So it's been 2 months now since my children and I learned about the birth their new (half) sibling, whom I affectionately refer to as "Little Meech". The kids seem to be adjusting to the idea pretty well, and even Son has gotten over his initial pissedoffedness and reportedly gave the little baby his speech about where he falls in the sibling pecking order (of course, Son is in charge). I see pictures on their cell phone backgrounds of this chunky little baby that looks almost, but not quite, exactly like my Son as a baby, but that's been about it.
Sunday, however, I finally got to meet the infamous Little Meech.
And he's SO CUTE!!
Baby Momma #2 stopped by my parents' house to pick up Son to go back to his dad's and (probably at Daughter's insistence) she brought Little Meech in, though "little" is a bit of a misnomer because the child is huge. Two months old and already looks like pictures of Son when he was almost 5 months old (and Son was no small baby himself). I can save The Ex about $200 and/or an embarassing trip to Maury and declare that is definitely his second son. He looks just enough like my son that holding him and snuggling him to my chest took me back 16 years-- just a little. It was so cute to see Son poke his tiny nose and him bust out a big toothless grin at his big brother, and to see Mini-Me cradling him with a bottle. I mean, who can not love seeing a baby?
Now I know I have poked fun at the situation, nicknaming the child Little Meech based upon a photo where he was covered in money and gold chains (and the fact that more than one person has pointed out his father's uncanny resemblance to Rick Ross). Yes, I know this. We all have our moments pettiness, but the difference with me is that I'm woman enough to admit it and admit when a change is needed. However, Little Meech is just going to be my nickname for him, period, and I have no problem telling anyone why, same as telling Son why he was called Stinky or why my beau's son was called Boo Boo or why Mini-Me was Stealthy Kitten. Kids have embarassing nicknames. It happens. And that photo is still ridiculous as hell (and will make for great blackmail material by his family in years to come).
Now, what I am also woman enough to admit is that I must recant and re-adjust with my thoughts about Baby Momma #2. As I've stated before, overall I have never had a problem with the woman aside from quasi-jacking my son's name, which I thought was a little odd, but names that start with the letter Q are pretty cool. Then there was the incident where I was told that she called The Ex's job supposedly about my children being at the hospital, which I later found out wasn't even true. But it was something about seeing that innocent little baby that made me stop to realize that she is just as much subject to The Ex's tomfoolery and life mishandling as I am, and that having a hostile attitude toward Little Meech and his mother was just stupid. I got accused of acting fake, but really it was moreso a realization that I was tired of holding onto unfounded hostility and deciding that a mental shift was necessary.
I stopped and thought about how The Ex has painted me to others as some crazy, maladjusted bitch and how that is far from the truth (maybe a little weird and misunderstood, but not crazy) and then compared that to how he has tried to paint her as crazy as well. That's his modus operandi-- "it's not my fault, it's everyone else's fault." His ex-girlfriend said something interesting to me shortly after they broke up (i.e. shortly after Little Meech was born) about how there were unnecessary hard feelings created between us based upon things that The Ex did and said. And now I smack my own forehead for being led down that same road by him with Baby Momma #2. The situation was admittedly fucked up and handled poorly, but that's moreso The Ex's doings and not hers, and it's also just life. Life is messy and fucked up, and the best of us get caught up in it. I'll give you a pass if you give me a pass, m'kay?
Actually seeing the baby and seeing my children interact with their brother made me realize that I have been holding onto some frustration and bitterness that is spilling over into the wrong areas of life. Yes, I can be mad at The Ex for not being where he says he's going to be, or changing plans last minute, or calling me out of my name whenever things don't go his way and I don't acquiesse to his whims. But I should not make my feelings and attitudes towards Little Meech and his mother an extension of that anger. Though one could say that they are of no concern to me and my life, but the fact is that they are. Little Meech is my children's blood relative, so in a roundabout once removed way, he is also related to me. He is always going to be around any time my kids do something where their siblings ought to be present. I used to work with a guy who would tell me about holidays with his family where everyone-- step-siblings, half-siblings, ex's and new spouses-- would all get together so nobody had to choose who to be with. It was just family.
