CONDITIONAL

C3 O1 N1 D2 I1 T1 I1 O1 N1 A1 L1 - Double letter, double letter, double letter score, 18 points

I remember hearing a long time ago that young girls have babies because they are looking for someone to love them unconditionally. After having Princess Leapfrog, I can overstand what they mean.

Early in the morning when she wakes me up for her 4 am feeding, she does so by giving this pitiful sounding whimper that escalates into a blood curdling wail. Then, after I put my glasses on so I can see, I sit up a little bit and look over at her. After a few calming words, she catches her breath and her cries turn into the most heartwarming giggle ever.

This is, however, wake up number three of the night. She is still trying to learn how to sleep throughout the night and since she can't sleep 8 hours, I can't sleep eight hours. I end up sleeping when I can because when she finally does go to sleep, that's when I do my cleaning up and preparing for the next day. Then I get to fall asleep at about 12.30 am...right before her 2 am wake up call.

Princess Leapfrog when she wants that damn bottle, fighting mad and shit...:

Then there are times when she is in her bassinet so I can attempt to clean and she's fine for a while, watching Tigger, Piglet, and Eeyore spin around over her head. Eventually she gets tired of that, frowns up, and starts screaming. As soon as she sees me standing over her, she calms down stops kicking (yeah, her other nickname since the womb is Little Pele) and she reaches out for me. I pick her up and she just balls up in my arms and tucks her head in her comfort zone right underneath my chin; cooing all the time.

The Princess when she's calm and with Pooh's buddies:

This is probably because I spoiled her, but if I try to put her down there is no calming her for some time after I pick her up again. So, because she sounds so pitiful, I have to hold her, rock her, walk her, sing to her, talk to her, and play with her. Do I mind? No. But this episode prevents me from doing my chores and getting enough sleep (see above).

This is who I should have named her after:

Feeding time is beautiful as well. Whether I breast or bottle fed, she always found a way to connect to me. While I was either holding my breast or the bottle, she always found a way to grab my finger and squeeze it while she was eating. occasionally she would look up at me with these coal colored eyes of hers and close them slowly, knowing she was in good hands.

Now that Im strictly a bottle/formula feeder, that shit is EXPENSIVE. Formula is damn near $20 a can, rice/oatmeal cereal is two bucks a box (and that's at Walmart, the cheapest place in the free world). You figure she goes through two to three boxes of cereal a month (for now) and about ten cans of formula (for now)...I'm out damn near $200 a month on HER food alone.

Princess Leapfrog's love for me is unconditional and I wouldn't trade that now for anything in the world. BUT --> I am 32 years old, have a bachelor's degree, 18 years of work experience under my belt, and can pretty much ask for my pay; unlike these girls out here who are looking for unconditional love.

Hopefully they will understand that everything, even unconditional love, does come with conditions.

SOLUTION

S1 O1 L1 U1 T1 I1 O1 N1 - Double letter, double letter, double word score, 20 points



Ladies, be careful of who you fuck. Real.talk.



Me and my ex, who I've known for the last 14 years, had a small trist last year and it resulted in probably the most adorable damned baby in creation (yeah she is...damn a Gerber Baby). So ever since I revealed to him that I was pregnant, he swore (and continues to swear) up and down that she isn't his.

Once I gave birth to my little Princess Leapfrog (and NO that is not her name because I bet there is someone out there who is thinking: oooooooooooooooooh that's a cute name Imma name my baby that! People that is a NICKNAME dammit) I sent in my paperwork for child support. And one of the stipulations to receive child support in the state of Wisconsin (and probably everywhere else) is I have to agree to a paternity test for my child. So I agreed...because I don't have anything to hide.


SIDENOTE: When you have to take the paternity test, a delivery service delivers the paperwork from the family courts to your house. So this one particular place called me because they couldn't contact me to drop off the papers. I called Rose at the service and asked her about my papers and if he got his copies. She said well what are the names of the MEN you are requesting paternity from. MEN?! Dahell...call me Jordin Sparks because I am not a slut. And just because you are getting paternity confirmed doesn't mean that this is Maury (more on him a liiiiiiiiitle bit later) bitch.



