Pancakes Taste Like Poverty: And Other Post-Divorce Revelations (17 page)

There is little music or art – I do my best
with what is available to me – but maybe that’s not
enough. The sex toys sure as hell aren’t enough. And that’s
less pleasure and more necessity and mood control. There is no
romance or touch or whispers or deep kisses but there
is
cheesecake. And it’s velvety and supple and all there is left.

I’m sure it will come back. I still have a
lot of work to do on myself. My self worth as an individual who can
figure out and build and survive and create is strong. My belief that
I am lovable and desirable and sexy is not.

So, I deleted all the dating accounts and I’m
going back into the cave a bit. Clearly I have a lot more work to do.

A few days
later...Owned

So Chris
just owned me. Here's how it went down.

Me
: I don't want to paint Jordis's room. I
don't want to do anything really. I think I'm slightly depressed
because nothing at all at
all
interests me. Nothing. I do
nothing with any sort of enjoyment or interest. Not even cooking and
you know I love to cook.

Chris:
Now
that's
a problem. How do
we get you out of this? What's going on?

Me:
I'm just really glad for all the life
lessons and shit of being single and really taking the time to work
on myself
,
but I'm kind of
over it. I want a partner (yes, already, after my “loneliness
doesn't bother me” post). I'm sick of having to do everything
and figure everything out on my own. I don't want
help.
I
just want a companion, or something, to share some thoughts with in
real time.

Chris:
Are you still on dating sites?

Me:
No

Chris
: How long did you do that?

Me
: I gave it like five months..

Chris:
JESSICA! FUCKING NO! I'M GOING TO
GET REALLY
,
REALLY MEAN
,
BUT WHAT THE FUCK EXCUSE DO YOU HAVE FOR NOT TRYING HARDER?
SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU GET ON EVERY FUCKING SITE AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW!
THIS IS NOT A FUCKING JOKE!

Me:
Lemmie explain! Lemmie explain!

Chris:
You can
,
but I'm telling you right now it's gonna be some stupid excuse and
I'm gonna tell you to shut the fuck up.

Me:
Okay, well listen anyway. I look
really gross right now. I feel fat. My hair has turned to cotton.
Like, I don't have curly hair anymore. It's just Brillo pad or cotton
mess. I have no clothes to go anywhere in anyway
,
so if someone asks me out it'd have to be somewhere where I can wear
pajamas
because
that's about
all I have and I look a fucking mess.

Chris
: Still an excuse and I can
empathize
,
but listen. You
look a mess because YOU DON'T HAVE ANY REASON NOT TO. Getting your
wardrobe together isn't a priority because you have
nowhere
to go. I know what it's like when you're broke and can't afford to go
anywhere
.
I get it
,
but you NEED to spend at least $20 a week on some fucking
clothes. When I broke up with Nate, I dated thirty men before I met
Mike and then I dated fifteen or so more after that. Just to get out.
Just to have a reason to wear pants because otherwise, you know our
lazy asses ain't puttin' on no goddamn pants. I also miraculously
lost a bunch of weight and my hair was looking good. You have to fake
it. You have to get up, get dressed, put
makeup
on - I don't
give a shit that you don't like it, you're 31
.
Yo
u need to just do i
t,
and
then you will have gone through so much trouble that you will
have
to find a reason to go out and be seen. You always said
,
"
I'm not photogenic
,"
but you never let anyone take a picture of you! How would you even
know!? You're
shy
now. That's bullshit. You used to sing to
strangers in Waffle House and ask random people you didn't know to
the movies just to make a new friend. Fuck that. Seriously, shut the
fuck up.

Me:
Point officially taken.

Sistas without Mistas

I’ve
been single parenting for about three years now. I have a lot of
help.
And even with all that help I’m still overwhelmed.
But what I’m doing is nothing compared to what some of my
homegirls are going through.

Here’s the thing.

When a kid goes and shoots up a school, or robs a
Circle K and it’s time to examine the child’s past and
figure out why the tragedy happened
,
it’s really easy to settle on and/or blame the “single
parent household.” And you and I know
that
usually (but not always)
the
single parent household is a “single
mom
household.”

We hear that children of single parents are more
likely to live below the poverty level, are more prone to suicide,
teen pregnancy, violence, obesity, depression, yadda yadda.

After the Sandy Hook shooting, my Facebook feed
was littered with generally bitter comments toward single moms. It’s
always the same old thing.

The women being blamed for “not keeping
their legs together.” Black single moms almost universally
being assumed to be on public assistance while driving
Escalades.
Yes, it happens, but not as much as you would like
to believe.
Even during the Presidential election, when
pressed for the possible reasons behind gun violence
,
a lack of moral code and single parent households were both potential
reasons.

Even some women I love and respect are quick to
jump on the “single moms eat up all the welfare and ruin
‘murica” bandwagon.

No offense, but a lot of us single moms thought
we’d be CEOs of our households until we died, crafting and
fretting over cloth diapers and organic baby food. Sounds like
heaven.

But instead we found ourselves alone and now
we’re just trudging through.

The math necessary for success is pretty
unbelievable.

I think I could probably walk into a job making
about $10/hr with my background in hospitality and rooms operation.
So if I worked full time at a local hotel, I might bring home
$400/week before taxes. The cost of before and after school care for
three children – which I would need to work a day shift –
is about $150 dollars per week on the
low
end. Factor in gas
and food and rent and electricity...

I’ll stop there.

