I'm going to do something that I would normally advise against, and that is blogging when one is very, very pissed off.
My son is not Damien from the Omen movies - just to get that out of the way- but he is a boy who does stupid shit sometimes. He is a boy who doesn't listen sometimes. And he is a boy who, despite who his mama is (and many who know his mama know that if they were her child they would not screw with her chi), knows that when he screws up royally that I will be up his ass like an alien probe. Yet the boy continues to do what I have classified as "stupid shit."
My boy is in the top 10% of his school, although this most recent report card would not reflect that. My boy is already intelligent beyond his years and will very well surpass anything that I have ever achieved - if he doesn't continue on this lazy path. Off a tangent now: I am not one of these mothers who will get on camera talking about how good their boy is even though he's spent countless years in Juvie halls, and has a knack for robbing old ladies - not ME! My ass would be on television talking about how he better be glad the authorities got to him before I did. Back on topic: my boy knows better. But apparently that don't mean a damn thing when you're living the life of being a non-rent paying, live off they momma, Nintendo DS, own TV and DVD player in the room having unemployed little person. So check this - TV and DVD player is packed up along with those ridiculous fucking Pokemon cards, Transformer toys and other BULLSHIT that I only purchased if they were on sale. Keep things out of my path literally or else I'm liable to kick the shit across the room. I am on a WAR PATH.
My boy isn't robbing folks or hot wiring cars at this point in time and I would like to keep it that way, which is why my foot is always a centimeter near his ass just in case shit happens. And I was real good today. I didn't beat him down 1980s style...I took his shit away... actually my shit. So now I have a DS and another TV and DVD player and a shit load of Pokemon cards that I can make bank off of it I hit the internet.
But the messed up thing out of all of this is for the first time in his 9 years and 9 months on this Earth I wondered, "if his dad were here, would he be acting right?" And the fact that I would even go there makes me even angrier than the stupid shit he's been doing.
When I think of the relationship between a parent and child I always think of the scene between Sydney Poitier and the gentleman who portrayed his dad in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner and the argument they had in a private room. The speech Poitier gave his pretend-dad was so freaking poignant - he said "you were supposed to do those things (this, when daddy wanted to lay a guilt trip on his son in an effort to sway his son's desire to marry a woman who happened to be white). I am supposed to put a roof over my child's head. I'm supposed to feed him. I'm supposed to clothe him. I'm supposed to offer moral support. AND. I'm supposed to kick his ass when he ain't acting right. But then again I wonder - if his dad were here, would he be acting right.
Sure, this year I gave him the PC explanation about how his dad's absence has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me (long story short: it was OK for an Italian dude to screw his black momma, but it wasn't ok for her to get pregnant and have the baby). By the way, I was cornered when asked by the little one "Was I a mistake?" Shit, I get it. My own dad was so horrible, we ended up calling him "Mister" - like from The Color Purple, so I freaking get it... but give me a freaking break. SHIT! I'm not a crackhead. I'm not an absentee mom. I'm not a stupid mom. I'm involved - hell I freaking assistant-coached Little League for 2 freaking years! I'm a fucking cool ass, hard ass, keep it real, rub your back when it hurts, prop you up no matter how tired I am MOM... and we gotta go thru ridiculous BS that affects the grades and behavior write ups over some BS?????? CHILD, PLEASE!
(P.S. - I DON'T THINK SO! Not on my watch)
I would like to apologize for such a foul-language laced rant, uhh, excuse me: blog entry.