This is not to say that I am going to strike up a friendship with Baby Mommy #2 andrally against the forces of evil be BFFs. No, I'm not the type to sit around and talk shit with the other baby momma about The Ex-- that's so cliche, and extremely basic. But will I do my part to make sure Little Meech has as much involvement with my kids as possible? Yes. Because I don't want them to feel like they have to choose. It's all family.
Sunday, however, I finally got to meet the infamous Little Meech.
And he's SO CUTE!!
Baby Momma #2 stopped by my parents' house to pick up Son to go back to his dad's and (probably at Daughter's insistence) she brought Little Meech in, though "little" is a bit of a misnomer because the child is huge. Two months old and already looks like pictures of Son when he was almost 5 months old (and Son was no small baby himself). I can save The Ex about $200 and/or an embarassing trip to Maury and declare that is definitely his second son. He looks just enough like my son that holding him and snuggling him to my chest took me back 16 years-- just a little. It was so cute to see Son poke his tiny nose and him bust out a big toothless grin at his big brother, and to see Mini-Me cradling him with a bottle. I mean, who can not love seeing a baby?
Now I know I have poked fun at the situation, nicknaming the child Little Meech based upon a photo where he was covered in money and gold chains (and the fact that more than one person has pointed out his father's uncanny resemblance to Rick Ross). Yes, I know this. We all have our moments pettiness, but the difference with me is that I'm woman enough to admit it and admit when a change is needed. However, Little Meech is just going to be my nickname for him, period, and I have no problem telling anyone why, same as telling Son why he was called Stinky or why my beau's son was called Boo Boo or why Mini-Me was Stealthy Kitten. Kids have embarassing nicknames. It happens. And that photo is still ridiculous as hell (and will make for great blackmail material by his family in years to come).
Now, what I am also woman enough to admit is that I must recant and re-adjust with my thoughts about Baby Momma #2. As I've stated before, overall I have never had a problem with the woman aside from quasi-jacking my son's name, which I thought was a little odd, but names that start with the letter Q are pretty cool. Then there was the incident where I was told that she called The Ex's job supposedly about my children being at the hospital, which I later found out wasn't even true. But it was something about seeing that innocent little baby that made me stop to realize that she is just as much subject to The Ex's tomfoolery and life mishandling as I am, and that having a hostile attitude toward Little Meech and his mother was just stupid. I got accused of acting fake, but really it was moreso a realization that I was tired of holding onto unfounded hostility and deciding that a mental shift was necessary.
I stopped and thought about how The Ex has painted me to others as some crazy, maladjusted bitch and how that is far from the truth (maybe a little weird and misunderstood, but not crazy) and then compared that to how he has tried to paint her as crazy as well. That's his modus operandi-- "it's not my fault, it's everyone else's fault." His ex-girlfriend said something interesting to me shortly after they broke up (i.e. shortly after Little Meech was born) about how there were unnecessary hard feelings created between us based upon things that The Ex did and said. And now I smack my own forehead for being led down that same road by him with Baby Momma #2. The situation was admittedly fucked up and handled poorly, but that's moreso The Ex's doings and not hers, and it's also just life. Life is messy and fucked up, and the best of us get caught up in it. I'll give you a pass if you give me a pass, m'kay?
Actually seeing the baby and seeing my children interact with their brother made me realize that I have been holding onto some frustration and bitterness that is spilling over into the wrong areas of life. Yes, I can be mad at The Ex for not being where he says he's going to be, or changing plans last minute, or calling me out of my name whenever things don't go his way and I don't acquiesse to his whims. But I should not make my feelings and attitudes towards Little Meech and his mother an extension of that anger. Though one could say that they are of no concern to me and my life, but the fact is that they are. Little Meech is my children's blood relative, so in a roundabout once removed way, he is also related to me. He is always going to be around any time my kids do something where their siblings ought to be present. I used to work with a guy who would tell me about holidays with his family where everyone-- step-siblings, half-siblings, ex's and new spouses-- would all get together so nobody had to choose who to be with. It was just family.
This is not to say that I am going to strike up a friendship with Baby Mommy #2 and
