I went to a barbecue at my boyfriend's mother's house last weekend. I had already met her a couple of times before, but this time, I was bringing my son. There was supposed to be a crowd of friends and family, along with his sister (whom I know and like), so I wasn't sweating it too much. 

I much prefer functions like those. Where you can sort of find one person to chat with and get lost in the shuffle. I like big families. Levi's family was way too small.

I was having a really fantastic time when I looked over and saw his mother holding a present wrapped in paper that said "Grandma" all over it. This woman doesn't have any grandchildren.

She saw me looking at her — and I'm sure I had that "What the %&^*" look on my face — so I blurted (who hasn't done that?), "Does that say 'Grandma' on it?" She nodded at me. Then her friend, who had given her the gift, jumped in and said, "Oh, anything for a laugh, you know?"

I was sitting there thinking — but this time not saying — no, I don't know. What the hell?

I feel like I've been dealing with this kind of bullshit forever now. When my boyfriend and I first met he was inundated with people telling him to "WATCH OUT" or, "She's on the lookout for a father for her child," etc. etc. etc. The implication made me so angry; as if I'm willing to allow just any man to be a father to my child. Give me a break.

Yes, I am a single mother, and I love my son, but he is not what defines me. I define me. My decisions define me, like the decision to keep my child. My intelligence defines me.