Now I Gotta Kill Somebody’s Child

Since yesterday I’ve been trying to remind myself that I no longer live in the ghetto. That times have changed and gone are the days when a parent could reprimand someone else’s child and then cuss the mama out if she didn’t like it. Remember yesterday I spoke about knowing yourself. Well, I know I have a temper and I know I’m not above violence. I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is. And I’m working on it. I don’t like to argue because inevitably someone is going to go too far and at some point you’re gonna have to either a. walk away, b. agree to disagree, c. change the person’s mind, or d. beat somebody’s ass. And depending on how the person steps to me I’d be just as willing to choose option D. as I would option A. It’s why I don’t “argue” on the internet anymore. I remember the last time I really got into it with a blogger and she responded, “You need to calm the fuck down.” I think the words swam in front of me and I literally saw red. I realized then that I don’t do well with internet fighting because I like to hit and had that bitch had the balls to say that in my face I’d have knocked her on her ass. Weird really because her boyfriend reads my blogs and I read his and I adore him! Anyway…

Yesterday Kali comes home and tells me, “This 5th grader on the bus told me she’s going to come to my house and beat me up.”

“First of all, she ain’t coming here to do a damn thing. Now tell me what happened.”

According to Kali she stood up to let the girl who sits next to her out of the row as her stop approached. A fifth grade girl who sits in front of and diagonally across from Kali yelled for Kali to sit down. She explained why she was standing when the little girl proceeded to yell at my child. Her fifth grade friend sitting next to her began to chime in and said, “I know where you live and I’m coming to your house to beat you up.”

Even as I type this I want to go fuck somebody up so you know I was pissed hearing it, right? So I asked if the little girl is on the bus in the morning when Kali gets on or does she get on after. Two stops after in our subdivision. So she lives in our subdivision? Yes. Do you know which house? No. Is she black or white? Black. We were headed out to the market to get cold cuts for dinner (remember my salami craving) so I had Donny stop by Mr. Bernie’s house up the block. Bernie is the very pro-black, somewhat militant, man I’ve written about before. He waits at the bus stops with the kids every morning and knows all the kids in the neighborhood. Bernie wasn’t home.

Against my better judgement I had Donny stop at another neighbor’s house who I really don’t like. We used to be friendly when we all first moved into our homes (our phase of the subdivision was the final one so everyone on this side had their homes built within a year of each other.) She’s a busybody, a gossip, and I think she might be somewhat racist. But I thought maybe she knew where I could find this 5th grader’s (Rebecca) parents.

As I’m standing in her doorway telling her what happened (and Kali and Donny wait in the car) her kids were listening in. Her young son, who is even younger than Kali, said he heard the whole thing. When asked how he said the 5th grader sits across from him. Why is a second grader sitting with 5th graders? The neighbor begins to tell me how her daughter (who has to be in either kindergarten or first grade) was attacked on the bus (scratches and bruises) by a little boy who is still allowed to ride the bus. All they did was move his seat.  The same punishment given to the boy that harrassed Kali before Christmas even though he never sat next to her to begin with. He purposely sat next to Kali when he saw she had something he wanted so moving him really didn’t do anything in my opinion.

As I’m listening to her story I remember Bernie telling me that a little boy threatened to kill his daughter on the bus a year ago and his punishment was being moved as well. Anyway, the neighbor didn’t know of the little girl in question and I said, “Well, hopefully Bernie will be home soon and he’ll know.” And do you know what this heifer said to me?

“Yeah, Bernie knows all the black families.”

See. Sometimes I don’t think white people even realize the shit that comes out of their mouths. She obviously didn’t because she just chatting on absolutely oblivious to the beatdown she almost caught. Then I noticed that as she was talking to me she kept dropping into that “black girl talk.” You know, she would roll her neck and waggle her finger and call me “girl” a lot. It was time to go before I killed that bitch just cause she caught me in an ass kicking mood.

This morning I went with Kali to the bus stop and careful not to actually board the bus I told the bus driver that “we have a problem.” I told her about the girl and she immediately knew who I was talking about and even responded, “Oh yes, Rebecca.” Like she has problems with her all the time. She tells me, “She gets on two stops from now and I will make sure to move her.”

“Well, that’s all fine and well, but I also want it made clear to Rebecca that when it comes to Kali she needs to keep her mouth shut.”

“Oh, she won’t be talking to anyone for a long time.”

“Also, I’m going to email the principal, assistant principal, and bus zone supervisor with the same complaint just so you know. And I’m going to express my concern to them the same as I’m telling you. I’m not saying it’s a “you” problem because it’s my understanding that other parents in the neighborhood have had issues when it was the other bus driver before the holidays. But whatever the problem is, it needs to be fixed and fast.”

