Here we go again.

Large Fry came upstairs after school for a short nap and stopped in my room to give me a hug before dozing.  "My froat hurts," she said.

I felt her forehead and it didn't feel too warm, so I had her go lay down.

But when Hubby went to leave, taking the Fries with him for worship team practice tonight (it's payroll week, and I've got a zillion things to do), Large Fry nearly cried.

So she stayed here, and I came downstairs.  She's got a mild fever.  Nothing too high.  I tried to peer down her throat with the penlight I got for Christmas (thanks, Dad), but she can't quite seem to say "aaaah" and get her tongue out of the way enough.  However, her throat does look swollen, and I think I see little white patches.  I gave her a Cepacol Fizzler (I love these things) for her throat.

Large Fry won't be going to school tomorrow, and she'll get to go see the doctor.  And probably Hubby will have to take her, since I need to work, depending on the time.

I'm hoping she doesn't have strep.  But I think that's a likely possibility.

Always and forever. And Terrible.

Medium Fry has just been disciplined for stomping and throwing a tantrum.

Through her tears, she cries my name.  "You'll still love me, wright?"

"Always.  I'll always love you."

*sniffles*

"And you'll nevewr..." *snuffle*

"I'll never say I don't love you.  I will always love you."


And Hubby recently outlawed telling me that I'm mean.  The other day, Small Fry was being belligerent, as only a four-year-old can, and really mouthing off, shouting, "You'wre MEAN!"  (I told her to get dressed.  I'm awful, aren't I?)

It's waaaaaaaaaay past bedtime.  But the Fries were in desperate need of baths, so I'm supervising the two not getting bathed while he does the bathing.  The twin Fries are clean, and Large Fry is getting a bath, and I realize that the twins are pulling out toys left and right.  And now wearing dress-up clothes over their jammies.

I told Small Fry to take off the dress-up clothes and put them away, even the animal hats.  This caused Medium to have a conniption, which then resulted in more discipline because she started shrieking and screaming and stomping her feet, gearing up for a major tantrum.  I know she's tired, but still...I confiscate the animal hats.  Then Small Fry refuses to put away toys.

Her arm hurts, she says.  The same arm that had the sequined armband on it.  "Did you break it?" I asked.

"Yes!" she says with a grin and a giggle.

"C'mere."  I squeeze her forearm and bend it at the elbow several times.  "You're fine.  Go put away toys."

She dawdles.  And fiddles.  "Put. Toys. AWAY."

"But..."

"Put. Toys. Away."

"I have to tell you somefing!"

"No.  You have to do what I told you to.  Put toys away."

Small Fry almost growls.  "You'wre...you'wre..."  You can almost see the wheels turning as she searches for an adjective other than mean.  "You'wre tewwrrible!"

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Medium Fry is playing with the LeapFrog toy that Gramma and Boppa got for her for Christmas.  It has a full QWERTY keyboard, and is designed to help little ones her age learn their letters by playing games.

Medium is "typing."

"Deawr Auntie J, Medium and Small and Lawrge Fwry all love you.  And so is Uncle D!"

And, a few minutes later...

"Deawr Auntie J and Uncle D, Medium and Small and Lawrge Fwry all love you!"

As she bounces into the kitchen for a late lunch, she says happily, "Uncle D, I wrote you a techt message!  It said dat I and Small and Lawrge Fwry all love you!"

Somewhat Inexplicable...Unless You Have Kids

Small Fry calls my name.

"What, honey?"

"The poopy can't come out!"

Of course, Hubby is on the phone talking to one of my parents.

"Well, tell it to come out anyway."

"It can't!"

I opted to ignore that one.

"The poopy came out!"

"It did?"

"Good job, poopy!"

Quote of the Day

"Auntie, God da Faddah told me to wake up."  ~Medium Fry

Said, of course, about 45 minutes after Uncle D had read her the riot act and sent her back to bed because she was making so much noise and fighting with her twin and generally misbehaving in our room.

And, conveniently, right after I turned on the TV so that Small Fry could watch Disney Junior.

