My friend, Rob, took me to the airport today. He's shuttled me from and to the airport at least 5 times, now, saving me about $150 in cab fare. That boy rocks. It might be the one thing I miss when all of this is over. I certainly won't miss seeing my daughter in bits and spurts, and I especially won't miss dropping her back off at her dad's. But I will miss the short trips with Rob. When I saw him today, I had been crying. It's hard to hug Scooter goodbye and hustle to the airport. I'm not sure if he noticed, and frankly, I don't care. It's such a relief and treasured time (for me) to have him take me to the airport. We laugh about completely random things the whole way to the airport, and he expertly takes my mind off the misery and heartbreak I feel. For 20 minutes, I feel normal and happy and sarcastic. And I can't thank him enough for those little respites from the reality of leaving my baby behind. Again.
But that's not what this post is about. This one's about the crazy number of people I've witnessed making out on this trip. I was late for Rob to take me to the airport. I think I do this every time. I agree to a time for Rob to pick me up, and then I show up 20 minutes later and make him get out of the driveway so I can park the car. Same story today. I was late. Rob's a saint. We got to the airport at about 5:11, and pull up to a couple full on making out in front of the unloading/loading zone. We're talking tongue, arms akimbo, heads mashing disgusting. And these weren't kids. He was bald; she was driving a mini van.
I gave Rob a quick hug (even those of us with personal space issues hug at airports),and I ran in to print my own boarding passes. I was done and through security in 11 minutes. I spoke to Ben very briefly and then settled in to hop on the internet. We were supposed to have started boarding in 3 minutes, but the plane had not arrived, yet. I looked up from my laptop during the 30 second obligatory advertisement for free wifi access and saw another couple (this one much younger, and one a soldier) making out directly in front of me. Where did they come from?! They were not there when I sat down! Is this God's way of punishing me for staying in Omaha on my anniversary instead of being home with my husband? Because technically, it's not my anniversary. It only happens once every 4 years, and we're not quite there, yet. For all I know, tomorrow's the big day.
Either way, I'm stuck either missing my husband or missing my daughter for a while longer, yet. I can't wait until spring break. 18 more days.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Here we go again...
I've been doing a lot of flying these past few (6?) months. At least twice per month, I've made a trip to and from Omaha. I'm a regular pro now at navigating the airspace between Portland and Omaha. Denver is my usual hangout between cities, but I've been through Dallas and Chicago a few times as well. I can tell you this with some certainty. Screaming/crying babies don't bother me. I'm a parent. I know what it's like to have to deal with an unhappy child on an aircraft. What does bother me is adults behaving like children and people who bring their dogs on flights with them. Because barking dogs are not what I want to hear for hours on end when I'm trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the air at 500 miles per hour. For one thing, a child's cries become pretty muted after about 4 rows. A dog's bark, on the other hand, can echo throughout the cabin, no matter how far away I'm sitting. Those shrill, annoying yelps of purse dogs are definitely the worst.
Once again, this weekend went by WAY too quickly. How on earth is it possible that the longest 2 hours of my life can be followed by the fastest 48? This weekend, there wasn't enough snow to go sledding, and it was too cold to do much playing outside at all. So we spent all day Saturday and Sunday playing games at my in-law's house. The in-laws are always so accommodating and lovely to hang out with. They bravely amuse Scooter and my whims as we flit from playing barbies to strawberry shortcake to 100s of games of UNO or Sorry. We even did two puzzles together.
Scooter talked to me quite a bit this weekend. I got the distinct impression that she's ready to come home. She commented that she belongs with me. I'm her MOM. I'm the one that has taken care of her. In fact, some of the comments lead me to believe that she's heard some things about the trial at her dad's house. She told me that I've taken care of her more than her dad has. That "even if you count all the days" that I've taken care of her vs her dad since she was "three" that I have taken care of her more. First of all, I have NEVER mentioned to her that bit about counting days. It was one of the things brought up at trial, that I've been the 90 percent parent since the divorce (which, by the way, happened when she was two...get your year's straight). His side took vehement offense to us even THINKING about breaking parenting down to percentages. How can you measure a parent's love for their child. Well...maybe by measuring how much time they want to spend with their daughter? No? Ok. Anyway, I told Scooter that we don't need to count days, and that I've taken care of her since the day she was born. I didn't start taking care of her when she turned 3.
She also made a comment that maybe by spring break, I'd be living back in Omaha, anyway. Um..hm..where would she have gotten that idea? Maybe when she and I were both asking her dad if she could come out to Portland for Spring break, and it took me asking 3 times and Scooter asking who know how many times? First of all, even if the judge had ruled from the bench and said "no" I probably wouldn't have been able to put in my two weeks at work, break my lease, and rent a moving truck before Spring break (a month and a week after trial). Secondly, so what. Even if I WERE back in Omaha by spring break, I'd still want to spend it with Scooter.
On the way home from church yesterday, she said that she really liked this weekend (and every weekend with me) because her dad and Vicky never spend time playing with her. They're always too busy to play games with her. My mother in law and I tried to make excuses for her dad (I've been doing that for 7 years. It's hard to break habit), and Scooter finally said, "no. he knows how to play all of those games. He just doesn't want to." It was sad. I feel sad that she's had to endure 6 months of loneliness for no reason other than her dad's selfishness. He supposedly wants her, but when he has her, he doesn't really want her. It breaks my heart.
On the way back to Omaha from the in-laws last night, Scooter also talked a lot about wanting to live with Bubba and be a family again. She mentioned that Bubba makes everything more fun, and she's concerned that he really misses her to much. He does, but it really made my heart swell that my daughter is so caring that she's concerned about that, and not her own happiness. This trial, her dad and Vicky's pregnancy, and now they're looking at new houses has got to be stressful for her. The trial alone is so so so stressful for me, I can't imagine being 7 and having to deal with the rest of it.
Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since the trial, and 17 days until I see Scooter again. This is killing me.
Once again, this weekend went by WAY too quickly. How on earth is it possible that the longest 2 hours of my life can be followed by the fastest 48? This weekend, there wasn't enough snow to go sledding, and it was too cold to do much playing outside at all. So we spent all day Saturday and Sunday playing games at my in-law's house. The in-laws are always so accommodating and lovely to hang out with. They bravely amuse Scooter and my whims as we flit from playing barbies to strawberry shortcake to 100s of games of UNO or Sorry. We even did two puzzles together.
Scooter talked to me quite a bit this weekend. I got the distinct impression that she's ready to come home. She commented that she belongs with me. I'm her MOM. I'm the one that has taken care of her. In fact, some of the comments lead me to believe that she's heard some things about the trial at her dad's house. She told me that I've taken care of her more than her dad has. That "even if you count all the days" that I've taken care of her vs her dad since she was "three" that I have taken care of her more. First of all, I have NEVER mentioned to her that bit about counting days. It was one of the things brought up at trial, that I've been the 90 percent parent since the divorce (which, by the way, happened when she was two...get your year's straight). His side took vehement offense to us even THINKING about breaking parenting down to percentages. How can you measure a parent's love for their child. Well...maybe by measuring how much time they want to spend with their daughter? No? Ok. Anyway, I told Scooter that we don't need to count days, and that I've taken care of her since the day she was born. I didn't start taking care of her when she turned 3.
She also made a comment that maybe by spring break, I'd be living back in Omaha, anyway. Um..hm..where would she have gotten that idea? Maybe when she and I were both asking her dad if she could come out to Portland for Spring break, and it took me asking 3 times and Scooter asking who know how many times? First of all, even if the judge had ruled from the bench and said "no" I probably wouldn't have been able to put in my two weeks at work, break my lease, and rent a moving truck before Spring break (a month and a week after trial). Secondly, so what. Even if I WERE back in Omaha by spring break, I'd still want to spend it with Scooter.
On the way home from church yesterday, she said that she really liked this weekend (and every weekend with me) because her dad and Vicky never spend time playing with her. They're always too busy to play games with her. My mother in law and I tried to make excuses for her dad (I've been doing that for 7 years. It's hard to break habit), and Scooter finally said, "no. he knows how to play all of those games. He just doesn't want to." It was sad. I feel sad that she's had to endure 6 months of loneliness for no reason other than her dad's selfishness. He supposedly wants her, but when he has her, he doesn't really want her. It breaks my heart.
On the way back to Omaha from the in-laws last night, Scooter also talked a lot about wanting to live with Bubba and be a family again. She mentioned that Bubba makes everything more fun, and she's concerned that he really misses her to much. He does, but it really made my heart swell that my daughter is so caring that she's concerned about that, and not her own happiness. This trial, her dad and Vicky's pregnancy, and now they're looking at new houses has got to be stressful for her. The trial alone is so so so stressful for me, I can't imagine being 7 and having to deal with the rest of it.
Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since the trial, and 17 days until I see Scooter again. This is killing me.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Carby, not crabby
I'm hungry. I'm starving, and I'd like nothing more than a calorie-laden giant bad-for-me lunch. I'll end up with fish, ramen, and yogurt when I get around to getting up out of my seat. This morning, on our way to Bubba's "school," there was SNOW ON THE VALLEY FLOOR. All .25 inches of it. Basically a dusting, but with giant, wet, heavy flakes. And since it was right at 32 degrees, I had to scrape the car. If there's one thing about Portland winters that's true, it's that if the temp drops below 34, you'll have to scrape your car windows. It's moist out here.
