Tag: single mom

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

The Original “Participation Trophy Winners”…and Losers

My children go to a Catholic school. They have a huge auction every year.  It’s the biggest fundraiser the school does. My kids are able to go to this school only because of the amount of tuition help we receive (shout out to all those who have helped over the years). Because of this, I feel that I need to make sure to volunteer for the auction in some capacity.

A couple years ago I was super involved with the auction. I helped with the decorating, spent most of my spring break there, and worked the auction itself, both nights. This was the first time since my kids started at the school, that I felt included. I felt like I finally had mom friends. I felt like an asset to the school. I felt like my kids could be proud of their mom being there and being involved. Then, a well-meaning mother said something that snapped me back into the reality of how I’m seen by those at that school.

“You know, I decided this year I was going to give you a chance. I mean it’s not really fair that (Genevieve’s dad) is made out to be such a stand up guy, and your painted to be this homewrecker. I’m really glad I gave you a chance!” 

I smiled and politely said thank you. I could feel my face become flush and my blood pressure rise. I could feel my hands start to shake and could feel the quiver in my voice. I was the homewrecker. We both did the same thing. But I was the homewrecker. His home was still intact. He still had his wife and his children. But I’m the homewrecker. He still got to take his trips and vacations and still got to be accepted by all the parents at the school. But I was the homewrecker. I had sole responsibility of her for over 2 years with no financial help, emotional help, or even a smiling face to treat me kindly there. But I was the homewrecker.  My home was the home that was wrecked, but I was the honewrecker, and he’s a stand-up guy.

If you don’t know the situation with my third child, I will explain it in simple terms. Her dad and I both cheated. Neither of us have any desire or intention to be with the other. It was a night of too much alcohol and terrible decisions. Neither of us have ever tried to dismiss it as an okay act. Everybody involved in the situation agrees it was wrong. People were hurt. Lives were changed.  But, we took a potentially dramatic experience and kept it very drama-free. Our daughter has a great relationship with both families. She loves her dad and she loves her step-mom. This blog is not a blog to bash her father, or to try to justify something as hurtful as infidelity.

So just to restate, cheating is always wrong. Our daughter is loved and taken care of. We do not condone what happened but we do not dwell on it.

I know the people in my life are aware of what I went through those first few years after she was born. I was treated terribly. My kid’s school, the church, and anybody else that knew the situation and very strong opinions of me and who I was. I don’t know if you know this, but if you do something severely wrong, and there’s a consequence, you don’t get to explain yourself. I realized very quickly that if I try to explain myself, it sounded like I was trying to defend infidelity, which I most certainly was not. So, I just had to take it. I had to let people think awful things about me. I had to let them say awful things. I had to let them exclude my children from things because they didn’t like me. I had to pretend I didn’t notice and pretend like it didn’t hurt my feelings. For years. 

But this mom was going to give me a chance. She decided. It took years, but something sparked in her mind that I could possibly be a good person. That MAYBE this one thing I did years ago, didn’t define who I was as a person. She literally verbalized what, I’m sure, many had felt and thought. He and I had done the same thing. We both were unfaithful. We both hurt people we loved. And, we both we’re honest and humbled by this awful thing we did. Neither of us try to excuse it. But his actions were much easier to forgive. I, as the woman, deserved the hurt and pain as additional consequences. 

It was a sobering realization that I will never be able to be one of those parents. The ones that are super involved at the school. I have had a lot less involvement since that year. I can’t, and wouldn’t want to, force anyone to accept me or my children. It is what it is. 

Let’s fast-forward a few years. I have a 1 year old. I am not with his father. I am Unapologetic about this situation. The pregnancy took us both by surprise. It was not ideal, but there was no betrayal or hurt involved. We both were consenting adults. We co-parent well together. Harrison is thriving and we have a very good situation. His father and I had had many conversations about our ultimate goal with Harrison. I’m a firm believer that (as long as it is a healthy situation for the child) the ultimate goal should be that both parents should be involved equally. Eventually, I hope that Harrison will be able to spend equal amounts of time with each of us.

