Sack Up Dads!!
My ex, the BabyDaddy, is a douche.
I've given him his due respect when he deserves it, and we've managed to work out most of our issues. Notice I said "most" of them.
One would think that since it takes two people to make a baby, those same two people would do equal jobs in taking care of it. I guess BD missed the memo.
My son is with me for the weekend, as he is every weekend. Sundays are my least favorite days, because I know he has to go "home", and every time I drop him off, a little piece of my heart breaks off. I remind myself throughout the week that he's at his dad's because he wants to be there, and he wants to be there because he believes that it's making things easier on me financially. I let him stay because he seems happy and adjusted, but no part of the arrangement is "easy" for me-I keep that part to myself. Part of me also realizes that he's growing up, and I can't teach him how to be a man. I've tried to find peace in the arrangement, and when I have him, I cherish the time and squeeze out as much as I can with him, bringing him home just before his bedtime. The BD seemed to get this, and lets me do my thing. Unless, of course, I ask him for help, like today.
Nine times out of ten, I'm the one running back and forth, picking him up and dropping him off, and that includes driving to his football adventures and other whatnots. I haven't really asked the BD to pitch in on some of that driving, even though it wouldn't be unreasonable of me to ask him to do half. I called him today and asked him if he could pick up the kid in the evening, after dinner, due to the simple fact that I'm down to my last few bucks. This was at 2pm. His response? "Get him ready, I'm coming right now." (Uh, NO??) His reason? His wife's cake and ice cream birthday party was this afternoon, and may not be over til after 10. Ok, first- Forgive me if I don't see this as a big fuckin' deal; cake and ice cream at your in-laws house doesn't strike me as the party of the fuckin' century, and second? You're a parent, your life revolves around your SON, not your stupid cunt wife who only tolerates him to stay married to you. Leave the damn party an hour early and come get your kid. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count how many times I had to sacrifice my social life because I had to be a mom. You don't hear me pissing and moaning tho, because I signed up for that shit.
It tripped me out that I even had to argue this point with him, and the fact that he was being an insufferable prick about everything. Then for him to come out his neck and tell me that he was gonna rob me of MY time because he didn't want to be inconvenienced later? Yeah, I don't fuckin' think so. I'll fatten his lip before he makes it to the doorstep. Don't you show your pale, unshaven face around here and try to take what's mine before my time is up, because I'll show you what happens when you run into a mother grizzly.
It's 8 pm. My son is lounging in my bed as we speak, singing along to the Family Guy intro with his sister. As far as I'm concerned, you couldn't separate the three of us with a crowbar right now. My son may be an inconvenience for his dad, who only likes having him around because of how it reflects on him, but for me, he's right where he should be.
I've given him his due respect when he deserves it, and we've managed to work out most of our issues. Notice I said "most" of them.
One would think that since it takes two people to make a baby, those same two people would do equal jobs in taking care of it. I guess BD missed the memo.
My son is with me for the weekend, as he is every weekend. Sundays are my least favorite days, because I know he has to go "home", and every time I drop him off, a little piece of my heart breaks off. I remind myself throughout the week that he's at his dad's because he wants to be there, and he wants to be there because he believes that it's making things easier on me financially. I let him stay because he seems happy and adjusted, but no part of the arrangement is "easy" for me-I keep that part to myself. Part of me also realizes that he's growing up, and I can't teach him how to be a man. I've tried to find peace in the arrangement, and when I have him, I cherish the time and squeeze out as much as I can with him, bringing him home just before his bedtime. The BD seemed to get this, and lets me do my thing. Unless, of course, I ask him for help, like today.
Nine times out of ten, I'm the one running back and forth, picking him up and dropping him off, and that includes driving to his football adventures and other whatnots. I haven't really asked the BD to pitch in on some of that driving, even though it wouldn't be unreasonable of me to ask him to do half. I called him today and asked him if he could pick up the kid in the evening, after dinner, due to the simple fact that I'm down to my last few bucks. This was at 2pm. His response? "Get him ready, I'm coming right now." (Uh, NO??) His reason? His wife's cake and ice cream birthday party was this afternoon, and may not be over til after 10. Ok, first- Forgive me if I don't see this as a big fuckin' deal; cake and ice cream at your in-laws house doesn't strike me as the party of the fuckin' century, and second? You're a parent, your life revolves around your SON, not your stupid cunt wife who only tolerates him to stay married to you. Leave the damn party an hour early and come get your kid. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count how many times I had to sacrifice my social life because I had to be a mom. You don't hear me pissing and moaning tho, because I signed up for that shit.
It tripped me out that I even had to argue this point with him, and the fact that he was being an insufferable prick about everything. Then for him to come out his neck and tell me that he was gonna rob me of MY time because he didn't want to be inconvenienced later? Yeah, I don't fuckin' think so. I'll fatten his lip before he makes it to the doorstep. Don't you show your pale, unshaven face around here and try to take what's mine before my time is up, because I'll show you what happens when you run into a mother grizzly.
It's 8 pm. My son is lounging in my bed as we speak, singing along to the Family Guy intro with his sister. As far as I'm concerned, you couldn't separate the three of us with a crowbar right now. My son may be an inconvenience for his dad, who only likes having him around because of how it reflects on him, but for me, he's right where he should be.
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