Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I’m Not the Pappy

***Yeah a lot of you women aren’t gonna like what I’m about to say, but I’ve had this conversation with a few single mothers lately, and it’s time for it to be a blog.***

My pop was a no show
Real talk, my dad was a deadbeat for no good reason (not that there really is ever a good reason to be a deadbeat dad, but that nigga didn’t even have a halfway decent excuse). He wasn’t on drugs or the bottle. He wasn’t in and out of jail. That nigga was just off doing him and blamed it on my mother for keeping us a part. Technically, my Uncle Glen was my father. He was the only constant male figure in my life. He bought me Christmas gifts, did school pop ups, and cut my hair in the kitchen (Check the Twitter profile pic. That’s his handy work.) He even beat my ass when I fucked up. Retrospectively, I realize he didn’t have to do all that shit. But, I was his blood relative so I can see how he could have felt obligated to step into my deadbeat dad’s shoes. However, what I can’t see is stepping into a deadbeat dad’s shoes to take care of a child you’re not related to all because you fuck with his mama. (And by “fuck with” I mean “are not married to”… so yeah, all you “girlfriend” ass bitches are included.)

Now I’m a daddy
I only ever wanted one child. Granted my reasons for this are selfish, but now I got that one and only, and I’m done. I spoil my child. She’s 3 with an iPad, and 90% of her clothing is Ralph Lauren. She’s expensive and time consuming; I don’t have the budget or the time for another child, especially one that ain’t mine. When a new chick comes along, I always hope she comes along with her own kid(s)… and yeah, I also hope they come along with their own dadd(ies) too.

Take from mine to give to yours
I know this sounds fucked up, but every single dime I spend on another child I feel like I’m stealing from my child; aside from Christmas, birthdays, even a happy meal here and there won’t send me into chapter 11. I just can’t see full out supporting another man’s child to the extent of which I support my own. Oh because your came along with a child, my child is supposed to stop wearing Ralph Lauren and switch to Old Navy? I can’t chance it. Would my child be just fine wearing Old Navy and Children’s Place? Yeah, most likely she would be. Would she be ok if I didn’t buy every DVD or toy she points out while we’re at Target? Chances are she would survive that too. In no form or fashion can I say my daughter needs half the shit that I buy her. But, fuck it. I can afford it, she’s a good kid, and I’M HER DADDY. So as long as I can’t see any reason for her not to have the shit that she wants, she’ll continue to get it all. If a chick came along with a kid, and by some miracle from God I decided to bun her, am I realistically supposed to not give my own child the shit she wants so I can help take care of a kid that I didn’t help make? Honestly, if there are two kids in your household (one biologically yours and the other not) would you opt not to send your child to private school simply because you couldn’t scrap up the money to send the other?

Where that kid daddy at?
Unless that child’s daddy is pushing up daisies somewhere in somebody’s grave yard, he should be actively playing his part. And if not, does it really mean it’s my job to fill in gaps where that man falls short for whatever reason or excuse? With that said, I don’t expect my significant other to pick up the tab on my seed. I had MY kid so I’m going to clothe, feed, discipline, and do whatever else is needed for MY kid... YOUR kid is his/her daddy’s responsibility... period.

“You’re not my daddy”
This little nigglet is dead on with these words every time he utters them. I’ve seen many dudes toting around somebody else’s kid trying to play substitute daddy, and shit. Niggas get attached and comfortable, feeling all father-like, walking around with the kid’s pictures in his wallet, and holding his head up proud... only for deadbeat daddy to have a change of heart and toss that nigga out of the picture like yesterday’s news. Not to mention my personal favorite when substitute daddy lays the smack down on the next man’s kid all of sudden he gets hit with the “Don’t hit my kid. You’re not his daddy.” It’s always not your kid when it’s time to discipline the lil’ nigglet, but it’s your kid when it’s time to foot the bill for the lil’ nigglet’s Christmas gifts. Or even worst, what are you gonna do when deadbeat dad pops up out of thin air to put a foot in your ass for hitting his kid? At that point, it won’t matter who was daddy for 6 birthdays in a row. I’m not trying to rain on these substitute daddies parades; this is just a firm reminder that no matter how much you do, it still doesn’t make you official. At the end of the day, daddy is always going to be the man that contributed to half of the child’s DNA, and if he comes back around no one is going to give a fuck that you’ve been contributing to half of the child’s expenses.

This point a view might keep me single forever, but hey I’m still fine and as of yet, it hasn’t kept baby mamas from giving me the pussy. So I’m good.
Jean DeGrate ain’t that boy daddy

No comments:

Post a Comment