Tag Archives: kids

The Only Country Club Member on Food Stamps

31 Jan

Hey! If you haven’t been following along at home, I have a podcast now! Yes, yes I do. And I just posted my 7th Episode entitled The Only Country Club Member on Food Stamps, the Story of Madge. Click below and have a listen! Funny, inspiring, a little sad, a little sex, and of course a lot of booze! Pretty entertaining stuff!


Ep 7 The Only Country Club Member on Food Stamps, the Story of Madge

Thanks for listening and don’t forget to follow me while you’re there! Oh and share with your friends! xoxo


Does Joy Only Originate From Our Loins?

3 Oct

I wish I was romantic.  Not necessarily in relationships but in life.  Ya’ know like those in love with life people?  Would I feel better if I did?

Ya’ know what I mean, it’s like people who post stuff like this on Facebook:


Or this

Jumping people

Or this


And then like all their friends leave all these comments under the picture… “Gorgeous!”  “Amen!”  “That’s how I feel!”  “Inspirational” “Love!”

Me?  My reaction?


“Who gives a shit?”

*Crickets* Those pics mean absolutely nothing to me. I just keep scrolling down my feed lookin’ for dick jokes.  (not literally, it’s just a metaphor for “off color” jokes, dicks aren’t that entertaining to me, errr wait…)   While to some other people those pics inspire and warm their heart.  I just feel… nothing.

I never really thought about it before but… I wish they did elicit a response from me.  Maybe it’s my cynicism?  Well, I’m not really that cynical anymore, just I don’t know, I guess I lead more with my head than my heart.  Well I can be like warm and fuzzy.  I mean sometimes I do.  I think.   Like babies… babies make me stop dead in my tracks and grin from ear to ear.  I want to love them and hold them and pet them and call them George.  (5 bonus points to anyone who gets that)  That’s about the extent of my involuntary warm and fuzzies.  Well, also when my kids do something sweet or wonderful or makes me proud that’s a given, but that’s it.

I’m not a cold fish by any means but my heart just ain’t “swellin'” right now, if you know what I mean?  I think it has to do with what my life has been like for the past 20 some years.  I’ve either been destitute, struggling, alone, or in a chilly relationship.  I guess I haven’t had much time or need to “swell”.  I mean, I think I did, like when my kids were little.  I do remember being “joyful”, I guess that’s the word I’m looking for… being joyful.  I was joyful a handful of times when I stayed at home, my babies were little and cute and smart, and my ex wasn’t being a nasty drunk and we had money.  I think that was approximately 3 different days in a 22 year stretch.  Ok, maybe 6 times, I remember having an absolute euphoric feeling right after I gave birth to each of my 3 kids.  I’m still in love with my babies but it gets hard now that they are teens and can be in those “get the hell away from me Mom” moods.

And no offense to my current situation, but he knows we just have a very love/hate thing going on.  We’re both extremely sarcastic and neither of us is particularly happy with our lives or situation at the moment so, yea it’s no lovefest.  Never has been really, he, or we together just aren’t that way.  You know how some guys just aren’t mushy?  I can be mushy…?  But I think we have too much underlying animosity to be mushy.  I’d love to be mushy and romantic.

I know I was at one time, I had some old notes that my high school boyfriend and I had written back and forth.  I wore rose colored glasses at one point.  But does looking at the world romantically have everything to do with your relationships?  Does joy only form from our loins?  Maybe not, I’ve had sex that produced no joy.  Well, I do think relationships have a lot to do with it.   I mean my relationships in the past 25 years have either been with men who are sarcastic and emotionally unavailable or guys who just want to do me.  Ya’ know, no emotional involvement whatsoever, just a sexual tryst.   I’ve had a lot men wanting  the latter, maybe I should stop showing so much cleavage.  Hmmm.   You reap what you sow?  So, what’s to be joyful about?  I’d like to be cherished… is that still a thing?  Do people still do that?

I know it’s that old chestnut… start thinking a certain way and that’s what you’ll attract or whatever.  It’s the old chicken and egg thing… I need to start thinking joyful and romantic and that will bring that into my life?  I’d like to but I guess all I keep thinking is warm beer, stale chips, and unemotional men.   Maybe I should think champagne, caviar, and love?  Ugh, that’s too much like work.

