Posts tagged ‘growth’

March 17, 2011

Chocolate Wasted Baby Making

A few years ago a young woman made a comment that I always thought was ridiculous and absurd. The fact that we were both pregnant and hormonal blinded me from knowing which of us was responsible for the ridiculousness so I always blamed her by default. We were having our normal pregnant pow-wow one evening when I jokingly referred to her as a “baby momma”. At the time I felt their wasn’t anything wrong with calling someone a baby momma because it’s not like it’s a swear word. I didn’t call her a bitch or an ass-whore so what’s the problem right? Calling someone a baby momma was more so unpleasant because it sounds ghetto. In my book, this was a good enough reason to not to use it in a serious or professional conversation, but not so bad that I couldn’t refer to someone as such while joking off the record. Either way, she gets super offended (even though I’m pregnant and unmarried as well) and screams “I’m not a baby momma, I’m too educated!” So to make a long story short, I took it personal and ran home to cry because I was pregnant and hormonal and super insecure about being late in life (see Pinot’s and No-No’s). “Why was she mean to me? Just because she has a degree doesn’t make her better! Not only does she have a degree but I don’t! and we’re both having a child by men who we aren’t in a relationship with anymore!” At that point I probably called her a few of those colorful words and rightfully so right? Right.

So fast forward a few years.  One evening my mom, and my “baby daddy” and I were briefly conversing on the phone. As he’s talking to my mom, he refers to me as his “BM”. My mom asks “what’s a BM? a bowel movement?” He says “I could see that being the case too, but no it’s a baby momma”. It’s traditionally difficult for me to get along with both of these people so I was actually fading in and out of the conversation until I heard him say “BM”. I immediately became offended and I interrupt them, “I am not a baby momma, and I hope you don’t refer to me as that”. My mom jumps in and says “Well if you’re not a baby momma then what are you?” I said “I’m his ex!” Just then I realized how valid my old friends irrational statement truly was.  She never went into detail about her point, or maybe she just didn’t bother explaining to me but that didn’t make it less true. She was able to connect with what being a baby momma entailed and it wasn’t until I heard myself being called one that I connected with that meaning for myself.

Some may disagree, but to me a baby momma is random. Even if she loved, she wasn’t loved. She wasn’t treated special. She wasn’t recognized on her birthday or valentines day and when she gave the news to the lucky guy that she was pregnant, he was probably less than happy. A baby momma wasn’t an obligation and she was probably only ever contacted to do “the do”. Education plays a major role in this situation. It’s not about how many degrees you earn, it’s about the amount of times you settle for less than your worth. Are you in a relationship with a person who’s not in a relationship with you? Does he take you out in public or bring you home to mom? Does he treat you like a princess and do things just to see you smile? Does he feel obligated to help you when life goes wrong?

My friend was right. I’m educated and therefore cannot be considered a baby momma. Argument settled. I was in a relationship for two years before the kid was born. I was always remembered on special days and acknowledged on not so special days whether it be with a phone call or flowers. During the course of our involvement I was laid off from work on two separate occasions, but working or not, whether we were together or not, I never worried about unpaid bills or not being able to have a drink with a friend. Regardless of our status he felt obligated to take care of me. I’m not glorifying single parenting because that’s a different subject of suckiness and I’m also not implying that our relationship was ideal. If that were the case we would be married or together still. Our relationship in essence could be described as not being the absolute best like the two kids from the Titanic, but not being the absolute worst like Ike and Tina. Yea…

I didn’t have a child with a man who would one day proudly call me his wife, but I also didn’t choose the man who made me his random Monday night fling. Fortunately and unfortunately, I fall somewhere in-between the two. It’s that huge gray area on the spectrum of relationships where you’ll find kisses, flowers, family trips to the children’s museum and irate calls at 4 am. I’m not super picky about the title, as long as it’s not a phrase that begins with the letters “B” and “M”. This means I’m not the woman who will ever consider Baby Momma, Bowel Movement, or Booger Machine terms of endearment. Call me Landon’s mom, an ex-girlfriend, a friend, or an enemy. And if none of those fit, Tonya works just as well. 

