Not My Baby

Mama had a baby, but I’m the one stuck taking care of it. The kid cries and howls all day and all night, and Mama screams at me to get up and get him a bottle, or change his diaper, or do whatever else she doesn’t want to get up and do herself.

Did anybody ask me if I wanted to have a baby? No. I don’t want a baby of my own and I don’t want this one. And I don’t want to hear anymore that I’m ungrateful, and she oughta kick me out of the house if I can’t even help out around here.

Not help around here? That’s all I do! That baby probably thinks I’m his mother, not her. I’m sick of sticky fingers in my hair. I’m sick of wiping snot from his nose while he screams and cries in my face. I feed him, dress him, bathe him, and put him to bed. I hear him cry, I watch him scream, and I smell his diapers. What I don’t do is go out with my friends anymore, or have a minute to myself. Gotta always be watching to make sure the baby doesn’t get into anything.

It’s not my baby. It’s hers. She chose to have it. But I’m the one stuck with it. I know one thing; I won’t make the same mistake Mama did. I’m not having a baby until I know I can take care of it myself and not shove it off on my kid like she did to me.