Just get on welfare. It's easy.

Some little girls dream of their wedding and children.

I dreamed of becoming the next Hot Rod Hundley.

All I wanted was to become the color commentator for the Utah Jazz. I'd have my own trademark remarks, along with some nostalgia for older fans such as myself:

"And the cowhide globe hits home!"

Words that will forever live in my heart.

Unfortunately, I knew almost nothing about birth control when I got married.

My school and parents had relied heavily on abstinence and scare tactics. Condoms were technically a thing, but purchasing them required asking someone at the local pharmacy to unlock the box containing them.

Nope.

And this was before the Affordable Care Act expanded access to contraception without out-of-pocket costs for millions of women.

So despite my best efforts to finish my bachelor's degree and master's degree and establish a reliable, safe career before having a child, I became pregnant on my honeymoon.

No, really.

Turns out that eloping after six months does not always lead to the longest-lasting marriages.

Another thing they don't teach you in school: parenting.

No offense to my home-ec teacher, but carrying around an egg with a face drawn on it was not consistent with what I experienced after the birth of my daughter.

The acid reflux. The projectile vomiting on me, herself, the walls. Everything.

I have no idea how she survived.

I was pretty sure she never consumed enough calories. That thought was reinforced at the WIC office, where I was told that if she did not start gaining weight, they would be forced to report me to CPS for neglect.

That was the last WIC appointment I attended.

I thought "welfare" was supposed to be easy to get.

My ex was unemployed, and I had no idea where he was. That makes getting child support a challenge.

He had previously told me she was on his insurance.

She wasn't.

And since I also didn't learn about healthcare or insurance in high school, I assumed the astronomical bills I received every time she attended a well-child appointment were just life.

So I worked harder to make the payments.

"Pull yourself up by your bootstraps."

"You chose this."

Those were the words echoing in my brain.

Speaking of bills, the only reason I wasn't homeless was that my mom allowed me to live rent-free for a short period of time.

Back in the day, WIC wasn't exactly impressed by my plan.

I needed to prove some form of income, even though I had worked my ass off for nine months saving money specifically so I could stay home for at least a little while and parent my newborn.

Instead, I had to work so I could have a paycheck to show WIC so that I could buy cereal, eggs and milk with my conspicuous paper checks at Safeway.

Don't even get me started on paying for daycare so you can work the job you need to prove you're eligible for assistance...

Complete. And utter.

NONSENSE.

In 2024, the Surgeon General issued an Advisory calling attention to parental stress, mental health and well-being, and stressors unique to parenting.

• 33% of parents reported high levels of stress in the previous month, compared with 20% of other adults.
• 48% of parents said their stress is completely overwhelming on most days, compared with 26% of other adults.

Gee, I wonder why.

See for yourself:

Read the advisory here.

What do you think?