Closed for Repairs.....

A couple weeks ago, I read a comment to one of my posts that had me a little beside myself.  My initial reaction was to comment back and say something ugly but I had to sit down and think about the context of the comments.  After reading it again, and again, and again, I can see where the reader was coming from.  While the comments still sting a little, there is truth and validity to them.  So, I figure I need to clear up a few things are set the record straight…..

I have gone in on my baby mama several times on this blog and in fairness, she hasn’t had the chance to defend herself of tell her side of the story.  Maybe the person who left the comment is a baby mama and is sticking up for her sister.  Maybe she is a woman that doesn’t like me slandering another woman.  Hell, maybe she was just having a bad day.  Whatever the reason, I took offense to it and I’m not sure if I should’ve.  The comments read as below:

“You are the one who had a kid with her! Oh and intelligence genes come from the mama. You are in for one hell of a ride.”

All of it is true, I think.  Not sure about the intelligence thing but I don’t want to take the time to research.  Yep, I had a kid with her so that probably knocks my intelligence meter down a notch. There were several factors into me having a kid with her:

1.       I was jobless, broke, and trifling as hell so I was living off of her.

2.       I was 20 years old and not very bright.

3.       The snacks were great at the time. (I won’t go into details but 20 yrs old + nothing but time = whipped) I’m just saying…..

So, needless to say, I set myself up for failure with that one.  On top of all of that, I saw the signs on the wall long before she was pregnant.  She didn’t get crazy 11 years later.  She’s been crazy for 32 damn years.  I’ve known the baby mama since I was 11 and not much has changed.  The elevator stopped on the 4^th floor then and it stops on the 4^th floor now. I won’t go into details about it all but when you ask someone else to count your change after you buy something because you want to know if it’s right, well, out of order elevator!  I knew all of this going in but I just didn’t walk away. 

My mama told me, my dad told me, everyone told me but I was “in love”. Man, please!  I was stuck on stupid and sliding on dumb! She had her son in high school and I didn’t hit the brakes then.  Hell, at that age I just figured that meant she was giving it up. I thought I was lucky.  Don’t get it wrong, there are plenty of women who have children in high school and turn out successful.  I say what I said to say, she didn’t take care of her son then, when I got with her, or now.  She didn’t defy the odds.  Nothing said, “Sean, don’t have a kid with this fool, she doesn’t even take care of the one she has”.  Nope, I heard something say “Face down, a** up, that’s the way we like to …….”

Maybe I deserve all of this crap I am getting from her.  I put her through hell when we were together.  I wasn’t a model person, baby daddy, or man.  Truth be told, I sucked.  But, I figured it out and I’m still working to be the best father I can be. I called the repair guy to get my elevator moving again.  Now, we’re in the penthouse and steady building.  As for her, you’re better off taking the damn stairs.

With all that said, yes, I am in for a hell of a ride.  Hell, the ride I’m on doesn’t have any seatbelts and I’m not sure if the brakes work.  Luckily, I have a good mechanic and she’s riding shotgun (godsfavoriteshoes.blogspot.com).  I’m Still trying to decide if I am going to give her the permanent job or not.  I’ve offered a couple of times but she wants a better benefits package.  Damn…..

All in all, I’m stuck with her ass (My baby mama, not my mechanic. I am going to keep my mechanic though.)!  I’m tired of getting off on the 4^th floor and walking to the 10^th while dealing with her but it ain’t up to me to fix it.  At this point, I think the parts are obsolete and that elevator can’t be fixed.  If the intelligence gene comes from the mother, I pray that lil mama got a skipped generation or something.  I can’t have her asking me if Alaska is a foreign country.

Well, I’m not perfect, haven’t always been a good father, and I’m definitely not an elevator repair man but, taking the stairs gets old.  Oh yeah, I ain’t Cliff Huxtable either…..

Daddy's Not So Little Girl.....

I know that my little girl isn’t going to stay a little girl forever (she’s far from that now) but damn, I’m not ready for this, man.  Lil mama is built like….man she ain’t built like no 10 year old that I went to school with!  There’s something in the milk! 