With wide eyes she just nodded and assured me she would speak to the child. I followed through with my email (I don’t call anymore because the school conveniently “loses” messages and I like a paper trail anyway) and in it I asked that there be some kind of meeting between the A.P, myself, and Rebecca’s parents. He, the A.P., wrote me back to ensure me that he would start an investigation and that he shares my concerns. He suggested that if a student did come to my home I contact the proper authorities as the school has no jurisdiction over anything but the bus and the actual bus stops.

Which brings me to my next thing… I told my Dad this morning, “I’m just being honest, because I know Nina. If I let Kali play outside with Twat after school and they’re playing in the driveway with the sidewalk chalk and I see two girls out there beating on my child who’s all of 60 pounds I cannot promise that I will have the presence of mind to break it up and call the cops and call the parents. I’m going to start swinging and then go to jail for beating up somebody’s kid. I know it.”

I told him, “I don’t care if they move her and she wants to talk shit to someone else’s child. Let their Mama handle that. But I need to know that Rebecca knows that when it comes to Kali – she’s not one to fuck with ’cause Kali’s Mama don’t play that shit.”

At one point in the conversation my Dad said something like, “You know, maybe it’s time we come over there and teach Kali how to hit someone in the nose just the right way…”

I cut him off, “I’ve been trying to avoid even going there because…”

Times are not like when I grew up. My mother used to tell us, “I don’t send you to school to fight, but if someone hits you you hit their ass right back. And if they’re bigger than you, you pick the nearest thing you can find and you bust ‘em upside the head. Some times all a bully needs is to be knocked on their ass and know who they can and can’t fuck with.”

But nowadays, everybody who swings gets in trouble even if you’re defending yourself. Gone are the days when my Mama would go outside and let a little girl know, “Sweetheart, you put your hands on my child I’m going to beat your ass and you can go get your Mama and I’ll beat her ass too.” And my mother became the one in the neighborhood knew that you didn’t fuck with her or her kids. I can’t do that shit now. My ass will be locked up so fast. I want to tell Kali so badly, “Listen, if she hits you, you better hit her ass back.” But I can’t. And it kills me because the thought of her being hit or bullied because the people who are supposed to be watching them have failed her and the other child’s parents have failed them by not teaching them better… it drives me crazy!

In this day and age I don’t know whose Daddy has a gun at home that he doesn’t lock up properly. Kids are now bringing guns to school shooting each other over the dumbest shit. I take these things very seriously and my mama bear instincts kick in and everything in me screams, “Protect at all costs.”

Here’s a copy of the email I sent this morning…

Mr. L,

Unfortunately, I am writing to you yet again to bring to your attention an
incident that took place on bus route ___ yesterday. During drop off my child,
Kali ____, stood up to allow the child that sits closest to the window to
deboard the bus.  When she did so, a fifth grade student sitting in front of and
diagonally across from her told her to sit down. She explained that she was
trying to make room for the other child to exit when this other child began to
yell at her. At this point, another fifth grade girl (Rebecca) sitting next to
the child that was yelling at Kali yelled to Kali, "I know where you live and
I'll come beat you up."  

Needless to say I am extremely disturbed by this. As with the other situation
between Kali and Gunner I expressed my concern that we send our children to
school via these county buses and expect them to be safe. If I send Kali to
school with the understanding that she is not to threaten, bully, harass, or
assault other children, I expect the same from other children. If and when this doesn't happen,
I expect the proper administrators to deal with the issue. I am particularly disappointed to learn,
after speaking with several parents within my subdivision whose children ride the same bus each
day, that there have been numerous behavioral complaints against several
children on the bus and the solution always seems to be to shuffle the children
around.  One of my neighbors, a boy younger than Kali, said he witnessed the
exchange and threat because Rebecca and the other fifth grade girl sit across
from him.  

Is there some kind of seating policy in place that separates the older children
from the younger ones? After speaking with the other parents it seems highly
unfair that those of us whose children haven't displayed any behavior problems
on the bus should have to contemplate other means of transportation, most times
to our inconvenience, because other children are abusing the privilege and are
allowed to continue riding the bus. 

I would like to meet with you and Rebecca's parents to remedy this situation.  I take threats of physical
violence against my child very seriously and I feel that Rebecca's parents
should be made aware that their child has made such threats including coming to
my home to inflict harm upon my child. 