If, like me, your ex-husband is not paying child
support, you’re even more royally screwed. People say “but
there are systems in place to help you get child support!”

Yes BUT

In my case, my ex has no address (couch surfer),
no employer (self) and no driver’s license (he bikes) so it is
not likely he will be “found” by the system anyway. Not
for a very long time.
The waiting list to even
speak
to a
person about child support was four to six months long. I am on the
list, of course.

If you never thought you’d be on any
government aid or support, the process can be daunting.
The
paperwork and wording is strange and if you fill something out wrong,
there is a good chance your case worker will assume they’ve
“caught you” in a lie and your aid will be suspended and
you will be under investigation.
Because of the “welfare
queen” stereotyp
e,
many case workers are jaded. They talk down to you. They assume the
worst about you. They make you feel like shit for your situation.
They lecture you on your life choices. There is no dignity in
applying for government assistance.

Oh
,
and
many times, once a single mom
gets
a job
,
her food stamps are instantly canceled or dramatically
reduced. If there is no friend or loved one available to watch kids
for free
,
that “income”
simply goes to childcare and bills with little to nothing left over
for sufficient groceries.

Some of my single mom sisters are ten to fifteen
pounds smaller every time I see them. I know better than to ask what
their diet regime is. I already know it’s “poverty.”
They are going to sleep hungry so their babies are fed.

We had Year of Pancakes.

I misunderstood a question on some paperwork when
applying for food assistance when I first left him. They canceled my
assistance and I was under investigation. I had no one to watch my
kids after school (not even one day a week – with several of
the kids' family members within five minutes) so I could only work
the hours my children were in school. I was blessed to have an
employer flexible enough to allow me this. So I was working from 8:30
until about 2 pm, Monday through Friday only. After bills and gas and
laundromat there was little leftover for food. Beans and rice and
pancakes became our staples.

Pancakes taste like poverty. Still.

It
feels
like single parents have two
options:

1) Bust your ass to earn enough money to keep a
roof and pay bills
but
your kid grows up parent-less because you are always working. You are
forced to put your trust in “loved ones” and
near-strangers and hope your child is never hurt or molested.

or

2) Be there for your kids... and starve.

We don’t
want
our kids to be
statistics. We don’t
want
to be on government
assistance. We don’t
want
latch-key kids.

If we, as a society, don’t want these
troublesome kids-of-single-parents dumped into the populace all poor
and bitter and dangerous then we
have
to support single
parents. We
have
to set up systems of co-operative existence
until single parents are thriving.

In my secret group on Facebook
,
single parents from across the U.S and Canada are taking the first
steps to a co-operative single parent network.
We watch one
another’s kids for free. We send each other clothes when we
can’t afford any. We share eggs, or a frozen ham, or we buy
extra band-aids. We pay each other’s bills if the utilities are
about to get cut. Boxes of hand-me-downs, cloth diapers
,
and baby slings are being shipped across the country from mama to
mama. When a mama is in the weeds, we rally. If every mom puts a
dollar in the hurting mama’s Paypal account, then that mama can
feed her babies, or get her car out of the shop, or buy a winter
coat.
It’s beautiful.
It’s the
only
way we are going to
thrive
.

The only step beyond this is full, on-site
support.

I have a grandiose vision:

I picture a piece of land. I picture small shared
cottages or dormitory style housing. I picture multiple single parent
families bunking up together and swapping child care and living off
the land as much as possible. I picture outside volunteers doing
workshops on self-sufficiency – car care, money management,
discipline strategies. I picture free or reduced
counseling
for single parents and their children so we don’t make the same
mistakes again, and so we can heal the wounds inflicted on our
children. I picture single parents staying on site long enough to
finish
that degree
, or
save
that money
, to be able to leave the property able to
self-sustain and THRIVE with dignity.

I do not have the slightest idea how to turn my
idea into a reality.

Here’s what I do know:
I know there is
a homeless mom with three kids frequently settled in her car in the
Walmart parking lot nearby. The local homeless shelters are over
capacity. We have, on several occasions, delivered toiletries and
food to her and her family.

I know there is a woman very close to me who is
suffering both mental and physical abuse and who
has
gone to
local shelters for battered women but since her income wasn’t
sufficient enough to live off of after the time allotted by the
shelter, she is stuck with the abuser until she finishes school and
can get the hell out.

I know there is a woman living in government
housing whose
14-year-old neighbor
was shot and killed by a stray bullet. She is not safe in her
surroundings
,
but she only
earns enough money to pay $500 for rent. She has
nowhere
else to go.

I know countless more former wives and former
stay-at-home moms trying to enter the workforce for the first time in
five, ten, fifteen years – waiting tables, cleaning houses, and
flipping burgers and sometimes having to
beg
their employers
to let their toddlers come to work with them because they don’t
have family or money for a babysitter that day.

They don’t need judgment, blame,
condescension or pity. They need help. They need just a little time
and a little breathing room.

I know that it is easier to raise a child than to
repair an adult.

And I know that with enough brilliant minds we
could do something amazing.

But my heart is too heavy not trying. I don’t
have land. I don’t have financial backing. I don’t have
the slightest idea how one goes about creating a co-op on a large
scale.
I
do
have a superpower, though.
I’m a
conduit.
I can connect lovers and sharers and doers and idealists
and together we’ve managed to save a dozen women and keep
another few dozen afloat.

It’s just that I have this funny problem of
believing people can rise up and succeed and grow and thrive and be
amazing after they’ve fallen.

Even me…