Driving home from the pizza parlor, the bustle of Friday night streaming outside our car windows, I notice Kendell staring at his hands in the glow of oncoming headlights. Turning them over, studying them, his small brow furrowed in thought.

"Mom, can you read palms?"

"Of course" I said calmly, though this was the last question I expected to hear coming out of his mouth.

"What does my palm say?" he asks as he leans over so I can fully study the lines of his palms.

Pursing my lips in concentration I hem and haw for a few moments and then with a look of enlightenment I take his hand and point to one particularly strong line and say, "See this line here?"

"Uh huh" he says, concentrating fiercely on his hand.

"Well, this tells me about your future."

"Ok, what does it say Mom?"

"It says that you have an enormous task in front of you."

"What task Mom? Is it about being a policeman?" he asks hopefully.

"Well, no. This is a more immediate task.
From what I can see, it's telling me that you will be cleaning your room all weekend."

With a look of horror he snatches his hand back from me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye trying to rub out the line and I can hear him say in a faint, slightly sullen voice, "Nu uh. It doesn't say that."

I chuckle softly all the way home.

So my torture, I mean hearing, was yesterday. I would just like to say for the record that giving birth was WAY more enjoyable then that. In fact, any surgical procedure I have had would have been a better way to spend my Wednesday afternoon.

Alas, I went to the hearing instead.

I would like to say this to his lawyer, "Sir, your client feeds off the lowest rung of our society's ladder. While you may not feel your clientele reflects on your character, I however, know better".

His lawyer was predictably slimy and the hearing was more like a court hearing then I expected. I represented myself and this included having to make objections, question witnesses, and testify.

I like to think I am a strong, well spoken, and confident woman; yesterday that woman seemed take a hiatus and left Elmer Fudd in her stead.

I'm sure I'm being hard on myself, my sister thinks I did well but who knows for sure. One statement the lawyer made makes me nervous, which I'm sure was his intent, he said, "...Without divulging our strategy..."

Um, what strategy? Hello...We are here already!
What I really take that to mean is that they are planning on doing something else besides this modification request. To which I reply, "Come give it your best shot bastard. If you think I will roll over and play dead so that son of a bitch can hurt my son or myself, I'll see you confined to the seventh layer of hell first".

I find out the results next week by mail. Department of Social Services is requesting reduction to $140 a month, I would like to at least see $250, but who knows. I am fairly certain it will not be the $25 a month Dead Beat and his slime coated lawyer want but I am hoping it ends up higher then $140. The judge was very nice, the DCS lawyer seemed to be on my side, even if her recommendation was lower then I like, but in the end, I can only say I layed my best hand on the table and now fate and the Washington State Court System must make of it what they will.

I imagine his lawyer will appeal. Go for it Toad Boy, I sure hope you took your fee in advance.

Today is my hearing for the child support modification.
I woke up yesterday unable to face one more day of pretending this isn't tearing my insides up into finely shredded Kara innards. As I lay there in the dark, looking at the time and watching the minutes tick away from me, I came to a decision; I played hookie from work and kept Kendell home from school. We spent the day in pj's, sleeping in, and enjoying being home together.

It was a much needed break as I couldn't seem to focus on anything with the stress of this upcoming hearing looming over my head like a dark cloud. For a day I was just a Mom.

So today reality has hit me with a full frontal and Hernando and I must go too meet our fate. In my heart of hearts I know that regardless of the outcome, it doesn't change the fact that we will continue to receive nothing, even if it's a less nothing then previously, it still adds up to a big fat zero. It's the insult, the inconvenience of it all, that keeps me awake at night, worrying over things that I can not change.

So I pray for patience, for acceptance, I pray that I can maintain my dignity despite overwhelming odds...

and I pray that I can stretch this meeting out long enough that his lawyer has too charge him for overtime....
after all, it's the small things in life that give you pleasure.

Why is it that I'm never sick when I want to be? Despite the fact that my house looks like a "before" picture for a home organization site and that I had to deal with several pre adolescent males this weekend...I am sadly able to drag my ample behind into work.

I don't want to be here, I am upset and grouchy and I'm going to make everyone else pay for the privilege of working next to my anti social self. I was late, had to get gas, nothing to wear, bad hair day, and then I went ahead and left my lunch in the car.

Lunch. In. The. Car.
Abort, Abort, Abort.
This means I have to WALK back up the hill to the parking garage...all so I can eat. Have you heard of anything more heinous? I say not.

Not to mention Hernando. Hernando is a giant zit that has taken up residence right below my left eyebrow.

