This week several things happened which I have very mixed emotions about. None of them are huge things and were all things I either half-expected or knew was going to happen.
Following a letter from the council telling me that in line with new government regulations my rent would be going up nearly £10 a week which is quite a lot in my budget, I have caved in and applied for some housing benefit. Although my flat is privately owned, it is council managed. The rent between two people would be quite reasonable, but as I am only one and not on a huge wage, any increases are more than usually unwelcome. I have thought about it on and off since Wriggles was born and I knew I would be a single parent, but with working part-time and topping up with tax credits, I have been proud that so far I have been able to manage and cover it all. It made me feel more independent and that I was doing something good for my family. With an increase though and none in my wages, it is just too tight and I need some help until Wriggles is older and I can work more. At present even if I took on extra hours, the cost of childcare will render these useless especially with no local family to soak up babysitting duties. Plus I would be (more) shattered. Although I'm relieved to have such a system available when people do just need a helping hand, I wish it wasn't me having to use it. I know it's not forever, it just feels like falling into another stereotype.
When I got back from doing this at the library, I found a letter I have been expecting since October. It is Wriggles' referral to Speech and Language, announcing a home visit in just under a fortnight.
