I’m frazzled.
For the past few weeks, every minute of every day, every pore in my body has been throbbing. After taking the kids to school in the morning, I arrive at work to a desk piled high with ever-mounting paperwork, and emotionally disturbed kids who AWOL and wrap belts around their neck, and my own to-do list of grocery shopping and dentist appointments and oh-my-god-i-forgot-i-don’t-have-childcare-today, and by 10 a.m. I am so frayed at the edges that I feel like I could just unspool into the ether.
My brain gets joggled with too many things to wrangle, and as one thing gets wrangled, five more things descend upon my shoulders to take their place. I worry when I’m awake, and I worry when I dream.
Luca has been with me full-time for a month and I have yet to receive a dime from his father. He sleeps on an air mattress in the living room and stores his clothes in Franny’s bedroom. His calls to his grandparents, the grandparents with five homes and a private jet and a nine-hole putting green in the back yard, those grandparents, have gone unanswered. I have been instructed by Prince to keep him from calling them — they do not want to hear from him, and apparently, they don’t care that he’s sleeping in the living room.
We are all tripping over ourselves in the apartment. I have no choice but to go to court to try to get child support because the current situation is untenable. In about six months I will be out of savings — going two years without child support will do that to you — and, unless I get support, or a job that pays a lot more, my kids and I will be couch-surfing at various friends’ houses for God knows how long.
I lie awake at night, trying to grasp how this ever happened. The more I try to figure it out, the less sense it makes. Here I am, with my snooty education, and a rich ex-husband who could easily afford adequate child support, and a mind that, despite being joggled, has a lot to offer, and with all this, my most likely next step is couch-surfing? Really?
Every time I envision having to make my kids move yet again, next time to a place where they don’t even have their own rooms, I start to cry.
When Prince and I split up ten years ago, I had a lot of energy. Venturing towards a new horizon was scary, but also, oddly invigorating. I felt strong, I had conviction, I had my sardonic sense of humor. I told myself what everyone else told me, that eventually things would turn around.
But they haven’t. The past decade has been a progression of financial, physical, and psychological downsizing. And I’m about out of tap-dance routines.
Tonight over tacos, Franny looked at me and said, “Mom, you forgot to tell Charlotte she didn’t have to pick up Luca.”
I turned to Luca, sprawled on the couch.
“You weren’t at school?”
“Mom. I called you and told you I was taking the bus home.”
I remembered the phone call, and I remembered him saying something to that effect, but mostly I remembered my paperwork deadlines, and the afternoon full of treatment team meetings, and a cheese stick and nuts for lunch.
“Oh,” I said. “Right. I guess you did.”
Franny looked at me like I was two paper plates short of a picnic.
“I’m a little stressed out right now, guys. Try to bear with me.”
Franny swallowed and pushed her taco around and I knew she was trying to pretend she wasn’t freaked out. I wanted to kick myself. Most of what I remember from my childhood was my overworked mother melting down in front of me. So the thought that I would let my stress bleed over onto my kids just about undoes me.
I know beating myself up over not being able to make things better doesn’t help, but I can’t stop thinking that I should be able to make things nice and tidy and normal.
After dinner, I propped myself up on my pillows with my laptop and let my body sink into the mattress. It felt like pure, distilled bliss. I scrolled thorugh my Facebook feed and saw a link to a Huffington Post piece about a single mom. Her life is the subject of a documentary produced by Maria Shriver, aptly titled “Paycheck to Paycheck.” It airs on HBO March 17th and, if the 2-minute clip is any indication of the merit of the rest of it, it promises to be wrenchingly good.
Thirty seconds into the clip, and I was on my second kleenex. Katrina Gilbert has three kids — THREE! — and makes less then $10 an hour as a nursing aide. She has a chronic health condition and no health insurance. She’s about to lose her food stamps. She had no money to buy her kids birthday presents or throw them a party. And in spite of all this, she managed to smile, and speak without a shred of self-pity, and profess hope that things would get better.
And as I watched her wading through bills, and hoisting elderly patients, and driving kids to daycare, I wondered: why is there no community housing for single mothers? Shouldn’t one of those “Lean In” CEOs be financing an affordable-living compound with a community garden and co-op childcare so single moms have a decent quality of life and don’t have to wrangle everything alone? So women who haven’t had their advantages could get help to lean in, or opt out, or just kick up their heels with some wine and Thin Mints for maybe five worry-free minutes?