Your prompt attention to this matter would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you,

Nina

Here’s the first response I received…

I have read your last email and will look into the situation.  I am also
going to forward it to the Bus Zone Supervisor so she can help me deal with
the situation.  Did your child inform the bus driver of the threat?  The
driver is the first in line to deal with such situations.  What usually
happens is a child reports to the driver/or the driver witnesses something,
then the driver investigates, (______ County Public Schools
Transportation has a set procedure to deal with behavior infractions), and
will then pass along information to me.  Ms. P. will assist me in
collecting information from the driver and students on the bus and we will
deal with the situation in an appropriate manner.  We do not tolerate any
type of bulling or threats of any kind.  I would suggest to you that if
anyone comes to your home to involve appropriate law enforcement as the
school only has jurisdiction on the bus and at the physical bus stop.  I
understand your concern and I share that concern.  I will keep you posted
on what the investigation uncovers.

Thank you for bringing this to my attention.

Then he sent this:

I have some information from the bus driver.  She has separated the girls
on the bus and informed me that the girls do not get off at the same stop.
This should help with what is going on during the ride to and from school.
She did keep several of the kids on the bus today and along with Mrs.
P., questioned the kids as to what was said.  I am going to follow
up on that later today before dismissal.  I will keep you posted

Here’s my response:

Mr. L,

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter. It was always my understanding that the girls never sat together and boarded the bus at different stops so that was never the issue. My main concern is that someone 1. informs Rebecca’s parents of the matter so that they can deal with it at home and 2. the school impresses upon Rebecca the seriousness of such threats. As with the Gunner situation, who didn’t sit next to Kali to begin with, I’m concerned that moving the children every time there’s an issue is a short term… I can’t even say solution because where these particular children sat wasn’t the problem. Their behavior is. I have spoken to several parents in my subdivision over the past two days and I’m disappointed to hear how many of them have had repeated problems with bullying, hitting, biting, and even death threats on this one bus route.

I would appreciate it if in the course of your investigation Kali is not questioned without me being present.  When we had the Gunner problem she expressed her hesitation at telling the bus driver because the child she was telling on is right there to hear it. I will definitely express to her the need to tell the bus driver immediately in the future should there be a problem, but I can understand her hesitation because she has to ride the bus with these students for potentially the next few years.  Also, I don’t see how questioning the children together is conducive to any investigation. If Kali is expected to relate what happened in front of the child she’s accusing and the witnesses are the accused friends, they know exactly what to say to rebut or lie about their actions. Again, I would appreciate it if in the future my child is not questioned by anyone without myself or my husband present.

Should I address my policy and procedures concerns to Mrs. P? Because I still don’t understand why 5th graders are being sat with 2nd and 3rd graders to begin with. What are the rules on threats, hitting, and bullying, etc.? Is there a seating policy? Again, maybe I should address these concerns to Mrs. P., but I wanted you to be aware of what my concerns are in situations such as this.  Please keep me informed as soon as you receive more information.

Thank you,

Nina

I’ll keep you informed. I gotta go try and keep my blood pressure down. I’ve only been in the suburbs about 5 years, they tryna make me resort to my ghetto ways.

BIOBaby: It Wuddn’t The Hormones!

Everyone who knows me well knows that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. If you ask me to do something and I agree know that I must either a. really like you and/or b. really want to do it. This kind of attitude is often times called bitchiness… even by my own Mama and I suppose sometimes it is, but overall I just think it’s knowing myself and not wasting anymore time with that disease that plagued me from my late teens to mid-20′s. That disease to please.

I found that more often than not when I was in a situation where I was unhappy I’d put myself there in an effort to please someone else. And almost always that person was not negatively affected at all. This was particularly true when it came to my first marriage where I’d find myself crying over “why does he treat me like this?” and “how can I get him to…” My father had to finally break it down (and my mother too now that I think about it), “You need to stop crying and start getting mad.”  It was right around getting pregnant with Kali that I stopped living for other people and started living for what was best for me and my child.

Some people may call it bitchy, I calling it knowing myself. You’re not gonna tell me something I know to be wrong and expect me to quietly lap it up and I’m not going to do things I don’t want to do. I know some people feel that men are allowed to be assertive and are even respected for it whereas women are negatively labeled. I’m kind of on the fence with that one. I think that if you’re the type of person turned off or intimidated by aggresive, confident, no nonsense people then it doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman displaying those traits. Maybe it’s the labels that women object to? We get bitchy, men get assertive. *shrugs*

Anyway, nothing annoys me more than someone trying to tell me what my feelings and motives are and I find that people are particularly insistent on doing that when you’re pregnant. Kind of like when a guy says, “Why are you acting like this? Is it that time of the month?” Fellas, if you’re over 16 and find yourself about to say some dumb shit like that, don’t. It’s not original or clever. And most times it’s not even true. It’s like it’s easier to blame a woman being fed up with your idiotic behavior on her hormones than to recognize that… you’re an idiot.

