Your house is on fire. Your children are crying.
It was hard for my mother to be a single parent. She would leave us alone in the apartment sometimes.
It was hard to have a first grade teacher who was broken by her own life and mentally ill and who decided I was this detestable outsider who was a rich girl she hated because my mom dressed me a little bit better and we weren't Catholic and I had a little bit of an accent.
For goodness sakes we lived in an apartment. We were not rich.
I guess she could tell my mother had more money growing up than she had had. She actually didn't like my mother, but she took it out on me. My mother's lifestyle is not the lifestyle I got either, though.