lawsuit pending against the creators I'd snatch the idea and expand on it tenfold.

And this one? My house is a Beyonce shrine. Jaalyn and Trinity adore Beyonce. We own cds, dvds, magazines and watch live performances on AOL and anywhere else we can get them for free. We are Beyonce stans without a doubt but within reason. This site has so many little nuggets of truth hidden within the cleverly written, albeit sardonic, descriptions about females in today's music industry. Beyonce aside, most of the female artists out today are either mediocre (hello Amerie and Kelly Rowland) or just plain suck (talking to you Cassie and that damned "Lipgloss" girl). And the fine print disclaimer at the bottom of the page? Slayed me.

These days I need a good laugh. I'm finding little joy in everyday dealings.

I'm tired and worn out. I'm angry, hurt and bitter. I'm vulnerable and girly. And I hate it.

And I hate men because most of this bullshit I'm feeling stems from them. You know, I've dated black men, white men, Salvadorians, Mexicans, Latinos, Turks, Italians and so on.

And you know what? Ultimately, no matter where they're from, how their raised, the color of their skin, or their spiritual beliefs... they are all the same.

Fucking assholes.

What I wouldn't give to pour Clorox into the man pool of the world. Take out all the impurities, the lying, cheating, no good bastards...

Doubt there'd be anything left other than a few bleached tank tops and boxers left behind though.

One Sin-sational post...

I was listening to the radio this morning (Steve Harvey Morning Show) and Steve was ranting about the Strawberry letter as is his wont. Well, this morning he mentioned that "sin is sin" no matter what; whether you're gay or if you told a lie, God supposedly judges all under the same ruling. Sin is sin. If you're gay, it's sin; if you've killed it's sin. If you've beared (born?) false witness it's sin.

You get the idea.

So that got me to thinking about myself. I've sinned, everyone has. But then I took it one step further (you know me, always overanalyzing shit) and thought about the dreaded 7 deadly sins and how many of the 7 applied to yours truly.

Okay, really, at first I was just trying to remember all 7. And I could only remember about 4. So I looked them up here. And oh my word, I could do another whole post on that article alone in regards to the Roman Catholic church and it's wondrous history (not that I'm a history nut or anything... really.).

So let's see... lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride...

Lust- big fat check beside that one. Goes hand in hand with another sin called Adultery. And honestly, it's not so much the lust that gets me in trouble as it is just wanting that closeness and intimacy with another person. That intimacy leads to sex... which leads to more sex... which leads to children born out of wedlock...

And I'm not making this any better am I?

Gluttony- not so much this one, unless you count being a glutton for punishment since I just continue to carry on with unavailable men because they happen to be the only ones that come on to me. If that counts for gluttony, add this to my tally.

Greed- eh, again, not really applicable. All I want is peace, happiness, health and financial security. Don't think that qualifies as greed.

Sloth- Am I lazy and slothful or am I just tired as fuck? I vote tired. Next...

Wrath- Hm... tough call. I get angry at the drop of a hat these days: at baby daddy, at my mother, at life, the kids, etc. I seem to have the patience of Job so long as I get my coffee daily and the proper amount of sleep. So is it sin or because I'm tired as fuck? Tired as fuck it is...

So let's do a brief tally:

1.5 for sin and 2 for Tired as Fuck...

Tired as Fuck is in the lead. Moving on...


Envy- whooo boy. I don't think there is a single woman on this planet that isn't guilty of this one. Especially moms. I believe there's an actual term called Mom-envy and it very much applies to me. I hate to see the well put together moms, the SAHM (that's Stay At Home Moms for those not hip to the parental lingo), the married moms that have all the time in the world to make sure their kids are neat and tidy and fed hand pureed organic baby food made in their own sparkling clean kitchens. Bleh. But, I've also seen the inner workings of those moms and I know that usually all is not what it seems. So I've learned not to envy them their clean homes, trim tummies or seemingly attentive, well paid husbands. I peep into their world and suddenly mine seems so much brighter. We'll add another half point because I still envy new moms with trimmer figures than mine.

Pride- This is one I actually don't think I have enough of, if that's a good thing. Sometimes I don't think I have enough pride in myself, in my mothering, or anything. Not enough confidence. But I know in the terms of "sin" they mean an excess of pride, right?