I’ve noticed that over the past few weeks everyone wants to tell me why they think I feel the way I do, make the decisions I’ve made, or behaved a certain way. It’s always hormones. Ladies, when you’re pregnant and this happens to you feel free to tell people to shut the fuck up. Seriously. It’s your fucking body and mind. You know when your hormones have taken over and when they haven’t. Don’t let people get themselves off the hook by blaming it on your hormone levels.  For instance:

1. I wrote what I wrote about my “fall-out” with Frogger not because of my hormones, but because it was weeks and weeks of me getting annoyed with her limited and condescending point of view.  It wasn’t hormones or Myspace drama. Myspace drama is when people actually scour the rankings and blog about why so and so shouldn’t be up top and how they just bet they used some kind of cheating refreshing tool and then writing about it ad nauseum. I would have written about what happened had it been Frogger, Tralfaz, El Supremo, Tara, or my Mama. That’s how I roll.

2. When I sat here and cried like a baby at the end of the commercial where the teacher is baking cupcakes with her students and they decorate the cupcakes to spell out LOOK OUTSIDE, and she does only to find her boyfriend there with flowers and an engagement ring.. that’s hormones!

3. Last night when I had heartburn and indigestion so bad that I thought everything in my chest was going to exit through my mouth and I couldn’t sleep because of it so I tossed and turned for hours until finally breaking down and crying for 20 minutes… that’s hormones!

4. When I cried this morning because Chris Cuomo on Good Morning America completed his I Dare You challenge of free falling from a 34-story building despite his massive fear of heights, and raised his arms triumphantly at the end… that was hormones!… and a little bit of me being the type of pussy that cries at shit like that and when Oprah gives away money and houses to people that really need it. Oh, and when I cried a few weeks ago because Robin Roberts completed her challenge of walking the runway in a fashion show during Fashion Week in NY and she did so bald (she just completed chemo)… that was fucking hormones!

5. When Kali ate the rest of my Heath Bar Crunch Ben & Jerry’s ice cream after I told her she could have it yet I still wanted to lock her little ass in the closet when I realized I couldn’t satisfy my ice cream craving later that night… that was hormones! Not to mention that the little hoochie ate all the ice cream and left chunks of heath bar in the container… grrrrr!

And for the record, this wasn’t written fueled by hormones. This was a pre-emptive strike against all the people who may feel the desire to leave a blog comment like, “Girl, that’s just your hormones” in the next few months and therefore forcing me to cuss their asses out and maybe lose some friends.

I think they should make a maternity shirt that reads, “It’s not the hormones. You’re just fucking annoying.”

BIOBaby: I Tried, I Really Did

I had my 14 week check-up today. Donny had an important meeting this morning that he couldn’t miss so my Dad came to take me. Kali came along because there isn’t any school today.

When it got to the how are you feeling part I tried to play up the minor cramps I’ve been having hoping I’d get a peek at the baby, but the doctor wasn’t having it. He measured my uterus (15 weeks!), pressed around on my tummy (which hurt!), and we listened to the baby’s heartbeat (sounds great!) We go back in mid-March for my 20-week ultrasound and we’ll find out the sex then. *pouts*

We stopped at Wendy’s for lunch and as my father’s GPS system informed us  we were approaching “Nine-ah’s” house I noticed my front door was open! My Dad pulls into the driveway and instructs, “I’ll be right back. Nobody go anywhere.” As he exits the car he reaches behind him into his sweatshirt and pulls out his Glock 9mm.  And it was just like on TV! The way he held his gun and entered the house. Just like you see on TV when the cops enter an apartment they suspect might have bad guys in it. I’d never seen my Dad like that. It was kinda cool.

As he’s inside Kali goes, “I’m so glad my Grandpa used to be a cop and still carries his gun.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

“It’s kinda exciting and scary at the same time, isn’t it?”

“Kinda.”

I watched the front door anxious for my Dad to come back out and it hit me that I would totally shit my pants if someone else came running out. I wondered how fast I could get my pregnant ass into the driver’s seat (the car was still running.) I sat the drink carrier and bag of food on the passenger side floor and scooted into the driver’s seat and then I locked the doors. I watched my father walk past the gallery window on the second floor and enter the master bedroom, gun still drawn.

He came out a few minutes later to let us know it was all clear. How my pregnant, forgetful, dumb, ass forgot to lock the door is beyond me. It’s very windy and we assume that the wind blew it open. (Just to tell you how badly my brain is fried, I originally typed “we awesome that the wind blew it open” in the previous sentence.) *sigh*

Anyway, I just checked my mail a little while ago to find that after our insurance company covers their portion, it will cost us $1,240 to have this baby. Oh, after we meet our $750 deductible or course. Life costs.

So now I’m home and cramping even more because the doctors always push and poke on your belly like it’s Play Dough and neither the baby nor your uterus appreciates it.