I made it onto my #1 favorite train (which was empty), and as we were coming out of the tunnel into Portland's downtowny area, the snow really started falling. The streets were deserted. I usually see 30-40 cars while waiting for the crosswalk at Burnside. Today, it was closer to 20-30 cars total on my mile walk in from the train. But shortly after I got to work, the sun came out. There is no snow left on the ground. We'll see if the trace-3 inches they're expecting for the rest of the day actually pans out. I have my doubts. Hopefully, the "arctic" (20s) temperatures they're expecting for tomorrow doesn't somehow delay my flight. I'm getting excited to see Scooter again.
I made it onto my #1 favorite train (which was empty), and as we were coming out of the tunnel into Portland's downtowny area, the snow really started falling. The streets were deserted. I usually see 30-40 cars while waiting for the crosswalk at Burnside. Today, it was closer to 20-30 cars total on my mile walk in from the train. But shortly after I got to work, the sun came out. There is no snow left on the ground. We'll see if the trace-3 inches they're expecting for the rest of the day actually pans out. I have my doubts. Hopefully, the "arctic" (20s) temperatures they're expecting for tomorrow doesn't somehow delay my flight. I'm getting excited to see Scooter again.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Hair!
I think I found my new hair professional. His name is Jeff, and it turns out that he's not gay. I was under the impression that straight men didn't have the "touch" to do hair. I'll admit. I tried applying a stereotype to a hair dresser. Does that make me sexist? Gendist? Please don't say that I'm a homophobe! (although I will admit that I was really scared when I realized he was straight).
He was pretty expensive, but it's kind of what I expected for hair servicing in Portland compared to the prices in Omaha. I'm happy to report that he broke down the stereotype and gave my mop some style and finesse, while keeping the length I need to donate to locks of love. He wasn't the quickest cut in the land, and his technique was insane (scissors in the right hand, upside down), but I'm happy with the result, which I haven't been with the last few hair places I've tried. The best part was that he thinks I'll be ready to chop this stuff off at my next appointment. I need to start looking for good short cuts!
Since I was able to go to my hair appointment, I guess you can guess that we don't have any snow, yet. They've changed the forecast several times, but I've been given the green light to work from home tomorrow if the streets are scary in the morning. Here's to hoping.
He was pretty expensive, but it's kind of what I expected for hair servicing in Portland compared to the prices in Omaha. I'm happy to report that he broke down the stereotype and gave my mop some style and finesse, while keeping the length I need to donate to locks of love. He wasn't the quickest cut in the land, and his technique was insane (scissors in the right hand, upside down), but I'm happy with the result, which I haven't been with the last few hair places I've tried. The best part was that he thinks I'll be ready to chop this stuff off at my next appointment. I need to start looking for good short cuts!
Since I was able to go to my hair appointment, I guess you can guess that we don't have any snow, yet. They've changed the forecast several times, but I've been given the green light to work from home tomorrow if the streets are scary in the morning. Here's to hoping.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
2 weeks
It's been two weeks since the last day of the trial. It seems like a lifetime. Since then, I've successfully negotiated for spring break (hooray!), found out that the ex and Vicky are preggers (EW!), and found a new hair dresser. Actually, I'm not really sure about the hair dresser, yet. I'll find out tomorrow (if there's no snow).
The news people kind of freak out about weather around here. If there is an iota of a remote chance of snow, it's reason to shout at us for 3 weeks prior to the big weather event. From what my coworkers tell me, if the weatherman has predicted it, it doesn't happen. Either it doesn't happen until days (or weeks) later, or it doesn't happen at all. We've already experienced this phenomenon this year. But the weatherman keeps telling us that this time, it's for real. There will really be snow on "THE VALLEY FLOOR!!!" That's a big deal around here. I guess a few years ago an unexpected snow storm caused over 1500 drivers to abandon their vehicles on highways. Buses were stuck. It was chaos. And they're promising more of the same with 6 inches ON THE VALLEY FLOOR expected this week.
I'm scared that my hair appointment will be canceled. I'm more scared that my flight will be canceled. They don't have plows in Portland. They don't salt the roads. They are not prepared for even 2 inches of snow. Here's to hoping that the weatherman is wrong. Again.
The news people kind of freak out about weather around here. If there is an iota of a remote chance of snow, it's reason to shout at us for 3 weeks prior to the big weather event. From what my coworkers tell me, if the weatherman has predicted it, it doesn't happen. Either it doesn't happen until days (or weeks) later, or it doesn't happen at all. We've already experienced this phenomenon this year. But the weatherman keeps telling us that this time, it's for real. There will really be snow on "THE VALLEY FLOOR!!!" That's a big deal around here. I guess a few years ago an unexpected snow storm caused over 1500 drivers to abandon their vehicles on highways. Buses were stuck. It was chaos. And they're promising more of the same with 6 inches ON THE VALLEY FLOOR expected this week.
I'm scared that my hair appointment will be canceled. I'm more scared that my flight will be canceled. They don't have plows in Portland. They don't salt the roads. They are not prepared for even 2 inches of snow. Here's to hoping that the weatherman is wrong. Again.
Monday, February 21, 2011
You spin me right round, baby....
I made it to spin class today. Hooray! Happy President's day, everyone! It was a spintastic morning. The instructor was a guest. I guess she'd taught there before, but not for a few years. She was back, and she was awesome. Better music than we've heard in a while, too. She even incorporated some tabata-style intervals into the middle of the workout (20 seconds all out, 10 second recovery 8 times). So what if I felt like barfing after class? I think it was worth it.
I kind of like the am classes as compared to the evening classes. For one thing, I'm not the least in-shape person in the room. Not that I'm keeping track of all the people who are better or worse than me, but it is nice to see a couple of people at or below my skill level. For another, it's not nearly as busy. When I snuck into the evening class a few weeks ago, I was one of three people who had not signed up for the class ahead of time. 27 people had signed up, and they'd done so 3 hours before the class started. At least a few of those people (if not all - I still need to check the policy on that) paid a $1.00 for the benefit of knowing they were signed up. The instructor kind of stressed the importance of signing up, and not just walking in. Oops. My guilty conscience really burned that night. The morning class is not like that at all. It's maybe 1/2 full, if that, and the instructors (so far) have been very nice about welcoming people in. And it's still a great work out. It might not be given by the Matthew McConaughey look alike, but when I'm gasping for breath while sweating through my shirt, I'm not exactly wanting to interact with MM. I'd rather run into him on my way into work, when my hair and make up are fresh.
The morning was rushed, and I had to take my #3 choice train, but I think I'll try to keep this up 3 times a week. It's a good workout, and even though my legs feel like jelly when I take the stairs at work, I think it'll be a good thing in the long run. Who knows. Maybe I'll enter another triathlon this year...
I kind of like the am classes as compared to the evening classes. For one thing, I'm not the least in-shape person in the room. Not that I'm keeping track of all the people who are better or worse than me, but it is nice to see a couple of people at or below my skill level. For another, it's not nearly as busy. When I snuck into the evening class a few weeks ago, I was one of three people who had not signed up for the class ahead of time. 27 people had signed up, and they'd done so 3 hours before the class started. At least a few of those people (if not all - I still need to check the policy on that) paid a $1.00 for the benefit of knowing they were signed up. The instructor kind of stressed the importance of signing up, and not just walking in. Oops. My guilty conscience really burned that night. The morning class is not like that at all. It's maybe 1/2 full, if that, and the instructors (so far) have been very nice about welcoming people in. And it's still a great work out. It might not be given by the Matthew McConaughey look alike, but when I'm gasping for breath while sweating through my shirt, I'm not exactly wanting to interact with MM. I'd rather run into him on my way into work, when my hair and make up are fresh.
The morning was rushed, and I had to take my #3 choice train, but I think I'll try to keep this up 3 times a week. It's a good workout, and even though my legs feel like jelly when I take the stairs at work, I think it'll be a good thing in the long run. Who knows. Maybe I'll enter another triathlon this year...
Friday, February 18, 2011
Ugh. Gross
I've been experiencing the "flight or fight" response on and off for about 6 months, now. Generally, it's been centered around some new news or development with my on-going struggle to leave Omaha behind for the (much) greener pastures of the Pacific Northwest. I've gone weeks without feeling the familiar flip of my stomach and tingle as the blood leaves my extremeties. Not anymore.
It's been 10 days since the last day of the trial. 10 days since it came to a "close." 10 days since the judge said, "Get in line. I have a 500 case backlog before I can rule on yours." It's been 10 days, and I still have almost a constant flip and tingle. Luckily, I'm not teary (all the time) anymore, but I'm having an extremely difficult time settling back into the routine of life this time. What's that song? The Waiting is the Hardest Part?...
It's been 10 days since the last day of the trial. 10 days since it came to a "close." 10 days since the judge said, "Get in line. I have a 500 case backlog before I can rule on yours." It's been 10 days, and I still have almost a constant flip and tingle. Luckily, I'm not teary (all the time) anymore, but I'm having an extremely difficult time settling back into the routine of life this time. What's that song? The Waiting is the Hardest Part?...
Poop. I'm late.
My attempts to make it another spin class this week were foiled by the little 'am' and 'pm' symbols on my phone, which has been acting as our alarm clock since moving out here. So we over slept. The whole family overslept. Usually, Bubba is in his room saying, "Hi! Heyo! Binky? Hi!" by about 5:30am. That would have meant that although I would have been late to spin (or perhaps missed it altogether), Ben would have started work on time, and I would have been to work on time. But today was different.
