In this house, I’m the Mama…

Velma had her reading log in her hand and had announced to me, shortly after we walked in the door, that she had found it. News to me. I didn’t know she had lost it in the first place. She was quick to show me the piece of paper she had been getting signed all week last week, though, so I wouldn’t think that she was falling down on the job.

Only the piece of paper she showed me had two signatures, one for Tuesday and one for Wednesday. Zero, zippo, zilch-a-rooskie for the remainder of the week. Of course I questioned that.

She responded, “I read at home, you just didn’t sign it.”

Right. Because my anal, homework-focused, gotta-get-it-done, payin’ attention self wouldn’t have noticed that she read and that I failed to sign something. No, she just didn’t bother to tell me about it at all. In fact, what she did tell me (because I ask EVERY DAY) was that she had done her reading at after-school care and I, because she’s been doing so well, didn’t make her show me the signed log.

“Um, no.” I answered. “You didn’t. And I didn’t forget. Why didn’t you tell me last week that you were missing your log?”

She looked me dead in the eye and said, (words straight from ED’s mouth, I swear) “I DID tell you. You just must have forgotten.”

Never one to let something like that go, I said, “No, you didn’t tell me. If you had told me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And you trying to put the impetus back on me, like you told me and I have failed to take some action here, just does NOT work for me. You will take responsibility for your own actions, young lady. You did not read at home and I just forgot to sign off on it. Let’s try this again, shall we? Why didn’t you tell me last week that you were missing your log?”

She was quiet for a clock tick or two, and then said, eyes staring directly at her big toe, wiggling uncomfortably in her sock, “I thought I would get in trouble.”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I thought. And the reading from Monday and the rest of the week?”

“I didn’t have time to get it done at after-school care,” she whispered so I could barely hear her.

“Why didn’t you just say you didn’t have enough time and do it when you got home?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess I just forgot.”

Now we were actually getting somewhere.

“I can certainly understand how that could happen,” I said. “But you still have to take the responsibility for getting it done. And how often do you get in LESS trouble for lying than you would have if you had just told the truth?”

“Never,” she mumbled back.

“Right,” I said. “Never. So you will need to make up the rest of the reading you didn’t do, and I’ll have to think about what to do about the pass-the-buck, lying part. Fair?”

She nodded again and went back to the table to start her makeup time.

I groaned at the fact that these kids could spend three days with ED and come back like this. This “saying it makes it so” thing is something that drives me absolutely, insanely crazy about ED. She does it constantly… in court, via e-mail, to teachers, counselors, therapists, and friends. If she doesn’t like reality, she just twists it to her own liking, or spins the situation around to fit her needs, and suddently that IS her reality.

Worse, it was really YOUR fault to begin with for not understanding her. It’s enough to make you begin to question your own sanity after awhile.

It makes me shudder to see her kiddos modeling that same behavior.

To be continued…

I dread the weekends that they’re with her, I really do.

Well, I guess it’s not so much that I dread that they’re with her, as it is that I dread the aftermath of their time with her… especially on holiday weekends, when she has three whole days to turn their little brains to mush.

I picked the crew up yesterday after school and the second they got into the car I could smell them. I could tell that neither of the girls had showered in quite some time–their hair was flat and dull, oily, stringy, and didn’t appear to have been combed that day at all. They smelled like overripe perfume, a favorite of The Egg Donor (ED)–who bathes in the stuff rather than applying it sparingly for a hint of flowery aroma–and body odor. They smelled like sweaty kid and pre-teen anxiety. And oh, dear God in heaven, when I turned to ask Velma how her weekend was, her teeth were yellow and her breath almost knocked me clean out of the car.

Shaggy was wearing a jacket that was three sizes too big for him. The hem hung down past his knees and the cuffs hung down almost as far. His hands were hidden somewhere inside the too-long sleeves and he could barely manage to hold onto his backpack. The jacket we sent him with on Saturday–the one that Daddy bought just for him with the skulls on it, the one that is a little boys’ size 8 and actually fits him–was nowhere in sight. He was also in shorts. I guess the fact that it was cold and rainy yesterday morning, with a high temperature of 51 degrees for the day, escaped ED’s attention.