So after writing it all down, I guess I'm not as bad as I thought. I figured I'd at least I'd have 5 out of 7. Still racking up a hella lot in the sinning category and that's never good. But I do try my damnedest to do the right thing, despite all my inner struggles. And there's always that famous line out of the bible, the venerable get-out-of-jail-free card:

All have sinned come come short of the glory of God.

Or something like that...

Well that was quick...

Hm... hasn't even been a week yet and already I've made an error in judgement in regards to the new changes I want to make in my life.

It's hard though to make a change when you don't really want to, but you know you need to. Not just to be a better person or a happier person, but to be respectful to yourself.

Hence my thing, my penchant if you will, for fooling around with men that aren't "mine". For the past, oh I don't know, six years or so I've been "dating" and falling for men that already have wives or girlfriends. And you know the spiel, it suited me fine then because I didn't want a relationship; I wanted the perks of relationships without the drama and arguing and possession that I think comes with relationships. This worked well for me. I rarely caught feelings, in fact it was often the other way around, and I felt comfortable enough to ask about their wives and not a bit of jealousy would spark.

And then I met Him. And all that bad karma came and bit me in the ass. Because I did fall for Him. I did/do love Him. But He has another. And I hate it. And I've actually written about him before in this blog. I hate to hear her name. I hate to hear of their sex life. I don't know her but I loathe her intensely. Because she exists. Because she's everything I despise in a woman... and that isn't even related to the fact that she has Him. It's purely because her actions are so blatantly that of a desperate woman that is creeping up in age and would give her left kidney to snag a husband. And she gets rejected... a lot. But anyway...

Bottom line is that if I indeed want to make changes in my life, this is one area in particular I need to address. As much as I'd like to breeze over it, I can't. Because quite frankly, I disgust myself. And if I keep it up I'll be as desperate as Her and that shit just ain't happening. I'd rather be single and happy any day than to be with someone that's made it abundantly clear he has no intention of ever taking that final precipitous plunge into that cess pool called marriage.

I'm tired of getting my feelings hurt. I'm tired of being second. I'm tired of only attracting men that already have a woman or two at home.

I deserve better. (Or do I?) I'm not saying I'm right for anything I've done in the past. One thing I am not is a home wrecker. I've never ruined marriages or relationships and yes, I realize that that doesn't make what I've done okay.

But I have to start somewhere. I have to construct a path towards healing right? I'm a good woman, a damned good woman to any man I've ever had, be he single or not.

My heart aches down to the depths of my soul because I love a man and I cannot have him. And to be quite honest, if He dispensed with Her tomorrow, I wouldn't even want Him. Because if He truly wanted me, He'd be with me right?

But He's with Her. So that tells me everything I need to know right there doesn't it?

A Letter to My Children's Father...

I ought to simply call you my babies' daddy since that's about all you amount to. A sire for my offspring; a sperm for my egg; a donor.

Alright that was mean. But true.

I intended this to be a note of thanks...

Thank you for creating three wonderful, beautiful children with me. Thank you for crying with me when one of them fell lifelessly from my womb into my palm.

Thank you for showing me alternately how weak of a woman I was when I was with you... and how much stronger of a woman I am without you (or any man for that matter).

Thank you for allowing me to see just how hard it is to be a single parent in this world and how difficult it is not to warp my daughters' minds into man-hating machines. I honestly would love them just the same, if not more if they decide later in life to be lesbians.

Thank you for showing me that bitterness can eat at the soul worse than a canker on flesh. Thank you God for helping me to let the bitterness and hatred go. It's a steady work in progress.

Thank you for allowing me to bear the brunt of raising our girls, teaching them to walk, talk, manners and so much more only to have you take the credit when introducing them to your peers and coworkers. Funny, for all the work I thought I did, I hear an awful lot of WE and I when you respond to compliments the girls receive.

Thank you so much for paying child support bi-weekly and on time. It helps so much to know that its coming. Nevermind the fact that I had to take you to court to get it and keep you in constant fear of returning to the courtroom to have it raised just to get you to contribute to your own offspring.