Accountability

This morning on GMA they were talking about this video all over You Tube in which some cop loses his shit on a teenage boy skating where he wasn’t supposed to. When the officer approaches the kids we don’t know what happened because one of the teenagers didn’t think to turn on his cell phone camera until the officer was already good and hot. Apparently, on the video, one of the boys gets really disrespectful and mouthy. He keeps calling the officer “dude” which just pisses the officer off more especially after he instructs him not to.

Now I understand that cops are held to a higher standard and as an adult he’s supposed to know better. I don’t argue his suspension with pay punishment. What bothers me is that the mother and kid are now making the interview rounds going on about how unfairly her son was treated and the son even went so far as to say that his mouthy disrespect was the officer’s fault. “He should be nice.” Cops aren’t paid to be nice. And why do these parents do this? (Note Frogger, not a broad generalization of ALL parents, but these particular parents.) I’m talking about these parents that defend their children’s screwed up behavior because someone else happened to screw up more. Making their child somehow less accountable for their actions or not accountable at all.

I’m pissed off that the mother even granted interviews. Yeah, the cop was wrong and your son or the other kid obviously leaked the video online and gave it to the cop’s superiors. He got in trouble, but that doesn’t mean you get to excuse or ignore the fact that your son was a law breaking smartass.  Maybe my parents are just freakin’ awesome, but my Dad would have taken one look at the video and admitted that though the cop was wrong my behavior has consequences as well. What a disservice to this child that he’s not being shown how wrong he was.  Does this just bolster his disrespectful attitude? What happens when he lips off to someone not held by the standards of the law?  Someone who would just as soon shoot his ass as look at him.

Which brings me to the next piss me off story. A young 14 year old black boy approached an off duty cop as he sat in his car using a laptop. The boy pulled out a gun and demanded the man hand the laptop over. As he did so though, the off duty cop had his service revolver under the laptop and shot the boy dead. Now his family is crying foul. Nevermind the fact that at 14 he had a rap sheet longer than my dick. (OK, I totally realize that line sounds better in movies… when said by men.) They interviewed the uncle who briefly admitted that the boy had criminal problems, BUT he was only 14! And that is somehow the cop’s fault? He should have taken a bullet because the shooter is young and has his whole life ahead of him? A long life of crime unfortunately.  The uncle goes on to say that they just want to make sure the cops aren’t covering anything up. My people, my people, not everything is a damn conspiracy.

Maybe because I was raised by cops, but mostly I think it’s due to being raised with some common sense, but I choose the life of the cop over the life of the bad guy everytime. People who shoot at cops don’t give a shit if the cop has kids at home. And if cops have to start worrying about negative press and racial accusations when they’re staring down the barrel of a gun, we’re screwed. if a black man has a gun on me and there’s a white cop there that can stop him… “Fuck Al Sharpton, officer. You better shoot his ass!” Cops aren’t perfect. Even the bonafide good ones. But say what you want, if someone is breaking into your house, jackin’ your ride, or trying to put his penis in you against your will, you’ll be happy to see a cop show up.

Finally, another news story that annoyed the shit out of me. You know, just because everyone is entitled to an opinion doesn’t mean we have to be afraid, as a society, to tell other people that their opinions are just stupid. A little boy was suspended from school for mouthing off to the teacher. Apparently, this was the latest in a string of behavioral problems at school. Fed up, his mother made him stand outside on a street corner holding a sign that detailed his bad behavior and an apology. She made him stand there, while she stood nearby, for three hours on the day he was supposed to be in school, but denied due to his suspension. People are all up in arms saying she went to far. The main complaint? “You shouldn’t humiliate a child.”

What?! What’s wrong with a little humiliation? Are we that afraid of letting our children experience anything negative? As much as we’d like to, we can’t stop them from being heartbroken, teased, bullied, humiliated, etc. Some things, when we know about them, can be nipped in the bud like bullying, but there’s nothing wrong with a little humiliation to learn a lesson. The whole idea behind punishment is to correct the behavior. To ensure that the child never does the offending act again. Some tactics work well with some children, while others don’t respond as well. Kali needs a good threat and rarely will we have another problem. Some kids respond to having perks taken away. Others need a foot up the ass. If humiliating his little ass makes it so that he approaches his education with a new attitude and goes on to be a productive member of society then I say he should thank his mother. And Lord knows he’s going to need all the help he can get seeing as how when talking about her child’s punishment on GMA his mother referred to “capital” punishment. I’m pretty sure she meant “corporal.”

I think the garbage man riding on the back of his truck as he passed the young sign-holder summed it up best to all the boys involved. He waggled his finger at the young boy with tears in his eyes holding the sign and said, “Be good.

