Being a single mother of five is like trying to juggle fire while running a marathon. Every day begins with chaos and ends with exhaustion. My ex-husband, Drew, does everything possible to avoid paying child support, leaving me to carry the full weight of raising our children. I work two jobs—one as a cashier and another as a part-time social media manager for a small local store. The money barely stretches, but it keeps food on the table. By the time I get home, I’m so tired I can barely stand, yet there is no pause button for mothers. Instead of collapsing into bed, I’m making dinner, helping with homework, and assuring my kids that no matter how much their father walked away, I never will.
That particular morning was worse than usual. Jake, my sixteen-year-old, was supposed to walk his younger siblings to school, but chaos erupted before breakfast was even cleared. Lily couldn’t find her sneakers for baseball practice, Roy had spilled orange juice all over his uniform, and Maddie had overslept. “Jake, please help Roy change while I find Lily’s shoes,” I called out, already calculating how late I was going to be for work. My manager had warned me there was zero tolerance for tardiness. “I can’t be late again, Mom,” Jake protested. “Coach said—” I cut him off with a look. “Family first. You’re my right-hand man.” With a sigh, he disappeared upstairs to help his brother while I tore apart the living room to find the missing sneakers.
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