Category Archives: mindset

I get her.

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I don’t believe in child support. I don’t believe in government involvement.

There, I said it.

Friend of the Court called me yesterday for a friendly conversation. We had our 3-year review, guess who didn’t send in documents or fill out the form. Hint: it wasn’t the responsible parent—they even got my letter.

I have a great relationship with the FOC. I’ve always lived by transparency and honesty, the use of documentation to back things up, and being proactive. They called to ask me if I wanted to increase my child support that I received.

I turned the opportunity down.

The lady was absolutely amazed by my response. It’s uncommon. She couldn’t refrain from asking me why instead of letting it go, so we continued into a discussion.

It’s my belief that because I get to—not have to, I get to—raise Evelynn, she is my responsibility. Her dad may have donated the sperm but in my eyes, she only has one parent. Even if you ask her, she finds it weird when kids split parenting time between houses; she only wants to live with me and maybe visit with him. He’s a friend to her, not a parent.

I related to this woman how I believe Evelynn is my sole responsibility. I pay the bills. I handle her school and sports and doctor visits. Since I get to be the parent in her life every day, I don’t care about the money. Now, when he comes at me wanting to use Evelynn as a pawn in dating or for his ego or making claims of how he’s her father or because he’s jealous of a new guy in my life, then I make sure he is up to date on payments (he’s typically behind). I also don’t allow him to get crazy in changing the visitation schedule.

I believe in consistency. I will not allow for him to get her hopes up only for him to start cancelling again. It appears seeing her only five times a year is best for him not to cancel. We tried it, her last birthday, for him to see her twice within a month because he forgot about her birthday being the following weekend; SHOCKER he cancelled on the second one due to sickness.

Called it.

A man who claims he never got sick while we were together suddenly was always sick and had to cancel. He’s cancelled so many times over the years we are now down to him only seeing her—supervised visits only, of course—five times a year. When she was a baby, we started the schedule at twice a week. Imagine cancelling so much that he went from 104 visits a year to only five. Absolutely insane to me.

When we also broke up, FOC wasn’t involved—they forced their involvement eventually due to needing state insurance for Evelynn—and he only gave me $100 a month for diapers. When FOC told him that amount was increasing, he was furious. I didn’t really care. I even allowed them to lie about my income so he could pay less.

Once, I also offered him $25,000 to walk away with the promise I would lie to people and tell them I had cheated on him, that she wasn’t his. To his credit, he refused. More to ego, than anything. Though, I can’t fathom why over the years given how much he cancelled on her to golf with buddies or due to hangovers (social media and many mutual friends slapped me in the face with the truth). Then again, at the time, he had gone months without seeing her in hopes of manipulating me into missing him (yes, he admitted this). It backfired on him.

He’s a man of poor calculating skills.

Yes, I’m not afraid to admit I attempted to pay him off. I would rather my daughter have a father who is not involved at all than one who didn’t even want her, cancels on her, uses her to boost his ego, and quite frankly, not even worthy of her.

Evelynn is amazing. Her personality gives me life. She saved me. I’m not sure how anyone could ever give her up.

Then there’s the entire history of him hurting me, manipulating me, degrading me.

Clearly, I have no respect for him.

Back to FOC.

What infuriates me is this stigma against single moms wanting the dad to pay for everything. I could care less if he pays, I simply want him gone. My daughter is strong because I have nurtured that within her. I have made sure to love her twice as hard. I have played good cop and bad cop, parent and friend.

Evelynn will tell you how I’m “such a mom. The other kids’ moms aren’t really moms because they don’t make their kids eat veggies for lunch like you do. I know I don’t want to and why you make me, but you’re really a mom.”

I am that mom. I know my kid. As soon as we sway from her daily designated fruit, veggie, and protein intake and her sleep schedule, she gets sick. Happens like clockwork every time. Yet, she’s rarely sick, hasn’t been to the doctor since before covid (just a couple phone calls). Clearly what I do works. She’s not a fan of the rules but she understands them. And because she knows how much I love her, she respects them….mostly.

Anyway, back to FOC. Again.

This woman couldn’t believe me. She couldn’t believe my ex.

I can’t blame her.

He’s mandated to provide for Evelynn’s health insurance and pay 80 percent of her medical bills. He hasn’t. I have her insurance, I pay her bills. He racked up late fees and I paid them. She had a heart condition when she was born (she had two holes in her heart, thankfully they healed themselves) and multiple audiology appointments (diagnosis: stubborn and selective hearing, legitimately. She made a movement showing she heard the sound but then wouldn’t turn towards the sound to indicate she knew where it was coming from, instead she would do this very slight head tilt and a smirk. She was only three. They had never seen this reaction before, they found it hilarious. I did not). I racked up $18,000 in medical debt for her because I refused to ask him for money and I had to pay his late fees since most of the bills were past due.

