With a side of: Being Below The Poverty Line

So a thought ran through my head today. To give y'all an estimate, I spend about $150/week on groceries. That's my limit. Any more than that and we are taking money out of what we use for bills.
Now, applying to college costs $90. That's 60% of a week's groceries for us. That is a common known fee. Another fee that I had no idea about was the fee to save your spot. The amount of this one depends on where you go. For Canadore? $160. For the other school I was looking at? $250. Do you see where someone with my family's income may have a problem getting into college? My grades are awesome, I know that. That part I will probably never have any problems with. The part I do have a problem with, and I suspect this is one of the biggest problems, is that I pretty much have to choose between starving my family or being on social assistance/minimum wage jobs my whole life.
Going to post-secondary is important. It's something that everyone should do. But I fear that many people have to make the same or a more harsh choice. Getting 90%s mean nothing when you have to explain to your toddler that they won't be able to have milk with breakfast. Or telling your school aged children that they only have bread and butter for lunch.
It sucks that this is the world we live in.
P.S. I know that there are food banks and such to help out. My situation just made me think of the worst possible one. The one where, even after trying so hard, you still fail because you don't have enough money to apply or get accepted to college.

Even More Backstory! Being all Preggo-Fish!

So. Third instalment of this. Third post. Yeah. I feel like we're getting somewhere. Okay. Maybe not. You realize I use periods a lot? My English teacher would hate my blog posts. [Side note: Apparently Google, who owns blogger, doesn't think blog is it's own word. Weird.] Anywho, back on topic? (We have a topic, right?)
So after finding out I was preggers, I moved back into the crap town I grew up in. Apparently pregnant me thought it would be an awesome idea. I wanted to be near my Mum. Mums = Awesome. Know what's not awesome? Said town I grew up in. Seriously. There is nothing there. The hospital I delivered in was an hour away. My OB was an hour away. I couldn't have a midwife because I lived, you guessed it, an hour away. In said town, I read boob juice stuff. I read cloth diapering stuff. I read blogs. And I slept. Yep. That was my pregnancy. And lemons. Lots of lemons. They were my craving during pregnancy. My Mum thought they would make me sick. I had like two to three lemons a day. Nom Nom Nom.
When I was about 4 months pregnant. My Babeh and I got married. It was on a Thursday in September. Weird, I know but it was our third year anniversary so meh. We were actually engaged before I got pregnant and planned on getting married in 2012 (because it was a Saturday) but we bumped it up so we could get married before Dangoo was born.
We lived in this crappy little apartment building. Our rooms were super cold. The front door kept breaking on us. If we used any of the outlets on the one side of our apartment, the entire apartment would be out of power until we could get a hold of the building manager. Fun times.
By the end of my pregnancy, I was anxious as anyone. I made a huge mistake. I said yes to being induced. Thankfully, I didn't get any pitocin but I still regret it. More on that next time though and I'll go into details about my labour and the first few weeks with my Dangoo.