Home with the flu

Here we go again.

The thermostat says 75, but my body is in conflict. I’m freezing cold, even though I’m wearing an old oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants. Simultaneously I’m hot. I’m buried in my blanket, yet I want to kick it away. I’m sweating and my entire body feels like I just got hit by a fire truck.

My throat hurts. My head hurts. My heart hurts. I wanna cry. I think I have the flu.

I hate being sick, number one, because I feel so guilty about using my sick time for myself. I mean, what happens when my boys get sick? I need to keep all the sick time saved up for that. But at 3am, when I know that I should be sleeping and I’m wide awake and feeling nauseaus, I know that I will have to miss work the next day.

I manage to get up by 6:30 am. I feel dizzy. My breath is short. I take a quick puff of my inhaler to open me up a bit. It works. I walk into the kitchen with only one eye open. Reach up into the cabinet and pull down the instant oatmeal. Take out two bowls and open the packets. Pour the packets into the bowls and add some milk. Stir and stick in the microwave for about 35 seconds. Stir again. Put the bowls on the kiddie table and add two glasses of milk.

“Wake up boys!” I say and push their little legs. They don’t budge.

I’m getting frustrated because I want to go back to sleep too. And I feel like a zombie. They better get up!

“Get up!” I say again. They open their eyes and smile.

“What day is it Mama?” My 4 year old asks. “Is it August 8th?”

“Yep, it’s August 8th baby. You’re going to Elementary School today.”

“YAY!” he squeals.

My baby is starting kindergarten today.

They sit down to eat while I dress myself. I don’t have the strength to get too cute. Just a little eyeshadow and eyeliner. A simple black dress and heels. I feel like I’ll fall over at any moment, but I can’t miss this big day.

After I dress myself I call them into my room and dress them. My 3 year old doesn’t want to wear the new shoes his Daddy bought him. He prefers his Star Wars shoes. Funny how my 3 year old hates wearing ANY new shoes.

But not my 4 year old. He is prancing around in his new school clothes. “These are my cool clothes!” he announces.

Yeah, I agree as I check him out. From the size of his polo shirt, to the khaki shorts to his brown shoes, his Daddy really did a good job picking out his clothes. I’m not surprised. His Daddy has a nice little style and I’m sure it’s his honor to dress up his little men.

“May we drink Capri Suns in the car?” my 4 year old asks.

“Sure.”

I drop my 3 year old off at his school in the City (inner city) and drive back up to my neighborhood where my son will be attending elementary school. On the way I call their Dad.

“This is *baby daddy*”
“This is Ms. Tee. Where are you?”
“I’m almost at the school. Where are you?”
“I’m still in the City. I’ll be there in a minute.”

By the time I found a parking spot and walked to the school, Baby Daddy was there waiting for his son.

My son saw him and ran to him, hugging his leg. His Daddy smiled and whipped out his camera to take pictures. I laughed. After he was done, we all walked around the school and got lost, looking for the classroom. We finally found it and knocked on the door.

My Sugarbear walked right in like it wasn’t nothing. I introduced myself to his teacher and showed my baby his little name tag. Baby Daddy took more pictures as my sons got settled. I laughed because I could tell he was a proud Papa and it was so cute.

I blew a kiss to my baby and we left. It was kinda weird, walking with him when we don’t have a relationship, so I just said, “I’ll see you later” and went in the opposite direction to my car.

As I walked to my car I allowed my thoughts to drift. Damn this man. We were both looking very nice that morning. We looked like a little family. Why couldn’t my son have BOTH his parents? I sighed and let it ride. I don’t have any emotions for him, but sometimes I wonder what the hell he was thinking when he walked away from me. Ok, I’m a bit MUCH at times, but damn. Oh well. Such is life.

I then drove to the grocery store on my last wind. I had fought so hard while I was at the school to stand up straight and look presentable although I really wanted to pass out. I felt like death. I felt like crap. But I needed to get some food in the house. I shopped a bit and came home. Ate a bit and got into my bed.

Anna returned my call because her daughter had started kindergarten that morning as well so we shared our stories. When I told her about meeting Baby Daddy at the school and how he took pictures she gushed. “Ohhhh. I wish I had a Baby Daddy that cared. Damn girl. I just wanna be cool with my Baby Daddy. Everybody called to check on her first day. Even YOU called. But did I hear from him? No. Did he even bring a sock or a notebook for her? No.”

Yeah, I’ll admit, as much as my Baby Daddy is an idiot to me and tries to make me feel like scum whenever he gets a chance, he does love his sons. And sometimes his attempts to control me backfires on him and ultimately causes him to hurt his boys- I know that he doesn’t mean for that to happen.

He is so proud of them. He loves them so much. He thinks they are so handsome and he should, cuz they ARE- thanks to ME! I don’t know why, but I can’t hate this man. If there’s anyone I should hate, it should be him, but I can’t and I don’t know why.

Anna can understand that cuz she just broke up with her boyfriend. “Girl, it’s so crazy,” she says. “Cuz I know that he’s not much to go back to yet, I still miss him.”

“You and these thugs!” I tease her. “I know how to find you a new man. All I have to do is find the first nicca sitting on the corner on a crate!”

“HELL YEAH!” she laughs. “It’s Tupac’s fault. Ever since I heard that song Thug Passion, I been ON EM!”

“You dumb!”

“Naw, it’s Tupac and my Mama fault. My Mama used to tell me that I couldn’t bring a man with dreads home. As soon as she said that I was out to prove that she shouldn’t judge a person based on his outer appearance. So everytime I meet someone like that, I try to get to know them and I always find out there’s more to them than dreads and golds. She’s not open like that.”

“Ughh.. Not me dawg. Never that! Hanging on street corners. Hell naw. No job. You get no play.”

“Yeah, tell that to one of them and watch what he’ll say.” she said and started to immitate a thug in a rough voice, “No bitch I ain’t got no job, but this DICK work!”

I laughed so hard! “You crazy!”

“Then maybe you won’t be writing no poetry talkin bout how no man has ever handled you. Them thugs be laying it DOWN! You gotta try it!”

Whatever….

~raises eyebrow~