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Children pay the price when only one provides

Kids of single moms face long odds in quest for good life

By Peter Geigen-Miller
Free Press Reporter

For Janet Peterson, there's never quite enough.
Never enough money to live the comfortable, hassle-free life she'd like for her family -- no matter how frugal the London mother of four manages to be.
Never enough support from a social assistance system she feels is callous and uncaring.
Never enough companionship to ease the loneliness and isolation that come with her life as a stay-at-home, sole-support mom.
Never enough money for shopping trips to the mall and other middle-class indulgences most Canadians take for granted.
As a social assistance recipient, Peterson survives by using food banks, prowling supermarket bargain bins, shopping for kids clothing at Mission Services or garage sales and occasionally swallowing her pride to ask for charity.
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DEREK RUTTAN The London Free Press
Overcome with pain by mid-afternoon, Janet Peterson tries to relax on the couch. She and her four children survive on $1,286 a month in social assistance, putting them well below the poverty line.

It would be tough enough to be a sole-support parent stressed out by constant money worries, but Peterson's struggles are compounded by a husband she says offers only sporadic emotional support and she has a disability that means she can't be employed.
She and her four children are reduced to living on monthly social assistance of $1,286.
And, according to the most commonly used measure in Canada -- the Statistics Canada low-income cut-off -- that leaves Peterson and her family residing below the poverty line -- far, far below.
For a family of five living in a city the size of London, the cut-off is $30,910 a year.
Peterson doesn't waste time feeling sorry for herself or her status among Canada's poor moms.
She's too busy providing the necessities of life for her children -- Vaughn, 13, James, 9, Raven-Tessa, 5, and Nigel, 3.
"The kids are my motivation," she says. "I have something to get up and do each day. It keeps me going."
Sitting across her kitchen table sipping coffee, she comes across as bright and articulate, a woman who loves a lively discussion about important issues of the day.
She's well-educated -- a B.C. college graduate with the equivalent of a university business degree.
In better times, she has operated her own business, been a clothing store buyer, owned property and even been a landlord. 

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Nigel Peterson, 3, is growing up poor, but his mother believes being at home with him is more critical to his well-being than money.

She and her husband -- from whom she's legally separated -- lived debt-free. It was a comfortable but not extravagant lifestyle, she says.
"I would describe it as more of a '50s lifestyle. Mom stayed home and nursed the babies.
"We didn't have cable, we listened to the radio. We used the community centre. We went to church on the odd occasion. When I went out on a date with my husband, I'd dress up and he'd wear a suit.
"I had spending money and I could buy flowers for the yard. I could buy the occasional book or magazine. I had money to participate in the community -- to take (continuing education and special interest) classes."
Her physical troubles started nearly 14 years ago when she was badly beaten by an acquaintance at a Christmas party and suffered brain damage.
"What happened to me was horrendous," she says. "The people who took care of me said they were surprised I was alive."
Later, a traffic accident furthered her physical problems. Because of those traumas, she suffers a form of paralysis that develops to varying degrees when she's under stress. Sometimes she's fine, sometimes she can barely struggle out of bed when the pain is at its worst.
"I think my mental capacity has diminished," she says. "I was a 99-per-cent student in school and now I have trouble balancing a bank book. It depends on the day. Some days I'm real quick and some days I can't do it."
The physical and mental challenges are bad enough, but then her marriage fell apart three years ago. It happened when her husband was attending a private school that failed, leaving the family out the $5,000 to $6,000 they'd invested in tuition and expenses.
It was a devastating setback, she says. "My health disintegrated and so did his."
The couple separated and he now lives on his own. "Sometimes he comes and does things with the children," she says. She sees little hope of a reconciliation.
Peterson says her husband provides no direct financial support but is cleaning up debts left over from the marriage.
For that, she's grateful. "I don't have creditors knocking on my door bothering me."
Her current residence is a three-bedroom apartment on the ground floor of a once-upscale house in south London.
The rent -- $625 a month plus utilities -- is so low only because the place has seen better days and was a mess of broken windows and filth before she moved in. Paint, repairs and a major cleanup have made it habitable.
She has made the place livable with comfortable living-room furniture and accessories. The kitchen table and chairs are worn but spotless.
The home is cosy on a chilly fall morning, thanks to the wood stove in the living room. It became the family's only source of heat because of a delay getting gas service hooked up. That was done earlier this month but she was without gas heat and hot water for more than three months.
Peterson refuses to abandon all the amenities. She has a telephone and car, a 1984 model. "It's not much but it is fully paid for," she says. Given her physical condition, she considers the car a necessity rather than a luxury.
When it comes to putting food on the table, she copes by using the management skills she learned at school and being endlessly resourceful, Peterson says.
She cuts costs by purchasing in bulk when items are cheap, haggling at markets for lower prices on unsold items and buying from supermarket bargain racks.
"I buy a lot of food that way," she says. "I can't really afford to shop from regular grocery shelves.
"You can't be picky. You have to take whatever is on sale or whatever is in that discount rack and make a meal of it."
Paying $50 to $120 for winter coats for the children -- typical department store prices -- is out of the question.
Even the $15 to $20 charged by Goodwill for winter coats is too steep for her budget, she says.
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Vaughn Peterson's Pennysaver paper route earnings sometimes supplement the family's income. For three years he has spent Friday afternoons delivering more than 200 papers to neighbourhood households. It takes four hours to complete his route. He is paid $37 every two weeks.