BIOBaby: Baby Poop and Color

We are at the “now what?” stage of my pregnancy. The sickness is almost completely gone, if I wake up in the middle of the night I can usually make myself go back to sleep fairly quickly, and I’m no longer THAT afraid of miscarriage (though I still do a tissue check every time I go to the bathroom.) I think every woman checks the tissue after she wipes her whole pregnancy from the moment she finds out she’s expecting.

Now we’re all kinda like chillin’ out waiting for the next big thing to happen. Kicking! Oh, there’s movement alright. But only I can feel it and it’s very fleeting. It’s only because I’ve been pregnant before that I can even recognize it for what it is. Come on little Jackabelle! Kick me, hit me, anything! Remind Mama that you’re in there!

Oh, I do have one reminder though. And this may fall into TMI so if you’re easily grossed out just skip this paragraph. Remember how a few weeks ago we all learned that the baby is now urinating into the amniotic fluid, swallowing it, and urinating it back out and that he/she is now pooping as well but the poop comes out in my poop? I can totally tell! My poop is just like baby poop. I swear to God! The consistency, the smell, everything. It’s very baby poop-like. It’s kinda awesome.

Since we’re in the “now what?” stage Donny and I find ourselves just imagining what the baby will look like. Will it be a little bald baby? Lot of hair? Straight or curly? My eyes or yours? My lips or yours? And the big question? Brown or white!?

“Did you ever think, when you were a little boy, that you’d grow up to have little brown babies?”

“I never really thought about it.”

“Does it bother you that your child could possibly be brown like me?”

“No. Of course not.”

I suck my teeth. “You just saying that ’cause you know this baby is going to be a pink little thing like Kali!”

So, now my family is taking bets. Brown or white? Here’s the standings so far:

Brown: Me, my mom, and Grandma
White: Donny, my sister

And to be difficult Kali speculates, “The baby will be peachy-gold like me!”

BIOBaby: Baby Talk

This whole deal with the baby’s sex yesterday has me kinda anxious. Do you know how weird it is to feel in your heart for months you’re going to have a son, have it confirmed, and then for like ten minutes start imagining your little boy’s life only to have someone else come in and tell you you’re having a girl? Sucks. Not that I don’t want a girl, I want a healthy baby. Period. It just takes some time to get your emotions, thoughts, and plans readjusted. Apparently, it doesn’t take that long because by the end of the night we were cooing over the ultrasound pics saying things like,

“Aww, look at her little nose. You can totally see it. It’s the biggest thing on her face. She’s going to have your nose. Poor thing.”

“What’s wrong with my nose?”

“It’s big.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s bigger than mine and I’m black.”

“It’s bigger than yours, but it’s not big. I think I have a good nose.” (This morning my mother called and agreed. Donny has a nice nose. Whatever.)

Then we talked about the name. We had come to settle on, and quite love, Jack Ian so much we now had to prepare ourselves for Isabelle Sophia… and allow it to roll off our tongues a bit.

“I miss Jack already! Maybe we can name her Jacklyn Sophia?”

He thinks about this for a moment and kind of nods. “That’s not bad.”

“Good. But I’m going to call her Jack.”

And he just laughs.

We had all these “things” tied up emotionally in having a boy. Donny lost his father as a kid and when we were going through our marriage problems two years ago he confessed that all he’s ever wanted was a family. And he really wants a son so he can do with him all the things he shared with his father: baseball, golf, fishing, etc.

“Well, you better hope she’s a lesbian then, ’cause if this is a girl, I’m not having anymore.”

Which is probably a lie. I’m not a supporter of people having children just to have a particular sex. But we’d always planned on having two more but then work, lay-offs, finances, school, marriage trouble, and basically life in general always got in the way. Then one day (last October) I woke up and thought, “What the fuck am I waiting for? I’m 33. I keep coming up with excuses and what am I going to do when I’m ready and the doctor tells me it’s too late? Then what?” So we made plans to start trying after the holidays. A month later I was pregnant. We called ourselves “practicing” stupidly forgetting that ejaculation into vagina isn’t really how you practice. It’s how you get the job done.

Anyway, since I always swore I wouldn’t have kids past 35 I really wanted this to be a boy so I wouldn’t be tempted to do that third one. And really this came to me during that awful month of throwing up everything I consumed and being sick all day/everyday.  Now, after a few weeks of clarity and limited illness I’m open to the possibility. But it damn sure won’t be before I’m 35. This baby is due a week before I turn 34.

“I can always just knock you up again right after.”

“You must be out of your fucking mind.”

But waiting a year or two won’t be so bad. Hell, I read this morning that J-Lo’s having twins and her big ass is 38. We’ll see.