It is so painful I cant even do this:

As you can imagine, this greatly limits my facial expressions because most of my expressions involve the image to the right. My eyebrow is an important tool in my emotion arsenal. It tells you when I'm surprised, when I think your full of it, and most importantly, it says, "Excuse You??" (my personal favorite)

So, while Hernando is visiting, I am sadly short of emotional cues and must go around saying stupid things like, "I feel..." Instead of just showing you my disdain with a lift of an eyebrow. Seriously, this is all too taxing for a Monday.

I'm about to pack up my bathing suit and fly to Tijuana with Hernando along as my pool boy.

yessssss, I think that's a much better way to spend a Monday.

This is a screen print of my keyword activity. You will notice the predominant theme seems to be Jerry Springer and his much maligned daughter. Evidently I am not the only deviant out there currently reserving her own personal pitch fork in hell, because as you can see, there are THREE pages of this.

However, check out about the 10th line down. Please say whom ever did this search is now being roasted over a fire pit by some enraged mother...Preferably with all sexual organs cut off and being sauteed in butter..with garlic.
I am happy to report that they didn't stay too long on my page. This is one reader I can do without!

As for the rest of you...I'm just glad I wont be alone in my eternal damnation for finding the particular physical characteristics of this poor woman funny, from the looks of things...I should have PLENTY of company...bwah ha ha!

Eleven years ago today I was barely 22, single, naive, and about to become your mom.

I remember that morning as your grandma took me to the hospital so that they could induce your birth. I was so excited, scared, and so ready to meet you.

You were just not ready to come into this world yet and it took you ten long hours to make your debut. Worn out by such a long birth, you were a mottled blue and red. Your breathing was labored and I was frightened. The nurses whisked you away before I could even hold you in my arms, your grandmother hurrying after them to make sure you would be alright.

The first time I got to hold you was that evening. It seemed an eternity before they brought you to me all wrapped up and looking like a little football player with your beanie hat and chubby cheeks. You're silky black hair spilled from beneath your cap and your chocolate brown eyes were wide and knowing.

So strong, even from the beginning. You were pushing up on your arms hours after being born. Your strength and never ending curiosity about life amazes me to this day.

As you grew, my joy grew with you. You could make me laugh with your sweet baby giggle and make me melt when you would snuggle your downy head under my chin. You were such a stubborn toddler. So ready to take on the world and everyone in it.

From early on I knew you would always stand up where others gave in. You have a sense of self I so often see lacking in adults. You know your strengths and weaknesses and strive so hard to succeed and make me proud.

There are mornings where the joy has already been leached from my day by stress and worries, days where taking one step forward seems an insurmountable task. You are my breath of fresh air. The strength I need to keep moving. You are my class clown and strident defender.

You have overcome so much in your short eleven years. You have withstood tragedy and loss that would have made an adult stagger and fold. You make me so proud of you, each and every day. We argue and and we fight, we disagree and get angry, but you always are my little man and surround me with such hope for the future. You amaze me with your capacity for love.

You are my hero, my reason for waking up each morning, and I treasure every second God has given us together.

Happy birthday boobear.

Mommy

I wished upon a star
my face so young and unlined
heart still whole, yet unaffected
by the harsh passage of time
I curled up my small hands in prayer
tucked my toes under my gown
bowed my head to concentrate
on imbuing magic in the sound

I wished upon that star
wishes still unheard
and drifted off to slumber, clinging to the words

If I could tuck that little girl in bed
pull the covers to her chin
I would whisper for her to dream dreams instead
because wishes disappear

Our bodies age and our eyes grow old
but the largest toll that is taken
are the dreams left to flounder,
forgotten and forsaken
our dreams are dried and empty now
withered into husks
we've settled into familiarity
landed where we must

We've tucked the dreams inside us
tattered and faded memories
turned away from childhood fancy
to face the everyday

but that little girl inside
still makes wishes on a star
if only she would take the time
instead to dream
to reach for a little more

"Don't be scared"
I'd whisper
"Don't be afraid to fail"
"There is nothing worse here between heaven and hell
then dreams left unfulfilled"
I'd kiss her on her downy cheek
smooth her silky hair from her forehead
I'd hold her hand till she sleeps
and send prayers in her stead

Instead of wishes that melt away by tears
driven away with disappointments
I'd send her courage and wisdom swift
and bravery beyond proportion

I long for that little girl
the one with open eyed belief
I miss her in the silent night
when I feel most incomplete
I long to give her knowledge
show her the error of her ways

Yet still

I long to believe in wishes
If only for a day

I met Corina when I moved into Greenridge at age eight. She was the friend that I could hit as easily as hug. If we weren't fighting, we were thinking about it, if only to escape the monotony of endless summer days walking the neighborhood streets.