SO beside the point, I know... to continue:

Thank you so much for the continuous flow of criticisms and insults and jealous outbursts. And really, what is the deal with the jealousy anyway? We aren't together, we haven't been a bonafide couple since November 2000 when you kicked my seven months pregnant ass out of our house. Today there was jealousy because I was talking to my neighbor. T-A-L-K-I-N-G... seems I have a headlight out on my car and I was thanking him for being so kind as to tell me so I can get it fixed.

And how about those criticisms and insults? Thank you so much for showing me what I was like to so many friends before I had children of my own. Boy, I thought I knew so much about raising a child that I freely dispensed advice whether I was asked or not. Then I had Jaalyn and discovered I didn't know squat. But thanks anyway for your (un)timely advice.

Thanks for sitting with me night after night when our babies are sick and feverish and praying to God to please, just end their coughing/vomiting/fever/whatever and let them be healthy. Thanks so much for forgoing sleep to hold your wheezing coughing child upright in your arms so that she can sleep and not choke to death on the thick mucus collecting in the back of her throat from pollen/allergies/virus/strep throat. Thank you for helping me keep track of the seemingly thousand types of medicines the girls need to take and when so that I don't get confused and miss a dose or worse, double a dose by accident.

Thanks for taking them to the doctor each and every time they fall ill, sometimes more than once in a day. Thank you for providing funds for expensive prescriptions, tylenol, motrin, pedialyte, saltine crackers, diaper rash creams, etcetera that they always need following the doctor's visit.

Thank you for finding time in your already jam packed schedule for an impromptu game of peekaboo, trips to the park, zoo, library... time to put together puzzles, practice reading a book aloud and homework too. Thanks for helping each week finding things to correspond with Jaalyn's show and tell assignment and making sure she takes it on the appropriate day.

Thanks for packing lunches, paying tuitions, working 50+ hour weeks and still managing to wash a few loads of clothes, clean the house, cook some meals, take out the garbage, iron school uniforms, participate in school fundraisers and on and on and on when all you really want to do is crawl into a corner somewhere and nap for the next 15 years or so.

Thank you for so graciously coming over to give me a break from the children, especially when you know how badly I need one and how every person needs just a smidgen of time for themselves.

Thanks for enduring insulting jabs from my mother and myself on what a rotten parent you must be ( despite the children being healthy and clean and intelligent. All of that must be inherited from her father/grandparents/etc.). On how the house is never clean enough, the clothing is never nice enough/too nice, they aren't fed enough or some inane reason for giving you hell.


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Wait.

You don't do any of those things.

I do.

Every day. All day.

24/7, 365, never ending, never ceasing.


You sit and live your life separately without a worry in the world. You've absolutely no idea what I do and what goes on on a regular basis, yet you complain I don't have time for you or anyone else because I am so wrapped up in my children. I never thought being involved in your children's lives would be a bad thing. Being too involved is one thing, but I'm just struggling to maintain and keep from sinking in the mire and muck you and my mother keep trying to drag me into.

Getting back to you... all you care about is yourself. I don't doubt for a second that you love the girls. But I'm sick of the attitudes. SO. SICK. OF. THEM. There is a reason we're not together and why no matter how hard we tried we would never be able to make a relationship work.

We do not operate as a team. You do not help me at all... no wait, that's not entirely correct... you do the bare minimum when it comes to helping with the girls. And your piss poor excuse is that you don't know what to do.

Come the fuck on.

You can barely get in the door without knocking something over or stepping on something. Instead of planting your fanny into the recliner and remaining perched there all damned afternoon, could you get Jaalyn to clean the room? Could you take out a bag of trash? Throw some clothes into the washer or dryer? Or maybe just ask "Is there anything I could help you with?"

But no, you sit and complain or you sit in silence.

Today, after the admission of jealousy (and dude, I am clearly missing something here because I am just not getting that whole thing) and the resulting heated discussion you sat in silence, refusing to answer my questions and clearly dictating that you were putting an end to the conversation. And it infuriated me.

And then I thought... you are not even worth getting angry over. For what? We're not together. We'll never be together. And I'm absolutely thrilled to be making drastic changes in my life.

Only you don't know it. Yet...

But you will soon. Very soon.