Ben got up totally randomly at 7:10 am. He was already 40 minutes late for work. If I take Bubba to daycare, I'm usually gone by 6:45. By the time I park the car back at home to walk to the train station, it's usually 7:00 on the nose. So obviously, I was late, too. Hopefully, I'd be able to salvage the morning and make it to work with minimal damage done.
That delusion ended when I stepped into Bubba's room. He was still sacked out. It smelled like a barnyard in there. I let Ben know I'd change him and get him ready, and Ben said he'd take Bubba to daycare on his way to drop the car off for an oil change. Deal! I went back in. Bubba was up and taking off his pjs. There was poop running down the side of his diaper all the way to his knee on the left side of his footy pajamas. Gross. It was one thing when he was a baby, but he's like a man, now. We ran a bath. And 20 minutes later, I was running to the train station. It was after 7:30 when my train took off.
Ben called at about 7:50-7:55, and I was off the train, waiting at Burnside (the busiest street on my commute) for the cross walk to turn. Burnside is about 12 blocks away from my work - about a mile. Once the light turned, I started off walking until I hung up the phone. Then, I put the phone away, tightened the straps of the backpack, and took off running. I walked the last few blocks, trying to mitigate the sweatiness of my arrival to work. It didn't really work. I plopped my backpack down in my cube, and rolled up my sleeves to cool off at 8:04. I usually get into work around 7:35-7:40. So...although I wasn't as late as Ben this morning, I was still considerably later than normal. It's a bummer, too, because I heard a guy drop some coins, but I was in too much of a hurry to pick them up...
Ben got up totally randomly at 7:10 am. He was already 40 minutes late for work. If I take Bubba to daycare, I'm usually gone by 6:45. By the time I park the car back at home to walk to the train station, it's usually 7:00 on the nose. So obviously, I was late, too. Hopefully, I'd be able to salvage the morning and make it to work with minimal damage done.
That delusion ended when I stepped into Bubba's room. He was still sacked out. It smelled like a barnyard in there. I let Ben know I'd change him and get him ready, and Ben said he'd take Bubba to daycare on his way to drop the car off for an oil change. Deal! I went back in. Bubba was up and taking off his pjs. There was poop running down the side of his diaper all the way to his knee on the left side of his footy pajamas. Gross. It was one thing when he was a baby, but he's like a man, now. We ran a bath. And 20 minutes later, I was running to the train station. It was after 7:30 when my train took off.
Ben called at about 7:50-7:55, and I was off the train, waiting at Burnside (the busiest street on my commute) for the cross walk to turn. Burnside is about 12 blocks away from my work - about a mile. Once the light turned, I started off walking until I hung up the phone. Then, I put the phone away, tightened the straps of the backpack, and took off running. I walked the last few blocks, trying to mitigate the sweatiness of my arrival to work. It didn't really work. I plopped my backpack down in my cube, and rolled up my sleeves to cool off at 8:04. I usually get into work around 7:35-7:40. So...although I wasn't as late as Ben this morning, I was still considerably later than normal. It's a bummer, too, because I heard a guy drop some coins, but I was in too much of a hurry to pick them up...
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Get ready for another rant
I'm going to take my "sheesh daycare is expensive" rant to an all new level today. Let me start off by saying that we really got off easy on the daycare expenses last year. With Ben at home starting in April, Scooter didn't really have any daycare expenses to speak of. And then there was the hospitalization and subsequent keeping Bubba at home debacle that cut another month and a half out of daycare expenses. And then we hired a part time nanny for 7 months before putting Bubba back into daycare out here. Incredibly, our part time nanny was cheaper than full-on daycare, only we got individual attention and trips to the park everyday.
It was a win-win, really. Except for the times when Bubba didn't sleep as late as he should have or when he would randomly decide not to nap. Also, despite the one-on-one attention, there could have been more learning activities for Bubba. But again, you get what you pay for, and we were skating by on $200 a week. If we add up our expenses for the year, we're looking at almost $8,000 in daycare expenses.
...and cue the rant. Taxes. Do you know what the amount of credit the government allows is? Up to 35% of your expenses up to $3,000 for one child and $6,000 for two or more children, depending on your income (the more you make, you qualify for less credit). Those qualifying expenses are then reduced by any dependent care benefits (or flex acct dollars) offered by your employer. Also...even if both spouses have the option of a flex account, a family may only put up to $5,000 into a dependent care pre-tax account. What does this mean? Well, we can start with 2010's tax return for us.
We spent $8,000 on daycare for Bubba. We had $3,000 in qualifying daycare expenses (we maxed it out!). Except now, we subract the $5,000 Ben had put into his dependent care flex account, and we're left with 0. We were able to use $0 credit on our tax return. Ok, I understand. We couldn't claim Scooter this year. I get it. The most we'd ever be able to use is $1K. But what about our next year's return?
We'll spend $13,000 on daycare for Bubba, 0 for Scooter. So...we'll have $3,000 in qualifying expenses, minus the $5K in flex, and...what? 0 again?! And this is where I get fired up. The range of care costs for a child in Bubba's age range is from $4550 to $18750 around the nation. Obviously, the average for the US is somewhere in the middle, but still...we can take the full amount of mortgage interest paid as a deduction, but only $3,000 or $6,000 in child care expenses? Buying a home is a choice. Often times, sending a child to daycare is a necessity. According to a 2010 survey conducted by the National Association of Child Care Resource and Referral Agencies, in 40 states, the cost of a year's worth of child care exceeds that of a year of tuition and associated fees at a 4 year public university. And yet, we can only put $5k in a dependent care flex, and we can only qualify for $3,000 in expenses for a tax credit (which is then negated by the flex money).
Generally, when a family is sending their child to daycare, they are young. Maybe not quite starting out in their careers, but pretty close. Hardly the time to be able to cough up $10,000 a year in daycare. Oh, and there's no 529 account for daycare. Not that a new parent would have had the foresight to invest in one before their child was even born, anyway. In all of the hooplah over the federal budget and the American tax payor, how about taking a look at policies surrounding encouraging Americans to work? I've known several people who have left the workforce because between commuting costs and daycare, it just wasn't worth it. These are bright, productive people who are taking themselves out of the workforce. These are taxpayers that are leaving the pool. But you know....let's just keep on giving first time home buyers credit and deducting our mortgage interest while young mothers and fathers struggle to find affordable, quality care for the next group of taxpayers. That makes sense.
It was a win-win, really. Except for the times when Bubba didn't sleep as late as he should have or when he would randomly decide not to nap. Also, despite the one-on-one attention, there could have been more learning activities for Bubba. But again, you get what you pay for, and we were skating by on $200 a week. If we add up our expenses for the year, we're looking at almost $8,000 in daycare expenses.
...and cue the rant. Taxes. Do you know what the amount of credit the government allows is? Up to 35% of your expenses up to $3,000 for one child and $6,000 for two or more children, depending on your income (the more you make, you qualify for less credit). Those qualifying expenses are then reduced by any dependent care benefits (or flex acct dollars) offered by your employer. Also...even if both spouses have the option of a flex account, a family may only put up to $5,000 into a dependent care pre-tax account. What does this mean? Well, we can start with 2010's tax return for us.
We spent $8,000 on daycare for Bubba. We had $3,000 in qualifying daycare expenses (we maxed it out!). Except now, we subract the $5,000 Ben had put into his dependent care flex account, and we're left with 0. We were able to use $0 credit on our tax return. Ok, I understand. We couldn't claim Scooter this year. I get it. The most we'd ever be able to use is $1K. But what about our next year's return?
We'll spend $13,000 on daycare for Bubba, 0 for Scooter. So...we'll have $3,000 in qualifying expenses, minus the $5K in flex, and...what? 0 again?! And this is where I get fired up. The range of care costs for a child in Bubba's age range is from $4550 to $18750 around the nation. Obviously, the average for the US is somewhere in the middle, but still...we can take the full amount of mortgage interest paid as a deduction, but only $3,000 or $6,000 in child care expenses? Buying a home is a choice. Often times, sending a child to daycare is a necessity. According to a 2010 survey conducted by the National Association of Child Care Resource and Referral Agencies, in 40 states, the cost of a year's worth of child care exceeds that of a year of tuition and associated fees at a 4 year public university. And yet, we can only put $5k in a dependent care flex, and we can only qualify for $3,000 in expenses for a tax credit (which is then negated by the flex money).
Generally, when a family is sending their child to daycare, they are young. Maybe not quite starting out in their careers, but pretty close. Hardly the time to be able to cough up $10,000 a year in daycare. Oh, and there's no 529 account for daycare. Not that a new parent would have had the foresight to invest in one before their child was even born, anyway. In all of the hooplah over the federal budget and the American tax payor, how about taking a look at policies surrounding encouraging Americans to work? I've known several people who have left the workforce because between commuting costs and daycare, it just wasn't worth it. These are bright, productive people who are taking themselves out of the workforce. These are taxpayers that are leaving the pool. But you know....let's just keep on giving first time home buyers credit and deducting our mortgage interest while young mothers and fathers struggle to find affordable, quality care for the next group of taxpayers. That makes sense.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Yay! And we're moving forward again.
Scooter's coming out here for her spring break this year. I'll say that again, with the ethusiasm I'm feeling about it. SCOOTER'S COMING OUT HERE FOR HER SPRING BREAK THIS YEAR!!!!! Yep. That's better. I've already purchased 6 one-way tickets to make this work logistically. Ben goes to Omaha, Ben and Scooter come back to Portland. Scooter and I go back to Omaha, I come home to Portland. It was quite the effort to look up round trip vs one way and to coordinate so that the solo flights of Ben and myself got us to where we needed to be for our accompanying flights with Scooter. But it's done. Settled. Awesome.
