I’ve never considered myself the paranoid type. Yes, I’m a single mom of two kids, my eight-year-old daughter, Lila, and my five-year-old son, Teddy, and sure, the world feels heavier when you’re the only adult in the house.
The one who can step over a Lego field barefoot at midnight, juggle bills and school forms, and still remember which flavor of cereal each kid likes on Tuesdays.
Which is why what started happening two months ago completely unraveled me.