So... thanks. For the memories, for our children, for the blood, sweat and tears resulting from our disasterous 10 years of knowing one another. We've shared good times and bad... well we've shared more bad than good really but still... we shared. Who knows what the future holds? Maybe we'll share again. Doubtful. But I've learned not to tempt God who despite His Absolute Divinity has a wicked sense of humor.

And I'm not sweating all the "wrongs" you've done to me or the whole "my baby daddy ain't worth shit" thing either. Because karma is a bitch baby. Everything you do comes back. And I pray God has mercy on you when it happens.

So I'll keep on doing what I do. I'll raise our daughters and hope that they learn from the mistakes their parents made. I hope they have better goals than we; I hope they have higher hopes than we.

And I hope they have better taste in men than me.

And From Change Comes...

What? Huh? What day is it?

I've had so much to write... so much that's been on my mind and heart. So much that I've wanted to share. No time or either I'll have time, the conditions are right (i.e. quiet) and I just won't feel like it. As much as I'd like to try, I think I'll make a terrible freelance writer. I hate writing on demand. But, whatev.

Trinity has been very sick the past several weeks. Yes, I said weeks as in a 11+ day virus/flu thing that started out with her losing her voice and gasping for breath and ended with horrid mucusy vomiting and diarrhea. Never have I seen someone so small suffer so much. But, it's finally passed and now we're on to the next level of extreme discomfort; her first two teeth are trying to push their way through her now toughened gums. I'm telling you, it's nothing but fun up in this here household.

Throughout the turmoil in the house, I've been trying to deal with my own inner turmoil and formulate a plan to facilitate the changes I want to make in my life. And as simple as this process ought to be I'm overcomplicating things by overthinking things. Honestly, just once I wish I could be one of those people that oversimplify instead of overanalyze. But, that's just how I am and I'm doing my best to work out a plan of action that's neither difficult nor intense. Just a steady sweeping motion of change, preferably short and sweet.

I need not just happiness, but some balance in my life. The way I see it I have three areas to revitalize and restore: the home, the heart and the spirit. I haven't exactly figured out the first area to work on since they are so all closely entertwined. But I do have several things that I need to go about changing pronto so as to achieve some a semblance of sanity and peace.

And the very first change to be made is the not-relationship with my kids father. Oh that man... and I hesitate to even call him a man. He is the one that makes every other man on the planet look like absolute garbage in my eyes. We had a major falling out last week where he detailed the issues he had with me as an excuse to behaving like an utter and complete ass for the past two months. When I heard his complaints I was speechless... because they were so completely banal and if there is a description far beyond "petty" this would be it. As a matter of fact, I'll let my readers be the judge. If I am wrong, tell me. One of his major crux with me had to do with Christmas. I did not get him a bonafide gift as I had said I would. This was a serious injustice to him because he bought gifts for me. Thus he's had a 'tude since the morning of December 25th.

Mmkay... Now, that was his complaint. Let's hear my defense. Why did he not receive a gift from me you may ask? Because:

1. Several months prior we'd agreed NOT to exchange gifts. The holiday is for the kids, not us.
2. Because I'd spent every dime I had on bills and getting the children's gifts. I didn't even get my parents anything substantial. First time EVER.
3. Not only did I pay for 95% of the children's gifts, I also bought all the stocking stuffers. Jaalyn and I hung stockings for every member of our immediate family, including baby daddy, my folks and the damned cat. Santa delivered so many stocking stuffers that the stockings actually fell from the nails that were holding them. And Santa also took a lot of time finding nice, substantial gifts for each individual that went far beyond the usual dollar tree garbage most people stuff stockings with.
4. Not that it matters now, but can I be real for a moment? Rarely have I gotten anything nice from baby daddy as a gift. One Christmas after spending hundreds of dollars on his gifts I received a chipped and worn wooden serving tray complete with the $2 price tag stuck on the back from the local flea market. I was not angry, in fact I was amused and I actually still have it and use it to serve Jaalyn cereal in bed some mornings. Here recently I've gotten gifts from him, nice gifts that I neither needed or wanted, but the thought was there and much appreciated. Last year Jaalyn said daddy needs a new bed mommy. His covers aren't nice like mine are mommy. So I let her choose something from a catalog and ordered it. We gave him a complete bed set for Father's day and the matching bath set on his birthday. Probably totalled over $300 but it didn't matter. I got a sandwich maker for Mother's Day. It cost $7.99 and was a replacement for the one he tossed a few years back when he was pissed at me for something or other.