So how do you get yourself to feel that way?  Any suggestions?  I was raised on a healthy diet of Irish negativity and  sarcasm, it’s kind of hard to break the cycle but I think I’d like to give it a go.  And please don’t steer me to that “The Secret” thing… I read that a while ago, it just didn’t click with me.  I tried to visualize and all that but I don’t know it just didn’t “change my life” like some people say.  I’m just not one to buy into schools of thought like The Secret or Tony Robbins or any other methods.  Maybe I’m just depressed and need more pills.  Jesus Christ, that’s all I need.

So… anybody else feel this way or is it just me?  Do any one of you feel joy when you look at those pics?  I’d love for you to tell me what it’s like…

Sports Moms I’d Like to Take a Meat Cleaver To…

22 Aug

I am proud to announce that my 16 year old daughter just made the varsity soccer team at her high school.  And I might add, it is the same all girls Catholic high school that soccer superstar Abby Wambach played for!  A fine soccer tradition, indeed.  I’m so proud!

Which brings me to a subject my dear friend Wendi has suggested a few times but I’ve stayed away from because I fear I might explode while writing the blog.  The subject is…

Sports Moms

I’m pretty sure those of us at a certain age never had a parent present ever when we played sports.  I competed in gymnastics, swimming, track, and cheerleading from about the age of 6 thru high school, was a college cheerleader (don’t laugh) and attempted swimming for a month or two in college and decided it took much time away from fraternity parties.  But I digress, I did all those sports and really don’t ever remember my parents being at any of those events.  And that’s just how it was back then.

Oh wait, I do remember my Dad being at a few events because he was a swim and track official at times.  You know, the guy with the starting gun?  But ya’ know he wasn’t allowed to cheer for us or I think even acknowledge we were his children.  Hell, he even got paid. Great, my Dad got paid to watch my sport events.  *dejected face*

Now I’m a Sports Mom.  Over the past 16 years, my kids have participated in hockey, football, rugby, soccer, tennis, softball, track, cross country, volleyball, and lacrosse.

It’s all different now, there is such peer pressure (and I believe school pressure) for parents to attend every damn event their kid has, that you begin to get a label.  And the peer pressure has had some Moms create their own bad label.  Sports Moms in particular have very specific types.

But before I reveal the types of Sports Mom can I just make a public plea to DO AWAY WITH THE FUCKING MID-GAME AND POST-GAME SNACK!  We didn’t need it, they don’t!  I survived an entire swim meet without a snack in the middle.  My brothers survived basketball and football games without a snack in the middle.  Nor did we need a snack the second the game finished, we some how survived the ride home or the ride to the burger joint.   My kids are, thank the sweet nekkid baby Jesus, past the snack age.  But when I had three kids playing 3 sports a year and I had to pay attention to a God damn snack schedule?  I wanted to gut the team Mom like a fish.

So stop it.

Ok, Types of Sports Moms…

1.  The Pitbull.  Bitch, you crazy!  She acts like her kid is playing in the NHL, when it’s an age 8-9 year old house league game.  She’s hollerin’ and screamin’ and usually has no idea of the rules of the game.  Her: “Tripping?  That wasn’t tripping!  Terrible call, Ref!”  Me (on same team):  “Yea, actually it was tripping.   We deserve the penalty.”  Also 9 times out of 10 her kid is a God-awful player.

2.  The Nursemaid.  According to her, her kid has every ailment known to mankind.  Of course the kid has asthma and peanut allergies.  Then he gets on the field and falls down, she has to have the coach pull him out and check him for a concussion.  Then she’s got the kid thinking he has every ailment, when he doesn’t so he becomes really hesitant.  “Oh look out for Jimmy’s fallen arches!”.  Might as well just put your kid in bubble wrap, lady.

