Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Oh...what a Monday...

I was informed at my monthly stat review that I took 54 hours of sick time in the month of March.  (I had a lot of dental work that I was tired of putting off and at my job, we aren't allowed any time off between mid-April and early August.) So when I woke up yesterday feeling a little under the weather, I decided to tough it out and come to work anyway.  I got up, brushed my teeth, got dressed all before my second alarm went off to signal that it was time to wake the Bear.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself because it was looking like we were going to be early for school/work instead of running around like mad people trying to get everything together.  I woke the Bear and guided him to the bathroom and continued my routine.  I was just about to make his lunch when I heard a meek little, "Mooooom."  Sigh.  I know that sound. 
"Yes baby."
"I don't feel good."  He stumbled in and laid his head on my chest.
"What feels bad?" He's not one to fake sick to get out of school, but I need to know if we just have to go to the doctor right this instant.
"My tummy aches and I feel dizzy.  Oh...and my pooh was soft."
We talk about pooh a lot in my house.  The Bear has an aversion to going to the restroom in public, so we normally have to deal with his constipation.  Soft pooh almost always means something is wrong with him.
Sigh.  "Lay back down babe.  I'll call in for us."
But it was 6:45 at this point and no one would answer.  So I started cleaning house (as I wasn't feeling so bad anymore), when suddenly, I realized I was wheezing. My stupid allergies were clogging my sinuses. And my throat felt raw and sore.  Antihistamine, here I come. 
By now it was 7:05, so I could call the school.  The lady in the office heard stomach ache and said, "Oh. That's been going around.  Get a bucket."  GREAT...what  a monday.
7:15 am.  *yawn* My boss won't be in for another 45 minutes.  Can't just leave a message. *yawn* Have to *yawn* speak to her directly. *yawn*  Stupid antihistamine.
7:30 am. I don't even want to play Facebook apps. I just want to crawl into bed.
Call Boss. "G'morning T.  I hate to do this, but the Bear isn't feeling well, so I have to stay home today.  I'll call back to speak to you directly."
8:15 am. Cell phone ringing. Sorority sister.  "I saw on Facebook that you don't feel well.  Just calling to check on you.  BTW, you sound like shit."  Thanks...really. 
8:30 am.  (Because apparently me sounding like shit doesn't stop her from talking for another 15 minutes.) Call boss. "G'morning T."
"Oh. You sound horrible."  Really people??
"I got your message.  I was going to let you off for a half day anyway.  So just count this as 4 hours sick time. Hope you both feel better."  I don't think I've mentioned before how much I love my boss. 
Jump forward to 10:45 am.  I wake up and realize that I've also started.  This day can't get any better can it?  Wait, I don't hear anything.  Walk into the Bear's room to check on him.  He's still sleeping.  Wow, he really doesn't feel well, he never sleeps past 8.  I can't resist putting my hand on his back to feel for breathing.  I'm paranoid like that.  I'm satisfied.  And still sleepy.  Back to bed.
12:30 pm.  "Mooom. I'm hungry."
"I can make malt-o-meal."  Face screws up.  "Soup?" Face screws up more.
"What do you want?"
"Sausage biscuit."  Wait, what?
"I thought you didn't feel well."
"I feel better now. Can we get food?"
I stand to find I have that bubble headed drugged up feeling...and I can't breath again.
We go to the grocery store, because I don't have breakfast foods since he eats breakfast at school.  He's skipping around and playing with the cart.  I'm shuffling aimlessly and wiping my nose with the tissue in my pocket, trying not to cough on anyone.  I get him sausage biscuits.  Then I get soup, juice, couple of dinners worth of frozen entrees (gasp all you want, don't feel like cooking), and some stuff for my lunch as I can see, I'll be back at work for the rest of the week.  I also grab a bottle of ginger ale in case he's misdiagnosing his, "Feeling better".
1:30 We get home and microwave his sausage biscuit.  I climb back into bed.
1:40 "Mom, I'm going to make another one."
"Are you sure?  You're stomach is okay?"
"Yeah, just hungry."
1:50 I can barely breathe.  Crap more stupid antihistamine.
*yawn...crash*
4:00 pm "Mooom.  You okay?  Did I get you sick?"
"No babe.  I'm sure it's just allergies."
Hands me a fresh box of tissues.  "Do you want some juice?"
*smile* "I'm okay babe. But I'm probably going to go back to sleep.  Is that going to bother you?"
"No.  I'll just watch cartoons."  I could have sworn that I only stayed home today to take care of him.
6:45 pm Cell phone rings. Daddy. "Hey Daddy."
Barely a whisper, "Hey baby, I don't feel so great today."
"Me either Dad."
6:47 pm (Because that's how long you keep people on the phone when they sound sick.) "Mooom.  I'm hungry. Could you make the pizza?"
Bake Pizza.  Set timer.  Play on Facebook.
Ding!
"Bear.  Pizza's ready."  No answer.  What tha?!?  He was passed out on the couch.  Guess he wasn't at 100%.
Moral of the story...what gives him the sniffles, will lay my ass out flat.