By the way, he never asked when or how those visits went. Someone else had to bring it up for him to remember.

Holes in the heart is not normal. That’s not forgettable. It should not be forgettable.

I refused to be the single mom who made the ex pay for the kid he didn’t even want, a kid I would do anything for.

The woman at the FOC was appalled. I didn’t even give her details. She was simply appalled looking at his child support payment history and hearing he wasn’t providing her insurance or hadn’t paid medical bills. She’s sending me a form and highly recommended in the future, that I not only don’t allow for this to continue but to get the court involved if it does. It’s his responsibility.

Funny, he claims that as Evelynn’s father it’s his responsibility too, to provide for her, and yet he doesn’t do it. The boy only knows how to talk about doing and thankfully I’ve stopped listening. I learned early on he was never good at taking any action.

Let’s travel back to my core belief: I get to raise my daughter.

I get to tuck her in at night. I get to enjoy her laughter daily. I get to hold her daily. I get to watch her play soccer. I get to listen to her sing and hum through her entire day. I get to send her off to school and do the morning rituals of a kiss and “Have a good day, love you!” and for her to yell it back to me proudly. I get to do our nightly “I looooooove youuuu” song followed by tickles as I tuck her in. I get to do all that. I choose to. Every day. That’s a freaking blessing.

The fact that he has messed up so terribly and doesn’t even care, has allowed me to get that for over 7 years.

Get that.

Do you understand the difference? Do you understand the meaning of word change and how much word choice matters?

I’ve been thinking about it all day and night.

Yet again back to FOC, though. She couldn’t believe my decision. Asked me three times. Asked about the medical debt and going after him for repayment. It’s off my radar. I only care about lack of time he has with her. It still makes me sick knowing he’s around my daughter, knowing at some point in my life I had hit such rock bottom to allow him near me. Knowing what he did to me and yet gets to breathe the same air as Evelynn.

The only thing I wish they’d change is his connection to Evelynn. She deserves so much more than him. Her having his last name as part of hers sickens me, still. I’ve seen his dating profile—you would never guess how little he sees her. He shouldn’t have that privilege to “claim” her as his.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: it’s 2022, family dynamics have drastically changed along with society’s acceptance and views. Providing half the DNA doesn’t make one a parent, it only makes a child. Our actions and love make the parent.

He loves to correct me when I call her “my daughter” instead of “our daughter.”

She is my daughter and I love the hell out of her. He can keep his money; I get to have her.

Calling dibs on single mom status.

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Calling dibs on single mom status.

I’m a single mom. That’s just who I am. I’m a mom who by definition takes care of her kid on her own. A fulltime single mom.

It’s what I’ve known.

I make all the decisions. I pay the bills. I play good and bad cop. I play parent and best friend. I don’t have someone to turn to as backup or support. I don’t have someone to talk through hardships with. I don’t have someone to juggle her schedule with. I figure it out on my own. All of it. There’s no one to argue with when she’s sick and must stay home from school. There’s not many options for me to call to pick up my kid from school if I’m stuck in a meeting or running late. There’s no one to take her to school if I’m sick.

There’s no one to rock paper scissors with on Saturday mornings when she wakes up at 7am and is ready for some dippity eggs and toast. There’s no one to cover for me when I have a debilitating migraine and need a day off spent in bed, amid darkness, quietness, and closed blinds. There’s no one to spend time with Evelynn during the long working days. My daughter is known for being my showing assistant.

It’s not a path well lit. It’s a path lit by just a cell phone with a dying battery that must be made sure to be charged every night.

Aka it’s poorly lit.

Aka sleep isn’t always on my side.

It’s navigated by putting one foot in front of the other and trusting my feet and my heart will take me where I need to go and my head will stop me when or before any shit hits the fan. If I’m not sleep deprived and delusional by then.

I’m doing the job of two. I don’t have someone to lean on at the end of the day for reassurance or backup. It’s just me and that’s draining.

But I’m incredibly grateful for the people I have in my life. The companies I have worked at over the years who help me make it work.