1 a.m.

That's about the time I went to bed last night.

Er, this morning.

Whichever.

But my stomach was churning with nerves about the hearing this morning, and I had stayed up to tire myself out, so I wouldn't have trouble sleeping.

I turned off all the lights downstairs, grabbed the basket of the kids' clean laundry, and went upstairs.  I hoped I could sneak into the twins' room to put away clothes without waking them.  I knew I could with Large Fry; she almost never wakes up when I do that.

Medium Fry woke as I put undies and camis away, and she followed me out into the hall.  "I hadda bad dweem."

I put away the rest of the clothes, and gently tucked her back in to bed.  I pushed the sleep button on the clock radio, and soft classical music began.

I leaned over and kissed her forehead, and took a step towards the door.

"De big giants awre stuck in hewre," Medium mumbled sleepily.

I crossed my pinkies (because that's what Uncle D says makes monsters leave) and whispered, "Okay, giants, back out of the room."

"Yew fowrgot to say 'Ladies an' gennelmen."

I smiled.  "Ladies and gentlemen," I said softly.  "All giants and monsters need to leave."

"An' wombats," Medium reminded me.

My smile quirked again as I remembered the first time I'd done this little ritual.  I'd wanted something else besides monsters and giants, that didn't sound threatening.  Something silly.  Wombats was the first thing that came to mind.  The list has continued to grow.

"And wombats.  And birdies and bunnies and elephants.  Time to go. Woo-ahhh!"  I kicked out my right foot, because ever since I told the twins that I'd kicked out the giants and monsters and friends, I have to do a real kick, or the routine isn't complete.

Small Fry mumbled from the other side of the room.  "Yew fowrgot to kick."

I bent down and kissed her head too.  "No, I didn't.  I kicked when I said 'woo-ahh.'"

Small Fry sighed sleepily and settled back down into bed.  I tiptoed out and slipped into Large Fry's room to put her clothes away.  She slept peacefully on.

When I got back to our bedroom, I found an assortment of stuffed "friends," and I returned them to their rightful owners--all three Fries had left a trail of stuffed animals that morning.  As I closed Large Fry's door and headed back to our room, I heard Small Fry call my name.

"What, honey?" I asked as I poked my head in the doorway.

"I wanna s'eep in youwr wroom."

"No.  You need to sleep in your room."

She sniffs, signaling impending tears.  "But I wanna s'eep in youwr bed!"

"No, honey.  You need to sleep in your bed.  I'm going to sleep in my bed," I said gently but firmly.

"And Uncle?"

"Yes.  Uncle D is already in bed.  Go to sleep.  I love you."

 "Say, 'I love yew punkin.'"

"I love you, punkin."

"Say, 'I love yew, baby."

"I love you, baby.  Now go to sleep."

She gave me a sleepy smile and snuggled back against her pillow, hugging her little piggy.


I love these moments.

He believes he won.

At first glance, that title sounds almost...annoyed.  Or sarcastic.  Or something less-than-complimentary.

It's really not.  To be quite honest, that's the best summation of today's events, and I'm happy with it.

Today was the hearing for Bro's appeal of the child support finding.

I was half-relieved this morning to hear that the court was operating on schedule (we had enough snow that there was no school today), and half disappointed.  I was nervous about having to go back to court, especially since this particular case is me v. Bro, not Hubby and me v. Bro.  Which meant that Hubby would have to sit in the gallery while I sat up front with the DRS staff lawyer, Bro, the court reporter, the bailiff, the security guard, and the judge.

The judge hearing the appeal is the same judge who heard our custody complaint.

We arrived on time, and sat down in the gallery.  It was very interesting.  We listened as a number of defendants stood before the judge, all of them delinquent on child support for one reason or another.  Hubby commented at one point, in a whisper, that he ought to bring teen boys to watch these kinds of proceedings, and remind them that this is what could happen if they don't keep their pants zipped.  There were several defendants who had multiple cases of support delinquency.

