I woke up to find my disaster of a kitchen spotless. Then, groceries I didn’t buy appeared in my fridge. I live alone with my kids, no one has a key, and I was losing my mind…
until I hid behind the couch at 3 a.m. and saw who’d been sneaking in. I’m 40 years old, and I’m raising two kids on my own.
Jeremy just turned five, and Sophie is three. You learn pretty fast who you are when the noise dies down and there’s no one left to blame. Their father walked out the door three weeks after Sophie was born, leaving me with a stack of unpaid bills, two babies who couldn’t sleep through the night, and a marriage that dissolved faster than I could process it.
I work from home as a freelance accountant, which isn’t glamorous. But it pays the rent and keeps the lights on while giving me the flexibility to be here when the kids need me. Most days, I’m juggling client calls while refereeing fights over toy trucks and wiping juice spills off the couch.
…The story doesn’t end here, it continues on the next page 👇