This last weekend his dad and I got into a slight argument. There was a miscommunication about drop-offs. He was upset because of how inconvenient it was. It messed up his plans for the day and he felt I was being inconsiderate. At first I felt bad. I should have confirmed the time, I should have texted, I should have been better at communicating. Then I got mad. Wait a minute. Everything I do in life, I plan as if I had my children with me. I let him have Harrison anytime he would like, but also don’t force him to have him when it’s inconvenient for him. If I pick up work, I also have to pick up the bill for the babysitter. If I want to go out, I have to ask if it’s ok with him, or I have to pay for a babysitter. He is allowed his work week, his social time, his hobby time, and also his cleaning and laundry day without the inconvenience of a toddler. 

Now I would like to point out that he is a great father. Harrison loves to be with him and he loves to see his son. He doesn’t babysit, he parents. There is a difference. I honestly believe this. And like I said, eventually Harrison will be spending half his time with both of us. But the reality is, right now I have the brunt of the responsibility. That’s part of having an infant and/or toddler.

“He’s such a great dad! He’s SO involved with him!” 

Cringe. Here’s the problem. He most definitely is a great dad. He would never let Harrison lack. I know if I need ANYTHING, I can ask.  But there’s this double standard with parents that drives me absolutely bezerk. He spends 15 to 20 hours with him a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But always at his convenience. If he has anything planned, he can just do it. I am the one who figures out a babysitter if he can’t be with with his dad. Or I have to cancel what I have planned. 

The reality of having a baby or a toddler is, that the mother is going to get the brunt of the responsibility. I know this. I know it’s temporary. I’m not expecting more from his dad. (except maybe having a little more understanding or compassion when things don’t go as planned). Like I said, I feel like we have a good thing going right now. And we have great goals in mind for Harrison. Eventually these days of chaos will be nothing but a memory. 

There is a double standard that I’ve had to deal with the entire 12 years of being a mother. We have such low expectations for fathers. And we have almost unreasonably high expectations for the mothers. I’m a damn good mother. I’m not a great housekeeper, I’m a little flighty, I talk a lot, I have no volume control of my voice, and I’m easily distracted. But I am a great mother. And if I decide I want to go out for drinks with the girls, or to a movie, or to a hair show in Chicago, or be in a play, it does not take away from my ability as a mother. 

If you’re at a father, think about what this mother must be going through. Appreciate her. Acknowledging what the mother has sacrificed and what her reality is, is one of the best ways to show her you appreciate her. It may be temporary, but she has been sacrificing her body, her sleep, her social life, her dating life, her time, and sometimes her sanity. It is an investment into your child. Thank her for that.

Family and friends. Keep your bashing to yourself. I have had people say nasty things about my children’s fathers. And I know nasty things have been said about me to them. You are hurting our children with your words even if they don’t hear them. If I decide to go to a movie with friends, don’t say to his dad “Doesn’t that bother you that she’d rather go out and be with her son?” Or “Poor baby just misses his mommy! She’s away too much!” Would you say to the father, “What do you mean you’re going golfing? Shouldn’t you be with your son?” No? Of course not. Because being a parent doesn’t mean you can’t also be social. Quit with the double standard. I did the math. I have my son 81% of the time. His father has him 7% of the time. The play that I’m in has brought me down to 74% of the time and his father up to 12% of the time. Just to give you a visual in case you’re still not understanding how involved with my children I am, even when I’m in a play.

Do not suggest and I’m a neglectful mother. Do not try to turn my children’s fathers against me. We maintain an open line of communication and if your words are not encouraging, keep them to yourself.

Now, everyone else. Acquaintances, passerbuys, etc. Try to notice the double standard. We all do it. We shame the mother, but then see the father as a saint for literally just being there. We need to stop doing this. We don’t need to bash the father, but we need to acknowledge how much more of a hardship the mother has for those first few years. 

I was hesitant to write this blog. Because I am very thankful for the co parenting I have going on in my life. And I don’t want people to see these men negatively. But I have been hurt through the years by this. 

I know there are other women out there who notice this as well, but can’t quite articulate what they’re feeling. These women worry that they will seem ungrateful or whiny if they voice how under-appreciated they are. If they stand up for themselves they seem demanding and rude. We are told we should be thankful, no matter how little the father gives in the way of help, and that this is what having a kid is, so we need to just accept it. 