3.  Pep Squad Mom.   This Mom lives vicariously through her child and becomes obsessed with their activities.  She’s the one that has the stick figure stickers on the car that portray what the kid is into.  In addition she has a plethora of  “Titan Cheer – Ashley” and “Warrior Hockey – Dylan” emblem stickers on the back of the car.  If that weren’t bad enough, she takes it upon herself to place an order for “Monarch Soccer” three-quarter zip sweatshirts that I can’t afford but now am getting pressured to get from the kid because “everyone else on the team is ordering one”.  Fuck you, lady.

4.  The Invisible Mom.  Never shows up to anything.  Kid always needs a ride home.  Never volunteers.  Kid never has necessary paperwork or equipment.

5.  The Assistant Coach.  This parent is not really a coach but sits on the sideline the entire game, yelling instructions and giving her evaluation of every position, player, and play.   Lady, you mention one more time that my kid hangs back too much, I’m going to come over and punch you in the throat.  Until they put you on the bench with the kids… STFU!

6.  The Slacker Mom.  Unfortunately this is what I’ve become.  When I was due to bring snack, I usually had to run to the corner store during the game and buy a package of Rice Krispie Treats because I never remembered my snack time.  God forbid I like, cut up orange slices or made homemade whatevers… I’m a shitty mom, I know.  I used to have my folding chair in a bag right there on the sidelines, but now… I sit in the car half the time.  Fall and Spring are still cold in NY!  I’ve been watching kids play sports for 16 years now, I deserve a comfy seat.  Hey, I keep the window partially opened, so I can cheer on my kid a little!

7.  The Twat.   She only has a select few parents on the team she will talk to.  She is far superior to you.  She is usually dressed in tennis or golf attire or Vineyard Vines.  She is not paying all that much attention to what’s going on on the field or in the pool or on the rink… but she will make sure you all overhear what’s going on in her life.  “Well Ted and I just got back from the Cayman’s.  We needed to get back to take Anna to her horse show.  Then we are taking the kids to Europe.  But making sure we have enough time afterwards to take Hunter to ski school in Vermont for the winter.”  I always want to say, “Oh I just got back from the Dept. of Social Services re-certifying for foodstamps, oh it’s just lovely there this time of year!”  But now my kids keep telling me they are going to step in and say, “My Mom wrote a book, did you?”  I admire my feisty kids.

Did I miss any type of Mom?  I’m sure I did.  Add your favorite types in the comments below…

(also don’t forget to check out my new blog for DivorcedMoms.com right here)

If You Kids Don’t Go Outside, the Beatings Will Begin!

8 Aug

For those of us that have kids… the summer vacation is almost over or if you live on the East Coast like me we still have a month to go. Either way, I’ve been thinking about summer vacations of my youth and every time my kids say “I’m bored”, I try to remember what I did to occupy my time in the summer as a yute.

However, my kids are at different ages where one size does not fit all.  So I kind of ran through the stages of summer entertainment according to age group.  My kids now are 19-16-14.  So here we go:

Birth – 4

It’s pretty much all about the diaper changes, meals and naps.  There is the occasional foray into the kiddie pool or walk in the stroller.  But it’s just about the same as the rest of the year.  You just get a reprieve from putting so many clothes on a kid.  My son spent every summer of this time period in just shorts and no shirt.  Now at 19, he’s come full circle, never a shirt and I’m lucky if I get him to put on shorts.

Ages 5-8

This is about the time they start whining about friends.  “I want to play with Jimmy”, “I want to play with Suzie”.   Which makes it a little difficult because things aren’t the same as they were for us.  In my day, there were all these older brothers and sisters to play in the yard with you, so if you have a friend over, there’s some sort of supervision.  With no older kids to pawn them off on, you get to plant yourself outside and “supervise”.  Nowadays, everybody wants to have a God damn “play date”,  and you can’t really leave your kids that age unattended because there are lots of pervs around.  So you’re whole summer is spent being a “Dry Land Life Guard”.

Also it;s not like in our day where we lived in city neighborhoods and you just walked across the street to play.  Now everybody lives in the suburbs on estates and kids need a fucking tram to get house to house.  So at this point getting them into camps and activities kind of takes care of the socializing and entertaining in one fell swoop.

If you’re a working parent, you just dump these kids in day care all summer anyhow.  That’s what I had to do and be all guilt-ridden.

