The random misadventures of a (formerly)Single Super Mom

Now, some single mom's are lucky. Kind of like the mom in The Parent Trap. Most of us, however, are not nearly so blessed. So here is an ode to all of the single mom's out there with exes you want to drop in a volcano. On the first day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, a big bag of dirty laundry. On the second day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, 2 bounced support checks and a big bag of dirty laundry. On the third day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, 3 stomach bugs, two bounced support checks and a big bag of dirty laundry. On the fourth day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, 4 missed Skype calls, 3 stomach bugs, two bounced support checks and a big bag of dirty laundry. On the fifth day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, five unpaid bills! !! 4 missed Skype calls, three stomach bugs, two bounced support checks and a big bag of dirty laundry. On the sixth day of Christmas the Douchebag gave to me, 6 modified orders, five unpaid bills! Four

I recently went somewhere with a friend and there was a speaker.  The speaker said; that $300 a month is what stands between the average family and bankruptcy.  Wow.  $300?  That seems like such a small amount.  What can $300 do? With the recent government shutdown and the up and downswings of the economy; the title "Working Poor" has never been more prevalent.  The disparity between the lower/middle class and upper class is getting bigger and bigger; with no end in sight.  When I was little, my parents were poor.  My dad shot pool for money and my mom worked at an insurance company.  We had government cheese, those big "bricks" of shredded wheat that looked and tasted like a Brillo pad, and powdered milk.  If we ran out of milk my mom would open up a can of evaporated milk and add water so we could have cereal.  My sister and I took brown paper garbage bags and went to the big field down the street from our apartment and collected dandelion greens for my mom to

I'll admit it.  I am addicted to the grocery store.  I absolutely love grocery shopping above almost any other kind of shopping except shoe shopping.  (But that's another story).  I always hear people complaining about going grocery shopping, taking the kids grocery shopping, dreading grocery shopping; but I can honestly say that I have never experienced that feeling in my life.  If grocery shopping could be a part time job; I would so do that for someone.  From the moment I put my hands on a shopping cart I feel a rush of endorphins.  It's a sense of pure happiness.  Even if I was only there to purchase a pack of gum, I would wander the aisles all day.  Looking at every bit of exotic produce, different types of bakery items, tasting samples, and peering in the deli case.  Walking into the wine section and looking at the different brands, types, countries of origin, and fascinated by the ones that have unique or beautiful bottles.  I love each and every part of the groc

There have been many many times in my life where I just think "Lord? I'm not sure how strong I am and how much more I can take." When I moved across the country as a young bride and ended up on a military base alone. No car, no friends, no job. Somehow I overcame.  Moving to North Carolina by myself sight unseen with a 12 week old child and a 3 year old. No friends, no job, no idea what this place held. But again, let's do this. When my ex husband sent me an email asking for a divorce and telling me that I needed to find a job after being a stay at home mom for 5 years. Okay, well let's do what has to be done. When my family went through the worst thing that any family could imagine, and it forever changed the relationship between my children and their father, we made it through. We are fighting the battle of the unknown disease with my daughter. But we don't give up. But when you fight for everything, always try to keep your head high and do unto others, when

Truer words have never been spoken.  Most people who never grew up around tornadoes equated them to what they saw in the Wizard of Oz.  Dorothy on the bed, knocked on her noggin, seeing visions of scary things outside the window.  She landed in a fantasy land inhabited with little people, a talking lion, a scarecrow, and a tin man.  Then came Twister.  Then people got a more realistic look at the devastation a tornado can cause.  Special effects were able to bring people inside the funnel clouds; showing them what the Fujita scale actually was, and the difference between an F-2 and an F-5.   But even then, "That's a Cow", doesn't quite portray what it's really like to be in the path of the hammer. Growing up in the Midwest, we knew what tornadoes were.  We practiced drills all the time.  Everyone that didn't live in a mobile home or an apartment pretty much had a basement.   It was just a way of life.  When the sirens came on, you hit the basement.  You op