Instead, she picks up free winter clothing when it's offered each fall by the Memorial Boys' and Girls' Club, which runs a Coats for Kids program in London.
Or, she goes to Mission Services of London on "bag" day. "You can buy whatever is in the bag for five bucks. That's when I go and look for the winter stuff."
Her experience as a clothing buyer gives her an eye for good quality brands and fabrics and need sometimes compels her to be brazen.
At a garage sale she confronted the owner of a "beautiful" home with her need to buy a raincoat for her daughter.
"I said she must have a raincoat she could sell but I only had $3 to spend. She went into the house and came back with a coat she sold me for $3. It had never been used and still had the $9.95 price tag on it."
She and her children also prowl the streets on garbage nights, looking for salvageable furniture that can be painted and recycled.
Barter is another survival skill. When there was no money for her children to enrol in city swim programs last summer, she traded.
She looked after a resident's cat and watered the flowers and Vaughn cut the grass in exchange for use of the backyard pool. "That was the only way we got to go swimming at all," she says.
Sometimes, no amount of frugality is enough.
"My oldest son delivers the Pennysaver and I'm sort of ashamed to tell you that at times we've survived on that."
Vaughn talks about his after-school work matter-of-factly. "I do two Pennysaver routes and I've also shovelled snow to earn money," he says.
He and the other children are also expected to pitch in and help around the house -- and they do.
Sometimes, Peterson has had to swallow her pride and turn to churches for charity when times are tough.
"I've been in that situation twice in three years. They have actually gone out and bought food. But it's a hard thing to ask."
She has long-time affiliations with two churches but doesn't attend often.
Her biggest source of support is a meditation group she attends regularly.
But Peterson still feels isolated, cut off from mainstream society and starved for stimulating conversation.
She thinks the isolation comes in part from being a sole-support mom, engrossed in raising her kids. But she also wonders if her status as a welfare mom means she isn't being invited to people's homes.
"Do people think because I don't have a regular income, I'll come and eat them out of house and home or steal something? Do they think my kids must be brats or filthy?"
Peterson's struggles are compounded by problems with a social assistance system she feels is callous and uncaring.
Her July cheque was held up for nearly a month. The delay was never explained, she says, and it wasn't the first time.
As she sits talking at her kitchen table, Peterson is able to laugh frequently.
But she also sheds tears as she remembers the emotional low points that come with her disability and status as a welfare mom.
A recent example: She was upset when she didn't think she'd be allowed to go as a parent volunteer on her daughter's class trip.
"I thought they didn't want me because I'm disabled and wouldn't be able to do the walk. That was hard to take. But it ended up that I was able to go."
She doesn't dwell on her sorrow.
"It's the eternal optimist in me that keeps me going," she says. "Or maybe it's stubbornness. You get up and you do what has to be done to get through the day."
She's hoping her family's life will be improved by a disability pension she is applying for in place of social assistance. Among other things, a pension would mean more money for the family.
She didn't apply earlier, she says, because she didn't realize she was eligible and because she expected her condition to improve.
"You live with this hope you are going to get better and things are not going to get worse," says Peterson.
She also expects a better life for her children.
"I left home at 17, worked and finished high school and then worked and finished college. I paid for it myself without any government support or other support. I guess I expect them to have the same strength of character and take those same risks."
In the meantime, she feels her children are better off than many with wealthy parents and an abundance of material possessions.
"My kids say I take better care of them than some of the kids whose parents have money. Some of the kids in my oldest son's class live in nice houses and have Nintendo games and other nice things. But the parents work long hours so the kids come home from school to empty houses. The parents are so busy they feed the kids microwave dinners and don't have much time to spend with them.
"My kids are getting better nutrition because I cook them good meals. And my son is not alone when he comes home from school and he has someone to hug him."

A community with a high percentage of poor people will:

  • Have a higher crime rate.
  • Have an increased demand for various community social services.
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The Peterson home is furnished with used items the family has refurbished.

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Janet Peterson and son Nigel drop Raven-Tessa off at kindergarten.

If you are poor, you are more likely to:

  • Have health problems.
  • Be hungry.
  • Have a low birth-weight baby.
  • Be a single mother.
  • Be a client of a children's aid society.
  • Not have finished high school, or see your children finish high school.
  • Work part-time or at contract jobs without benefits.
  • Be a visible minority or aboriginal.
  • Have children with problems of hyperactivity, aggressive, defiant, poorly controlled or rebellious behaviour.
  • Have children with chronic health problems, visit an emergency room or be admitted to hospital.
  • Have a child die of injury.
  • Live in inferior housing.
  • Have children who smoke, take drugs or drink.
  • Have an unwanted pregnancy as a teenager.
  • Be a victim of domestic violence.