November 29, 2010

Shpoogie Woogie and Smiles

I’m not your typical mom. I struggle with the whole motherhood thing and I think it’s because I had a kid before I was ready. I was 22 when I had him, which is older than most new moms now and days, but I hadn’t graduated from college, traveled the world and I’m still not married. The kid aggravates me probably more than 50% of the time and I don’t get those warm fuzzies of fulfillment that most moms experience. You know how most moms feel their life is complete because they had a kid? I never understood that feeling. It doesn’t take much work to conceive a child and pretty much anyone can do it. It’s not like completing a degree or climbing a mountain, it’s more like catching the flu. When people list having kids as an accomplishment I always think “Ohhh, so you’re a loser who never did anything with your life…” Plus it’s like you’re bragging that you pooped out a baby and your baby more than likely sucks. They could turn into a felon, or a whore or an average joe with nothing valuable to contribute to society. You never know what type of jerk you’re gonna raise, so why brag about making babies when it hasn’t done anything brag worthy?

Speaking of raising jerks, my kid isn’t your typical kid. He has a bad temper, he cries a lot, and has told me on more then one occasion that he’s running away to grandma’s house. He’s impulsive, just recently got over his fear of balls, and has tendencies to not be very happy or friendly. He’s 3, who wants to babysit?

Our interactions aren’t typical for your average mother-son duo. We have the strangest relationship ever, but it works. He kisses my boo boos just like I do for him. He tells me I’m pretty, and sometimes he shares his fruit snacks with me. We hug and kiss each other and say I love you but we don’t really like each other. It’s like we both know we’re kinda stuck for the next few years and just try to make the best of our situation. I’m not just speaking from my perspective either. I know he doesn’t like me because he told me the other day. He said “I not like you”. My feelings were hurt so I told him “I not like you either.” We then just sat in the room not talking to each other for several hours until he got hungry and yelled at me to make him some white pasta.

We argue a lot. We argue a lot but it works for us. We mainly argue because of his inability to tell the truth or know what the heck. He cries and screams loudly in public. He often makes things up and pulls douchebag moves like walks slow when I’m in a hurry or throws objects that I asked him to hand to me. He tells people that I have a tail and that I wear diapers which is completely untrue. When he goes potty, he calls me to wipe him because he’s finished but then yells at me to leave because he’s not done. He tells me he wants white pasta, then when I’ve finished preparing it, he says he didn’t want white pasta, he wants chicken nuggets. After I’ve made the chicken nuggets he says he wants pasta and after I make the pasta he says chicken nuggets again. I make the chicken nuggets then he yells at me because I didn’t make fries. He’s been calling me a shpoogie woogie for the past few weeks and I don’t really know what that means but it doesn’t sound like a compliment so I decided I was offended.

It’s difficult to converse with him. Partly because he’s three and also because he’s a jerk and also because he’s a boy.

Me: “Landon go use the potty”

Landon: “Me not have to potty”

Me: “Landon use the potty”

Landon: “No I not use the potty, you use the potty”.

Me: “I don’t need to use the potty I already went.”

Landon: “You not went to the potty, you potty on yourself”

Me: “Landon pull down your pants and use the potty!!!”

Landon: “I don’t need to potty!” as he uses the potty

Me: “I thought you didn’t need to potty Landon?”

Landon: “I not potty”

Me: “And you better not tell people I went to the potty on myself”

Landon: “I tell everybody…”

I use to struggle with my semi-pessimistic feelings towards the kid. I don’t like spending every waking moment with him and I can actually think of a billion things I’d rather be doing then raising a kid. Traveling without stressing about a sitter, using the bathroom in peace or eating ice cream by myself are just a few.  As time goes on, I notice that I struggle less with motherhood. Landon and I don’t get along every single second of the day and most people who love each other don’t. We argue a lot but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I miss him when he’s gone and I sit in my room and watch spongebob after he leaves. He lies his arse off, but his stories make me smile. Like when he told his teacher that his name was Dee Dee Harris or when he came home and said his dad poops standing up. Even when he called me a shpoogie woogie, my response was “Your daddy is a shpoogie woogie” but in the inside I smiled at his creativity. Who thinks of words like that?

He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him, but we love each other regardless of our flaws and I think that’s more respectable. I’d prefer my children love me because I earned it, and not because I’m the person who randomly pooped them out. We’re not the traditional family who love each other because of our title, we’re actually better.