I'm not saying he should spend massive amounts of money on me when he purchases gifts. I actually don't like expensive gifts. I love homemade gifts and inexpensive gifts with thought behind them and items that I actually need. All I wanted for Christmas were a pair of slippers because I never think to buy them for myself and had holes in my beloved jaguar head slippers. (I did receive a pair from my dad and oddly enough from my boss as well). The gifts I have bought for my kids father have been costly in some cases but I don't complain because he really had a need for the items we gave. I give all year round, just like I do for my kids, to various charities and to various people. One year I maxed out unexpectedly and I catch nastiness and hell for it for months. That is a head shaker to me.

Another gripe of his is that he paid a cable bill for me back in January and I never paid him back. A bill he admitted I neither asked him to pay, nor needed him to pay because I could pay it myself. You know how the bill due date will be on a Wednesday but you don't get paid until Friday? It was one of those things. I did offer to pay him back; he refused. Scratching my head over why this entire episode was a huge issue to him, why he's still hanging onto it and it's now April and why would cause more nastiness towards my person.

Anyway, the resulting blow out caused him to criticize not just my parenting techniques but also my person. Anyone that knows me knows how sensitive I am and how my self esteem is far beyond the region in the toilet; I'm nearing septic levels now. So when he told me what a rotten mother I am, that I'd never ever get a man, that I was a complete waste of time and space... it bothered me. I wouldn't say it hurt me, but it did get under my skin a bit.

I get annoyed anyway when he criticizes my parenting. It's like me criticizing the work of a quantum physicist. I've only a glimmer of knowledge in that area so who am I to criticize? I am not the perfect parent but I am a goddamned good one and eons better than he is to his children. I am all my girls have and I've never been able to count on him for a damned thing. To his comments I say Fuck You.

And I could detail more about his complaints, but why get all riled up about it again? Suffice it to say I am done with the entire thing. I have tired of the criticisms, the nasty attitudes, the insults and arguments. Telling me I was a big waste of time and space was simply the last straw. It's unnecessary... HE'S unnecessary since he does the bare minimum anyway. Time for him to be eliminated from the equation altogether. Not worth the stress, not worth my time, and not deserving of ... well...

I'll just leave it at that. But in my eyes, he's done.

Change Is Inevitable.

Change is inevitable. Who said that? I'm drawing a blank.

I'd meant this particular post to be an explanation of my previous ranting because I received a lot of, um, interest due to my choice of words and phrases. But tonight I'm choosing to focus on the primary point of my little missive...

Change.

It's time for a drastic change in my life. I am not happy. I love my children, but I do not feel I am at my best in the parental arena. I am focusing far too much on the distractions in my life; the unnecessary distractions. This brings on unnecessary stress, which I in turn pass on to my kids.

Not good.

And you know, for the longest time I thought I was the one that was confused. And perhaps I was, but tonight after having a "nice" tete a tete with baby daddy I've never seen clearer in my life.

I need a change. Starting now. And in order for that change to happen I need a plan of action. To formulate the plan of action, I need to establish some goals and figure out precisely what it is that I want out of life, both personal and professional. I need to rid myself of a hella lot of dead weight. I need to focus on my constant motivation (my girls) to increase my determination so that I can achieve my goals and get back to that point where all was well in my little corner of the world. I'd mentioned to my best friend early on in the year that 2007 was the year of change, growth and prosperity for us both. Her time of change has already come to fruition and mine is just beginning.

Oh this Supermom has only begun to realize her powers. The powers were there all along, but years of bitterness and neglect had clouded my vision something fierce.

I'm wiping the sand out of my eyes and for the first time in so fucking long, I'm seeing clear skies and a smooth road paved before me.

All I need to do is walk...

Fuck It...

Yup, just fuck it.

Fuck everything.

Fuck the naysayers and ne'er-do-wells.

Fuck the people that intentionally try to put me down and hurt me.

Fuck the housework, the endless line of bill collectors, and my job.

Fuck Comcast (up the ass with a salt covered barbed wire dildo, not that I'm bitter or anything).