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Janet Peterson dries clothes over the wood stove in the family's apartment. Although they now have heat, the Petersons relied on the stove for warmth until earlier this month.

 

The Peterson budget

If Janet Peterson's social assistance cheque is not delayed, as it often is, this is what her budget would look like:

Total monthly social assistance $1,200 to $1,300
Expenses
Rent $625
Gas $37
Hydro, water $35
Phone $50 (Specialty phone for her disability)
Car $50
Bank fees $10
Children's clothing (shoes, backpacks, toys) $25 to $50
Food $400 (includes transportation and the odd meal out when Janet is not well enough to cook)
Expense total $1,257
Janet does not have life insurance, house insurance etc. She also buys an annual membership to the Fanshawe Pioneer Village for $40 for the whole summer.

Province's welfare policy assailed

By Jane Sims
Free Press Social Services Reporter

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SUZANNE BIRD The London Free Press
Volunteer Angela Polstra spends two days a week as a volunteer at LifeSpin (Low Income Sole Support Parents Information Network).

The Ontario government's welfare policies have punished single mothers the most, forcing some to extreme measures to ensure their children are fed, a study concludes.
Margaret Little, a Queen's University political scientist who has just published No Car, No Radio, No Liquor Permit: The Moral Regulation of Single Mothers in Ontario, 1920 to 1997 (Oxford University Press, 1998), said some are forced into homelessness or back to abusive partners because of the policies.
She will present the findings of her single mothers' study at a closed conference for invited guests only at the University of Western Ontario tomorrow.
"I've had single moms who have said to me, 'it's like living in Stalinist Russia, we live in a state of terrorism,' " she said.
Little based her research on several areas of study. She was part of a court challenge to the controversial "spouse in the house" rule and was able to look at the testimony in its entirety, both from the government and from people who were cut off welfare.
She conducted preliminary interviews of welfare recipients in the Toronto area, plus a focus group of single mothers in Kingston.
Community legal clinics from across the province have also been providing her with information regarding the treatment of welfare recipients.
Little plans to expand her sources across the province for a more in-depth study. "We're just beginning to realize we are just touching the surface of this," she said.
The discrimination, Little said, began with the initial 21.6-per-cent welfare rate cut in the fall of 1995, she said.
"I know a single mother here in Kingston who lost more than 50 pounds in a year from when that welfare rate cut came down," Little said. "She is missing meals constantly because she is instead trying to make sure her children are fed."
While government policy encourages people to top up their assistance with part-time work, many single mothers cannot exercise that option because of their responsibilities at home and a lack of child care.
The "spouse in the house" rule, Little said, has also unfairly focused on any relationship women have.
"If you are found bringing ginger ale to your male boarder when he's sick, that can be seen as a spousal relationship," she said.
Little said she knows of single mothers who have given up male boarders who helped offset expenses so they will not be cut off assistance.
Little said she has heard of "thousands" of single mothers who are being transferred from family benefits to Ontario Works -- kicked off welfare because of the "enhanced verification process" and rigourous background checking.
Women are being asked for all kinds of new documentation such as separation agreements to prove their eligibility, some of which are almost impossible to obtain without money. Without documentation, they lose their benefits.
However, Little said, the Ontario government has not given her figures showing how many people are losing their benefits through the enhanced verification process.
The goal is to stop welfare fraud, which Little said is infrequent. But the welfare fraud crackdown, Little said, has left many women fearful that a neighbour, a landlord or a jilted boyfriend will get them kicked off assistance before an investigation is completed.
"Everyone in this country is innocent until proven guilty, but single moms on welfare are guilty until they prove themselves innocent," she said.
Little said women live in fear that any help they get from family might be construed as income and they become afraid to talk to neighbours and friends.
But MPP Jack Carroll (PC -- Chatham-Kent), parliamentary assistant to Janet Ecker, the minister of community and social services, doesn't agree and said welfare reforms are helping single mothers return to the workforce.
"Welfare will never produce anything other than abject poverty. The only way that a single mom or anybody can improve their particular quality of life is through working," he said.
Carroll said welfare has always been intended as a temporary measure and being a sole support mother is no excuse for not working because many single mothers juggle jobs and children.
Angela Polstra, 35, doesn't believe the system helps single mothers like herself. This week, she will go for her Ontario Works interview to transfer her family benefits and has collected a stack of documents to prove her need.
With a monthly income of $950, she said, she is on a tight budget and has to rely on family for help.
"I'm constantly afraid that if they find out my mother is helping me with food, that will be deemed income and taken from my cheque," she said.
Polstra said she can't go back to school until she pays her student loan back and has no savings. She is volunteering at LifeSpin (Low Income Sole Support Parents Information Network) to gain experience.
She worries most about her son.
"My primary job is to be my son's mother. I am the only person who cares for him. I am his only parent."