I'm feeling much better today though.

 

Sunday, April 18, 2010

out of my zone...

This is going to be a long one.  I've been working on it for like a week and just never got it finished. So...here goes.
Last year, for various reasons that I won't get into at this point, I fell into a really deep depression.  I was in a relationship with a man that didn't deserve or value me.  I stopped valuing myself.  I was miserable.  All, and I mean ALL, of my friends started these promising new relationships with wonderful people around that time.  I just disappeared.  I retreated and slept for days on end.  Eventually I ran into a friend that saw I wasn't going to pull out of it on my own.  She helped me find a therapist.  It's been almost a year and it's been awesome.  I've really gotten a whole new perspective on my reality as it stands at the moment.  I feel like myself again.  I feel myself falling now and again, but I take a step back and take a breath.  I handle what I can and hand everything else over to God, Yaweh, Mana, Allah or whatever deity you align yourself with.  I'm getting out again and doing things that I wouldn't have ever done before. 
This past weekend, I pushed the limits of my comfort zone a little more.  I was invited by a few friends to go to a benefit for the San Antonio AIDS Foundation.  WEBB Party 2010 was an amazing experience.  I wasn't going to go, but a friend offered to cover the ticket for me.  So I got a sitter and dusted off my makeup case and went out.  It was really great.  28 local restaurants had tasting tables with amazing food.  Several of the local bars donated bartenders and liquor for the event.  My friend's girlfriend was the emcee for the event and there was even an awesome drag show.  I met lots of new people, laughed, danced and had a fantastic time. I couldn't help but think that this time last year, I wouldn't have wanted to go.  Or I'd have gone and spent the entire night checking my phone to see if my "boyfriend" was going to call.  I wouldn't have felt comfortable talking to people.  Friday night was freeing.  I'm back.  I'm happy.  I'm all sorts of fexi. (FEXI = fat and sexy, because let's face it, people don't realize that it can come in the same package) It was really great.
Then I slipped.  While hanging out at a bar after the event, I got it in my head that I wanted...in the interest of not being crass, I'll say, "physical therapy".  I texted a friend.  He's a guy that I've always found attractive. I've known him for years and I know he'd never date me.  He's alluded to the fact that he found me attractive, but I don't fit the "image" of a girl he'd be seen with. (Another non-believer of the Fexiness)  I knew it wasn't a great idea, but after a great night and a few drinks I just wanted...more.  Well it went worse than originally expected and I felt horrid by the end of the night.  I mean, I've bounced back, but it's still just embarrassing to some extent.  I went back to another man that doesn't see my value and basically asked for validation.  I don't get why I do that.  I don't understand my idiotic obsession with frustrating myself.  I just shouldn't have.
But I'm going to try to remember all of the good stuff and only the lessons learned from the bad.
We'll see if it works.  Someone out there sees me, or will, for everything I have to offer.  Good and bad.  I just have to stop settling for the frogs I know don't want to change.
Anyhow, I spent the day with the Bear and we enjoyed ourselves.  We went to a BBQ plate sale a friend was having for the Susan G. Koman Race for the Cure.  (Notice how all of my charitable contributions involve food or drink?)  That was an adventure since it was on the other side of town and there's been torrential downpour in the area for the last 2 days.  It was good.  I saw friends and had great food.  And I didn't even THINK about any of the bad stuff that had been on my mind.

I also got a call from CAB.  He says he can't take the Bear for the summer.  He can't afford it and pay child support as well.  My first reaction was guilt. (Am I asking too much?  Am I keeping my son from his father?)  My next reaction was anger.  But as I thought about it, I realized I could rise to this setback too.  I called CAB back and told him I want my son to know his father and his little sister.  I told him that I can do a lot but I can't be his father.  I offered to give back $300 from the child support and he can have the Bear for the month of July.  Deep inside I don't think it should have come to that.  But right up top, I can't watch my baby's heart break any more.  He'll see his dad for a month and I'll pay back a portion of the support to make it happen. CAB agreed to this.  I didn't ask for help on this one.  I know what my friends would say.  I just made the offer.  My plan had been to get a second job while the Bear was gone for the summer.  I wanted to put away some cash.  But I guess plans change.  I can do it...I can make it happen.  I've said it before, I'll say it again.  Atlas was a punk. The world's not that damned heavy.