Let me start by saying that I’m just not dealing with all of this too well.  Case in point, I walk into her room the other day to wake her up for school and I pull back the cover and her Chi Chi is staring me in the face.  MAN, I DON’T WANT TO SEE HER BREASTISIES!!!!!  Daddies aren’t supposed to see those types of things.  What’s crazy is, I wake her up mad like she did something!  I looking at her telling her to put that damn *ish up and she’s looking at me like “what did I do”.  Hell, she’s still half asleep.  Man, I just wasn’t ready for that.  I need her to sleep with a bra on or something, man……

Hmmm, another instance…….We were at softball practice and I was watching the girls run laps and it hit me like a “I’m Rick James B**ch* slap that my lil mama needs some new sports bras.  I’m watching all these little petite little girls run around and I see my lil mama with breasts and cakes shaking everywhere!  I wanted to snatch her up, run to the car wrap her in some plastic wrap like a spring roll!  Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t a 10 year old wearing a double D or anything like that but her little nubs aren’t the usual nubs and I’m not feeling it.  I want to get her an extra small spots bra but that might mess up some circulation or something.  As she would say, “Daddy, that’s child abuse”.

I’m always telling her, “that’s too damn tight”, “that's too damn small”, “girl, I’ll bust you in the back of the head if you don’t take that off”…you know, stuff like that.  Part of it is that she is a kid and doesn’t know any better.  She wants to be a kid and doesn’t totally understand that she can’t wear the things the other kids wear.  The other issue is her silly a** mama giving her the clothes that she can’t wear anymore.  She thinks it’s alright to give lil mama her old Dereon jeans and halter tops.  What the Hell!

Anyway, now I have to stay on her about wearing her robe and putting on a damn bra! I DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT *ISH!

It’s weird sometimes seeing all of this because at the core of her, she’s still just a little girl.  My little girl!  I look at her sometimes like, damn, this is some bull, but we’ll sit up and watch Sponge Bob together.  I’m tripping about the Chi Chi’s and cake action but she still likes to act like a baby and get whatever she can out of me.  We have to go down the woman isle at the store to get ‘stuff’ but we’ll bake cookies and watch “Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs”.  Man, it’s crazy. 

We still have a whole lot of work to do.  I can’t teach her how to be a woman and I try not to fuss too much about what not to do as a woman.  We’re still working on the whole “time of the month” thing and I’m trying not to stab her in the top of the head.  I guess it’s a lot for a 10 year old to deal with but that doesn’t mean I want to!  I will say that I have had help with it all, even the whole Chi Chi thing.  I don’t know the first thing about bras (except taking them off but I’ve never been good at that either….sorry, I had a moment) Click this link to read about our bra fitting experience at JC Penny.  I’ll say this, I had no idea breasts grew by the hour.  Only at JC Penny…….

Maybe I need to calm down.  Maybe I just need to accept the fact that my little girl is growing up.  Maybe I need to lock her in her room, chain her to the bed, and bring her out when all of the other little girls catch up.  Or, maybe I need to eat a pudding pop.  Isn’t that what Cliff would do?

BTW…..I’ve been told that boys are cute.  WHAT THE HELL????  Coming soon…..

Can I Get a Hit!

The drought is over.  Lil Mama finally came through and swung the bat.  I’ll go one better than that, she hit the ball! The seas calmed, the skies opened, gas prices stopped rising, Charlie Sheen was sane for this special moment in time. (yes, yes, yes, we're WINNING!) It was magical, but I’ll get to that in a moment….

Shaggydoo caught a fly ball in outfield!  WTH?  I would’ve expected her to hit a grand slam before she would catch a ball. Whoa!  I’ll paint the scene for you…..

The first batter of the game hits a fly ball into deep right (coach puts her in DEEP right field because he knows hell well that she can’t catch or throw and he hopes that nothing gets hit her way…I would do the same damn thing if I were him) and it comes right to her.  Don’t get me wrong, it came directly to her.  She shuffled her feet a couple times to get under it, put her glove up in the air, and the ball fell right into it.  I’ll take it how I can get it but there was absolutely NO skill involved in that play whatsoever.  What’s even more crazy, the stands erupted like she had just won the game. (it was the first damn out!) I get it though, everyone went nuts because they were sick of their kids carrying Shag and her doing nothing.  In addition to the fact everyone expected the ball to fly right past her for a homerun.  Jokes on y’all!  (Even though I was thinking the same thing and reacted in the same fashion) They really wanted to say “it’s about damn time she does something” or “her sorry a** better not have missed that ball”.  Well, she didn’t!

Now back to the batting…..as you remember my last post, I gave her the business for not swinging.  Well, we’re hitting now!  Don’t get it twisted, we haven’t hit the ball out of the infield yet but we hit the damn ball.  And, of course, the crowd went wild like she won the damn game.  It was a simple hit but you get it.  I thought I was going to lose my s**t!  I couldn’t believe it.  Of course I’m super competitive and wanted her to hit the ball over the gate so I’m looking at her like “really, 6 ft? that’s all?”  She could care less if the ball rolled 6 inches.  She hit it and because of it, wants me to shut the hell up.

