In this world of language where expression is so slippery that you have to be articulate and possess the ability to elaborate in order to communicate or just to get your point across, unfortunately, all I have to do is say "My Baby's Mama" and
any 9 out of 10 Brothas will instantly feel me.
Why is this? Because it's real.
As if the Bush agenda, police, economy, or even the price of gas weren't enough, I gotta wake up every day and brace myself for the next bullet of her actions.
Just today when I questioned my son at soccer practice why he didn't follow my instructions and call me every evening after he completed his homework, he simply answered, "You gotta talk to my mother about that."
Knowing my son, I knew that these weren't his words--they were the words of his mother.
Being that it was just a matter of minutes before his mother picked him up, it was it not the time and place go there with him about the importance of our communication, I just had to stand there and take the emotional bullet he--unknowingly--just delivered to my chest.
Amidst these days of times where co-parenting from separate households is just as common as Kanye West in the top 10, why must we make raising our children that much more difficult?
As much as I love son, I fight the urge to hate his mother. To this day, he is the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.
The best being him.
The worst being the relationship with his mother.