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Hot Chocolate on Blue Wednesday

11.23.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

The Child is on a mission: she needs money.

In the summer, she sells sno-cones on the street behind our house. She does quite well with this, raking in sixteen dollars on one particularly hot day last summer; she sold sno-cones to the mailman, a grandma with a car full of grandkids, and a local Got Junk franchisee. A picture of The Child, her sno-cone stand, and the truck’s driver ended up on the Got Junk Facebook page that day. She was both rich and famous.

Sno-cones in November, though, are not a good business model, even when you live on a busy street. The Child develops a new plan: Hot chocolate. She spends days working on a sign, nagging me to buy her a supply of mix and hot beverage cups, and badgering me into buying her a little table for her business. She needs something to keep the cocoa hot, and receives my old slow cooker from the yard sale pile in the garage.

She’s ready.

The day before Thanksgiving, she hauls everything out to the corner, and eagerly jumps up and down in the icy drizzle with her sign advertising hot chocolate.

An hour later, she comes back inside, despondent.

Nobody wants to buy hot chocolate, she says.

Don’t worry about it, I tell her. Try again on Friday.

She frowns. This will not do.

I need a way to earn money, she says. What if nobody wants my hot chocolate on Friday, too?

Well, then you’ll have to find a new business plan. Keep trying until you find something that works.

She doesn’t like this idea. I need money sooner than that, she says.

A bell goes off in my head, and an angel gets its wings: Christmas is coming.

I get on the phone with my father, mostly to tell him this story because I think it’s cute. She doesn’t understand, I say, parents don’t want anything that costs money. We like the stuff they make.

That’s not true, he says. We like expensive things. Me, for example, I like expensive woodworking tools. Take note.

I have a garage full of expensive tools, I say. I’ll send them to you.

Those tools are crap, he says. The Departed bought lots of tools for his shop, none of them worth owning, according to my father.

That may be, I say, but they cost me a fortune and I want them out of my garage. Anyway, you said expensive, not good quality.

Noted, he says. Put The Child on the phone.

I get The Child and make myself scarce, as instructed.

Later, I ask her if there is anything I need to know or help with.

You need to take me to the mall on Sunday. Early, before it’s crowded, she says. Also, if an envelope full of money should maybe happen to  come in the mail, it’s not for you.

Got it.

Categories // All By Myself Tags // holidays, single parenting

Cleaning House

09.18.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

I’m paying bills endlessly: Legal bills. Vet bills for sick dogs, and vet bills for cats that have passed from this world to the next. I get a notice in the mail that a series of tests done on The Child are not covered by my health insurance – rather unexpected, as they had been under my old insurance. The Departed took that insurance with him and canceled both our policies last November, when I didn’t deliver his new iPhone fast enough to suit him.

The bills are endless, the money finite.

And one afternoon, I try to put detergent in the washer – bought within the past two years – and the faceplate falls off.

The machine doesn’t even wait a full day to break again: The Child tries to do her own laundry, to help out, and lights start flashing at her. It’s jammed.

She calls me over. “Mommy, help. It doesn’t work.”

No, it doesn’t, and pressing buttons doesn’t work. Slamming them and crying doesn’t work either.

Nor does hurling laundry across the hall and screaming “I can’t afford any more problems!”

I finally unplug the machine and slam my fists on it a few more times for good measure and when I plug it back in, it seems to be working again. I call up to The Child but receive no reply.

I look around the house, and call out a couple more times, and she’s not there.

I start to rewind the evening in my head and realize I heard a door slam earlier.

I call outside the house, but the result is the same – no reply. It’s getting dark.

I think maybe she went to be by herself in the college next door. She likes to go exploring there. I start to leash up the dog to take him out with me and then remember, he can’t walk that far anymore.

I walk around the corner and into the college, calling her name, over and over. I hear children, but they are not her – they’re at a neighbors’ house. I see movement near a dumpster and start to walk toward it, but then hesitate when I see a lone man standing nearby. He watches me, from a distance.

I cannot see him clearly, but he gives me chills. I go back to my house, still calling her name, over and over.

At home there is me, and a sick dog, and a cat I can’t even see because he knows things aren’t right and he’s hiding. I find my phone to call the police, and when I pick it up, I can see there’s a new voicemail.

My neighbor had called me 20 minutes ago, so I wouldn’t worry. The Child is there at his house and can hang out as long as she likes, he says.

They’re playing cards.

I want to cry, but it will not come.

Categories // All By Myself Tags // divorce, single parenting

Tale of Woe: Child Support

06.25.2012 by J. Doe // 1 Comment

The date of the hearing arrives.

A day before, the hearing coordinator sends me documents he received from The Foreigner. The Foreigner wants to know why The Child – his child – is being sent to “luxurious entertainment programs” on his dime.

The “luxurious” programs he is complaining about are summer camps. He doesn’t feel he should have to pay for things like “theater camp,” because it isn’t “child care.” He cites Wikipedia’s definition of child care in support of his argument.

He doesn’t say what he thinks should be done with The Child during school breaks – when she is signed up for camps so that I can work.

One of us needs to pay the bills, after all.

The DSHS has produced a spreadsheet of the amounts paid by him, and show that he has accrued about $2,000 in child care arrears. He submits his own math, showing that I actually owe him $770 that he has overpaid.

I decide it’s best if I say as little as possible at the hearing, and let him do the talking.

The hearing is a phone conference call, first thing in the morning. The judge walks us through all the documents, numbering each separate page of each child-care receipt for the past four years.

Now, does he dispute that I incurred these charges? She asks.

No, he says. I dispute that these are legitimate child care expenses. I am sent these outrageous bills and never asked if it’s okay with me. I just get the bills.

He forgets to mention that he signed away his right to be consulted about anything when he gave me sole custody eleven years ago.

The judge doesn’t have that document so she asks me if I’m required to get his approval on these things. No, I tell her.

Well, she says, why have you selected these programs?

I explain that The Child is in school, so we only need child care when school is out, and camp fits the bill. Also, it’s very cost-effective, I tell her. That theater camp, for example, works out to $7.50 an hour for child care, as opposed to $12 an hour, the going rate for babysitters in this area.

Well, she says, would you say you choose these camps because they best meet your child’s needs? Allow her to be more active, maybe?

I think to myself, well, obviously, but then realize: It’s not actually obvious to all the parties.

Yes, of course, I say.

She turns her questions back to The Foreigner. Do you feel these programs are not appropriate for this child?

Well, he says, I would have a hard time answering that as I’ve not seen any of the programs, and haven’t seen the child for many years.

So, the judge asks, What exactly is your objection then? Do you not understand the reasons for these programs’ selection?

Well, he says, it costs a ridiculous amount of money. I can’t even feed my own children. When I want to go out, I have a neighbor look after my children or a family member. That doesn’t cost anything. She spends my money very freely.

I am thinking: she is your own child, too. I am looking at pictures on his website of his family ski vacation.

But I say nothing.

The judge says, Do you understand that she has no legal obligation to use free care provided by family members for this child?

Yes, he says.

The judge thanks everyone, and concludes. She will render her decision, and we will receive it by mail.

Two days later, as promised, I receive the verdict: A $36 monthly increase in child support payments, and $2,000 in arrears are awarded to me.


Categories // The Divorce Tags // child support, single parenting, The Foreigner

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