We're going to have a terrific week, too. All sorts of plans. Some of which are secret plans, to be announced later. I'm so pumped. I'm also heading back to Omaha on the 25th of this month, about 10 days away. I'm excited about that, too. I'll be there when Scooter gets out of school on Friday, and I'll stay until after school on Monday.
In other exciting news (for some), our very own Vicky really is pregnant. The pre-natals were probably a hint. Scooter confirmed last night. The whole thing is very odd. Vicky sets up the skype session several weeks ago (with her pre-natals in the computer room. They were actually right beside the computer), where Scooter picked up the bottle to show the camera. It was awkward. I didn't really show any reaction. Was I supposed to ask her about it? Because I didn't. Last night, Scooter made the announcement. Due date: late September, early October. That's right, folks, this thing is still 7 and a half months away, but they're already telling me about it. Kind of early to start telling people, given Vicky's age, if you ask me. But nobody did, so I was excited for Scooter, even if I did get a little dig in via email later last night. I guess that explains why Vicky looked like hell at the trial. The first trimester is rough time.
The announcement was also kind of awkward. Right after Scooter told me about it, I could hear her dad in the background say something and Scooter answer, "yes" to whatever he said. Kind of makes me wonder if there was some coaching on that end of the line. But you know what? I don't care. It's not dampening my spirits one bit. Because SCOOTER'S COMING OUT HERE FOR...ok. You get the picture.
We're going to have a terrific week, too. All sorts of plans. Some of which are secret plans, to be announced later. I'm so pumped. I'm also heading back to Omaha on the 25th of this month, about 10 days away. I'm excited about that, too. I'll be there when Scooter gets out of school on Friday, and I'll stay until after school on Monday.
In other exciting news (for some), our very own Vicky really is pregnant. The pre-natals were probably a hint. Scooter confirmed last night. The whole thing is very odd. Vicky sets up the skype session several weeks ago (with her pre-natals in the computer room. They were actually right beside the computer), where Scooter picked up the bottle to show the camera. It was awkward. I didn't really show any reaction. Was I supposed to ask her about it? Because I didn't. Last night, Scooter made the announcement. Due date: late September, early October. That's right, folks, this thing is still 7 and a half months away, but they're already telling me about it. Kind of early to start telling people, given Vicky's age, if you ask me. But nobody did, so I was excited for Scooter, even if I did get a little dig in via email later last night. I guess that explains why Vicky looked like hell at the trial. The first trimester is rough time.
The announcement was also kind of awkward. Right after Scooter told me about it, I could hear her dad in the background say something and Scooter answer, "yes" to whatever he said. Kind of makes me wonder if there was some coaching on that end of the line. But you know what? I don't care. It's not dampening my spirits one bit. Because SCOOTER'S COMING OUT HERE FOR...ok. You get the picture.
Hooray for rainboots (kind of)
My new rainboots that my husband and kids got me for Christmas sprung a leak. Who knows how that happened. It doesn't really matter, though. It's still better than walking to work with dress shoes (or light hikers) on. They are warm, they protect my pants, and they make me feel rugged.
Today, about a block after I got off the train, it started snowing! Huge flakes at least the size of quarters filled the air. The weird part is that it was also still raining. That and it was still 37 degrees outside, so while the snow was beautiful in the air, once it hit the pavement, it was gone. It was still nice to walk through a winter wonderland without freezing.
It's been a busy, whirl-wind week. On Monday, I went to a 5:30am spin class. It wasn't full, but it was a good class. The instructor was motivational, except for the part where she played music that I think I would have lived a full life if I had never heard. A sample of the musical stylings include a mash up of the theme to Andy Griffith with Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Another interesting one was Wild Cherry's "Play That Funky Music" mixed with Franky Goes to Hollywood's "Relax." And did I mention that she sang along? The rest of the class is huffing and puffing, and she was singing along to the worst excuse for music ever recorded. Other than that, though, the class was really good. Ben got Bubba ready for me, so when I got home, all I had to do was run around like a crazy person to make it out the door in time for work. I forgot deoderant. Oops.
Yesterday, Ben started another free trial at a new BJJ (Brazillian Jiujitsu) gym. Even though it was just his first day, and he hasn't made any determination, yet, I already like the first one he tried better. It's closer, and they have noon classes, which is really convenient. Especially since Ben works from home, and wouldn't have to go back to an office after that. Bubba and I had a really fun swim lesson. My arms are super tired from all the over-head presses I did with him. He loves that.
Today, I was supposed to go to another spin class, but we've had a lot of late nights this week working on taxes, so...I skipped it. We slept in late, and Ben helped get Bubba ready for school again, anyway, even though I was at home. It was a dream. Ben's a dream-boat.
So, yeah. Taxes. Ugh. We've spent about 5 hours on them, so far, and we're not done. I'm paranoid that we're committing tax fraud because our refund is so huge (so far). Ben had barely any taxes taken out of his regular pay, but he overpaid taxes on his stock options last year. I've been nickel and diming (or thousand and ten thousanding) my Roth to pay our lawyer, and I was paranoid about that. Oh, and did I mention Ben is also a free-lance writer and I also got an EIN for myself in order to pay nanny taxes? What a mess. And we don't get to claim Scooter this year. I was paranoid about not having Scooter and having to pay nanny taxes, so apparently, I had too much withheld (especially considering how Ben handled his stock option exercise). Turbotax wouldn't send us down the wrong path, though, would it? I hope not. I'm looking forward to paying off our lawyer with the refund.
Today, about a block after I got off the train, it started snowing! Huge flakes at least the size of quarters filled the air. The weird part is that it was also still raining. That and it was still 37 degrees outside, so while the snow was beautiful in the air, once it hit the pavement, it was gone. It was still nice to walk through a winter wonderland without freezing.
It's been a busy, whirl-wind week. On Monday, I went to a 5:30am spin class. It wasn't full, but it was a good class. The instructor was motivational, except for the part where she played music that I think I would have lived a full life if I had never heard. A sample of the musical stylings include a mash up of the theme to Andy Griffith with Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Another interesting one was Wild Cherry's "Play That Funky Music" mixed with Franky Goes to Hollywood's "Relax." And did I mention that she sang along? The rest of the class is huffing and puffing, and she was singing along to the worst excuse for music ever recorded. Other than that, though, the class was really good. Ben got Bubba ready for me, so when I got home, all I had to do was run around like a crazy person to make it out the door in time for work. I forgot deoderant. Oops.
Yesterday, Ben started another free trial at a new BJJ (Brazillian Jiujitsu) gym. Even though it was just his first day, and he hasn't made any determination, yet, I already like the first one he tried better. It's closer, and they have noon classes, which is really convenient. Especially since Ben works from home, and wouldn't have to go back to an office after that. Bubba and I had a really fun swim lesson. My arms are super tired from all the over-head presses I did with him. He loves that.
Today, I was supposed to go to another spin class, but we've had a lot of late nights this week working on taxes, so...I skipped it. We slept in late, and Ben helped get Bubba ready for school again, anyway, even though I was at home. It was a dream. Ben's a dream-boat.
So, yeah. Taxes. Ugh. We've spent about 5 hours on them, so far, and we're not done. I'm paranoid that we're committing tax fraud because our refund is so huge (so far). Ben had barely any taxes taken out of his regular pay, but he overpaid taxes on his stock options last year. I've been nickel and diming (or thousand and ten thousanding) my Roth to pay our lawyer, and I was paranoid about that. Oh, and did I mention Ben is also a free-lance writer and I also got an EIN for myself in order to pay nanny taxes? What a mess. And we don't get to claim Scooter this year. I was paranoid about not having Scooter and having to pay nanny taxes, so apparently, I had too much withheld (especially considering how Ben handled his stock option exercise). Turbotax wouldn't send us down the wrong path, though, would it? I hope not. I'm looking forward to paying off our lawyer with the refund.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The weekend
We had a good weekend, except for the part where the whole family (Bubba - maybe? - excluded) feels guilty about having fun weekends when we know that Scooter is most likely bored out of her skull at her dad's house. Ugh.
I got back into the pool for the first time in months (like 9). I was surprisingly awful. As in...right after Bubba was born, and I was getting back into the swing of things, I would swim one hour or 100 laps, which ever came first. I would consistently hit 100 laps at around the 50-55 minute mark. On Saturday, I hit one hour at about 60 laps. I didn't even go a mile. Argh. In my defense, though, the pool was packed full, and some weirdo was floating on a noodle in the middle of my lane. Ok...really, I just stank up the joint. I'll do better next time.
Ben did some mountain biking on Saturday, too at Stub Stewart state park. He made a new friend, so hopefully, he'll have a riding buddy for a few other fun trips. It's a little harder for me to ride w/ Ben these days. 1...I'm not very good. and 2. (maybe more importantly??), we have Bubba around. Not that Bubba would'nt LOVE to be strapped onto a bike and careen down a mountain, but it's probably not safe, and Ben and I surely don't want to also have him strapped on for the inclines. He's getting heavy.
Sunday was a lovely day for a hike, so we drove down to Silver Falls state park for a short hike to one of their 10 waterfalls. Ben took some lovely pictures while Bubba and I said "hi" or "heyo" to each of the 50+ other hikers we passed. Bubba was in the backpack carrier, and he'd pop his head out over my shoulder and make the other hikers laugh or smile. For me, it really only made my shoulder ache. After that, we spent a lovely afternoon with Ben's aunt and uncle and cousin.