Just a thought rolling around in my frazzled head.
Dear Pauline…..you answered your own question! You have a lot of contacts to share your “Single Mom Communal Living” with. And why not approach Maria Shriver??? Why not!???? Also, did you know that Michelle Obama and her brother slept in a living room with a sheet down the middle? You have two beautiful children–and a good mind–that’s all you need! Cynthia
I am thinking about the communal living idea…would love to be able to do it, and yes, definitely something to run by Maria Shriver. And thanks for reminding me of Michelle Obama — she certainly turned out okay!
You deserve so much more than mere survival, Pauline. Your idea has me thinking about how my girlfriends and I always say how much we’d love to live in a great big house with just us women. Your idea has legs. Wonder what it would take to make it happen….are there buildings that could be effectively repurposed for such a compound? One foot in front of another…sending you virtual hugs.
Thx, Lori. I’m sure there’s a way to make the community housing a reality.
Pauline, I needed this today. I have been feeling completely overwhelmed this week. It’s strange, I am happy but overwhelmed. Need a break from parenting and a break from work. Neither will be happening any time in the next 20 years or so, so I guess I need to suck it up 🙂
I actually tried to get the women on my private blog interested in the idea of communal living or co-housing. We are all in our separate worlds, struggling, and as we know society treats us like a contagion unless we dutifully partner up again. Yes, there should be a network, a foundation, a retreat. Imagine being able to get a three-day vacation at a retreat funded, where there might be workshops and sessions focused on bettering your life.
Congratulations on getting your son back.
OMG, Pauline, I hope things unfrazzle a little for you soon! I will be tuning into this documentary for sure. This woman sounds incredibly inspiring and yet like you say, an example that something needs to be done to help women like her.
My mother was a horder or sorts. Therefore, whenever I feel overwhelmed I throw things out…which isn’t always a good thing.
Perhaps showing a bit of your emotional side, as your mother did, may not also be bad.
BTw: I have been meaning to tell you: I knew you could get your dining room table into yr apartment…and you will be able to get it out too. ((hugs)) …I always feel like a dork whe I write that, but I mean it…
-Anastacia
Awww…thanks, Anastacia!
Yes! Why isn’t there community housing especially for single moms? I’ve had to downsize three times during and after divorce with 3 children. I now don’t even have a bedroom for my daughter or a garage for my car when it snows because I am required to be the residential parent for school place purposes.
The judge doesn’t care that I can’t begin to afford anything like where I used to live during my 20 year marriage and that rental housing in my kids’ public school district is hard to find and very pricey.
Since my husband earns about 100 times more than I do ( but of course he was conveniently without a job and was just starting a new biz when our divorce started so he claimed he was broke)
I took him back to court a few years after the divorce to ask for child support modification.
He fought me the entire way and so it was 18 more months of legal motions and affidavits and an expert forensic accountant hired by each of us to determine what his self-employment income should be for child support calculations. We then had a TRIAL over it all!
Following that I had to wait 6 months for a one page summary from the judge who wrote that he didn’t agree with either accountant since they were so far apart in determining what ex’s income should be.
So the judge judge raised the monthly support a bit and the entire experience turned out to be an expensive exercise in frustration.
As my former attorney told me: you go to family court to get answers. You don’t get justice.
My kids were sharing the same bedroom for more than 10 years. i painted walls different colors and each one of them had their own “space/wall”. It is not easy but possible. There are a lot of kids sharing the bedroom in the world. Granted, it is not third world country but sometimes you cannot afford things that you used to. You need to accept and rely only on yourself. Forget about child support, just rely on yourself. Another option would be to give your son your bedroom and get sofa bed for youself to sleep in the living room. You are still trying to be on par with wealthy ex. Don’t. You are on your own and no court would do justice. You would only spend your limited resources on lawyers. Stop fighting for a justice, let it go. You will feel better by not thinking about possible child support.
Love the idea of communal living/support for single moms. Maybe it could be a transitional thing. I’m a single Mom too and have come out on the other side to a good place but I’m reminded all the time of how much luckier I am than many other women. Pauline–I’d love to help/support this idea……..contact me if you’re interested in ways I may be able to help!
thankyou