I have a couple of pics from the event.


Thursday, April 8, 2010

The Independent Black Woman Debate

A friend posted a status on Facebook that has brought me back to a debate that I've been having with my male friends for years.  A debate that I have had specifically with Black men.  His post said basically that women that wear their independence like a badge of honor are doomed to be alone.  The only way to get and keep a man is to "submit" to him.  Now don't get me wrong, I see merit in what he's saying.  Most women that I know, especially single mothers, have learned not to trust.  We do it all ourselves with the assumption that if we don't do it, it will never get done.  We get so used to living this way that when someone comes along and says they can help, we tend to not believe them.  "Get out of my way.  I'll do it myself."  We wonder what they want in return.  The common experience is that men aren't reliable and if they happen to show up, it's because they are working an angle. That's why there's this push to be I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T.  We write songs about our independence.  We celebrate being single.  We tell the world we can do it all on our own with no man.  And truthfully, when push comes to shove, we can.  The question is, do we want to?

I've spoken to friends that fall on all sides of the spectrum on this topic.  The particular friend that posted the Facebook status went with the argument that we are not meant to be alone.  He said that women do need men.  It's our independence that keeps us single.  Our pride that is ripping apart the foundation of Black families. (I'm paraphrasing. I don't have access to his quote.)  I've worked hard for the last 10 years to raise my son alone.  Yes, he has a father, but he doesn't have a constant male role model in his life.  If I'm generous, I'd say the Bear sees his dad for 75 days out of the year.  The rest is up to me.  The argument could be made that I chose this life.  I could have just stayed with his father.  And I could have acquiesced and stayed.  It's not as though he ever left me, but he was never really there either.  When we started dating, he just basically started hanging out at my house with me and my room mates.  The only difference between me and them was that I was sleeping with CAB.  When I moved into my own place, he just started leaving his stuff there and sleeping over every night.  There was no talk about moving in together.  There was no decision made.  When I got pregnant, he wanted to bolt.  He had a job interview scheduled out of state on the day that our son was due.  I told him to go.  I told him I'd move with him.  Or if he wanted to leave, he should tell me.  Rather than just say he didn't want me with him, he stayed.  He treated our child like something I'd DONE to him.  He resented working while I stayed home with our son.  He resented that I started caring for another child to make money and help with the household expenses.  He resented when I left so he wouldn't have to pay for us any more.  He resented that when he decided he wanted to grace me with his company while I was living with my mother, I was busy working two jobs so that I could care for our son.  When I decided to move to Texas, he followed.  He resented living in San Antonio too.  "You brought me here to a city that I don't even like."  Truth be told, I didn't even invite him to come with me.  He didn't make one single decision.  He just sat back and whined about all of the decisions that I made.  How does one submit to a man that doesn't take the leadership role?  How can I follow him when he doesn't know where he's going?  Why should I hold on to a man that doesn't want to hold on to me?  On paper he was a good man.  He's educated.  He has a job.  He pays his child support. And he never raised a hand to me.  He also never just stood up and acted like the man.  So am I to be blamed that I stood up to make the decisions for my son and myself?

I had another male friend tell me that Black men don't step up because we make it too easy for them not to do so.  Black women have taken the reigns over the course of the years.  We've taken the strong leadership role.  But is that what makes our men simply stop trying?  Is the solution for us to just drop the basket and hope they'll be there to pick it up?  I mean, how are we supposed to back down if they are unwilling to take over.  I've taken a hard line that I will not support any man that doesn't share at least half of my DNA.  Perhaps this is a bit harsh, but I've seen too many women take that road to look up and realize that not only were they still supporting their family alone, but he, by sheer virtue of being the "Man of the House" still wants to run the household and make decisions.  (There are, of course, exceptions once the marriage is in place. For richer or for poorer, so on and so forth.)  Again, I can't submit to a man that doesn't want to take a man's role.

I've heard the argument that women, especially Black women, want too much.  I've even had it aimed specifically at me. I don't deny that my bullshit meter is very sensitive.  But I'm not exempt from having put up with my fair share of crap.  I have things that I want from a relationship.  I want a partner.  I want a role model from my son.  I want to be attracted to him.  I want financial stability.  And everything I ask for, I strive for on my own.  It doesn't make sense to me that I should lower what I feel are basic standards for a potential mate.  Eliminate any one of those requirements that I listed and the odds of a successful relationship are slim.

