Veronica Merritt, a 45-year-old New York single mother, is courageously expressing her financial hardships in supporting her huge family of twelve. Veronica is committed to her kids and isn’t going to give up even in the face of criticism and scorn.
Veronica is honest enough to admit that she now needs food stamps to feed her family because of the growing cost of living. Due to her enormous annual food expenses, Veronica has turned to less expensive staples like ramen noodles, macaroni, and hot dogs. Veronica is certain that her children are her greatest blessing, even in spite of the criticism she receives over her finances.
Veronica uses her platform as a TikTok content creator to share her experiences as a single mother of twelve kids. Her family’s monthly food stamp payments of $1,400 are insufficient to meet their food costs. In the past, Veronica was able to support her family on just $500 per month. She predicts that, however, the existing situation will require $2,000 to $3,000 a month to cover the cost of basic meals.
For Veronica and her family, there is more to their financial burden than just groceries. Household finances have been severely impacted by inflation; the average American household now spends $1,080 a month on groceries alone. Apart from her usual spending, Veronica also has to pay for school supplies, housing, and special events like birthdays and Christmas, totaling an annual expenditure of $58,000.
Veronica is nevertheless strong and resourceful in spite of these obstacles. She is committed to selling her paintings and working on TikTok to provide for her family. Even though Veronica’s TikTok revenue varies, she never loses faith and takes initiative to look for ways to boost her income so she can support her family.
Veronica became a mother for the first time at the young age of 14, when she gave birth to her first child. She went on to welcome 11 additional children throughout the years, all of whom brought her happiness and contentment. Veronica loves the close relationship she has with each of her twelve children and treats them all equally, despite the challenges that come with being a single mother of twelve.
Veronica’s love for her kids never wavers in the face of criticism and judgment. She is determined to give kids a kind and loving environment. Although Veronica is aware of the difficulties in providing for a big family on a tight budget, she is thankful for her children and maintains an optimistic outlook for the future.
MY HUSBAND LEFT ME WITH KIDS AND ALL THIS HEAVY LUGGAGE TO GET HOME ON MY OWN WHILE HE HUNG OUT WITH FRIENDS – THE LESSON I TAUGHT HIM WAS HARSH.
The roar of the airplane engines faded into the background as I stepped off the plane, two tired toddlers clinging to my legs. I scanned the crowd, expecting to see Tom, my husband, his familiar smile a welcome sight after a long flight. But he wasn’t there.
I called him, my heart sinking with each unanswered ring. Finally, he picked up, his voice casual, almost breezy. “Hey, honey! How was the flight?”
“Where are you?” I asked, my voice tight. “You were supposed to pick us up.”
“Oh, right!” he said, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “Mike called. He’s in town, and we decided to grab a drink. Just for a few hours. You can manage, right?”
“Manage?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Tom, I have two toddlers, a stroller, and three heavy suitcases. I can’t ‘just manage’!”
“Come on, it’s just for a few hours. You can manage,” he replied again, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his voice.
I hung up, my anger a burning ember in my chest. He had abandoned me, his family, for a few hours of drinks with a friend. I felt a surge of resentment, a feeling that had been simmering for years, now boiling over.
The next few hours were a blur of chaos. I struggled to wrangle the kids, their tired whines echoing through the airport. I wrestled the stroller, a monstrous contraption designed to fold with the dexterity of a Rubik’s Cube, and lugged the suitcases, each one a testament to the sheer volume of “essential” items toddlers require.
By the time I finally made it home, I was exhausted, my body aching, my patience frayed. But as I collapsed onto the couch, a plan began to form in my mind. Tom had underestimated me. He had assumed I would simply accept his dismissive attitude, his blatant disregard for my time and effort. He was wrong.
The next day, I woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. I packed a small bag, kissed the kids goodbye, and left a note on the kitchen table.
“Gone to visit a friend. Will be back when I feel like it. You can manage, right?”
I drove to a nearby spa, a place I had always wanted to visit but never had the time or money for. I spent the day indulging in massages, facials, and manicures, reveling in the quiet solitude.
I turned off my phone, ignoring the barrage of calls and texts from Tom. I wanted him to experience what I had experienced: the feeling of being abandoned, of being taken for granted.
The next day, I went shopping, buying myself a new outfit, a pair of designer shoes, and a luxurious handbag. I spent the evening at a fancy restaurant, savoring a delicious meal and a glass of wine.
I returned home late that night, to find Tom pacing the living room, his face etched with worry. The kids were asleep, the house a mess.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, his voice laced with anxiety.
“Out,” I replied, my voice cool.
“Out? All day? All night?”
“Yes,” I said, “I needed some time to myself.”
“But… but the kids,” he stammered. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You managed,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with confusion and a dawning realization. “You… you did this on purpose.”
“Yes, Tom,” I said, “I did. I wanted you to understand what it feels like to be left alone, to be taken for granted.”
He looked down at his feet, shamefaced. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think…”
“That’s the problem, Tom,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t think. You assumed I would always be there, always manage, no matter what.”
He nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. “I understand,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”
I looked at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. I saw genuine regret, a flicker of understanding.
“Good,” I said. “Because I won’t tolerate it again.”
From that day on, Tom was a changed man. He became more attentive, more considerate, more appreciative of my time and effort. He learned that partnership meant sharing the load, not dumping it all on one person.
And I learned that sometimes, a little bit of payback can go a long way in teaching a valuable lesson.
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