Last night we started wondering how this baby, this new personality, would fit into our lives. We’re such a kooky bunch. For instance, I’m convinced that whatever Kali does in life it will involve her wearing as minimal amount of clothes as possible. The girl just likes walking around in panties and t-shirts. In fact, when she comes home from school she always has to pee so she rushes into the powder room downstairs and always exits with just her panties on. We don’t even question anymore. In fact, if you go in that bathroom right now I bet the jeans she wore to school yesterday are on the floor. And if she wasn’t home sick on Monday, those pants would be there too. Usually after two days or so Donny yells for her to come get her stuff and reminds her she has her own bathroom upstairs to mess up.

Anyway, it doesn’t bother me. I know she’s intelligent and whatever she wants to do in life is fine with me. I’m not one of those people that think what you do for a living defines your intelligence. There are plenty of stupid assholes operating on people and trying criminal cases and acting as heads of states. I graduated valedictorian and a few years later was draped around some white boy, on a beach, half naked and greased up, with sand up my hoo-ha, for a photo shoot. No one on that beach knew, or cared, that I read on a 12th grade reading level in the 5th grade or that I skipped the 8th grade. I hope my kids know that they don’t have to walk around proving how smart they are just to prove it. And I want them to follow their dreams. So, if in 13 years there’s some mocha colored supermodel named Kali on the cover on Sports Illustrated for their bajillionith anniversary  swimsuit issue wearing nothing but rose petals and brown string, know that her Mama is very proud.

But back to Jackabelle… I asked Donny, “Do you think the baby will like us?”

“The baby will love us.”

“I hope the baby likes our house.”

“The shit you think about.”

“I just meant that I hope it likes the foundation we’ve started. Nice house, nice area, great schools, you know… I hope he’s happy.”

At that point Kali comes in the room and sees the ultrasound pic on the computer with the caption, “Sucking his thumb.”

“Don’t you mean, his slash her thumb?”

“Well, we still don’t know. The nurse said it’s a boy, but the doctor said girl.”

“Well, you should listen to the doctor because the nurse is just the assistant.”

And I was too stunned to even defend the nurses of the world. After she left the room, and before bed, I was able to comfort myself with the thought that it could still be a boy by reasoning,

“That doctor was obviously gay so you know he don’t know what a pussy look like no way.”

I know it was wrong. But it made Donny laugh. And I like to make him laugh.

BIOBaby: Boy or Girl?

Today has been the greatest day! I woke up at 3:30am and couldn’t go back to sleep till around 5-something. When the alarm went off after 7am Donny told me to stay in bed and he’d get Kali ready for school. Awwww. After her bus left at 8 we had two hours before we needed to leave for the doctor. I laid in bed, blogged, and watched the morning news. Donny played World of Warcraft. Now this next part may not be funny to anyone… even World of Warcraft players, but it made me laugh so hard and seriously, laughter is really the best medicine.

In the game, it’s recommended that you log out after placing your character in an inn. You rest faster that way when logged out and when you return, if you’re well rested, your character gets 200 percent experience points for kills for a short time. I’d been playing the game for about a week before I encouraged Donny to play for himself. He’s been playing for a few days. So, this morning he’s playing  and at one point I mention we should probably start getting ready to go.

“Ok, ok.”

Neither of us move for awhile. Then I say, “Donny!” I guess he thought I was going to bug him to turn off the game and get ready because he snapped at me, “OK! Let me just get in a building so I can log off.”

“Damn, that’s not what I was going to say. Whatever. I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day ’cause you obviously have an attitude.”

So I’m lying there watching him play and damn if he doesn’t walk his character into the inn, but instead of just turning the game off he continues to walk upstairs to an actual room with a bed in it.

“Um, jackass you do realize that you can’t actually get in that bed, right?”

“Shut up, I know.”

And I don’t know why but I busted out laughing. I couldn’t stop.

“You’re so retarded.”

“Shut up.”

He’s trying not to laugh and maintain his little stick up the butt attitude. He grabs his coffee mug from the bedside table and storms out the room. I realize he’s probably going downstairs for more coffee and that I need my blow dryer from down there.

“Donny!” I call out.

“NO!” He calls back from the stairs.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Doesn’t matter. NO!”

Which just made me laugh harder. I love that man.

Anyway we get to the doctor’s office and the nurse tells Donny he can wait in the ultrasound room while I’m weighed and they take my blood pressure. Again, they want me to pee in a cup, but I don’t have to pee so she suggests before I leave… and again, I left before remembering to pee. I lost six pounds during weeks five to eight of my pregnancy and I’ve since gained back the six, plus two. Once again, I thank God I lost 20lbs before getting pregnant.

