Dads, in a Nut Shell Which is a Mountain!

Okay, so I have two precious little boys with two different fathers.
 
I have to adress this issue, and how it relates to present day life for all of us. 
Let it be known, that if you ask, I will answer.  I generally become overwhelmed with questions regaurding fatherhood, and I become defensive.  This plays out, on my end, as bitchiness.  People ask, "Who is their father?"; Or, my favorite, "Where is their father?" 
 
Oh, the plight of the single mother, and the pity of the bystander.  This pity and plight is over-whelming and over present in my life, so I thought I should write about it.  You want the story, and I will give it to you.  Actually, you don't want the story, you just want the details.  You want the black and white, but there is a whole lot of gray area.  You should know ahead of time, that I hold no grudge against either man; against either father.  It is what is was and still is, and it has made myself and my boys who we are.   What has happened has happened, and there is no reversal.  There is no going back, no new decisions to be made... there now is only money and time.
 
Time?  I have all the time in the world.  Literally.  I have all the time.  Money?  Yes, I have all of that too.  I have never recieved a dime from either father.  Love?  Yes, I have all the love, as well.  I have all the love, which in turn makes up for the money and time.  Well, kinda.
 
When I was nineteen, I met the love of my life.  He was perfect.  We had so much FUN together.... we partied and transported drugs and went to school and got high on All sorts of shit.  We got married, and thought we were perfect.  However, I was discharged from "party-time", and got sent home.  I had no idea where "home" was for me, so I tried to make my own.  I tried to make a home with the "man" I was meant to be with.  We floundered and fell apart.  I became pregnant, and when he discovered this truth, he became unavailable.  I lived with my grandparents.  My grandma Rose, she carried me.  I called Susan and Dad. Dad is never up for confrontation. Susan offered an abortion free of charge. Jeremy fled as soon as he could reasonably flee, which was the moment I was distracted. 
 
Here we are nearly nine years later, and he has NEVER seen his son.  He has never sent a a mere penny or a card.  Oh well.  I have been here.  As crazy as it is, I think he is already doing much better than I ever was.  At least he as ONE person who is ALWAYS there for him.
 
Flash forward, past much time and a relocation and failed relationship times two... and I am pregnant again.  This time, I live in Ashland, OR.  I am pregnant with a vagrant's son who just looked good to my drunk ass one night.  I was drunk and he was cute, and now I have a kid.  How far I have come.