Ages 9-12

At this age in my day, we left the house after breakfast and had to be home by the time the street lights came on.  Kids can be left unattended outside at this point but not endlessly like we could.   You’re lucky if you live in a development where they can run free.  But the level of entertainment satiation kicks up a notch.  Rolling a ball to each other doesn’t quite do the trick.  However, kid-organized games of soccer or capture the flag start to come in handy.  But then they want to bring in the whole neighborhood to play video games.   “Go outside!” becomes the Mom’s mantra.  But in your head it sounds like “God, will you kids get the fuck out of the house so I can get it clean for one minute before the next mess starts?”.

If you work, this is where it gets tricky… can I save some money and let them stay home alone?  That’s a call only you can make.  Camps are still a good option.  If you stay at home… sports, sports, sports.

Ages 13-14

It’s all about the opposite sex.  Where can we go to see boys/girls?   “Let’s ride our bikes to the beach.”  Yes, yes!  Go!  Go off on your own and entertain yourselves.  just be on the look out for pervs and don’t take rides from strangers.   That’s what we did back then and it’s pretty much the same now except for that suburban sprawl and needing rides things.   So sometimes in lieu of getting on bikes, they just Skype or text or Tweet or Facebook chat.  And that’s when, “Please, for the love of God, go outside” is Mom’s mantra again.  They’re getting too old to enroll in some activities but too young to get a job.  Solution – again sports, sports, sports.  But be prepared for lots of attitude at this age.

Ages 15-18

Get a job.  Period, end of story.  And in your spare time you’re too tired to do anything, but if you do, get your rich friend who’s Mummy and Daddy bought them a car and can haul your ass around.  Oh but now I have to worry about sex, drugs, and alcohol.  There is always a gathering at someone’s house and now firepits are the big thing.  They go to some kid’s house and sit outback around the fire, and you know some damn kid will have a pint.  Come on kids, can’t you just be occupied without me having to worry?  Then of course we become the bleary eyed parents again like when they were babies, because we wait up for them to come home.

Ages 18/19-22

You’re in college, if you can’t entertain yourself by now you have issues.   You must have a job, hopefully it’s a job where you go work at a summer camp or go away to work on a fishing boat.  Take an adventure, it will serve you well.  I worked at a summer camp in Massachusetts and it was awesome.  Plus my parents saved on food and booze. (drinking age was 18 and 19 back then)  And of course… I was somebody else’s problem.   Maybe get an internship, something you can start to build a resume with.  And for God sake, don’t drink and drive.

Well,  I guess it’s evident that some age groups may get a little easier but the responsibility never ends.  I still have about more years to go with the summer struggle.  Lord have mercy…

National Lampoon’s Vacation Was Pretty Much Spot On

18 Jul

Taking a little trip tomorrow, going down to Pittsburgh for my niece’s high school graduation party.  About a 4 hour drive.  Yea, this is about the closest my kids will come to a summer vacation this year… a weekend in Pittsburgh, woot!  I can’t even imagine taking a week and going somewhere and staying in a hotel.  That just doesn’t happen in my world.  That’s why you need to buy my book…  🙂

So, it got me to thinking of the family vacations of my youth.  We didn’t go on a ton because with 6 kids it was pretty chaotic and expensive.  But as more and more kids left the house, we went on some excursions.

This isn’t going to be a “things were so much better in my day” blog, because they weren’t.  Damn, I envy kids now with all the shit you can do in a car on a long road trip.  DVD players, video games, iPods, iPads.  What did we have?  A window to look out, maybe a book if you could read it without throwing up, the license plate game, poking your siblings, and enduring your parent’s music on the radio (a little Herb Alpert, some Perry Como, a little Andy Williams, maybe some Ray Coniff if you’re lucky).