Daphne was wearing her spare glasses. She had called on Monday evening, in a panic because she couldn’t find the glasses she was wearing on Saturday–the pair with the current prescription, the pair we purchased just six months ago… for $140 (not reimbursed by ED, by the way). I asked some pertinent questions, asked her to retrace her steps, and assured her that, since they had gone nowhere since Saturday afternoon, and it was only 700 square feet of living space, that she would be able to hunt them down before they left for school the next day. She had called back Tuesday morning and asked me to bring her old pair, which I agreed to do, but only after telling her that she needed to find them before she left the house. She didn’t. And a follow-up e-mail last night to ED requesting that she find them and drop them off at the after-school program netted no response.

Daphne was also wearing makeup… a lot of it. Heavy black eyeliner under her eyes, and colored lip gloss. I’m betting she had mascara on as well, and probably additional makeup that had worn off throughout the day. We have given up on winning that battle when she’s with her mother, the Queen of Hoochie-Mama outfits and makeup so thick it looks slathered on with a trowel. But when she knows we’ll be picking her up from school? Not the best decision to keep it all on. When we got home and My Hubby saw her, the first question out of his mouth was, “Is that makeup on your face?”

“No,” she replied, cool as a cucumber. Another side effect of time with ED? Loss of the ability to tell the truth in any fashion whatsoever.

“No?” he responded, a little surprised by her answer. “Really? Because it sure looks like makeup to me.” He ran his thumb under her eye, inspected the smoky results, showed it to her, and said, “Isn’t that eyeliner?”

She nodded, and back-pedaled as fast as she could go. “Well, it is, but I didn’t put any on today. I washed it all off yesterday.”

“Mmmm,” he responded, giving her the evil eye.

“I did,” she protested.

“Look,” he answered her, arms crossed across his chest, “I don’t have control over what you do at your mother’s house. If she chooses to send you out the door in the morning looking like that, it’s her deal. And yours. But I do have control over what happens in this house. And the rule here is no makeup. You’re a beautiful girl. You don’t need makeup, at 12 years old. You just don’t. The point really is, though, that the rules here say no makeup. So if you’re going to wear it at your Mom’s, make sure it’s not still on your face when you get here. Got it?”

She nodded.

“And,” he went on, “Don’t come here and tell me you’re not wearing makeup when you are. That’s called lying and “No Lying” is another rule we have in this household. Are we clear?”

She nodded again.

“When was the last time you took a shower?”

She didn’t immediately answer but looked up at the ceiling like the right answer might fall into her mouth.

Shaggy busted her out right away. “She didn’t take one. She hasn’t taken one since last week.”

“Yes I HAVE!” she shouted at him.

“No you haven’t,” he replied calmly.

“Well, one of us took one on Saturday night,” she said.

“No,” Shaggy stated matter-of-factly, “No one took one Saturday night. I took one last night, but you and Velma didn’t take one all weekend.”

I wondered why she would even throw out there that someone had taken one Saturday night.  Clearly it wasn’t her.  I had an instant flashback to court dates past and saw ED desperately trying to wiggle out of a bad situation by confusing the matter.

My Hubby jumped into the fray. “Listen Daphne, you can’t be going four or five days without a shower. You just can’t. You need to take some pride in your appearance. Because let me tell you, there’s no amount of makeup in the world that will change the fact that the human body starts to smell after a couple of days without one. Just think, if you had taken a shower you might have been able to get all that leftover makeup off of your face.”

He smiled. “And? Telling me that someone took a shower on Saturday night isn’t the right answer. If you don’t know when you took one last, then say you don’t know. But let’s not confuse the issue with things that don’t matter — like the thought that SOMEONE took one on Saturday. Understand?”

She nodded again… and asked to call ED.

“Can’t you wait until bedtime?” My Hubby asked.

“No, she has something she needs to e-mail to my teacher.”

“Something she needs to e-mail to your teacher?” I questioned. “I asked you on Saturday morning if there was anything you needed take with you and I specifically asked you if your homework was all done on Friday night and you said it was. Were you not truthful?”

“I WAS done with it all. I just had to add a summary page to my report.”

“So, if you just had to add a summary page, then you weren’t done, right?” I probed.