Cruise travel.  For some people it conjures up images of a huge party boat, for others, a floating ship of senior citizens, and still others, Captain Steubing, Isaac, Gopher, and Julie.  I recently took my very first cruise and I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.  I got the cruise as a Christmas present, and it honestly blew me away.  Who gets a cruise disguised as a toaster?  This girl.  Then came the planning and researching cruise lines, ships, destinations, and prices.  After looking at a bunch of options, we chose Carnival Cruise Lines as our ship.  We booked and planned it before all of the recent newsworthy events that the company has endured, and decided that even though bad things had happened, we were comfortable going anyway.  We looked at ports close to home and farther away, and decided it was worth it to go to Miami to depart.  Charleston, SC is undoubtedly much closer, but after reading reviews on the port and the fact that in order to get to your destination

Jury duty is over.  Done.  I know I have a reprieve for a while.  It was long.  I complained a lot, but I gained a new knowledge of the justice system and of myself.  The case I was on involved alleged racial discrimination and a violation of civil rights.  Being Black, that struck a chord with me.  I have been blessed enough not to have OVERT discrimination, but I have had subtle bias.  I've had people judge me and tell me that I'm too "eloquent" and "well read" for a Black person.  I've had people call me the "N" word to my face, and behind my back.  My best friend in high school wasn't allowed to be around me because her father didn't want her having a Black friend.  My ex husband's grandparents disowned him completely when they found out he was marrying a Black girl.  Never mind that they had never met me.  Never mind that I hadn't had the chance to make a good impression.  It was enough that the color of my skin dictated

So every day I look forward to the mail in my mailbox with a mixture of anticipation and dread.  Anticipating some neat magazine, product to test from the myriad of online surveys I busy myself with, or maybe a check from some long lost relative that kicked the bucket; or dreading bills or some other equally as vile thing.  When I got the big fat envelope that said U.S. District Court I thought, HOLY CRAP...who's suing me?  I don't have anything....I mean, my net worth is barely in the positive category...I have a dog and 2 kids..but nobody wants them, do they? I open up the envelope with great trepidation and the words JURY DUTY leap off the page.  At first I thought, what the hell?  I've never seen Jury Duty on hot pink paper.  Then I started to get a teeny bit excited.  What if it's a salacious murder trial?  What if it's the mob?  What if it's a celebrity!!!!  You have to fill out a very intensive questionnaire detailing your family information, employme

Today, much like any other day, I sat at my desk at work and alternately cursed my patients for being so doggone stupid; and got warm fuzzy feelings from the ones that are so sweet.  I usually filter conversations through the mass of information that is sifting through my brain, and today, one thing stood out.  Bomb at Boston Marathon.  I immediately went to the computer to see what had occured, and the bottom of my stomach dropped to the floor.  I saw images upon images of mangled bodies, tears, and first responders rushing to aid.  I had traumatic flashbacks to the day, not so long ago, of watching the news following the Newtown shootings.  Something about this attack, just like the ones in Newtown, shook me to my very core.  I couldn't help myself as I clicked through slideshow after slideshow of the carnage, tears running down my face.  Why do these things happen?  Why do pepole strike where they know their victims are the most vulnerable?  Why can't I stop looking?  Why

Scary movies are a very subjective topic.  Some things scare the crap out of people, while others find the same fare so tame as to be snore-worthy.  I LOVE scary movies.  I love the feeling of adrenaline that comes when you know something bad is about to happen.  I love that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes with the anticipation of terror and mayhem.  Scary movies (well, and superhero movies but that's another topic) are probably my favorite genre of movie.  Scary movies done right make me happy.  Scary movies done wrong piss me off.  For example.  Last night we watched this crazy  movie called Blood Night, the legend of Mary Hatchet or some such.  Starts out with a 12 year old kid pulling a Lizzie Borden on her mom and dad.  She then gets sent to a mental institution where she is assaulted years later by one of the guards, becomes pregnant, and is told her baby died at birth.  Somehow in all of this, she manages to get free and decimate the entire staff of the lo