I hate him more and more each day...

I called baby daddy to let him know what the boy had found.

“He wants to talk to her..” I said. “He wants to know where she is.”

Baby daddy immediately started ranting.

“YOU did this, Brenda..” he yelled into the phone.

“Tyler does not care about this!”…he said

“I KNOW YOU…you do cruddy shit!” and then he was silent.
That motherfucker wishes he knew me. He has no idea what I am capable of.
He has not even seen cruddy.

We went back and forth about this for a few minutes.

I finally hung up on him. There is no rationalizing with this idiot.
Never.
Ever.
And I refuse to waste my energy trying.
He makes me tired. He makes me sick.

After I hung up on him, I started thinking about something that I discovered a few weeks ago. Baby daddy has petitioned the court for custody of the boy.

Yeah. You read that right. CUSTODY OF THE BOY.

I have tried to put this out of my head. I try not to think about it.
It makes my stomach hurt.
It makes me realize that everyone is capable of homicide, if put in the right position.

I am not saying that this is going to be open and shut. This is serious business.
This fucker is trying to take my child from me.

My child.

The one and only person in this entire world that I would give my life for.

I would, without question, die for him.

So, as always, to get insight and perspective, I call the only person in my life that can give it to me straight. The only person that can weed through all the double talk, and leave the unadulterated truth.

My sexy man.

I give him the cliff notes version. Just to keep it brief.
He listens intently and asks a few questions, just to make sure he is understanding my fragmented sentences. When I am done, he takes a breath.

The first thing he wants to know is if the boy is okay.
Then he says exactly what I am thinking.

This is his fathers shit. And he has some explaining to do.
And he has had 11 years to come up with a story about this.
And he better get it together.
And he better be prepared to answer some difficult questions.
And he better not bullshit the boy, because that will just confuse him even more.

I guess we agree on that aspect. But there is so much more..
The boy is not asking his father. He is asking ME.

I will tell him. I will do my best. Wish me luck.

This is not my shit..

A few months ago, sexy man and I were having a conversation about baby daddy.
Well, more specifically, the boy and the fact that he has 5 or more brothers and sisters running around the Maryland, Virginia, DC area. Brothers and sisters that he doesn’t know anything about, much less that they even exist in this world.

Sexy man said that he doesn’t understand what baby daddy is waiting for, to have this conversation with the boy, and he was curious if baby daddy even knew that this was his responsiblilty to explain all of this and that this is a BIG DEAL.

I guess I never really gave this much thought. And I believe that it is just ignorance on my part. Thinking that it doesn’t even matter. Who cares, Right? Well. Wrong.

Last week, the boy turned 11. He is not a little boy, anymore.

He is staying at my mom’s this week. She lives close by, but he is staying overnight for a week. We lived there for a few years when he was younger, and a lot of my stuff is still at her house. Apparently, when my brother was doing some work over there, he came across the boys “baby book” My sister in law told me that she had found it amongst some of his other baby things, and I guess they took it upstairs so that nothing would happen to it during the “construction” going on.

I called to talk to the boy today, and my mother was whispering some shit into the phone to me, I could barely understand her but then I heard her say “baby book”..so I said..
“He found his baby book?”
“Yes” she replied.

The first thing I thought of was that there were some things in there about his “sister”
And there was a picture of her in there. And they look alike. Very much alike. So I told her to put him on the phone.

When he asks questions at this age, they can not be blown off. Nor should they be. They should be answered completely and with honesty. Even if I feel the issue is his fathers responsibility, I will take that on. I will tell him what he wants to know. Of course, I will keep it on his level. He doesn’t need to know EVERYTHING, right now. He is not ready for all of that nonsense.

“Hey Ty” I said. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ mom”…

“So….you found your baby book, huh?”

“Yeah..” he said slowly.

“and..you saw a picture of your sister?” I asked.

“Yeah. And..where is she?” he wanted to know.
“What did you do with her?”

“She is in Florida, with her grandmother..” I told him.
(Atleast that’s what baby daddy told me a few years ago..not with her mother..but with her grandmother)

The boy didn’t understand.

He thought I was her mother. And that I had given her away and left her somewhere.

This is not my shit.

This is not my shit.

This is baby daddy’s shit.
And as always, I am the one searching for the right words for the boy.