“No, I WAS done,” she shot back, the tone in her voice getting that tween tone to it.

“No, if it was DONE,” I said, “You wouldn’t have needed to add anything to it. If you had something to add to it, it should have been done Friday. At the very least, if you did it at your Mom’s, you needed to print it out and take it to school. That’s part of your responsibilities. It’s not your Mom’s job to e-mail your homework in if you’ve lied about completing it here and then have forgotten it at her house.”

And then she turned to me, like the whole conversation had never happened, wasn’t still happening, and asked if she could have her MP3 player back–the one I took away because she had been sneaking it out of the house.

I said, not in my most patient or kind voice, “Let me understand. You’ve lost your glasses, you didn’t really make a huge effort to find them, you lied about not having homework, you tried to finish it at Mom’s which was a good choice, but then you forgot to bring it to school, you wore makeup to school today which is completely against the rules in this house and then you lied about whether you were wearing it or not, you didn’t take a shower at Mom’s at all and then tried to confuse the issue by not just answering the question honestly. Am I on the right track so far?”

She nodded slowly, staring at the floor.

“And you want your MP3 player back?”

She didn’t respond.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Let’s see how the next few days go. Let’s see if we can shake this inability to be truthful business, shall we? Then maybe I’ll consider it again. But right now? At the rate you’re going? I’m thinking your privileges are going to be few and far between.”

To be continued…

Perhaps you’re wondering what’s up with the 1,400 kachingas The Egg Donor (ED) is supposed to pay My Hubby. The order from the Court was issued on May 15th, giving her 10 days from the date of the order to cough it up.

Last Friday, we did get a deposit made into our account for $642, which I’m guessing was for child support and partial payment of the medical expenses she owes. She didn’t clarify. We checked the mailbox dutifully all weekend long (except for Sunday and yesterday) and nothing appeared. Again, I wavered between shock and no shock. I have to say that I really didn’t think she would pay it, but I’m floored that she didn’t pay–he was clear about the fact that this would be a punitive contempt citation, issued directly by the court, and that he WOULD put her in jail.

I know she just doesn’t care, but it truly blows my mind sometimes. I’m surprised by her lack of compliance… but I’m not.

So this morning My Hubby sent an e-mail to Miss Fancy Attorney Pants (FAP) that said:

ED was ordered on the 14th of May to pay $1,423.62 for arbitration fees. She was ordered to pay within 10 days of the order or face jail time. The order was issued on May 15. I have not received payment from ED and I will be filing a Notice to the Court this week.

I did receive a random deposit from ED, directly into my account, of $642. I’m assuming that it was $500 for child support and $142 for outstanding medical, although ED did not clarify. The actual amount owing for medical was $157.48, which would leave a balance of $15.48. The order also specified that child support was to go through the Support Registry and be set up via wage assignment. That arrangement was to begin immediately. If there is anything that ED needs to do on her end, please advise her as the random deposit to my account does not comply with the order.

Did you want to confer with ED and find out if she is planning to have a check issued by the end of the day today for the $1423.62? Please let me know what you find out.

Miss FAP responded with:

ED has paid the amounts due to you. I will provide to you proof of payment later today.

Right…

My Hubby fired back with:

I have not received the $1423.62 from ED. You will not receive proof of payment because she has not paid it, plain and simple.

We have played these kinds of games for far too long, which is why The Honorable What’s-His-Name found her in contempt for the third time on May 14th and ordered her to pay the arb fees or face jail time. Evidently, neither you nor your client are interested in complying with the court’s orders.

I will be filing a Notice to the Court tomorrow.

We’ll see what comes back.

I will be interested to see if ED actually coughs up some cash today. Maybe she’ll go by the bank again and make another kamikaze deposit. I really would prefer that she just pay what she owes, rather than forcing us to go back to court, but I’m seriously doubtful at this point. I’m guessing we’ll get some transaction number (that we can’t verify because we aren’t the account holder on her account) and she’ll swear that she paid.

Why can’t she just DO what she’s ordered to do? I grow so very weary of this game…

I haven’t really weighed in on this subject in awhile, but I got an interesting comment yesterday on my previous post about the Kentucky Supreme Court’s decision, entitled Sad. While I’m all about differing opinions, and iron sharpening iron, sometimes I just wonder whether others actually think before they speak (or type).