Fuck the power company that screwed my billing and sent me a bill in the amount of nearly $700 for less than 30 days of service.

Fuck the bullshit and the drama that comes weekly, daily, hourly, second-ly with my baby daddy.

Fuck the daycares and schools that try to label me as a poor, ignorant, single nigga mom and dare treat me as such.

Fuck the pediatrician that gives bullshit excuses for what I know to be allergies in my kids. (I must add a note here that the baby was sneezing, snotting and routinely bashing herself in the face and screaming in agony and frustration. Same symptoms Jaalyn had when she was that age and was diagnosed with allergies. The Claritin did nothing for the baby, just as it did nothing for her sister. I was intructed to bring her back to the office but she saw a different doctor who said she couldn't possibly have allergies and must have simply gotten some dust in her eyes. DUST? He told me to get some Visine and she'd be fine. WTF ever man. I took her back the next day and let her see the original doctor that diagnosed allergies and got some new meds [Zyrtec] and guess what? She's been fine ever since.)

Fuck the opinions of others. (see "Fuck Men" listed below...)

A big FUCK YOU to men as a whole. Fuck you men that think that women are put on this earth to suit your needs and desires. Fuck men that are greedy and inconsiderate. This is to include those men that claim they aren't selfish yet desire women other than the one they are with and think that it's okay to do so. (And in an incredibly hypocritical light fuck my dumb ass for accepting some other woman's leftovers.) Fuck the men that don't know how to treat a woman and refuse to open their mind to learn. Fuck them for not realizing that a woman is a jewel to be treasured, a queen to be loved, cherished and respected. Not some chickenhead bitch to be toyed with. Fuck the men that place themselves before their children... and their women.

And yes, I realize that all men are not the same. I realize that all black men aren't the same.

And I don't give a damn. File this under it ain't right but it's okay... because it's just the way it is. For years I've done my damnedest to give men a fair shake. And for years I see and experience the same shit, so until I see a man that can prove me wrong. ALL MEN ARE EXACTLY THE SAME.

It ain't right... but it's okay.

So just fuck it.

It's time for a change. It's time for ME to change.

Single Mom Mindedness

I recently watched an episode of Bringing Home Baby (remember what a TLC/Discovery Channel slut I am) and for once they featured a single (young) mom on the show. Intriguing since they almost never feature a single mom on those baby shows unless it's one of the "bad" labor and delivery shows where shit always goes wrong. On this particular episode the young lady had her baby, brought him home and of course the cameras stayed with her during the first 36 hours home with baby. Not so different from the other shows except that "home" happened to be her room inside her mom's apartment... in the midst of a heavily populated and extremely close knit high rise. So her mom was there, her aunts were there, the neighbors and their children were there... She had this whole loving supportive group, all of whom were eager to get their hands on that adorable bundle and give mom a break. They interviewed her after the first 36 hours and she exclaimed that it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, this single parenthood thing. Then they interviewed her 6 weeks later and aside from being tired from nursing continuously and the occasional cold that the baby had developed, her views had not changed.

Dude, why did the show just enrage me?

I'm glad they did a show on a single parent for once. But show me a real single parent, one without a support group and on her own, with bills to pay and no one to summon when she needs a break. Show me the bare naked truth.

Show me the single mom that does it all alone. The one that cries with the baby in the middle of the night because she just can't figure out what's causing her little one to scream uncontrollably. The one that juggles work and school and sometimes other kids too. Show me the mom that sits up at night with multiple sick children, hovering over each anxiously praying to God please, please just ease their suffering and make them healthy and measures out so many varying medications and breathing treatments and such that she has to resort to using a pad and paper to keep track of who gets what and when. Show me that mom that has laundry to wash and fold, dinner to cook, a home to clean, children to bathe, and a baby to change and nurse. Show me the tiredness, the fear, the pain and the suffering shared by fellow sisters despite our different backgrounds, educations, and social status.


Don't give me a watered down version of single parenthood that you think will satisfy your nuclear family viewers. Give me the truth and give us single mothers credit for what we do and how we manage. There are single moms and dads out here that struggle every day, and there are some that don't but the one thing we all have in common is that our job is made three times more difficult because we lack that second person, either by choice or by circumstance.


Show me the truth.


Show me me.