Anyway, he didn't get the paperwork and I told him that I would make him a copy of mine to give to him so that he wouldn't miss the court date. First he says that it's going to take three months for results to come back (which I highly doubt, but then again this is my first and only kid so what do I know). Then he goes on to say...well it won't solve anything. Won't solve anything? Dumbass YOU are the one that requested the paternity test (before I even knew that I had to take one for child support). So one would think that it would solve his thoughts of this child being his. Oh I forgot to tell you, he said that he wasn't going to take the test and that's why it won't solve anything. In my mind that tells me one of two things: 1- you know this baby is yours (just like the rest of your family knows) or 2- you know she's yours and you ain't trying to pay support, despite all of your efforts to convince me of your good faith payments to all of your baby mommas (yes I said MOMMAS, but I'm not a baby momma...I'm the mother of his child...get it right).



But my thing is...what are you trying to solve? Where is the equation that is giving you such a headache? I couldn't pinpoint exactly ONE so I compiled a list:

1. The fact that I'm not letting you fuck anymore.


2. The fact that I won't cosign a loan for a damned crotch rocket for you.


3. The fact that I don't want you anymore.


4. The fact that I called you and told you that I wasn't going to keep asking you to see Princess Leapfrog because it seems like in order for you to see her you have to fuck me in order to see her. THAT shit don't go together.


5. The fact that I'm the only one of the many women you have children by that agreed to a paternity test and have nothing to hide.


6. The fact that I won't go on Maury to acquire her paternity. (And do you know this kneegrow got MAD when I told him that I wasn't going? Do I look like a hoodrat to you?)

So maybe those are the equations that don't have solutions to them in his mind. Who knows. At this point who cares. But I know that the test will solve two things: him knowing scientifically that he's the father and that his ass has to pay up.

Maybe once he starts shelling out that money he'll realize the solution to 1+1=2.

PRIDE

P3 R1 I1 D2 E1 - Single word score, 8 points

One day, we will all be thankful for what was given to us. Until then, we have to be "happy" with being ashamed of what we were born with.

I was at my mom's house last night celebrating her birthday with her and my newborn. While she was holding her and I was taking my napptural braids down, she asked me: "what are you going to do when Akili is ashamed of your hair?"

That comment/question (because she was making a statement while asking a question, TRUST) stopped my in my tracks and left me speechless for a moment. I tried to get my thoughts together but that pissed me off and hurt me at the same time so I couldn't think straight much less come back with a decent enough retort to shut her up. Eventually, I was able to muster up something pitiful like "well, I plan on teaching her that her hair is beautiful" or some crap like that. But for the rest of the evening, the only thing I could think about was "Momma, are you ashamed of my hair?"

Finally, I asked her that exact question. Do you know what she said? "Yes, sometimes I am." Then she went on to talk about how pretty it would be if it were pressed and how it would be so long and down into the middle of my back. All I could do was look at her because it was her birthday and I really didn't have the strength or the want to get into an argument with her because it would ALWAYS end up at her straightening my hair.

My mom has always had an obsession with hair and its length, like most Black women unfortunately do. She has what one would call short hair, kind of Anita Baker length and it's always been about that length for as long as I can remember. My dad's side of the family has always had long hair...shoulder length, bra length, waist length. And despite my mother never saying that she was jealous of their hair, she always had an issue with them when they cut it or when I cut mine. And when I decided to cut it off into a TWA (teeny weeny Afro for those of you who don't know), she had a fucking cow, didn't talk to me for a few weeks, and actually threatened to disown me.

This behavior of hers always fucked with me because in every other aspect of my physical being she taught me to be proud. She told me to be proud of my height, my weight (or rather my not being rail thin), and my color (hell I've always wanted to be darker and I'm not exactly high yella). But my hair and what I decide to do with it especially after I became a natural made me less than, at least in her eyes, and for some reason wrong because I didn't find or have a need to press it or straighten it beyond recognition.

I love my hair the way it is. I don't have a problem with what I was given by my God because God is good and all that S/He does is good (funny how Christians say that God can do no wrong until it comes down to nappy ass hair ain't it?). My child will be taught that her hair is beautiful and chemicals or excessive heat is not necessary to have beautiful hair. And she will also be taught that nappy hair doesn't make you less than or less beautiful because you have a nappy mane sitting on top of a brain that allows you to create and behold you own thoughts and opinions. If she wants to perm it or straighten it after she turns 18 that's fine. But for the 18 years that I own and raise her...she will understand that her beauty goes beyond her hair and looks.

And she'll always know that I will never be ashamed of her hair...nappy or not.