I’m sure you’ve read this and said to yourself “damn, this fool isn’t satisfied with anything, that poor baby can’t catch a break.” I’ll let you in on something,  I’M SO DAMN PROUD OF MY LIL MAMA!!!!!  I was the loudest mouth out there and if someone would’ve said something foul, I might have gotten escorted out.  At that moment, I wanted to tell the rest of the parents to kiss my a** because my kid is better than some of their damn kids.  Now I’m the parent that wants to say, “your kid doesn’t do any damn thing”.  “Can she get a hit” “why won’t she throw the ball”  “Damn, she can’t catch?” The tide has turned folks, the tide has turned!

I did my 25 push up in front of the team just as I promised and you know what, the next game she got a hit too.  I really am proud and can’t stop smiling as I type this up.  I’m just happy my kid isn’t the weakest link anymore.  Has she gone H.A.M. and knocked the ball over the fence, no. But her 2^nd hit was more like 9 feet as opposed to 6.  Outside of me being overzealous, she is really enjoying herself out there.  She’s interacting with her teammates and laughing with the coaches.  She even told the pitcher “now what b***h” after she got her hit.  I was so proud. (Not really, I would’ve slapped the s**t out of her had she done that as she isn’t supposed to be disrespectful or use foul language but I would’ve been like “hell yeah” on the inside)

Hopefully, we can keep the momentum rolling and I’ll give you guys a post saying she hit a grand slam and made a double play.  Until then, I’ll just take it how I can get it and enjoy all of the moments that we’re having. 

This time, I don’t really give a damn what Cliff Huxtable would do.  What Sean would do is smile from ear to ear, give her a big hug and tell her how proud I am of her and how proud I am to be her father.  Oh yeah, I already did that……

Is there a scholarship for pretending to play?

It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you…..

Just like most fathers, you dream of your child growing up to be the next great athlete.  If you
have a son, you have dreams of him being like Lebron James, Ken Griffey Jr., or Michael Vick (insert joke). Daddies may dream of their little girl becoming the next Flo Jo, Candice Parker, or Jenny Finch. Ahhh…those dreams.

Well, at this point my friends, I’d be happy if my child was a great team equipment manager! I’m sure by now you see where I’m going so, here we go. 

In the pantheon of great athletes, my poor child was left on the outside of the stadium.  I should’ve known this because when we tried soccer, her favorite position was goalie!  Fast forward to now…we are trying our hand at softball.  As all of us know, the object of the game is to hit the ball, score runs, and keep the other team from scoring, just to name a few.  Well, we’ve scored a few runs and…..that’s it!   In practice, my lil mama hits the ball like Barry Bonds (less the back acne and shrinking balls) but in the game, SHE WON’T SWING THE BAT!  Every game she stands there like she is going to knock the hell out of the ball but it’s all an act. You should see her up there, it’s intimidating.  If I was the opposing pitcher I would be nervous.  Shag is bigger than most if not all of the girls and she crowds the plate.  She has a stance straight out of the majors and just by pure force she should be knocking the ball into the outfield….negative! She won’t swing.  But, will be happy as hell that she made it to base of four balls.  What in the hell!!!!!

I’m competitive dad and I want her to win, be the best, kick ass and take names.  Nope!  We just stand there and be the gentle giant that we are.  Sigh……

I have to accept that my child would rather draw circles in the dirt with a stick instead of exert energy.  I have to accept the fact that my child would rather play tag with the 6 & 7 years olds as opposed to being competitive with girls her age.  It’s a hard pill to swallow but, I guess I need to get a glass of water.

I know what you’re all going to say…encourage her, help her, it helps her confidence, blah, blah, blah…..I get it.  However, it doesn’t change the fact that my child is the biggest on her team and the damn worst!  Who does that?  I try to tell her to use her size to her advantage, does she?  Hell no!  Big damn teddy bear!

If you’ve read my blog in the past then you know my child isn’t the most academic and now we find out she’s not an athlete.  Man, I’m running out of choices.  Maybe she’ll be a rapper?  Maybe she’ll be an actress?  Hell, she may be the first African American female president.  Bush won, need I say more……

Well, we have a few games this week and I’ll be in the stands cheering, hoping, wishing that she get a hit as usual. Hell, I just want her to swing the damn bat.

Mr. Huxtable could swing, maybe I need to be more like him....who knows?

A few beans short of a burrito.....

