I hate this question.
Both my kids ask it though.
My daughter clearly feels she is the favorite. She’s five. She’s female. I really relate to her. I love dolls. Clear lip gloss. Fashion. I love the way she notices colors. And wants to get her nails done. I live for these moments. I used to have best friends but my daughter has replaced them. She is all the joy of having a female counterpart without all the pressure of comparison. I don’t have to think about weddings, marriage, relationships, kids, fertility, credit, and the Jones’ when it comes to her. She’s cute. She’s half of me. She’s perfect.
Honestly, I don’t know what all the pressure is about. Yes, I have female best friends. Since I’ve had kids, I can’t relate to them. Or anyone.
I am really trying to understand my kids. I don’t want to fail. I really want to understand these two little people that I created that didn’t ask to be here. I find that I don’t have time to understand anyone else. I love you BB. Trisha. Tanaya. Kendra. Rachel. All KIPP women. Exeter. And Spelman. Hell, even my mom. Dad. And Ex-husband. Seriously, my kids are boggling my mind. Boggling my attention. And time. I apologize if I have been a piss poor friend and family member. And ex-wife. Girlfriend. Person you are getting to know.
Understand I am divorced. I’m either married or divorced. Right now, I’m divorced. I recognize the importance of my children. My independence. Sanity. Dassit.
I don’t have a man to consult with. I talk to my dad but he taught me abstinence, not sex education. I lost my virginity at twelve. Literally, about one year older than my eldest child. I can’t exactly talk to my dad about my latest “thing” with parenting. My son is almost eleven and I need to start to talk to him about girls. Yes, he’s still innocent. He still thinks girls are icky. But, he’s “discovered himself” and I don’t wanna talk about it. His dad is deceased. At my age, I realize I really don’t understand men. I realize the importance of a father. I don’t know how to address it. I wish his father were alive to deal with it. Christian is my baby and I am traumatized. I wish Tim were here to talk to him but it’s just me. Do I get a book? I’ve tried talking to him but issa no. I’m a mom but I cannot relate to him on the level he’s on right now. I know he needs a man and I’m divorced. It’s just me. I’m lost ya’ll. I’m a fixer. i don’t understand the pieces to this puzzle.
By all means, recommend a book. Or something. I gave birth to him and he’s my baby. Always will be. I cannot. I will not. I wish I had a story about how I spoke to him and had a whole experience about kids and puberty. I wish I had advice for you. But I do not. I’m stressed the fuck out. So much so that I moved to Villa Rica to slow down this process. For him. And my 14 year old sister. Who looks just like me. And other reasons. I need a whole mentor right now.
What is Villa Rica you ask? This entire city doesn’t have a liquor store. Beer and wine, yes! Liquor? Nope. I swear, I am not from the country. I was born in Washington Heights and raised in the hood of hoods between Harlem and the South Bronx. I can tell you how I ended up in Villa Rica but seriously, another story for another day.
This single parent thing is a whole mood.Not a romantic mood. A wtf “I’m an adult and didn’t sign up for this” mood.
The other day I asked my daughter why she was crying and she said “I don’t know. I just have feelings.”
Ya’ll. Wtf? I have a son and can’t pretend to ignore he’s found his penis and is masturbating when he locks his door despite the house rules of no locked doors.
My daughter won’t let me dress her anymore. Her father’s side judges me, I’m sure. She loves to pick out her clothes but looks a hot mess. I want to encourage her independence but I hate the judgement. After my divorce, she refers to her dad’s side of the family as “my other family” and it irritates the fuck out of me. There is no “other side of the family”. We all love Shelby. And her huge personality. My daughter has 1001 emotions.
I’m an Aquarius ya’ll. I cannot.
I just want to be artistic and aloof. I just want to find myself and be something major when I grow up.
But apparently, I’m grown. I’m a mom. I’ve always been perfect and I’ve always had the answers, according to my kids.
I’m the most stable thing in both of my kid’s lives. And I feel like a whole car wreck. On I-285. In Atlanta.
Both my kid’s feel the other is my favorite. Truth be told they each taught me something very personal and very human about living and life. I wonder if I will ever re-marry. Have more children. Go broke. Make a ton of money. Be broken. And fixed again. What does this all mean?
I promise you, I don’t know. I’ve learned to live in the moment. Why?
Life never disappoints and it’s always worth it.
So, I keep living.
Nah, there’s no deep lesson in this story. If you have kids, you understand.
If you don’t, wear a condom.
I promise you, I wasn’t ready.
My kids are life. And I think about the person I was my freshman year of college.
I have work to do.
Didn’t Barnes and Nobles go Bankrupt?
Where do I find books about masturbation and finding yourself? Better yet, can I give my son a book about dead fathers? Seriously, I’m tired of the guilt.
Omg, I’m a whole adult. WTF?