The gist of the comment from the mysterious “MrW” was that James participated in “evil adulterous behavior” and that he doesn’t deserve the right to have his day in court because MrW thinks he’s “abusive per se”. He also mentions again that James is an “interloper” and that poor Mr. Ricketts should not have to suffer from “James’ on-going and obnoxious interference.”

There were a couple of other comments left by regular commenters on my blog, with which I agree. -d did a separate post on the topic today and I agree with her sentiments regarding the Supreme Court’s decision, if not with her statements about James’ website.  I think if I were in the same situation, I would take similar action. I’m not sure how you could combat this whole mess without publicizing everything and refuting the lies both Julia and Jon Ricketts have told. I don’t really see hate there, rather the pleading, begging, desperate frustration of a man cut out of his son’s life. In fact, I’ve received multiple e-mails from James asking for prayer for Julia because he’s aware of the pain she’s feeling.

That said, I do find that the logic of the entire situation gets lost on MrW (and folks like him), who seems to be overcome by emotion and therefore unable to face the facts.

The facts of Julia and James’ relationship are these:

• Julia Ricketts was a willing participant in the affair with James Rhoades
• Julia Ricketts participated 100%… for a year and a half
• Julia Ricketts was the ONLY party in the affair that took marriage vows and then defiled them
• Julia and James created a child together
• Julia included James in her pregnancy, giving him regular updates and telling him that she wanted him to be a part of the child’s life
• Julia continued to include James, calling him the father of the child, speaking with the grandparents, sending pictures, and e-mail updates for the first three months of the child’s life
• Julia continued to involve James only until she let Mr. Ricketts know that the child was not biologically his
• Julia then decided that it was too inconvenient for her to continue trying to involve James and cut him off entirely from any contact with the child

It was not like this was a fling, or a one-night stand, or some momentary lapse in judgment. It lasted a year and a HALF. Julia knew the ramifications of her actions when she chose to participate in it.

It’s also NOT like she found out she was pregnant, broke things off with James without telling him about it, went back to her husband, and then James came after them, wielding a sword or whatever. She told James. She included James. She set up the entire “let’s play house” business, for three months, until it became too difficult for her to maintain her double life. She invited James in, gave him the opportunity to meet, hold, and become attached to his son, and then slammed the door in his face.

And the facts that matter? They are these:

• The child belongs, biologically, to Julia and James - not to Julia and Jon Ricketts
• James, and the rest of the biological fathers out there deserve to know their children unless they are proven unfit
• The child will not benefit from an entire life based on lies
• The child deserves the opportunity to know his biological father

I go back to the questions I had the first time around on this whole thing. If this situation were reversed, and a woman had given birth to a child fathered by a married man, would everyone be so up in arms about her actions? Would everyone agree that the child should be taken from her and placed with the father and his wife, just because the father was married when the child was conceived?  I hardly think so.

I also fail to see how excluding James from his child’s life, but keeping him on the line for child support sometime in the future should Julia and Jon’s marriage fall apart (quite likely, given the circumstances) is in any way fair to any of the parties involved. The only person this ruling serves is Julia herself–the woman who participated in this affair, the woman who broke her marriage vows, the woman who conceived a child by someone other than her husband, and now wants to use the law to shield herself from the natural consequences of her actions, from her own “evil and adulterous behavior.”

But truly, at the end of the day, this is NOT about Julia. This is NOT about James. And this is, most assuredly, not about Jon Ricketts. This is about a child that is caught in the midst of a tug-of-war because the Kentucky Supreme Court and the Ricketts family would rather hide their heads in the sand than do what is best. This child, who will grow up tangled in the web of lies and deceit his mother and stepfather have created, will know the truth eventually.

• He will know that Jon Ricketts is not his father
• He will know that his mother kept him from knowing his biological father
• He will know that his biological father wanted to be a part of his life
• He will know that he missed out on that relationship for years
• His life will never be the same… even if his childhood is spent in happy oblivion
• He will be scarred

And the people who will bear the burden of inflicting those scars are the very people who claim to be trying to “protect” him now - Julia and Jon Ricketts.