I hate when people say dumb things to me.  It really strikes a nerve.  My lil mama does it and it bothers me but she’s only 10 so I try to ride with it.  When grown folks say stupid *ish it really gets under my skin. For example, my daughter walks into the kitchen, sees me peeling shrimp, washing shrimp, seasoning shrimp, putting shrimp into the skillet but asks, “Daddy, you cooking shrimp tonight?” No, baby, I’m making Kool-Aid.  What does it look like I’m doing?  But she’s 10 so I let it ride. Example 2: I’m sorting clothes, running the water, adding the detergent but she looks me in my face and says, “You about to wash clothes?” No ma’am, this is how we change the oil in the car in 2011!  WTH!  Really?  I hate dumb *ish but she’s only 10 so I let it ride.

I say all of that to say, it’s okay at 10 but it’s dumb as hell when you’re a grown a** woman.  I am no Einstein but my child’s mother is a few beans short of a burrito.  She says some of the dumbest things to me and it has gotten progressively worse over the years. Before she became an international woman of mystery she once told me that she wanted to go somewhere that she would need a passport to visit.  Of course I ask where and what does she say, Hawaii!  Hawaii, for real? I looked at her for about a whole minute in awe of the dumb *ish that just came out of her mouth.  FOOL, YOU DON’T NEED A PASSPORT TO GO TO HAWAII! I politely asked her to never say that to another human being and then proceeded to walk away.

I could go in on my baby mama for hours on end but I won’t.  I’m sure she has some pretty messed up things to say about me but she can never say that I’m a bad parent.  Woosah…..Okay, there is a reason why I’m writing this.  The International Lover called me the other day to see how her child was doing. ***insert joke*** Well I entertain it and then I proceeded to tell her that lil mama had to get glasses. What’s the first thing that comes out of her mouth you may ask, “Where did she get that from, I don’t wear glasses.” FOOL, JUST BECAUSE YOU DON’T DOESN’T MEAN SHE WON’T.  So, at some point should I expect my lil mama’s nuts to drop and grow hair on her chest?  Hell, she’ll get it from me right? Maybe I should just expect her to be dumb as a damn rock and use a damn See-n-Say until she’s 27 because she gets it from you?  Man, I hate dumb *ish!

Don’t get me wrong, I do understand heredity but some things should just be left unsaid, damn….

Maybe I am blowing all of this out of proportion.  Maybe it’s not that big of a deal.  Maybe she’s not as dumb as I make her out to be.  I don’t know the answer to any of that but I do know, Cliff might agree with me on this one.   

Are they serving Filet Mignon at the school house?

Why do kids think they’re slicker than a can of oil?  Kids really try to pull the wool over our eyes like we don’t know what the hell is going on.  Don’t they realize that we were kids once upon a time? (some of us much longer than others but y’all get what I’m saying)

Doesn’t it just tickle you to death when your kids say “I was just about to” or “I didn’t know” or my favorite “I forgot”?  Fool, how in the hell did you forget and I just told you 27 seconds ago?!  How the hell were you about to when you’ve been laying the same spot for 2 hours?!  And, you didn’t know, how in the hell didn’t you know that it wasn’t alright to go over your friends house when I JUST TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULDN’T 10 MINUTES AGO AND I WALKED AROUND THE DAMN CORNER AND SAW YOU STANDING THERE!?

They get better as we all know.  I actually do love “I was right outside”.  Case in point, I said be in the house at 6:30 and you come in at 6:36 but because you were “right outside” it’s cool.  Hell naw!

I know I was a mess as a kid (still am if you ask certain folks) so I laugh at the majority of the stuff that goes on.  She’s only 10 so I need to embrace the small things because trouble is right on the horizon. TEENAGE YEARS!!!!!!

Part of the issue too is the fact that my lil mama is punking me and trying my patience.  She knows what she’s doing and she pushing the boundaries.  There’s an ongoing  issue with the cafeteria and the school calling me like a damn collection agency!

“This is the K**** ISD food service department and your child (insert name) has a negative balance of $2.95.  Please send payment with your child to school on the next school day.  Thank you” WTH!?

They call me like the damn IRS!  Anyway, lil mama eats a good breakfast every morning before school and packs a good lunch but lo and behold, she likes to eat the school lunch too. 

