So yesterday some bitch nurse at the clinic was wasting my time trying to tell me my baby Liondrae all allergic to penicillin or some shit. I don't know what kind of made-up bullshit that is. She probably, like, said it just to come off all important.
Besides, who asked her to tell me what 'Drae allergic to anyway? I only brought him to the clinic 'cause that cut on his arm he got trying to climb the chain-link fence behind our apartment got all nasty and green and shit. They jabbed his arm up with penicillin to clear it up, but next morning, he got all swollen and looked funny, so I had to bring him back in, and that's when the nurse say he must be allergic. Now he have to be given special antibiotics twice a day, like I got time to fuck around with medicine.
And then they tried to blame me for the penicillin shit, like I should've known he'd have a bad reaction to it. Well, I ain't allergic to penicillin, so I know he didn't get that shit from me. Plus, if he was allergic to something for real he would have told me about it. He probably reacted crazy like that because they poked him up with all those needles, not 'cause of no antibiotic nobody asked them to squirt up in him in the first place.
People think they can teach me shit about 'Drae I don't know. They think I sit around all day and don't lift a finger. They go on about how he needs to be toilet-trained before he goes to kindergarten, but they don't give a shit that I know his favorite food is Gummi Bears, and that he loves Sean John. He also has this wooden spoon he calls Ugga that he bites on all the time, which I know is a little fucked-up but I let him do it 'cause it's important to let kids be kids.
I'm a good mom. I don't see anyone else watching that baby all damn day long and buying him Arby's.
'Cept for sometimes his older sister Rywanda watch him. She eight now and she needs some fucking responsibility if she's not going to go to school. I told her how the people from the school get on my ass when she don't go, but she can't stand second grade. I'm like, damn, I didn't start cutting class until fifth grade. I thought she'd at least get through elementary, but I can't make her do shit she don't want to do. She just like me. But if she ain't going to school no more, Rywanda's gotta stay home and watch 'Drae.
That boy better get over this shit soon, because ain't no way I'm going back to that clinic again. It took my ass near three hours to get there 'cause I have to transfer buses twice. Shit always happen when I take the kids on the bus, like that one time 'Drae got lost at the station and ended up on Channel 7, and that bitch Debra practically lived at my house for a week. If she want me to go back to that bullshit clinic, she can start giving me money for cab fare. I don't see her taking no three goddamn buses to get to her job.
It's not like I don't got enough other things to do beside drag my ass all the hell the way out there. Those clinic people are real assholes, making me get 'Drae shots for some rubella crap he ain't even got. Even with all that vaccination shit 'Drae keep getting sick anyway. If they had a vaccination against crazy-ass temper tantrums that come out of nowhere, then I'd be down with that.
These doctors think they can be the boss of you, like they know everything, but I know they are always trying to take money for stuff that just clear up on its own.
Like everybody say Rywanda had strep or some shit two months ago. But she's a strong-ass bitch like her mom, and she fought that shit off in three weeks. Never even saw a doctor. 'Drae strong, too. All that medicine and vaccination stuff just makes kids cry all the damn time. I ain't raising no weak-ass baby who's gotta live in a bubble. I saw a show about kids who are allergic to like sunlight or air or something, and their parents can't hug them or nothing because they'd, like, die. That ain't happening to 'Drae, 'cause I love my baby. Plus I'm not covering everything in my house with plastic bullshit.
'Drae'll turn like four or something soon, and he's got to learn to stay away from stuff that makes him allergic, especially if I get that night manager job at the BP. It's like, cats make my eyes all watery, so I stay the fuck away from them. I don't want to find out he got sick playing with a big-ass jar of penicillin 'cause he never learned it'll hurt him. But 'Drae smart. He'll figure it out eventually, just like he did the clothes dryer.