I always hope it will change. I tell myself it will. I believe that this round will be the one to finally move her into the realm of actual motherhood. I think how unbelievably motivating it would be for me to hear from someone that I might lose my children. I think of how The Honorable What’s-His-Name’s continued extension of grace should make her say, “Wow! I narrowly escaped on that one. Thank God I have another chance. I will make an effort to be a real mother to my kids now.”

Sadly, it never happens.

This weekend was the girls’ dance performance. We have a festival in our fair suburb and they danced on the central dance stage, for thousands. They were so excited and they’ve worked really hard. They’ve done not just their regular practice sessions, but extra dress rehearsals, and stage rehearsals. This performance was the culmination (the only one) of all of these months of effort. There is no other recital. This was it.

They spent Friday night making sure their costumes were laid out just so, verifying that they had their tap shoes, and their fabric pieces, thinking about their hairdos, and just generally working themselves into an excited frenzy. We got there in time to check in, meet my folks, shove our way to the front find a place to stand, and make sure My Hubby could actually get a decent picture while they were up there.

Of course, they tried to call The Egg Donor (ED) on the way. Of course she didn’t answer her phone. I asked Daphne whether she had given ED all of the instructions (despite our e-mail to her including the phone number and address of the Rec Center, and all recital information). She assured me that they had both talked with ED about it several times. She also assured me that they had relayed their specific performance times.

“Well, hopefully she’ll make it,” I told them, knowing in my heart of hearts that she would likely not show, especially since she was not answering her phone.

They performed beautifully. I had tears in my eyes as we watched them dance. Daphne is an athletic dancer, a little more suited to gymnastics than ballet. She did great with their lyrical jazz numbers. Velma has a natural grace to her movement that makes me think she ought to be in private dance lessons. She moves with such inherent ability, like dance has just been part of her makeup since birth. They took my breath away.

My Hubby took pictures and video, my parents clapped and cheered. Even the boys were mostly enthusiastic. I only heard, “I’m bored” once during the 45 minutes we stood in the hot sun waiting to see them dance. It was awesome.

But ED never showed.

Part of me is really sad for the kids. It’s a tremendous bummer that they will remember most of their events as being things that ED couldn’t bother to attend. But more than that, I’m sad for her. What an incredible opportunity to watch these girls pour their hearts into something and succeed. What a spirit-soaring moment to see their faces glowing. How could she miss this? I wouldn’t miss it for the world!

Later in the afternoon, we went to the boys’ last soccer game of the season. Again, she didn’t show. Shaggy looked sad for about five minutes and then he really got into the game. Both of the boys were outstanding–running, passing, and blocking. It was their best game so far. We were all sad that it was the last one for the season. Afterwards, each player got a medal, their team pictures, and some pizza. They tossed ice water on the coach (My Hubby), took a few last pictures, gathered up the soccer balls, and we all headed home. It was a great way to end the season and Shaggy was so proud of his medal. He didn’t take it off all night.

I didn’t ask any of the kids about her absence and none of them mentioned it. I wonder if they’re starting to understand. This was the first time I didn’t see tears of disappointment fill their eyes.

I am glad that they weren’t overwhelmed with the disappointment of her failure to show, but I’m sad that this is just how their lives will be. My logical brain said it was no surprise. She has no impetus left to try to play the part of the Good Mom. She’s lost everything she hoped to have and now there is no reason for her to pretend to put her children first. There’s no one left to attempt to impress.

But my heart hoped, for them and for her both, that she would be there… that she would show up… that she would care enough to do it for them.

She didn’t.

But we? We had a fantastic day in the sun–a little spotlight for the girls, a little spotlight for the boys. A lot of pride for jobs well done. A lot of reward for months of hard work. Smiles, and hugs, and pizza.

Sad that she couldn’t make it, yes. But I’m so grateful that I can still make sure they have these opportunities. And I’m grateful that I get to be there–in the crowd, in the stands, in the bleachers–cheering them on.

They are, after all, my favorite people in the whole world.

I can’t think of a better way to spend my weekend.

Guess what was in the mailbox when we got back from court?

You got it. A check. From online bill pay. For $711.81.

