The Crazy Baby Mum


cra·zy
[krey-zee] cra·zi·er, cra·zi·est, noun, plural cra·zies.
adjective
1.
mentally deranged; demented; insane.
2.
senseless; impractical; totally unsound: a crazy scheme.

Have you ever wondered why they are "crazy"

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1. The Crazy Baby Mother

“My baby mother is crazy you know. She just wants to get back with me. She’s just jealous of you and me. She gives me nothing but grief, I look after my kid but she still complains. I give her enough money but she’s so greedy. She’s just crazy!”

These are all things that your baby father is saying to his friends, his family, the new girl on the scene or anyone who will listen to his unfounded bollocks. I am mentally unstable. My behaviour is unpredictable and irrational. I am rabid with jealousy and am dying to have him back in my life. Hardly. Anyone who is “crazy” has usually been driven in that direction. Well Yes, I was driven to Crazy-Town. Driven at 120mph in a box of frogs on wheels, adorning a straight-jacket and a Hannibal Lector style muzzle! But guess who was behind the wheel…

When he calls me crazy do you think he mentioned the time I found out about his wife and 3 kids at home? Or the time when he hoped that our baby would be a boy so that I could birth his 1st son? When in reality he already had a son. Did he mention the time that I found out that I was one of 3 girlfriends (oh yea, did i mention the wife)? Or maybe the time that he disappeared for 6 months and didn’t check to see if I or his kid was alive?  What about the time that after months of not contributing financially, he gave me 60 quid and then asked me for £10 change so that he cud put petrol in his BMW X5?  Maybe the time I finally got the chance to go on a date and he found out and reportedly called me a slag and a bad mum and said I’d never find someone better than him? Perhaps the time when he went on a 2 week luxury holiday and upon his return, when I asked for some cash to feed his daughter he responded- “Look Love , I’ve just come off holiday, I’m allowed to be strapped for cash for a while!” How inconsiderate of me! My behaviour really is crazy!

 

You might be saying to yourself, she sounds a bit crazy for getting involved with this guy and having his child, all the signs were clearly there, you can spot these guys from a mile off!

Well in reality, you can’t always spot them. They are the chameleons that present themselves as caring, honest, good citizens of the world.  Hiding behind their beautiful colours and calm exterior, as they saunter along. And they prey on the unsuspecting innocent little bugs that don’t see those big motherfucking tongues reaching from nowhere to snatch them up and drag them back to their doom!!!

I am not crazy, if anything, just a tad dramatic

When this all began, I was fun, easy going and laid back. A fresh-faced, naïve 19 year old that didn’t really have any reason not to trust. I found someone that loved me in the way I should be loved and said and did all the right things. We had something special, we had a “connection”! I’ve never felt this way before, this must be love! Oops, I’m pregnant….and he’s still  happy! What a great future we have ahead, life is fantastic!!

And today I am a 25 year old, stereotypical, single parenting, CRAZY, cynical shrew. Am I bitter? Well no, I try not to be, I try to see it as a lesson. A twisted, cruel, ironic lesson, but a lesson none the less.

 But the residue of a relationship like this appears like bruises. Bruises that show up a long while after you have actually hurt yourself, and you don’t quite remember how or where they came from. It’s only when you sit down and think really hard. Oh yes, I did bash my shin on the fucking dining table on Wednesday, that’s where that stonking great bruise came from! Oh right, because of what that asshole did to me I am fucked up now and will subconsciously sabotage all my future relationships. I thought I was untarnished, I thought I got away unscathed, but this bruise just appeared and I realised… oh yea, shit, you damaged me.

 

So if I want to key my baby fathers car or banshee-scream wild profanities at him over the phone or splat a shitty nappy on his head from a third floor window (that I have been saving up for a week just for this exact moment), then maybe, just maybe I had valid reason!

Next time before you sit there and nod your head in agreement with this man who is complaining about his “crazy baby mother” ask him - who was driving the special-bus full of window-licking loonies when they got dropped off in Crazy Town and left there for good?

 

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