Being a single mom stuck in the suburbs can be hard. Happy, intact families are everywhere, holed up in their big houses and two-parent, tag-team bedtime routines, working on the garden or schlepping in the groceries.

The babysitter was lined up. The friends gave restaurant suggestions. I had already put on mascara. My husband wanted me to meet him in NYC for dinner to celebrate my birthday. It was a fun idea, possibly even romantic, since that's our old pre-Suburbia stomping grounds. I didn't go.

Nearly a decade ago, I moved to the suburbs from NYC. In that time I've learned some pretty important things to ensure my survival, nay, my sanity.

The American dream: suburbs, children, after school activities. It sounds good in principle doesn't it? Let me tell you something -- the other night, I slept through the night.

Like any parent, at first, I was alarmed, just as the "alert" intended me to be. There was a man at the bus stop? And a mother noticed him and tried to talk to him, but he didn't respond? What the heck?