I got to talk to Scooter on the way home from Crawfordsville, and for the first time in a while, she was really talkative. Don't get me wrong. We talk everyday, and she always has something to say, but yesterday, she was really filling me in on school and soccer and life in general. It was fantastic. And then her dad made her get off the phone. She was in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly, it was, "oh. Ok. um..mom. I have to wrap it up." And, as always when she gets cut off, she went into her shell and was suddenly quiet and baby-talkish. It infuriates me.
I got back into the pool for the first time in months (like 9). I was surprisingly awful. As in...right after Bubba was born, and I was getting back into the swing of things, I would swim one hour or 100 laps, which ever came first. I would consistently hit 100 laps at around the 50-55 minute mark. On Saturday, I hit one hour at about 60 laps. I didn't even go a mile. Argh. In my defense, though, the pool was packed full, and some weirdo was floating on a noodle in the middle of my lane. Ok...really, I just stank up the joint. I'll do better next time.
Ben did some mountain biking on Saturday, too at Stub Stewart state park. He made a new friend, so hopefully, he'll have a riding buddy for a few other fun trips. It's a little harder for me to ride w/ Ben these days. 1...I'm not very good. and 2. (maybe more importantly??), we have Bubba around. Not that Bubba would'nt LOVE to be strapped onto a bike and careen down a mountain, but it's probably not safe, and Ben and I surely don't want to also have him strapped on for the inclines. He's getting heavy.
Sunday was a lovely day for a hike, so we drove down to Silver Falls state park for a short hike to one of their 10 waterfalls. Ben took some lovely pictures while Bubba and I said "hi" or "heyo" to each of the 50+ other hikers we passed. Bubba was in the backpack carrier, and he'd pop his head out over my shoulder and make the other hikers laugh or smile. For me, it really only made my shoulder ache. After that, we spent a lovely afternoon with Ben's aunt and uncle and cousin.
I got to talk to Scooter on the way home from Crawfordsville, and for the first time in a while, she was really talkative. Don't get me wrong. We talk everyday, and she always has something to say, but yesterday, she was really filling me in on school and soccer and life in general. It was fantastic. And then her dad made her get off the phone. She was in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly, it was, "oh. Ok. um..mom. I have to wrap it up." And, as always when she gets cut off, she went into her shell and was suddenly quiet and baby-talkish. It infuriates me.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Happy Memories from Tuesday
Although overall, I still fee pretty awful about the whole trial, case, etc. I do have to revel in some of the happier points (for me) from this whole ordeal. Some of the antics from Tuesday were pretty funny, when looked at from farther away. I'll list a few below, and if I think of any others in the coming days, I'll go ahead and write new posts to capture them. Because if nothing else good comes of this, at least I'll have the memories of people, besides myself, looking dumb to a district court judge...
1. The Gun.
At one point, while we were trying to impeach (catch the ex in a "lie" or at least point out where he's maybe not so credible) the ex, he admitted that he had a gun in the courtroom. The judge was not amused:
Judge: You have a gun? In HERE?
Ex: Yes sir. I'm a police officer, and every time I come to the courthouse, I see people who don't like me. You know, people I've arrested...
Judge: You should try being a judge sometime. I would appreciate it if you'd lock up your weapon in the future, and do not bring a gun into my courtroom.
Ex: Yes sir.
2. The legitimate reason hurdle.
There are 2 main points in a removal case: does the plaintif have a legitimate reason to move, and is the move in the best interest of the child(ren). During Joni Mitchell's closing, she referred to 3 hurdles, but only 1 of which was she clear on. The legitimate reason hurdle. While she was in the middle of lambasting me for not clearing the first hurdle the judge interrupted her:
Judge: I've seen several removal cases where the plaintif falls in love with someone, who, for whatever reason, can't move to Omaha, and THAT is a legitimate reason for removal. They might not even be married. It might be a boyfriend she's moving for. That's a legitimate reason. Is this job not legitimate?
3. The "ties to community" hurdle.
This is not actually a hurdle. It's one of several prongs to look at in the "best interest of the children" hurdle. But anyway, it was part of her closing argument. That we didn't meet that hurdle, either. Because, according to Joni Mitchell, what bigger tie to the community is there, than her own father?! And that's where the judge interrupted her again:
Judge: uh, well...hm. In no case law or removal case that I've seen is the non-custodial parent considered a tie to the commuity. That's the whole reason why we have removal cases.
4. Scooter's testimony.
Joni Mitchell gave an impassioned speech. Like...total stream of consciousness nonsense. The judge had actually warned both lawyers to stick to the facts. Let's not get emotional and heated. In other words, he was aware that one of the parties had a gun in his courtroom, and that there have been heated exchanges between one of the parties and the other party's husband, and he didn't want any disaster happening. And in the middle of Joni Mitchell's closing, she brought up Scooter's in camera testimony. The in camera testimony happened back in November with the judge, both lawyers, and Scooter, and the judge gave his word that nothing Scooter said would leave his chambers. That it was a safety zone for her to just talk. Apparently, Joni Mitchell took that to mean she could twist Scooter's words around into a plea to stay in Omaha. The judge was not happy:
Judge: From what she said, it was clear that she loved her mom and she loved her dad. It was clear that she felt that they both loved her. Her testimony...she's obviously at a very tender age. Her testimony didn't weigh in favor either way.
Joni Mitchell: But you asked her. She didn't see her dad as a 10% dad. She saw him as the guy she saw every other DAY!
Judge: I gave that little girl my word that whatever she said would not leave my chambers. That's enough on her testimony.
If anyone who was there that day reads this...feel free to comment on what the best part of the day was for you. I might need a little pick me up as I wallow in my scared little shell for the next few weeks/months...
1. The Gun.
At one point, while we were trying to impeach (catch the ex in a "lie" or at least point out where he's maybe not so credible) the ex, he admitted that he had a gun in the courtroom. The judge was not amused:
Judge: You have a gun? In HERE?
Ex: Yes sir. I'm a police officer, and every time I come to the courthouse, I see people who don't like me. You know, people I've arrested...
Judge: You should try being a judge sometime. I would appreciate it if you'd lock up your weapon in the future, and do not bring a gun into my courtroom.
Ex: Yes sir.
2. The legitimate reason hurdle.
There are 2 main points in a removal case: does the plaintif have a legitimate reason to move, and is the move in the best interest of the child(ren). During Joni Mitchell's closing, she referred to 3 hurdles, but only 1 of which was she clear on. The legitimate reason hurdle. While she was in the middle of lambasting me for not clearing the first hurdle the judge interrupted her:
Judge: I've seen several removal cases where the plaintif falls in love with someone, who, for whatever reason, can't move to Omaha, and THAT is a legitimate reason for removal. They might not even be married. It might be a boyfriend she's moving for. That's a legitimate reason. Is this job not legitimate?
3. The "ties to community" hurdle.
This is not actually a hurdle. It's one of several prongs to look at in the "best interest of the children" hurdle. But anyway, it was part of her closing argument. That we didn't meet that hurdle, either. Because, according to Joni Mitchell, what bigger tie to the community is there, than her own father?! And that's where the judge interrupted her again:
Judge: uh, well...hm. In no case law or removal case that I've seen is the non-custodial parent considered a tie to the commuity. That's the whole reason why we have removal cases.
4. Scooter's testimony.
Joni Mitchell gave an impassioned speech. Like...total stream of consciousness nonsense. The judge had actually warned both lawyers to stick to the facts. Let's not get emotional and heated. In other words, he was aware that one of the parties had a gun in his courtroom, and that there have been heated exchanges between one of the parties and the other party's husband, and he didn't want any disaster happening. And in the middle of Joni Mitchell's closing, she brought up Scooter's in camera testimony. The in camera testimony happened back in November with the judge, both lawyers, and Scooter, and the judge gave his word that nothing Scooter said would leave his chambers. That it was a safety zone for her to just talk. Apparently, Joni Mitchell took that to mean she could twist Scooter's words around into a plea to stay in Omaha. The judge was not happy:
Judge: From what she said, it was clear that she loved her mom and she loved her dad. It was clear that she felt that they both loved her. Her testimony...she's obviously at a very tender age. Her testimony didn't weigh in favor either way.
Joni Mitchell: But you asked her. She didn't see her dad as a 10% dad. She saw him as the guy she saw every other DAY!
Judge: I gave that little girl my word that whatever she said would not leave my chambers. That's enough on her testimony.
If anyone who was there that day reads this...feel free to comment on what the best part of the day was for you. I might need a little pick me up as I wallow in my scared little shell for the next few weeks/months...
Brrr. Kind of
It was 30 degrees when I started my commute this morning. Chilly! Except it was -5 when I left Omaha yesterday, and I was wearing the same number of layers today, so it actually felt pretty nice. Like...35 degrees warmer, which is like going from 60-95, but totally different.
I realized on my way in today that I might feel sick to my stomach for the next couple of months until I know one way or another. After the first day of trial, I cried for a few days, and then we settled back into a routine of living our lives one day at at time. I'm hoping that I'm able to do that again, but right now, I feel sick all the time. I feel on the verge of tears at any moment - like if my boss asks me how I'm doing, I'm just going to burst into tears. And I've been having trouble sleeping. Normally, I win the "race" to sleep with my husband. It's kind of out of necessity because if he wins, his snoring makes it that much harder for me to fall asleep. Lately, I've been losing, and then once I fall asleep, I've been unable to stay asleep. I'll wake up, and just lie there. It's annoying, and I'm sure it's not helping my emotional state.