I'm guilty of turning away good men.  But if I'm not attracted to him, no matter how good he looks on paper, isn't it only fair that I leave him out there for the girl that will be gaga over him?  Haven't we all seen a really good man that we could fall for instantly be dragged around by a woman that only keeps him around because they can?  I didn't like the prospect of trying to set up a life with a man that I wasn't happy to come home to.

I personally do want to find a partner.  I want to find someone to whom I feel comfortable handing the reigns.  There just seems that there are so many excuses being made not to love us.  I wonder how people expect us to show vulnerability in the face of such distaste.  How are we expected to submit to a man, if they seem so unwilling to let us?

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Childless and Broke on a Saturday night...

Quite sadly, I am one of the only single mothers that I know who's child has open contact with his dad.  I'm one of the few that not only gets regular child support payments, but actually gets enough to help with my household. (No joke, I have friends that have gotten $3 child support payments before.)  My ex, whom I'll call CAB, signed himself up for child support and has never failed to pay what was mandated by the state.  However, last October I asked the state to reevaluate CAB's financial situation and they decided that he was obligated to pay more than twice what he was originally mandated.  At that point, CAB decided that he could no longer afford to come visit his son.  More on that later.
I gave that back story to explain why I love CAB's Mother In Law, Grandma L.  Since the day CAB became seriously involved with her daughter, she's gone out of her way to make sure that my son is invited and made part of all  of the grandchildren activities.  She calls and invites the Bear to sleepovers with his cousins.  She ALWAYS gets him on Christmas night so that he can open gifts with the family.  (Even though CAB is not always present at these events.) And yes, the subtext is right, she has my number and I have hers.  I called her direct last year to make sure that she was at the Bear's birthday party. 
We live three states away from all of my son's biological grandparents, so Grandma L has been a godsend.  I don't like being around her for long periods of time as she does annoy the piss out of me.  But she's been a present and loving grandmother for my son.  A lot of steps don't take that role.  Especially since my son is Black and CAB's in-laws are hispanic.  This situation could have been completely different. 
So back to CAB and his BS story about how he can't afford to visit the Bear.  Grandma L and Grandpa M live here in SA with us.  CAB moved his family to Dallas after he married his current wife.  But when he visits, he picks up the Bear and takes him to Grandma L's house where they stay until it is time for CAB to return to Dallas.  So the cost to come see his son is something like $40 for gas.  Room and board are always covered when he gets here.  Since the attorney general decided to increase my child support in October 2009, CAB has seen the Bear one time in March.  Grandma L has seen the Bear at least 6 times.  In fact, she called me yesterday to see if he could come over because she is having all of the grandkids this weekend.  Grandma L rocks!  That's all I'm saying.
I get a rare Saturday to myself, and the Bear is reminded that he has family other than me that love him.  We get a break from the 24/7 us show.  I'm only slightly perturbed that I'm completely broke and can't go anywhere.  Oh well...I have full access to the Wii and I don't have to share.  Drunken Wii Sports anyone?

Gotta start somewhere...

It has been a very long time since I had a blog.  The last one caused a terrible strain in several of my relationships.  Partly because the last blog was not for my benefit.  So I'll say this on my first post.  I'm sarcastic with a penchant for hyperbole.  I'm foul mouthed and I don't like censorship.  I say it like it is with little regard for political correctness.  Please forgive that I don't live in a peachy pretty sunshiny world.  But I believe in respect and decorum.  And if there is real offense taken to what I say, I have no problem with someone sending me a comment or e-mail calling me on it.  I'm all for a good dialogue with other people.
All that said, let's get down to the real business of this blog.  ME.

Hi, I'm Marq.  Or that's what my friend's call me.  I am currently 31 years old and I have a 9 year old son.  I was born and raised in Kansas City, MO.  I've live here in San Antonio, TX for about 8.5 years now.  I just decided that I didn't want to raise my son in Kansas City.  There were various reasons for that, which I can assure you I'll get to down the line if you follow my blog. 

I've been raising my son on my own since he was 1.  The Bear sees his dad sporatically and spends summers in Dallas with him and his new family.  I've never been married.  Hell, up until a couple of years ago I'd never met anyone that PLANNED their child's conception.  When I planned this blog, I had a ton of things that I wanted to say.  At the moment, however, I'm finding that exhaustion and that 2nd glass of wine are keeping me from remembering all I had to say.  So I'll stop here.  Welcome to my world, if by some off chance someone out there is reading this.  Come along on my journey.  And please, feel free to say hi.