Two or three times my parents had the brilliant idea of driving from our home in NY to Arizona in the middle of the summer.  It seems a couple of my older siblings had moved out there for college and such and my parents wanted to see their little darlings in 115 degree weather.  The first time I remember going across country we all piled into our Ford Country Squire station wagon with no air conditioning.  It had to be like 1973, maybe ’74.  I think 5 of the 6 kids went.   My parents eventually put the seat down in back so we could all lay down, kind of looked like a game of Tetris.  Then God forbid you moved.  I was so tiny I curled up on top of an ice chest my parents had in the back of the wagon, it was a nice cool spot.  Booster seats didn’t exist.  My brother Tom wasn’t so lucky, he slept next to the window on the sunny side and woke up with the left half of his body sunburned.  Remember all the windows were open, no A/C.


This was pretty much the car, about same color.

And we always took our station wagon to our yacht too.

I remember on the way out we stopped in Colorado to visit one of my oldest sister’s friends, she was like about 22 at the time.  They were some hippies that lived on a farm and I had the bright idea of going running out into a cow pasture with flip flops on.  I remember being so incredibly grossed out, I wanted to throw up.  But I didn’t, which is amazing because I have a long history of throwing up on vacation as a youth.  The good old days.

It’s kind of funny now looking back on those  vacations.  I think on that vacation we were taking my oldest sister out their to live.  So any time we went we were going to visit my 20 something siblings in the mid 70’s who were trying to hide their pot and shrooms from my parents.  I need to ask them about that now, I didn’t even think about it then as I was a little kid.

My kids and I have gone on a handful of trips, mostly to visit my siblings.  Like I said no money for real vacations.  But I hope they have some good memories from family road trips, they are wonderful bits of your youth, even if you were throwing up or being poked in the car.

Untold Freak Hipster Shenanigans of Madge…

26 Mar

I have a new little guilty pleasure.  Every Monday night I sit down and watch “The Carrie Diaries” with my two teenage daughters.  You know it’s that sort of pre-Sex and the City “Carrie Bradshaw – The Wonder Years” kind of thing.  Her in her teens in 1984.  The girls like it because it involves teenagers and it shows them what life was like for Mom when she was in high school and college.

For me… it reminds me that I’ve actually lead a pretty interesting life.  For instance, in the show Carrie somehow finagles an internship at Interview magazine.  Interview magazine was founded in 1969 by Andy Warhol.  Very artsy, very hip.  Now Interview magazine was my bible when I was in college 1983-1987.  I had a subscription and used to save all the issues under my bed.  I had stacks of them.  I must have thrown them out when moving out of college.  😦  The same thing with the Village Voice, the iconic New York City newspaper.  Had stacks under my bed.  No idea where they went.  Even though I was in college in Maine, I was a New York City hipster at heart.


I would have given my left nut (wait, what?) to live Carrie’s life back then.  Sans, the fabulousness because I was a punk/new wave hipster back in the day.  The days before hipster became douchie.  However today I could do the fabulous, I already do.  Hey girl hey!  Yes, Carrie is a fictional character but that’s the life I dreamed of back then.  I won’t lie, I still dream about it.  If I hit it big right now, I’d move to NY in a heartbeat.  Live in the Village but try to avoid my son at NYU so I wouldn’t cramp his style.  It would be a little creepy for Mom to crash his fraternity kegger.

So yea, once upon a time I was cutting edge.  I was a radio DJ.  The name of my show was “Soaking in it with Madge”.  The ole Madge the Manicurist Palmolive reference, get it?  Ok, back then it was relevant.  I went to gay clubs before it was cool because they had the best music.  Dude, seriously nowhere else could you dance to “Kiss Me” by Tin Tin?  They didn’t even play that on the radio!

Speaking of gay clubs… did I ever tell you about the first (and only) time I was introduced to a hardcore gay club?

So, I worked at a summer camp near Pittsfield, MA in the Berkshires during college.  Which in itself is a whole other slew of stories.  It was a camp for young Jewish girls from the NYC area (and FL), none of us counselors were Jewish.  The girls were all wealthy self-proclaimed JAPs (Jewish American Princesses).  Again, for another time…

So on one of our nights off one of our friends took a few days off and we needed to go pick her up at the train station in Springfield at like 11pm.  Turns out her train was late and we needed to kill some time.  So there were about I think 6 of us girls and one obviously gay guy (Larry the theater counselor).  We girls all had funky asymmetrical haircuts and wore boxer shorts for shorts and had boxer shoes with scrunchy socks.  I’m sure we looked like freaks.