In happier news, our house, which has been on the market for months, now is scheduled to have 2 showings this week. One was yesterday and one will be on Friday. The weird news about that is that we kind of trashed the house when we were back there this week. The plan was for me to go back and clean like crazy the next time I visit Scooter. But now, we've got people walking through there. I hope they can look past the mess and see the house for its potential. Please, please, please buy the house!!
The only way selling the house is a bad thing is if we sell it at more of a loss than I am estimating, and we lose the court case and have to move back and/or pay the ex's attorney's fees. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe even if we sell at a slight loss, and still have $25,000 of other expenses on top of the house, it'll be worth it just to not have to make a house payment every month, anymore. House payment, trash, water, heat, electricity...yeah. Maybe we just need to unload this thing, no matter what.
I realized on my way in today that I might feel sick to my stomach for the next couple of months until I know one way or another. After the first day of trial, I cried for a few days, and then we settled back into a routine of living our lives one day at at time. I'm hoping that I'm able to do that again, but right now, I feel sick all the time. I feel on the verge of tears at any moment - like if my boss asks me how I'm doing, I'm just going to burst into tears. And I've been having trouble sleeping. Normally, I win the "race" to sleep with my husband. It's kind of out of necessity because if he wins, his snoring makes it that much harder for me to fall asleep. Lately, I've been losing, and then once I fall asleep, I've been unable to stay asleep. I'll wake up, and just lie there. It's annoying, and I'm sure it's not helping my emotional state.
In happier news, our house, which has been on the market for months, now is scheduled to have 2 showings this week. One was yesterday and one will be on Friday. The weird news about that is that we kind of trashed the house when we were back there this week. The plan was for me to go back and clean like crazy the next time I visit Scooter. But now, we've got people walking through there. I hope they can look past the mess and see the house for its potential. Please, please, please buy the house!!
The only way selling the house is a bad thing is if we sell it at more of a loss than I am estimating, and we lose the court case and have to move back and/or pay the ex's attorney's fees. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe even if we sell at a slight loss, and still have $25,000 of other expenses on top of the house, it'll be worth it just to not have to make a house payment every month, anymore. House payment, trash, water, heat, electricity...yeah. Maybe we just need to unload this thing, no matter what.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
...and, I'm taking a break
I know I'm supposed to keep going and all, but I'm tired. So tired. Yesterday was the second day of trial. It was scheduled for a half day (which in court terms means 3 hours), and we went beyond by over an hour. The judge was so kind. SOO kind to give us some time in his schedule late in the afternoon, and we took advantage of that. But let's start at the beginning...
Going in, I had convinced myself that we wouldn't finish yesterday. Call it a defense mechanism, but it seemed that there was too much to be done in too little time. We had already experienced a full day (8+ hours) of trial in which, for all intents and purposes, I was the only witness. How on earth could we do 2 more, rest our case, let them present their case and still get done in 3 hours? It was supposed to start at 9. The other attorney was late (we'll call her Joni Mitchell), so we didn't get started until 9:20. Argh!
Ben went first, and did a really good job. There was one line that I had wished was stated differently, but if I think back to my testimony, there's a million things I'd do differently. He was done before 10. Then, we called the ex. He actually did fairly well. Except for the 2 or more times my lawyer impeached him (basically caught him saying 2 - or more - different things under oath). And the time the judge was shocked at his stupidity for bringing a gun INTO THE COURTROOM. Let's see...I'm the defendant in a heated custody case. I think I'll bring a gun with me today! We finished just in time for the 10:30 break.
After break, Ms Mitchell cross-examined the ex, and then we had 1 or 2 questions for re-direct. And then we rested our case. Although the ex was the only person on her witness list, Joni Mitchell called me as her first witness. Then, she asked me all the same questions she asked me on December 13th. Then, she asked me why I left my old job. So I answered that. She got all excited and tried to impeach me, except she had never asked me why I had left my old job before, so that didn't work. My lawyer asked me 1 or 2 questions for his cross, and then she called the ex. He did pretty well, except at the end, when his lawyer let him just talk, and he just kept going and going. He has many regrets about how he's "parented" in the past 5 years.
And then it was 12:05. The judge had some meeting he had to get to. He had a few questions he wanted answered, and he would allow closing arguments. But we had run out of time. And this is where the judge showed some heart and allowed us to come back after 3:30 to finish up. It actually got under way shortly after 4pm. We answered his questions (actually, the lawyers cleared up the child support calculation worksheets and then the ex and his lawyer tried to straighten out the ex's schedule), and then the judge decided to issue a warning before closing arguments. He said that often times, closing arguments in these types of situations are emotionally charged and heated and that he really wanted us (meaning the lawyers) to stick with the facts and the case law. I read that to mean, "hey. there's a gun in here. let's all be cool about this, ok?"
My lawyer had a prepared outline and went through several case law cases and our facts and pretty much laid it out for the judge. He nodded along and it was done in 3 minutes. Joni Mitchell went on and on about what a horrible person I am. It seriously felt like personal attack. Maybe it wasn't, and I'm just being sensitive, but I'm not used to being vilified like that without the ability to defend myself. The judge interrupted her several times throughout her argument. Presentation-wise, we bested them for sure. I just hope that the facts are enough.
So anyway, it did get done. I take my hat off to my lawyer. I really didn't think that we'd pull it off, but we did. We're finished going to court. Now, we just have to wait the 4-7 weeks until the judge renders his verdict and another few weeks for the transcriber to type out the dictation. So...even though I'm going through hell, I'm going to have to pull off to the side of the road for a few weeks until that part gets straightened out.
Going in, I had convinced myself that we wouldn't finish yesterday. Call it a defense mechanism, but it seemed that there was too much to be done in too little time. We had already experienced a full day (8+ hours) of trial in which, for all intents and purposes, I was the only witness. How on earth could we do 2 more, rest our case, let them present their case and still get done in 3 hours? It was supposed to start at 9. The other attorney was late (we'll call her Joni Mitchell), so we didn't get started until 9:20. Argh!
Ben went first, and did a really good job. There was one line that I had wished was stated differently, but if I think back to my testimony, there's a million things I'd do differently. He was done before 10. Then, we called the ex. He actually did fairly well. Except for the 2 or more times my lawyer impeached him (basically caught him saying 2 - or more - different things under oath). And the time the judge was shocked at his stupidity for bringing a gun INTO THE COURTROOM. Let's see...I'm the defendant in a heated custody case. I think I'll bring a gun with me today! We finished just in time for the 10:30 break.
After break, Ms Mitchell cross-examined the ex, and then we had 1 or 2 questions for re-direct. And then we rested our case. Although the ex was the only person on her witness list, Joni Mitchell called me as her first witness. Then, she asked me all the same questions she asked me on December 13th. Then, she asked me why I left my old job. So I answered that. She got all excited and tried to impeach me, except she had never asked me why I had left my old job before, so that didn't work. My lawyer asked me 1 or 2 questions for his cross, and then she called the ex. He did pretty well, except at the end, when his lawyer let him just talk, and he just kept going and going. He has many regrets about how he's "parented" in the past 5 years.
And then it was 12:05. The judge had some meeting he had to get to. He had a few questions he wanted answered, and he would allow closing arguments. But we had run out of time. And this is where the judge showed some heart and allowed us to come back after 3:30 to finish up. It actually got under way shortly after 4pm. We answered his questions (actually, the lawyers cleared up the child support calculation worksheets and then the ex and his lawyer tried to straighten out the ex's schedule), and then the judge decided to issue a warning before closing arguments. He said that often times, closing arguments in these types of situations are emotionally charged and heated and that he really wanted us (meaning the lawyers) to stick with the facts and the case law. I read that to mean, "hey. there's a gun in here. let's all be cool about this, ok?"
My lawyer had a prepared outline and went through several case law cases and our facts and pretty much laid it out for the judge. He nodded along and it was done in 3 minutes. Joni Mitchell went on and on about what a horrible person I am. It seriously felt like personal attack. Maybe it wasn't, and I'm just being sensitive, but I'm not used to being vilified like that without the ability to defend myself. The judge interrupted her several times throughout her argument. Presentation-wise, we bested them for sure. I just hope that the facts are enough.
So anyway, it did get done. I take my hat off to my lawyer. I really didn't think that we'd pull it off, but we did. We're finished going to court. Now, we just have to wait the 4-7 weeks until the judge renders his verdict and another few weeks for the transcriber to type out the dictation. So...even though I'm going through hell, I'm going to have to pull off to the side of the road for a few weeks until that part gets straightened out.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Ho-Hum
Well, we're back in Omaha. It's only for a few days, but it's not my favorite place to be. For one thing, it's COLD out here. I'm not a fan of this weather, nor of the dirty car that comes with driving in this weather. I'm also not a fan of why we're back. Trial day is tomorrow. My stomach has been flipping around for weeks, now, but it's nothing compared to what's been happening since we landed on Saturday afternoon. Flips, turns, kicks, acid, you name it, my body's been doing it. I am having a hard time keeping my nerves and emotions in check.
I'm so nervous, in part, because I know what to expect this time around. I'm also nervous because my portion of this dance is done. So the case rests on the shoulders of my lawyer, now. Will he ask the "right" questions? What are the "right" questions? Argh! I'm also nervous because, supposedly, this is it. Tomorrow is the day it all goes down, and then we wait for the verdict. And that terrifies me. It terrifies me because all along, we've done the right thing with the wrong result. What if this is just more of the same? What if we just threw away $30,000 for no reason? What if I have to move back to this horribly cold, snowy place without a job, without anymore savings, without without without.