I will accept that the responsibility of a child is not always equal. And that’s ok.

I will accept that eventually it will be more even. The burden will lighten.

I will accept that socially we are making huge strides in the way of fathers involvement. This has been wonderful for the mothers, the fathers, and the children involved.

I will NOT accept this double standard. 

I will NOT accept the implications of laziness or neglect that is given to mothers who need a break and ask for it. 

I will NOT accept the shame and guilt handed to me for having a child out of wedlock.

I will NOT accept the expectation of gratitude for the father doing something that every parent should do.  It is not my job to cater to the fragile male ego.

I will love my kids. I will continue to put them first. I will continue to work with their dads for what is best for them. And I will tell you to kiss my ass if you feed this double standard around me. 

Honestly, I Didn’t Really Want This Gift

I’m pregnant. Seventeen weeks at this time. This will be kid #4. That is a lot of kids. This pregnancy was completely unexpected, and honestly, not wanted. I waited to blog about this. I wanted to wait until the shock and complete life meltdown had calmed.

Well. It didn’t calm. As I sat in that doctors office at my 12 week appointment, I saw my baby on the ultrasound screen, I waited to feel something. Anything but anxiety. Nothing. No tears were shed. No happy emotion was felt. I was blank. Then I was angry. I was really counting on seeing the baby to snap me into excitement. I know I cannot be the only person out there to feel this way. So I tried a different approach to help myself become excited. Fake it until you make it, right? There is so much faking it while you’re pregnant. I am regularly on social media, and post cute belly shots, funny pregnancy memes, and keep a very positive attitude about it. Here’s a secret, those are for me, not my Facebook friends. I am really wanting to be excited about a baby. I just can’t seem to get there.

Years ago, I worked at Starbucks. A regular customer came in, noticeably upset. She had just found out she was pregnant. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. She was married, in her 30s, and a great 8 year old son. Why wasn’t she thrilled about this? I now understand. She was done. Her life was on a different path. Her entire life was going to change. Everything.

I get corrected a lot when I’m honest about it. It’s frustrating. I’m allowed to be upset, even devastated about this. It is life changing. “But you’re such a great mom!” Yes. And I will be a great mom that loves this kid as well. Still upsetting. “Babies are a blessing!” Well. I didn’t want this blessing right now. I was enjoying and content with the blessing of having self sufficient children. “You’re so strong! You got this!” While I know that is supposed to be encouraging, maybe I don’t want to be strong. Maybe just once I was happy to not have to sacrifice every single part of who I am for another person. Even if that person is my kid.

See, as a parent, it’s hard to be honest about the shitty parts of parenting. The assumption is that if you don’t love every part, or find those hardships as cute little roadblocks, you’re less of a parent. This is such a fucking lie. Every parent out there has times they hate it. I love my kids more than anything. But being a parent really does suck sometimes. Especially for a single parent. I am now expected to sacrifice my body for over a year, my hobbies, my social life, and I have to do it alone. No one to tell me I’m pretty. No one to run out and get me craving food. No one to lay holding my tummy, trying to feel kicks. No one to ease my anxiety about having another child. No one to be excited when I’m having days where I feel like I can’t do it. Alone.

I know I chose to keep this baby. I know I will be so happy and joyful watching this amazing kid grow. I know that someday I will read back on this and be glad I’m past it. I also know that right now, carrying this child is a burden. It makes me feel isolated and alone. It makes me angry at the dad. It makes me angry at god. It makes me angry at myself. It makes me bitter and jealous of all those people who’s biggest problem is deciding on the nursery theme. It makes me feel selfish. I have to tell myself no about so much, and this means even more no’s.

So all you out there reading this that have supported me, thank you for the positive words. I really do appreciate it. I really am trying to be happy about it. Please continue the support. It is a wonderful distraction to the reality of the situation.

For those who are feeling the same, it’s ok, I know how much it sucks to have to fake it. To feel like your missing out on all those happy pregnancy moments, because you’re not happy. This doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or going to be a bad mom. It means you’re human.

Now, I will go back to my positive social media posts, and move forward. I know it will all click at some point. I’ll get there eventually, and I am working on not beating myself up to badly on it taking so long. I’m a pretty impatient person.