We were walking down the street looking for a place to sit and have a drink.  So we ask this very friendly black guy with a giant afro with a fro pick sticking out the back what was open for a drink.  He says “Oh oh yea, I know what you guys are looking for”.  So we follow him to this restaurant, and we figure oh great perfect.  No, he says follow me.  We go down a back hallway, turn a corner, go down a flight of stairs, down another hall, 2 more flights of stairs, hallway… and enter a dank basement.  I’m thinking we’re going to die, but we turn a corner and what’s there?  A bar with a tranny bartender, a makeshift dance floor with bare lightbulbs hanging down, bare chested men in biker and S&M gear with thick mustaches grinding on each other.  It sounds cliche’ but I thought I was in a Village People video.  We were actually kind of in heaven because it was a buffet of people watching.

Then somebody grabs us and says, “Oh no we think you want to be back here”.  We follow them down another hallway, passed a guy pressing another guy dressed as a woman up against the wall and fondling his/her junk (it wasn’t such a good tuck and tape job).  We get to this back room and it’s all women.  Yup, very butchy, shaved head, Members Only jacket wearing women.  Uhhhh, I guess we’ve been brought to the lesbian room.  Funny, we alterna-girls did look a bit like the crowd in that room but none of us were lesbians.  There was lots of masculine-type posturing and leering.  No offense ladies, but the other room was a bit more entertaining.

Finally we decide we need to go pick up our friend.  Our one friend Jill from Texas who was quite goofy and loud was like “No y’all I’m havin’ fun!”  She kept asking people to dance, I thought we were going to get our asses kicked.  Not sure if she thought it was a novelty or was kind of mocking the lesbians in asking them to dance, but either way you just don’t want to mess with that.  We drag her out.  A tranny starts to follow us, I think he/she wanted to hang.  He/she was strung out on something, we didn’t want to be saddled with that so we ran.

And ran all the way to the train station.  Laughing our asses off.  It was only 1984, that story probably doesn’t sound like much by today’s standards but it was a complete freak show that people didn’t know existed by 1984 standards.

When I think about it… my life still consists of some pretty strange/fun events like that.  I was hesitant to tell about them, having kids and all.  But then my friends started asking me “How come you never mention us in your blog?”.  Hmmmm, maybe because you all belong to a country club, own companies or are CEOs, have children and don’t really think it’s right to talk about the time we all went swimming in our underwear at a party, or parked the car in the bushes, or drunkenly tried to crawl on top of a golf cart and hit a shot from there, or during a golf outing stole a cart and took off down East Ave. to visit a friend across the street, or broke several glasses at the club trying to do the “pull the tablecloth out from under the dishes” trick.  (that was a huge run-on sentence, but for effect)  But ok, I’ll mention all that stuff if you want?  Next time… 🙂

However it does beg the question… if I write for entertainment and have some great juicy stories, at what point can I/should I tell them without worrying about my kids?  16?  18?  21?  You tell me…

Single Mom Success Without Being on the Pole

28 Feb

All right, I never do contests but I’m determined to win this one, because as Kanye said, “Madge is the best single mom of all time… all time!” (drops mic)

What does winning this contest mean?  Nothing really.  But it will pimp my blog out and more people will see it and hopefully I will get more readers.  Then when my book comes out in a little bit I will have more readers to pimp it to, which hopefully will be more money in my pocket!  Master plan, bitches, master plan!

So click on the link below and scroll until you see my blog and then vote for me.  I was at number 16, then I stopped pimping and now I’m down to like 34.  So vote!   Now!!!  …please?

Vote Here Top 25 Single Mom Bloggers

It’s supposed to be some badge, but I can’t figure it out.

Anyway, here’s why I’m the greatest single mom blogger of all time:

1.  I don’t have a husband, therefore I don’t use the God damn annoying word “hubby”.  (cut it out now, seriously it sounds childish and condescending)  At least have an imagination and call him something like “El Spouso” or “Uber Husb” (because really there is an s before the b) or “Donor”.  I would call mine “big pillow”, because a husband is one of those big pillows with arms that you lean against on your dorm bed.


