A full 28 percent of households headed by women live in poverty, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. And about half of low-income mothers who support a family of three on less than $33,000 a year don't have one day of paid sick leave, have no paid vacation, and don't get family health insurance from their employer, according to a 2006 survey by the Community Service Society, a nonprofit that focuses on poverty. Despite such challenges, great moms come in all shapes, sizes and income levels. Meet three resourceful, determined women who have limited financial means but unlimited devotion and love for their children. They prove that necessity truly is the mother of invention.Big DreamsStaci Herbin, 32, three children; patient service coordinator, Floating Hospital for Children, Quincy, MAStaci Herbin won't soon forget November 7, 2005. That's the day she landed a full-time job at the Floating Hospital for Children at Tufts-New England Medical Center in Boston after many years on and off welfare assistance. A good thing, too, since she had already completed a mandatory job training program and the much-needed government checks would have been permanently cut off by Thanksgiving Day. Staci ran through her rented town house and called everyone she knew on the phone to share the good news. The kids were still at school. In her living room, furnished with just a table and a pillowless sofa frame, she gave herself permission to dream. "In five years I would love to own my own home and not live check to check," she says. But for now, this single mom of three—Marquis, 13, Kamani, 5, and India, 3—walks a financial tightrope. She struggles to make ends meet each month, earning $29,000 a year as a patient service coordinator—and getting $3,000 annually in child support. Hers is a no-frills lifestyle that doesn't allow for saving, debt repayment or any extras. "I have to ask myself, Who's going to get paid this week?" says Staci, referring to the choices she faces each month of which overdue bill to pay—electric, phone or rent. "Sometimes it gets overwhelming, and you think you're not doing enough for the kids," she says. Staci worries that her oldest outgrows his shoes faster than she can replace them. But she's turned this challenge into the opportunity to forge a relationship with her kids that's not about buying them the latest big thing. "They're the type of kids who if you give them a package of socks, they'll love you to death," she says. And they know they can rely on their mom. "No matter what, I am always here for my kids," she says. "They can count on that."A couple of times a week, when Staci gets home from work, she pumps up the volume on some favorites from her Motown collection for family music night. "We get into our pajamas, goof around and dance until we drop," she says. Goodwill HuntingKhmao Srey, 37, four children; supervisor, Seattle Goodwill, Seattle, WAWhen her shift as a retail store supervisor at Seattle Goodwill ends at 9:30 p.m., Khmao Srey heads home to her four children—Anthony, 13, Jasmine, 10, Andrew, 8, and Jessica, 6. Upon arrival, she takes off her shoes, sits down at the kitchen table and asks all of them to show her their homework. "Most of the time I can't understand it, even my first grader's," she says. "But I tell them, 'I want to see what you're doing.'" Education is not just a priority for the single mom. It's a golden ticket to all she doesn't have but yearns for, including a career, her own home and a little spending money. "I don't want them to be like me, working a minimum-wage job," she says. "I want them to dream big, not small." Khmao is a Cambodian refugee by way of Thailand and the Philippines. She arrived with her parents in the United States in 1985 at age 15 after being shuttled between refugee camps for ten years and leaving school in the ninth grade. She was filled with dreams of a fresh start and an education. But in 1990, her mother pushed her to drop out of school and enter into an arranged marriage. "She said I was ugly, so it was better to have a husband support me than go to school," says Khmao, who ran away from her husband after ten days with just $300 in cash and some wedding jewelry. Later, there were other men, but she never married her children's fathers (although one helps care for all the kids after school and pays child support).Khmao's bumpy journey makes her focus on the present. "I try not to think about the past. I just start from 2004. That's when my life got better," she says. After a string of dead-end jobs, Khmao landed a trainee position, and later a job, at Goodwill. "That was the first time somebody was willing to pay attention to what I had to say and what I wanted to learn," she says. "I've learned to appreciate myself when customers come in and tell me, 'You're doing good.'" Khmao supports her family on her $19,000 annual salary, which covers $620 in rent for a two-bedroom house, utilities and other basics. Dinners are heavy on rice and short on vegetables. But she's always looking for ways to make her kids smile, sometimes bringing home a new video game or a container of vanilla swirl ice cream. Khmao hopes to get her GED and become a citizen, so that she can qualify for better-paying jobs. "I want to learn how to use a computer," she says. "Computers are everywhere now, and I want to go somewhere." When the children are off at school, before her shift begins at 1:00 p.m., Khmao tidies her home. "I can't let my kids know I'm stressed out," she says. She prepares dinner and leaves it in the refrigerator before heading out to work. After school, when one of the children's fathers is watching the kids, "I call to check on them every two hours," she says. If they don't pick up, she takes a quick drive home to see what they're up to. Family time comes on Tuesdays and Sundays, when they play baseball or shoot hoops. "I'm not that into sports, but I do it for my kids," she says. That kind of support underscores Khmao's idea of good mothering. "I never hugged my mother. But I learned how to show my own kids how much I love them." Leader of the PackMary Iversen, 36, six children, two stepchildren; production line worker, Tyson Foods, Waverly, IAIt's 5:30 a.m. as Mary Iversen scrambles into her 1990 Chevy Lumina with her dozing 3-year-old son, Corey, bundled in her arms. They're on their way to her ex-husband's home, where the oldest of her six children, Amanda, 18, will watch Corey until Mary returns 11 hours later from her shift at the Tyson Foods pork plant in Waterloo, IA.As a production line worker, Mary earns $12.20 per hour. Her husband of two years, Kevin, earns $12.40 per hour at the plant. She pays $750 per month in child support (five of her children live with her ex); Kevin pays $430 per month for two children from a prior marriage. "Basically, one of us works to pay for child support and the other to support us," she says. Their combined $50,000 annual income is methodically budgeted as they climb out of debt and set aside a trickle of savings for a house. Friday date nights are sacred: a two-for-$20 dinner buffet and then a couple of competitive rounds of PlayStation 2. Her work—cutting the feet off approximately 20,000 hams per day that range in weight from 15 to 45 pounds—is "very hard physically," says Mary, who is five-foot-two. "The production line is cold and dangerous. But it's the best-paying job in the area." Still, it's more than a paycheck. As a divisional steward, she has taken on a leadership role.

And with the union contract up, she's in charge of persuading new hires to join. "That's really helping the negotiations and our members quite a bit," she says. "I'm proud of the work I do. It's more than just clocking in and out. I've been able to save people's jobs and fix their problems. As important as it is, you can never put work over children."By the time Mary has rinsed off, placed her coveralls and gloves in the factory's laundry and deposited her equipment in her locker, she's eager to see her family. The children are usually the focus of weekends, when Mary's two-bedroom apartment often turns into "a big slumber party," with all eight kids staying over. On most nights, though, Mary's beam of attention goes to little Corey. She follows him on hands and knees, corralling his convoy of Matchbox cars away for the night, tucking him into bed by nine. Then it's time for prayers. "He loves saying the 'amen' part," she says. "I think about my grandmother who said prayers with me. Now I'm doing the same." Before her head meets the pillow, Mary herself whispers "amen."