The nurse explains that she will do the ultrasound first, then the doctor will come in and do it again, then I’ll have the finger-stick blood test. I ask her if she notices anything abnormal (not just Down Syndrome indicators) will she tell me and she said yes. Then I asked if she can tell the sex of the baby (even though it’s three weeks early) will she tell me and she said she won’t, but the doctor will. She doesn’t like to speculate and be wrong. So we begin.

First of all, it totally looks like a baby. And a cute one at that! But I’m biased. He wouldn’t lift his chin from his chest long enough for her to get the measurement she needed. They measure the skin behind the neck for thickness because apparently babies with DS have a lot of swelling in that area. The first thing she pointed out which caused me to breathe a sigh of relief was that the nasal bone was present which is good because apparently it’s not with DS babies. We heard the heartbeat and got to see the baby moving around and stretching his little legs. And the funniest part of all, almost the whole time we were looking (and it took forever because he just wouldn’t cooperate) the baby was sucking his thumb!

“Just like his Mama.”

Yes, Donny called me out as a 33 year old thumb sucker in front of a perfect stranger.  She finally went to look between the legs and totally forgot that she doesn’t like to speculate… I think she really liked us because the whole time the three of us were chatting like old friends… “I think you’re having a boy. See that? It looks like a penis.”

So now we’re both crying and Donny is squeezing my arm and I just want to stay there all day looking at my baby boy. She finally gets the measurements and tells me that everything looks perfectly normal. The sizes are exactly as they should be. And of course, I’m supposed to be about 12 weeks and 3 days and I’m measuring 13 weeks and a few days. I have no idea what’s up with that. I’m blaming Donny. He implanted me with a super sized baby. The nurse printed out SEVEN pics for us and left the room.

The doctor comes in and begins his examination and explains that because everything looks so normal I can opt out of the blood test, which I did. It really doesn’t matter. We’re keeping whatever God gives us. So then I ask him, “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” He goes between the legs and I immediately think, “Hey, that don’t look like what it looked like before.” But I don’t say anything.

“It looks like a girl to me.”

I wanted to punch him in his damn head. He then explains that the babies at this stage are still kind of unisex and it is hard to tell because the clitoris is really large and the penis is really small so it’s easy to not be sure. He said he’s usually right 9 times out of 10. In fact, he said that just yesterday a woman who he examined a few weeks ago called to tell him that he was wrong. She just had her 20 week ultrasound and she’s having a girl and he told her boy.

“But… but… the nurse said it’s a boy.”

“Well, I’ll bet her a Diet Coke and you be sure to call us in a few weeks and tell us who was right.”

So, basically… we still don’t know. Back to where we started. 50/50. Donny said in the car, “I don’t know what he was looking at but I thought I saw testicles with that clitoris.”

I’m Such A Thief!

As I type this I’m on stolen internet access! I feel so naughty and I’m typing faster than I ever have so I don’t get caught. I expect my doorbell to ring any moment because the victimized neighbor has realized I’m mooching off their shit.

Why am I using someone else’s wireless? Good question. Let me start from the beginning… I’ve mentioned before that Donny and I usually take turns keeping track of the bills. In some marriages both people do it at the same time, and others one person tracks them all the time. For us, it works to switch off every few months. It keeps us sane. What better time for Donny to take the financial reins than when I’m puking constantly, aching because my uterus and rib cage are expanding, and my tits are the size of toddlers due to baking his baby?

One would think that the person making all the household money would be more dilligent with it. Then again, maybe he notoriously forgets to pay bills because he works so hard for the money he can’t bear to see it go… to anyone. Anyway, he wakes me up this morning before leaving for work with a kiss and this bit of news…

“The internet is out, but it should be up shortly.”

“Why is the internet out?”

“Because they wanted money yesterday.”

They wanted money? He says this as if comcast just suddenly decided, “You know what, let’s jack those (insert last name) for money today.” As if we didn’t owe them for services provided. And having handled the bills (and we don’t have that many… no credit cards, just utilities and car insurance, Tivos and online rental memberships. Hell, we don’t even have a car payment anymore) I know that they don’t just suddenly decide they want money. There’s a due date and then there’s a pay us or your shit is off date. Donny had obviously let both dates pass without paying. Which is extra annoying as I have a spreadsheet on the desktop that shows what day of the month each bill is due and the estimated amount.

Apparently, he paid them this morning over the phone and they said it should be up shortly. That was around 7am. No internet yet. Unless I have to reset the router or some such shit. Anyway, I’m about to use this stolen connection to send an email to his Blackberry. In the meantime I’ve gotten lots of reading done this morning, I worked out for the first time in two months (20 mins on the elliptical, doctor approved!), and I’m in the process of installing Sims 2 and all six expansion packs on the new laptop should I feel the need to get my “game” on while the internet is down.

Pray for me.