Bro was almost a half hour late, which was okay, mainly because the judge was still hearing contempt charges.  The last case before ours was almost comical.  I thought the defendant was almost as verbose as Bro, and nearly as sure that he was in the right, as he informed the judge that the receptionist at Domestic Relations had told him that three filed papers would bring him current...after the judge had already ruled that he was at least 7 in arrears.  (Doofus.  First rule of appearing in court...you cannot fight the judge in her own courtroom and expect to win.  It just won't happen.)

Our hearing was scheduled for 10.  We didn't get before the judge until 11.  She apologized for the delay, and the hearing moved forward.

It ended up taking an entire hour, which I hadn't quite expected.  Then again, Bro's company's method of pay calculation is on the high end of weird, almost to the point of downright quirky.  That alone probably took twenty minutes to explain.  When Bro had finished with his remarks regarding his complaint and the requested reasons for the appeal--namely, that my income and SIL's income were not considered, and that his pay had decreased since the original support hearing--the judge asked some questions, and then turned it over to the DRS staff attorney who was representing me.

In regards to his first complaint, there are two factors: one, SIL is not even a party to the action that he's appealing.  It's me v. him, not me v. him and her.  (I had filed against SIL, but upon learning that it was going to be exceedingly complicated because of her military service and that I could end up with the same, more money, or less money, I opted to go with the known quantity of what the Army is currently requiring SIL to pay in child support.  So I asked for the filing against SIL to be dismissed.)  Two, our county's rules for findings of support in the case where the plaintiff is a 3rd party to the biological parents (which I am) state that the 3rd party's income is set as zero, as that party is not a biological parent, and then the incomes of each parent are separately considered (as had been done in our case, with a filing against each parent).  Domestic Relations then takes the total obligation that they have determined, and cuts it in half.  Thus, the 3rd party gets 50% from each parent.  So he's only paying half of his determined total obligation.

That left his claim that he's making less money, and on top of that, his wages are being garnished in addition to the child support.

And that's when the DRS staff attorney proved her weight in gold.  She systematically went through his argument, by the math, and showed that, despite his decreased hours, he's really making more now than he was at the time of the original hearing on support, and that his other garnishment is really only 10-11% of his total gross.  Erego, he's not really as hard up as he's claiming.

The judge then asked the attorney how she would like to have this handled.  The judge didn't think that the 10-11% in additional garnishment was necessarily a hardship on Bro, and wasn't inclined to rule that his support amount be reduced by $100-200 like Bro was requesting.  The judge also asked how much debt Bro had and how long he expected the payments to be garnished out of his wages.

The attorney said that she felt that either the support amount could be recalculated or that there could be a slight waiver, but she didn't feel that a 10-11% garnishment was a huge hardship.

The judge then informed Bro that she would be willing to offer him an additional 5% deviation on his support for the time that his wages are under the additional garnishment...if I would agree to it.  She then posed that question to the DR staff attorney, who said she could certainly ask if the plaintiff would be willing.

The attorney turned to me.  I quickly said, "I'm willing to accept that five percent."  I knew it was the right thing to do...not so much because I'm so thrilled with Bro and his job history.  Or because I was feeling forgiving.  It was more self-preservation.  If I agreed, then I was being kind and generous and flexible in the court's eyes...and, to a very small extent, in Bro's (although he'll probably think that it was only what was right, what was due to him, which may make him a bigger pain to deal with in the future).  The judge issued an order that the 12/28/10 finding be refigured with a deviation at 55% rather than 50%, and that all other provisions of the order not in conflict would remain in effect.

Bro asked if that meant that his support would be completely recalculated.

The judge said no; if she sent the paystubs that he had submitted as evidence back to DRS and had them recalculate, since he is actually grossing more now than he was before, his payment would likely go up.

So he's getting a break of somewhere around $30 a month, if the judge figured right.

I'm still getting money and "losing" about $5ish a week.

He gets to be all happy that the judge is "so proud" of him for holding his job for six months, and walks out with the thought that the judge sided with him and agreed to lessen his support amount, even if it's not as much as he wanted.

Win-win, I suppose.