I got a serious brain cramp over the deal.

We had just been in court, during which Mister Fancy Attorney-Pants (FAP) tried valiantly to use the transaction number to defend his client, but had provided no actual proof of the payment. Of course we all thought that she was using that transaction as another ploy to avoid paying. And the assumption that she had not paid contributed largely, I’m sure, to The Honorable What’s-His-Name’s (THWHN) decision to lump a rather large sum on top of the judgment, because of her contempt.

Why then, if she had actually issued the bill pay, did she NOT just do the EFT? At our bank (which is also her bank, you’ll recall), the funds come out of the account the second you issue the bill payment. It’s not like she was planning to float the cash over the weekend or something… or send a check that was no good… or just try to get by until after court. She actually had to have HAD the funds in her account, and tied them up in that check to us.

Why NOT just do the EFT?

And why not provide proof of it–actual proof–over the next several days before court?

And why not show up in court with actual proof of the payment being made?

And why, when My Hubby offered to get Chase on the phone to verify that the payment had actually been made, did she not JUMP at the chance?

I will never understand her. Her actions will never make sense.

On the upside, we are $711.81 to the good. My Hubby took the check directly to the bank and cashed it… and it was NOT rubber. For that, I am appreciative. It helps offset the regular monthly cost of all of the rest of the kids’ medical.

It remains to be seen what will happen with the $1400 she’s supposed to pay by 5/24. The fact that she paid this one time (before court), doesn’t really indicate to me that she’s suddenly going to straighten up and fly right. In fact, having just dropped a significant chunk of change on a retainer (that didn’t really serve her very well), having just paid out that $711.81, AND having a judgment entered against her for $1044 and some change, makes me wonder where she’s going to have the money for her regular Starbucks visits, let alone a whole $1400 payment. And there’s no looming court date for which to bolster her image now.

Maybe whoever helped her get Miss FAP and Mister FAP will help her pony up the funds for this, too. I hope so.

With everything settling down, it would be a bummer for her to end up in jail.

When we arrived at court this morning, The Egg Donor (ED) was sitting in the courtroom with a gentleman. She was in her usual attire, right down to the fire-engine red lipstick and the stilettos. At first, I thought the man sitting next to her was Letch, but boy… had he cleaned up his act. He was wearing a suit, hair nicely combed. I wondered if he’d learned a lesson after his last appearance with her, in ratty jeans and an un-tucked shirt.

But when My Hubby looked through the door, he said, “That’s not Letch. He has gray in his hair… and a briefcase, and a folder full of paperwork. That’s an attorney! Wonder what happened to Miss Fancy Attorney-Pants (FAP)?”

Interesting.

We filed in and took our seats. Sure enough, the man with ED seemed to be an attorney. My Hubby got up and went over to introduce himself. The attorney, completely full of himself, assured My Hubby that there was nothing to discuss, as this would be a short hearing, and he was just making a “Limited Appearance,” whatever that is.

My Hubby came back over to our side of the courtroom, a little smile on his face. He leaned over and whispered, “Somebody thinks highly of himself.” As I glanced over, I noticed that ED had on her special shoes today, the leopard print stilettos. I wondered if she thought they would bring her good luck.

When The Honorable What’s-His-Name (THWHN) came into court, we all stood, then sat at his direction, and the short but oh-so-sweet proceedings began.

Mister Fancy Attorney-Pants (FAP) began by asking the court for a continuance. He explained that he was making a limited appearance, to which THWHN responded, “Excuse me counselor, a WHAT?!?” He went to explain that Miss FAP was not able to make it to the hearing (interesting since she told me on the phone last week she had cleared her calendar for it), that she had just been retained on Monday (um, right… what was that whole deal last week, then?), and that we had not sent her any of the exhibits nor a witness list, that My Hubby’s financials were incomplete because everything on the tax return was redacted, and that they were just not possibly able to get up to speed this quickly.