2.  I’m a broke single Mom who has tried like hell to earn well but make sure kids are well taken care of.  However failing miserable on the “earn well” part.  But if you look at me on paper you’d think I was tres’ fabulous.  You would think you’d see me in Nantucket Reds, Papagallo pumps and pearls and driving a Volvo station wagon with my squash racquet in back.  I’ve often heard, “Madge, oh you fancy huh?”.  But in reality I’m eligible for foodstamps.  Well yes, I do live in a great house, my kids go to exclusive private schools, I belong to a country club, I have a new (used) car, a new fancy phone, a son at snooty NYU, great jewels, and a charming wit.

Well, the house, I’m essentially just a boarder in this great house that is owned by my “manfriend”.  I pay some rent and do most of the housework.  I was forced to, couldn’t afford another rent hike at apartment, nor could I afford another security deposit.  And didn’t want to move to the low rent/high crime parts of the city.  This is supposed to be temporary, I want to provide my own home for my kids.

My kids all got merit scholarships and financial aid for these private schools because they are smart and driven.

My car? The old one died after 11 years and 172,000 miles, it was ridiculous to put yet another $1,000 into it (already spent $1000 this year) when I’d only get that much on a trade-in anyway.  I called in favors and finagled a no money down, ridiculously low payment a month.

Country club?  My manfriend belongs and we use it sparingly as not to create too much extra cost for him.  We can go to the pool, just don’t order any food or drinks.  lol  And I play golf as an accessory so when a guy he wants to do business with asks him to play golf with his wife, we have a great little social outing.  It’s just like when Darren Stevens used Tabitha as an excuse to bring a client and his wife over for dinner.  Chances are that married dude wouldn’t want to hang out with some single barfly guy right?  Just like hockey, I think I should get an assist on the score (sale).

NYU?  Merit scholarships.  He earned every bit of it and he works his ass off and works part-time.

Fancy phone?  Earned an upgrade after having the last one for two years, only cost $50 for latest Droid technology.

Jewels?  Charming Charlie’s or Michael’s.  If you haven’t been to Charming Charlie’s you must, it is to die for.  I have women that shop all over the world for jewels and ask me about mine and I proudly say, “Oh this necklace?  $6.99 at Charming Charlie’s”  Or I taken broken bits of jewels and repair them with bits from Michael’s and create new stuff.  Gotta’ know how to shop, ladies and gents.

Charming wit?  Genetic.  And I think I’m genuine and hard working.  People are willing to help if you are genuine and hard working.  I’m not asking for handouts but hand ups. I set up your social media, you give me gas money.  I bring you a new client, you give me a loaner car while mine is fixed.  It’s like old fashioned bartering.  I should be a fucking ward boss, just like my ancestors.  I’d be huge back in the days of Tammany Hall (well if I were a guy).

Oh and having a nice rack never hurt anything either.  Sometimes you just can’t have shame, well maybe just enough to avoid the pole, though.

3.  Another reason is because I have created a master race of successful, well adjusted children. (fingers crossed)  My kids aren’t douches.  Ok, maybe sometimes just to be funny but we can’t avoid things when a laugh is to be had.

4.  I never announce to friends or large crowds, “I have to go pee”.

5.  I have had exactly one boyfriend in my 12 years of divorcedom.  Spent the first 9 years single and hid my shenanigans from my kids.  Nothing is worse for a kid than a revolving door of men. (so do it in private :))

I deal with what I’ve got.  I use my assets and talents and cherish my friendships.  I make the best of things.  Just because I’m broke doesn’t mean I can’t try to be upwardly mobile.  I want to be successful.  I’m not pretending, everybody knows I struggle (maybe too much sometimes, I’ve been trying to stop).  But number one, I’m bound and determined to give my kids everything they EARN.  Not want or need, but earn.  They are smart and good and deserve a chance and I want them to be as successful as they can.  And that doesn’t even mean earning the highest possible income, it means being a good honest person who works hard and has a lot of love in their lives.  That is success to me.

So suck it.  I’m the best single mom, vote for me.  🙂

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