I can only hope that a stranger that doesn't know me or my family can make the right decision for us.
I'm so nervous, in part, because I know what to expect this time around. I'm also nervous because my portion of this dance is done. So the case rests on the shoulders of my lawyer, now. Will he ask the "right" questions? What are the "right" questions? Argh! I'm also nervous because, supposedly, this is it. Tomorrow is the day it all goes down, and then we wait for the verdict. And that terrifies me. It terrifies me because all along, we've done the right thing with the wrong result. What if this is just more of the same? What if we just threw away $30,000 for no reason? What if I have to move back to this horribly cold, snowy place without a job, without anymore savings, without without without.
I can only hope that a stranger that doesn't know me or my family can make the right decision for us.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Things that make me go "hmm"
Ok, I know that title stinks. I'm sorry, but I really am sitting here wondering what just happened.
If you're at all embarrassed by female bodily functions, you might want to stop reading right now. In fact...that sentence kind of makes me want to stop typing right now. But this is really weird, so I have to keep going. Before going into the restroom, I slipped a tampon and panty liner into my pocket. The tampon is the super cute clicky kind that my sister had on our trip to STL this summer. The novelty of them (and the fact that they're somewhat discrete) convinced me to buy a pack to keep in my purse for days like this.
Anyway, I got into the stall, took the tampon out of my pocket and kind of just dropped into my pants somewhere - you know, for easy access when I needed it. Long story short, I decided I didn't really need it. So I pulled my pants up, assuming it was still in my pocket, and went about my way. As I was washing my hands, I wondered where that sucker had gone. It was no longer in my pocket, and it was not on the floor of the bathroom. I thoroughly checked myself out in the full length mirror and also gave myself a TSA-style pat-down. Nothing. Now I'm back at my desk, wondering where that thing could have gone and whether or not it's going to turn up and embarrass me in my cube. Like...fall out of my pant leg as my boss walks by or something.
I guess I'm the latest victim of whatever it is stalking the women's bathrooms around here. Every week, we get emails similar to this: "Ladies! If anyone lost a silver hoop earring in the lower level bathroom, come to my desk to claim." Every week. It's a joke around here. "Ladies! Someone left their glock in the bathroom. If you're missing it, come to my desk to claim!" or "Ladies! Someone left their small child in the upper level bathroom. Email me with a description to have it returned." Tomorrow, we'll get the inevitable "Ladies! One of you left an unopened tampon in the 2nd floor hallway. Come to my desk to claim." Only, I'll be too embarrassed to actually claim it.
If you're at all embarrassed by female bodily functions, you might want to stop reading right now. In fact...that sentence kind of makes me want to stop typing right now. But this is really weird, so I have to keep going. Before going into the restroom, I slipped a tampon and panty liner into my pocket. The tampon is the super cute clicky kind that my sister had on our trip to STL this summer. The novelty of them (and the fact that they're somewhat discrete) convinced me to buy a pack to keep in my purse for days like this.
Anyway, I got into the stall, took the tampon out of my pocket and kind of just dropped into my pants somewhere - you know, for easy access when I needed it. Long story short, I decided I didn't really need it. So I pulled my pants up, assuming it was still in my pocket, and went about my way. As I was washing my hands, I wondered where that sucker had gone. It was no longer in my pocket, and it was not on the floor of the bathroom. I thoroughly checked myself out in the full length mirror and also gave myself a TSA-style pat-down. Nothing. Now I'm back at my desk, wondering where that thing could have gone and whether or not it's going to turn up and embarrass me in my cube. Like...fall out of my pant leg as my boss walks by or something.
I guess I'm the latest victim of whatever it is stalking the women's bathrooms around here. Every week, we get emails similar to this: "Ladies! If anyone lost a silver hoop earring in the lower level bathroom, come to my desk to claim." Every week. It's a joke around here. "Ladies! Someone left their glock in the bathroom. If you're missing it, come to my desk to claim!" or "Ladies! Someone left their small child in the upper level bathroom. Email me with a description to have it returned." Tomorrow, we'll get the inevitable "Ladies! One of you left an unopened tampon in the 2nd floor hallway. Come to my desk to claim." Only, I'll be too embarrassed to actually claim it.
I'm having a Nanny 9-1-1 moment, but not because my child is behaving poorly.
I paid daycare this morning. I know it's Friday and not Monday, but we're not going to be here on Mon-Wed next week, so I thought I'd get a head start on it and pay today. The rate had gone up, but only by $8 per week. Not too shabby, eh? Except that translates to $416 a year, times who knows how many kids are there. Oh, and that brings our weekly bill to $265. That's right, folks. My husband and I spend more on daycare than we do on our mortgage.
Let me break it down for you. $265 per week is $13,780 per year. We spend almost forteen THOUSAND dollars per year on child care. I take that back. We get 16 days per year that we don't have to pay ($848), so really, it's only thirteen THOUSAND dollars per year. For child care.
On my walk into work this morning, I longed for the time, not long ago, when I was paying $125 per week for my daughter's care. I thought it was expensive. I knew that it was slightly below national average at the time for pre-school aged care (national average was $7,000 per year, and I was paying roughly $6,500), but still. As a single mom making not quite $40k, spending 16% of it on daycare seemed like a lot. That was only 5 years ago. What has happened since then that it's suddenly OK to pay twice that for the same service? I mean, other than a recession in which millions of people are out of work.
You hear people piss and moan all the time about the tuition rates at our colleges and universities. Well, how about the rates at our first learning centers? Just look at the university I went to. Total expenses for a year is roughly twice what I paid when I went there..wait for it...17 years ago. That's outrageous. But how about if it doubled every five? Don't get me wrong. I understand the importance of good child care. I'm (obviously) willing to pay for good child care. I'm just not sure how I went from struggling to pay 16% of my income on it to paying 20% of my income on the same thing. In a time when people all over are tightening their belts, it's really difficult to justify paying more for necessary services. My family can always cut cable or buy generic groceries, etc. But quality care is a necessity for us to continue to work, and the pace of our cost of living pay increases is not in keeping with the increase in costs of living. I really shouldn't complain. We're only $56,000 away from kindergarten and an end to this madness.
Let me break it down for you. $265 per week is $13,780 per year. We spend almost forteen THOUSAND dollars per year on child care. I take that back. We get 16 days per year that we don't have to pay ($848), so really, it's only thirteen THOUSAND dollars per year. For child care.
On my walk into work this morning, I longed for the time, not long ago, when I was paying $125 per week for my daughter's care. I thought it was expensive. I knew that it was slightly below national average at the time for pre-school aged care (national average was $7,000 per year, and I was paying roughly $6,500), but still. As a single mom making not quite $40k, spending 16% of it on daycare seemed like a lot. That was only 5 years ago. What has happened since then that it's suddenly OK to pay twice that for the same service? I mean, other than a recession in which millions of people are out of work.
You hear people piss and moan all the time about the tuition rates at our colleges and universities. Well, how about the rates at our first learning centers? Just look at the university I went to. Total expenses for a year is roughly twice what I paid when I went there..wait for it...17 years ago. That's outrageous. But how about if it doubled every five? Don't get me wrong. I understand the importance of good child care. I'm (obviously) willing to pay for good child care. I'm just not sure how I went from struggling to pay 16% of my income on it to paying 20% of my income on the same thing. In a time when people all over are tightening their belts, it's really difficult to justify paying more for necessary services. My family can always cut cable or buy generic groceries, etc. But quality care is a necessity for us to continue to work, and the pace of our cost of living pay increases is not in keeping with the increase in costs of living. I really shouldn't complain. We're only $56,000 away from kindergarten and an end to this madness.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Streetcar named quagmire
I had to go to Pioneer Square today. Really, I should have gone sometime after the 22nd of January to pick up my February transit pass. I buy it online through my work, which affords me a generous discount - like 50% off each monthly pass. Basically, the pass is paid for by the time I make 9 round trips. I can generally accomplish that by the 12th of each month, give or take a few days. The train is on your honor, and I can ride the streetcar for free with my work badge, so really, I technically could save $45 per month and not get a pass (as long as I never rode a bus). But I'm an honest citizen, and I'll happily pay $45 per month toward my commute. It's much better than the $120+ I used to pay for gas.
So today, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer, and I went downtown to get my pass. I've done it on my lunch break before, and it generally takes about an hour. It's a 1.5 mile streetcar ride followed by a short 4 or 5 block walk. The streetcar back to work is 1 block closer to the trimet office, so the way back is usually quicker. Except today.
I was about 2 blocks from the stop when I saw the streetcar roll by. It wasn't a huge deal, as the streetcars run fairly often. When I got to the stop, the sign said there'd be an 8 minute wait. I've run into this before, so I decided to walk to the next stop and see what the wait was, then. 8 minutes. Ok...next one: 8 minutes. Surely, I'm not walking at the same pace as the streetcar? Next stop: 7 minutes. 7 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes...by this time, it was a little game. I'd look over my shoulder to see if the streetcar was bearing down on me. It wasn't. I found myself at the 18th and Northrup stop. The next stop was 22nd and Northrup, and my office is at 20th and Northrup. It was still 1 minute until the trolley would arrive. Rather than wait to ride, and then walk 2 blocks BACK to my office, I decided to walk 2 blocks forward to my office.