My Hubby objected, of course. He pulled out the notebook with all of his e-mail exchanges with Miss FAP, explained that she had been representing herself as ED’s attorney since Tuesday of last week, that we had indeed sent her all of the exhibits and the witness list for today’s hearing, that the tax return was redacted because it contained my information and the statute allowed for that, but that he had also provided his W2s, which were all that was required for income verification, and that he would be happy to go into the long list of things he was missing from ED’s tax information, if that was a requirement. However, he believed that we had everything we all needed to come to agreement on the issues at hand, and he didn’t want to prolong this for either party or for the kids.

“Would you like to see the e-mail, Your Honor?” he finished, looking over at Mister FAP, who was starting to look a little green around the gills.

“No,” boomed THWHN, turning to look directly at Mister FAP. “This case has gone on for far too long. Ms. ED is well aware, although you may not be counselor, of the lengthy history here. This court has issued many orders that are regularly not followed and that seems to be the reason we end up here, AGAIN. Ms. ED was present for the hearing in November, again in January, was served with the Citation for Contempt, showed up for an advisement hearing back on April 10, and has known about this hearing for months. The fact that she waited until Monday to retain counsel is not my problem and will not cause this hearing to be continued. This court denies the Motion to Continue.”

Everyone was silent, though I was screaming for joy inside my head and My Hubby was smiling at me from his seat at the counsel table. Mister FAP swallowed hard, and THWHN said, “Now let’s proceed with the matters at hand.”

My Hubby got out the exhibit notebooks, handed one to THWHN gently, and thumped the Respondent’s copy down on the other counsel table in front of Mister FAP. I’m not sure if he was expecting us to be prepared or not, but 1,050 pages in a gigantic 5-inch, 3-ring binder, complete with legal exhibit tabs 1-70 should have clued him in right away.

We started with the Contempt. My Hubby explained the meeting in the arbitrator’s office, the statement that ED made that it would be paid by EFT, the fact that she had claimed to have sent checks prior, but that we had received none, the fact that she stated in her response to the court that she was planning to send all checks, beginning in February, via Certified Mail. My Hubby said that she ought to have proof, then, of all of her payments. Bank statements, Certified Mail receipts, certified funds stubs… something.

Mister FAP told THWHN that My Hubby could just call the bank, with the transaction number, and get verification.

THWHN turned to Mister FAP and said, in his best annoyed voice, “He can’t call the bank and verify ANYTHING. He’s not the account holder. Surely you know that.”

Mister FAP hung his head, and THWHN went on.

“Do you have proof, Ms. ED, that you have paid the $1044 you were ordered to pay in November? Do you have check stubs, bank statements, Certified Mail receipts, ANYTHING that shows that you have paid?”

Ms. ED shook her head and Mister FAP mumbled, “No, Your Honor. We don’t have that with us today.”

We moved on to Child Support. It went swimmingly. My Hubby pointed out that ED had just left off about $12K of her income, both from her financial affidavit, and from her tax return. He went to explain that we had subpoenaed her records and also had pay stubs provided by her that showed the remaining income. He asked THWHN to use the amount she had claimed on her tax return as well as the $12K she hadn’t bothered to mention. He nodded and said, “Next.”

My Hubby then addressed his own income and I was shocked to find that there was no objection whatsoever from Mister FAP. Then came daycare expenses, and health insurance. No objection. Then he asked that THWHN roll the monthly medical expenses in as extraordinary expenses, so that we would not have to keep coming back to court to collect from ED. He explained that our normal monthly outlay, for therapy, allergy shots, and medication alone, was about $345. THWHN nodded.

My Hubby then addressed the matter of the overpayment. When we went to court in 2005, ED drug her feet for so long that My Hubby ended up overpaying her by almost $15,000–although we only got the order for approximately $9,000. That overpayment caused the child support figure ordered (at that time, right at $200/month from My Hubby to ED) to be suspended until 2009. So, as of the filing of the modification in January, there was still a balance of almost $3000 that ED owed My Hubby. My Hubby, the nice guy, told THWHN that though there was this significant balance remaining, he would just let it go as long as we could agree on reasonable numbers today.

THWHN nodded some more and asked, “Anything else?”

“No, Your Honor,” said My Hubby.