From Hall Financial where Evelynn would go in and sit with the boss man during meetings to Fitness Tee Co. where there was a kid room she could chill in if necessary. I’m grateful for the understanding of flexibility and working from home ability. It’s taught me discipline in keeping a strict calendar, time management, getting work done, the meaning of non-negotiables. It’s taught me that time is our most valuable currency.

It runs out.

I’m grateful for the clients who accept me as a fulltime single mom and choose to work with me. I’m grateful real estate offers me more flexibility as Evelynn gets farther into her education and sports. I’m grateful for Graydon’s and their allowance for Evelynn to come in on sick days or no school days so I don’t have to cancel work. It’s a blessing and one I have never taken for granted. Although, sometimes, I do struggle with understanding why more companies can’t be so accommodating.

Last week, we were kicked out of our place 8:30AM to past 6:30PM with an unusable kitchen so we spent our days at the restaurant after school. I have the most sociable child and I’m not quite sure where she got it from. She has no problem going up to a kid and asking if they want to play her games with her (this happened Monday). Or forcing the bartender’s husband into playing her Nintendo Switch with her (Tuesday). Or asking a couple people at the bar to scooch over so we can fit in (Wednesday). Or, my favorite, the time she roped a regular (now friend) and the bartender into creating barbie clothes out of gloves and napkins with her.

I refuse to be the person who says, “My God, this is so hard. You don’t understand.” Quite frankly, there’s others who have it much worse. I might not be great at asking for help but I know there’s a crowd of people rooting for me; who wish me well. That’s an incredible feeling. Somedays, knowing someone else believes in me, is all I need. That alone is enough to keep me going.

It drowns out the ones wanting me to fail. They don’t even register on my radar. (To the point this is an afterthought.)

Even more, I did choose this path. I had it as my New Year’s resolution to make it on my own, to break it off with the baby daddy. I don’t believe in resolutions…but that one. It was it for me. He hurt me and I was done with him. I couldn’t trust him. He wasn’t a good dad. He wasn’t a good human. I deserved better. Despite all the fear thundering through me, I was going to squish it and set my own path. I was going to teach my daughter that you can make it on your own. I was going to show women that you are worth a hell of a lot more than a bad relationship. I was going to show single moms, nothing is worth staying if you’re not treated well.

So these hard days, these long days, these lonely days; I’ll still take them all. They’re worth a hell of a lot more to me than any day where I was hurt; was degraded and talked down to; made to feel stupid or ugly or unworthy; made to feel less than or not enough.

There are many days I need a nap but the love for this little girl and the life I’m building for us carries me through. She’s my best friend. Even on the days she drives me absolutely crazy, she’s my everything.

I get to see her every day. I get to tuck her into bed every night and sing our I Love You song. I get to teach her healthy eating habits. I get to nurture her into a good human and woman. I get to set her on the path for independence. I get to hear her laugh and make her smile. I get to sing and dance with her. I get to set an example for her.

I get to watch her grow up. Wake up to her and say goodnight.

Mama might need a nap but I’m not missing any of this. If I knew how my days would turn out, I’d choose this path again, without hesitation. Often times, the hardest moments are the most rewarding memories.

I’m a fulltime single mom. I wouldn’t dare change that until it’s well worth changing.

Goals, or Commitments.

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Last week I had a one-on-one with my team leader and was asked, “Okay, what is your goal for this year?”

My response, per usual in regards to this question: “First of all, I don’t believe in goals, I believe in commitments.”

I don’t believe in goals. I’m not a fan of the term, to be frank. I find them to be for dream chasers not the go-getters. Too often, I find people don’t set goals that are motivational enough or, more importantly, highlight discipline. Discipline keeps you showing up through the hard times and when motivation is nonexistent. When reaching for a goal, there’s too much of a rollercoaster ride. Folks coast when they reach a high instead of using that adrenaline, that acceleration, to propel them even farther; and then they hit a low and this cycle repeats.

Goals offer an illusion. Something you want to strive for, a wish. When you break a goal down, it’s nothing more than a wish.

Commitments, though.

Damn, that lights a fire under your ass.

Commitments are grounded in discipline. A commitment is a promise you make to yourself that you will, come hell or high water, make happen. No excuses. It’s saying to yourself, “This might be hard, I might want to take a break at times, I might even want to give up, but I will do this.”

Sometimes with commitments, we overpromise and that’s okay. The key is we committed, we pushed to make it happen. We dedicated our decisions and time and efforts to pushing forward and keeping our promise, our commitment, to ourselves. It’s changing your mindset from “I want” to “I will.”

Once again, mindset is everything. So, are you team GOALS or are you team COMMITMENT?