I saw the streetcar out of the corner of my eye as I was unlocking the stairwell door. It never did catch up with me. It was a beautiful walk, too, through the Pearl District, and another uplift section of downtown. Next time, I'll take the shorter way back to work, rather than follow the streetcar rails. It might even save me a minute or two.
So today, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer, and I went downtown to get my pass. I've done it on my lunch break before, and it generally takes about an hour. It's a 1.5 mile streetcar ride followed by a short 4 or 5 block walk. The streetcar back to work is 1 block closer to the trimet office, so the way back is usually quicker. Except today.
I was about 2 blocks from the stop when I saw the streetcar roll by. It wasn't a huge deal, as the streetcars run fairly often. When I got to the stop, the sign said there'd be an 8 minute wait. I've run into this before, so I decided to walk to the next stop and see what the wait was, then. 8 minutes. Ok...next one: 8 minutes. Surely, I'm not walking at the same pace as the streetcar? Next stop: 7 minutes. 7 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 6 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes...by this time, it was a little game. I'd look over my shoulder to see if the streetcar was bearing down on me. It wasn't. I found myself at the 18th and Northrup stop. The next stop was 22nd and Northrup, and my office is at 20th and Northrup. It was still 1 minute until the trolley would arrive. Rather than wait to ride, and then walk 2 blocks BACK to my office, I decided to walk 2 blocks forward to my office.
I saw the streetcar out of the corner of my eye as I was unlocking the stairwell door. It never did catch up with me. It was a beautiful walk, too, through the Pearl District, and another uplift section of downtown. Next time, I'll take the shorter way back to work, rather than follow the streetcar rails. It might even save me a minute or two.
Whoop, there it is.
I accidently maced myself this morning. I didn't spray it directly into my eyes or anything, but the apartment, my sock, and especially my backpack smelled of mace when I left this morning. Oops.
Ben bought me some mace back in September when I was out here by myself. It offered me some peace of mind during my train commute and mile + walk into work, but mostly it was for the times when I took the late train to or from the airport after visiting Omaha. And it worked. I had peace of mind.
The only time I remotely thought about it was just this week, when a man barked at me as I got on the train on my way home from work. I looked questioningly to my fellow riders, but none of them acted like anything had happened. I thought about the mace in the outside pocket of my backpack. He barked twice more, and then got off the train just before it pulled out of the PGE Park stop. The other passengers in the "standing room only" section all looked relieved.
Well, that was the only time I thought about my mace until today, that is. I was putting my umbrella back into its pocket on the commute pack when it struck something and wouldn't go any further. I pushed harder, and heard a hissing sound. I stopped pushing, investigated the noise, and realized that the thumb-safety had been flipped, and the umbrella was depressing the button on my tiny mace can. A moment later, the smell hit my nose. Shortly after that, I realized that the top of my foot (in my sock) was soaked. And there was a dark circle of wet mace on the pocket netting. Ben came around the corner, and noticed the smell.
I really had to leave to take Bubba to daycare and catch my train, so I put my shoes on, hoping they would cover the splotch on my socks, and left. What a great start to the day. I did find another penny on my way in, though. That *kind of* cancels out the accidental macing of my family, right?
Ben bought me some mace back in September when I was out here by myself. It offered me some peace of mind during my train commute and mile + walk into work, but mostly it was for the times when I took the late train to or from the airport after visiting Omaha. And it worked. I had peace of mind.
The only time I remotely thought about it was just this week, when a man barked at me as I got on the train on my way home from work. I looked questioningly to my fellow riders, but none of them acted like anything had happened. I thought about the mace in the outside pocket of my backpack. He barked twice more, and then got off the train just before it pulled out of the PGE Park stop. The other passengers in the "standing room only" section all looked relieved.
Well, that was the only time I thought about my mace until today, that is. I was putting my umbrella back into its pocket on the commute pack when it struck something and wouldn't go any further. I pushed harder, and heard a hissing sound. I stopped pushing, investigated the noise, and realized that the thumb-safety had been flipped, and the umbrella was depressing the button on my tiny mace can. A moment later, the smell hit my nose. Shortly after that, I realized that the top of my foot (in my sock) was soaked. And there was a dark circle of wet mace on the pocket netting. Ben came around the corner, and noticed the smell.
I really had to leave to take Bubba to daycare and catch my train, so I put my shoes on, hoping they would cover the splotch on my socks, and left. What a great start to the day. I did find another penny on my way in, though. That *kind of* cancels out the accidental macing of my family, right?
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
small victories
I talked to Scooter last night. I talk to her every night. She had a boring day at home. No school (due to snow), no friend (her neighbor friend was at another person's house), no nothing. So she read a book that's completely inappropriate for her age and waited for her friend to come home. She had mentioned on Monday that she hadn't gone to school (even though school was in session all day and the roads were not reported to be treacherous) because it was "too bad" out to go to school. So this was her second day of boredom without her neighbor friend to entertain her.
Naturally, since I worked from home for half the day, I thought I'd give her a call on my way home and break up some of the monotony for her. Little did I realize that this would set off her father, who wasn't even there at the time. Apparently, it is not OK for me to ask my daughter about her day. It's not OK to show an interest in what she's reading or what she does or who she hangs out with. It's not OK for me to know who is watching her during the day. I guess I didn't get that memo. I figured, as her mother, it was my right to know these things. And as her mother, it was not only my right, but my duty to show an interest in her life.
But whatever. After the hissy fit, he did finally tell me (after I asked four or five times) what orthodontist he took her to a month ago. Again. My right as a mother to know that.
Naturally, since I worked from home for half the day, I thought I'd give her a call on my way home and break up some of the monotony for her. Little did I realize that this would set off her father, who wasn't even there at the time. Apparently, it is not OK for me to ask my daughter about her day. It's not OK to show an interest in what she's reading or what she does or who she hangs out with. It's not OK for me to know who is watching her during the day. I guess I didn't get that memo. I figured, as her mother, it was my right to know these things. And as her mother, it was not only my right, but my duty to show an interest in her life.
But whatever. After the hissy fit, he did finally tell me (after I asked four or five times) what orthodontist he took her to a month ago. Again. My right as a mother to know that.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
roargh
I don't really care if that's not a real word. It's how I felt for most of the day. Stress is getting to me, and there was a certain email at work from the CIO that made me stress a bit. But then I went to swim lessons (for Bubba, not me. I already know how to swim) and all was better, even if it's not perfect. He likes being in the pool, even if he does prefer to not have his face anywhere near water.We still like to go and sing songs and bounce around in the pool.
I also discovered another cool SQL trick today. I'm not prepared to share it. Mostly b/c I'd have to write a bunch of extra stuff to make it generic, but I'll give you a gist: ROW NUMBER () OVER ([<partition_by_clause>] <order_by_clause>). It basically means that you can get SQL to return a line number given a primary key and the order in which you want it returned. Today, I needed a row number for every transaction by account. And it worked for me. Even though it's a struggle right now, I know eventually, I'll get to a point where these insane SQL statements that take me hours to figure out will only take 30 minutes. At least, that's what the goal is.
I also discovered another cool SQL trick today. I'm not prepared to share it. Mostly b/c I'd have to write a bunch of extra stuff to make it generic, but I'll give you a gist: ROW NUMBER () OVER ([<partition_by_clause>] <order_by_clause>). It basically means that you can get SQL to return a line number given a primary key and the order in which you want it returned. Today, I needed a row number for every transaction by account. And it worked for me. Even though it's a struggle right now, I know eventually, I'll get to a point where these insane SQL statements that take me hours to figure out will only take 30 minutes. At least, that's what the goal is.
The nice thing about side-zip pants...
is that I never forget to zip them up. Since I started working here a few months ago, I've expanded my "work pants" collection by a couple of pairs of pants. 80-85% of them (or at least the ones I wear 80-85% of the time) have a button on the inside of the waistband, along with one or two on the outside followed by a zipper in the front. This leads to embarrassment about 50% of the time I wear them. In other words, I forget to zip them up. I had this problem at my last job MAYBE once a year. For those of you math wizards out there, my current rate is more like 2 times per week (4.25 times in a 10 day period).
It's not that I don't know that there's a zipper there. But by the time I button and button and button and sometimes belt, it's hard to remember the zipper. Especially since I want to spend as little time as possible in the restroom. So there I go, back to my desk, sometimes all the way home, and it's not until I "go" at home do I realize that I likely embarrassed myself for 1/2 a day at work and on the train ride home. Retro-grade embarrassment is almost worse than actual embarrassment because when it's reflective like that, you imagine all the worst things rather than the small (or huge) amount of embarrassment that occurs when you KNOW something embarrassing is happening.
Or maybe I should be thinking more positive thoughts. Rather than being mortified all alone when I figure out what I've done, I should be proud that I got away with indecent exposure all day without a fine.
It's not that I don't know that there's a zipper there. But by the time I button and button and button and sometimes belt, it's hard to remember the zipper. Especially since I want to spend as little time as possible in the restroom. So there I go, back to my desk, sometimes all the way home, and it's not until I "go" at home do I realize that I likely embarrassed myself for 1/2 a day at work and on the train ride home. Retro-grade embarrassment is almost worse than actual embarrassment because when it's reflective like that, you imagine all the worst things rather than the small (or huge) amount of embarrassment that occurs when you KNOW something embarrassing is happening.
Or maybe I should be thinking more positive thoughts. Rather than being mortified all alone when I figure out what I've done, I should be proud that I got away with indecent exposure all day without a fine.
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