I have to drop her off at school early (around 7ish and school doesn’t officially begin until 8:30) and they don’t eat lunch until 12:55. Let me expand on that for a moment.  That is crazy as hell!  Why in the hell do those kids eat so late?  I’m a grown man and I can’t make it past 12 without starting to shake and need to nibble on a carrot or something.  That’s child abuse!  I digress……

So, she eats a nice breakfast before we leave, sometimes eats again at the cafeteria, eats lunch at 12:55 (ri-damn-diculous) and sometimes gets another lunch also.  That’s just being down right damn greedy!  It’s one or the other, not both!  I’ve sent her to school with an extra fruit or two or maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for in the morning but she’s still trippin!  Being hungry is one thing but she’s being greedy and testing my nerves! 

It also strikes a nerve because my lil mama ain’t necessarily little.  We’re trying to watch what we eat and I guess when I’m not around to watch she’s going to eat.  Damn…..

What she doesn’t get and I keep telling her, “THERE AIN’T *ISH THAT YOU CAN DO AROUND HERE WITHOUT ME FINDING OUT”! Yeah, I can go online and see exactly what she bought and when.  The internet is a BEAST! So, lunch is $1.65 and breakfast is .95.  She’ll have 2 or 3 charges on there for $1.95 or .95 and told me “I bought a cookie.”  Fool, cookies are itemized too and they’re only .50.  After I almost bust her in her damn head down to meat under the white meat I had to laugh at that one.  But still….she’s trying to punk me.  So, what did I do you ask?  She has to eat nasty-a** school lunch until she decides that she wants to start bringing a health, balanced lunch again. Oh, and the catch, she has to use her OWN DAMN MONEY!  Hell, you got me spending money on groceries for lunch food and breakfast and then I have to turn around and replenish an account that I didn’t deplete.  HELL TO THE NAW!!!

She'll either get tired of eating soybean burgers and Salisbury steak pucks or run out of money trying!

Maybe if I were Cliff Huxtable I could send her to school with one of those big a** hoagies or a Bacon- Burger-Dog, but I’m not so I can’t.  But if I was…..

If She Don't Know Me By Now....

I know it’s been a while but life with kids, life with me, life in general is crazy and there doesn’t ever seem to be enough time for it all.  Damn….

I believe the children are our future.  Teach them well and let them lead the way….Thank you Whitney Houston. 

However, if my child is my future, I’m up crap creek without a canoe!  I already have to sleep with one eye open.  She asked me about my life insurance policy the other day.  WTH!  She's 10! The older she gets, man……

My lil mama and I are polar opposites.  If I like white, she likes black.  If I want Mexican, she wants Chinese.  If I want to rob a bank, she won’t drive the getaway car.  Everything is like pulling teeth with her and I’m not ready for veneers yet!

I can’t get this child to crack open a book to save her life.  If I tell her to go study she looks at me like I just told her Hannah Montana was really a dude.  It’s like the end of the world if I ask her to do anything academic.  I am no Nobel Prize winner or scholar myself but damn!  I can’t get her to do anything pertaining to school. She’s been counting down the days until the break and it’s finally here.  To top it off, SHE CAN’T WAIT TO BE RID OF ME!

I say that because she usually goes to her grandmother’s house when I have to work.  That is where she was living before she came to stay with me and that is her haven.  It’s a good thing but it hurts my feelings to know that she hates being her with me.  Over the Thanksgiving break she literally cried when she had to come home.  I’m a big boy but my feelings were really hurt. 

Truth is, I would hate living with me too.  I know I’m hard but I’m hard because I want her to be better.  I want her to be a better student. I want her to be a cleaner individual.  I want her to be more tactful.  I want her to be more self-sufficient so she can leave me the hell alone sometimes!  I swear that she has a proximity disorder.  If I’m sitting on the couch, she’s sitting on the couch 2 inches from me.  If I’m in the kitchen, she’s peering over my shoulder in the kitchen.  She has separation anxiety or something.  If I’m more than 2 feet away, she goes into panic mode! (I’m joking but she is always in the mix like Bruhman from the 5^th floor)

I just want her to be better and my idea of better is a little overbearing.  I know she’s sick of me and I’m trying to tone it down but it’s hard.

Side note….funny story.  Lil mama and I were in the mall a few weeks back and I ran into an old class mate.  I hadn’t seen this cat in over 10 years so we chopped it up for at least 15 minutes.  After we laughed and caught up we exchanged numbers and bid one another farewell.  As my daughter and I were walking away she turns to me and says “Daddy, I don’t know why you took that man’s phone number, you know you aren’t going to call him.”  I looked at her like, Damn…..she was right, I NEVER call anyone when I say I am so I wasted 15 minutes of my life.  Damn shame how well my kid knows me.  Too bad I not more like Cliff Huxtable.