Mister FAP had evidently snapped out of his coma and asked ED to take the stand. She did, and proceeded to explain how much her life stunk. How she was getting all kinds of assistance from the state, how life was so hard for her, how someone else was paying her electric bill, how much daycare cost, and how she was barely scraping by. She didn’t bother to explain her five weekly trips to Starbucks, her $680/month car payment, her Imelda Marcos shoe fetish, or her habit of eating out every single day for lunch. My Hubby did present her with actual annual totals for daycare after she claimed that it was “three times the amount stated on the child support worksheet!” (Picture Scarlett O’Hara, hand to her forehead, weeping…)

When she was done with her sob story, and My Hubby had refuted daycare the best he could, THWHN tap-tap-tapped at his keyboard, thought for a few minutes, tap-tap-tapped some more, and then finally turned back to us.

“The number I come up with is approximately $1280 per month,” he said, “payable from Ms. ED to the Petitioner. But I believe that, given her situation, we would be right back here if I order that amount. So the court will, of its own volition, reduce the amount Ms. ED will pay to the Petitioner to $1000 per month, to begin immediately, by wage assignment. Sir, did you want that to go through the State registry?”

“Yes please, Your Honor,” replied My Hubby.

Um… ok. I was not very happy with that scenario, not because we care about the money. We honestly don’t. But when My Hubby was in court back in 2001, fighting to get two overnights a week with his kids, and got hammered with a $1500 per month bill, no one said, “Oh, poor you. Let’s reduce it.” In fact, when he told the judge he couldn’t afford that much, the judge said, “So sorry. Get a second job. They’re your kids and you’re responsible for paying for them.” It never ceases to amaze me that someone like ED, so clearly making poor decisions, gets the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, even though I was unhappy that someone let ED off the hook AGAIN, $1000 per month really is perfect. It covers daycare, and a little bit of health insurance. More than that, WE have the reigns. She no longer has the ability to screw around with non-payment of providers, and we were both ecstatic about that.

THWHN went on.

“Ms. ED, this court finds that you ARE in Contempt of Court, for the third time. I ordered you to pay $100 per month back in November and you have not done so. I am entering a judgment in favor of the Petitioner on that $1044, to accrue interest at 8% per annum, that can be collected from you by way of a wage garnishment.”

My heart lept. My Hubby was smiling. Mister FAP looked like he might pass out, and ED was doodling on her notebook, in between pitiful looks up at THWHN.

THWHN continued, “Further, as punishment for your Contempt, I am ordering you to pay ALL of the arbitration fees, in the amount of $1423.62. You have 10 days to pay that to the Petitioner. If you have NOT paid it within 10 days, this court will issue it’s own Contempt Citation, and it will NOT be remedial. It will be punitive and I WILL put you in jail. Do you understand?”

ED nodded, her eyes wide. Mister FAP stared at his legal pad.

“As for the Notice to the Court filed by the Petitioner,” THWHN said, looking directly at ED, “the Petitioner has asked the court to suspend parenting time for the Respondent, which is what the court said it WOULD do if you failed to comply with court orders. The court declines to modify parenting time at this time.”

I think that was a good thing. I’m not sure what his reasoning was, but I believe in my heart of hearts that if she had not had counsel, he might have suspended it. What he did with that move was shut down any avenue of appeal she might have later pursued. Plus, we don’t have to tell the kids they don’t get to see Mommy and that made my heart feel better, even though we asked for it.

“Anything else?” asked THWHN. “Mister FAP?”

Mister FAP shook his head. “No, Your Honor.”

That was it. Just under an hour.

It feels over.

It feels final.

Although I know that we still have to deal with the medical stuff, she will likely not pay the $1400 within 10 days, and I’m doubting that she’ll actually pay child support, getting the order in place makes it feel like we’ve been vindicated, like we won’t be changing anything else anytime soon, like we have avenues… like we can settle in and have some peace.

The fact that she has an attorney makes that peace feel even stronger, although we’re both wondering, after her little display today and her obvious lies, whether she’ll be represented much longer. Of course there’s that little niggle, too, in the back of our minds, that Miss FAP might still try to file something else. But I would be surprised.

Let me say thank you to all of you, for your prayers, and for your support. God does hear. He does listen. And truth does eventually prevail. To those of you still in the midst of battles that feel like there will never be an end, hang in there.

Sometimes the good guy does win…

He just has to have a bigger exhibit notebook.