Corina was a latchkey kid. Her parents were insane and we were pretty sure her mother had probably killed someone at sometime and locked them away in the basement where her stepfather lived.

Corina's mother always reminded me of someone. It was that niggling feeling in the back of your head that this person, you should know her. Looking back I know exactly who she reminded me off. Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmations, only blonde. She had the flamboyant gestures down, the tall, skeletal figure clothed in flowing clothes, the short, high done hair, and the most telling feature, the lines of cruelty etched deeply into her face.

We were convinced Corina's house was haunted. There were signs. Curtains moving when no one was home. The sound of unseen doors opening and closing, and the radio going off for no reason. Nothing else in the house went out, just that radio.

Like anything else when your a child, you embellish it, add in monsters under the bed and solitary figures at dark windows, if only to entertain your bored summer entourage.

This summer was much like the rest that stretched behind us like ceaseless footprints in the sand. We spent the days rounding the circle of our neighborhood like the spokes of a wheel. Over and over we walked that summer. Spying on the boys in the neighborhood, pretending we were anywhere but here while the sun beat down upon the asphalt. We practiced gossip like your grandmother practices medicine. Repeating what we heard, what we thought we knew, and pretending to be experts on everything.

On this day, myself, Corina, and our friend Kimmie were doing our rounds of the neighborhood when the bickering with Corina became too much. We wanted to do one thing, she wanted to do another. In a fit of defiance designed to corral our intentions, she demanded we did things her way or she was hitting the highway(in this case, that would be her driveway) we chose the highway for her. So off she flounced in typical teenage showmanship.

Kimmie and I walked another lap on our proverbial hamster wheel and decided to swing by Corina's house when we came around the way. We trundled up her driveway, the whole way whispering about what a pain she could be. Standing before her door, the kitchen window to our right, the long expanse of living room windows that stretched from foot to head on our left; we rang the doorbell and waited. Shortly we could hear the scrap of a kitchen chair on linoleum as the person seated pushed away from the table to stand. We waited some more. No response. We pushed the bell again and began to yell at Corina, saying, "Come on, let's just walk. Stop being silly."

No response.

As Kimmie is trying to talk some sense into a non responsive Corina through the door, a flicker of the living room drapes catches my eye. Not wanting to be obvious, I look and can see that Corina had layed down on the living room floor and was peering up through the drapes at us from our feet, trying to not be seen.

I nudge Kimmie and say, "psst, look to your left, Corina is on the floor. She's being stupid."

She looks out of the corner of her eye and spies the same image I had seen. Looking back at the door as if we thought she was standing on the other side of it, we both yell, "Fine, be a baby! We can see you looking out the window!."

With that stinging comment ringing in our friends ears, or so we suppose, we haughtily march down her driveway and begin anther rotation of the neighborhood. As we pass the house next to Corina's, the two interconnecting trees in the front yard rustle and sway as out steps our friend from between their branches.

"Who were you talking to at my house?" laughs Corina, "No one is home but me, you know that".

Kimmie and I look at each other. The horror dawning over our faces as we realize that Corina was not who we had heard and seen at her house.

We stayed far away from her house that summer. Far, far away.

See, told yah I was going to Hell. I just didn't expect the Express bus to run my sorry butt down.

Yesterday I get to work hoping my check card is on the floor where I'm pretty sure I dropped it.

NOPE

Bad feeling here, very bad. I call the bank and there are already two charges. So I take care of that mess but my head is distinctly elsewhere as I go through the motions of work. I just want to go home, throw on some favorite pj's and plow myself into oblivion with my favorite ice cream..or perhaps a coke and whiskey, or several...Whichever.

3:10 the phone rings. It's Kendell's school

That little voice that told me all was not right with my check card, yah, it's back. I know he's in trouble. At this point if there was some way to avoid answering that phone I would have. I would have lied down and broke my own leg in order to not answer that phone; no such luck, they'll just track me down at the hospital.

I pick up the call feeling like I'm the one in trouble and listen to the vice principal spell out Kendell's nefarious crime.
Seems some girl decided calling Kendell's mother a whore was a good idea. Kendell then thought popping said girl in the eyeball was an equally good idea.

*sigh*

Long story short, girl in trouble for foul mouth, Kendell suspended for a day for hitting her.

I believe offering him up for sale is not an option at this moment. His stock value has just plummeted.

I get home from work and make him tell me the details. When he is done I ask him,
"Kendell, do you know what a whore is?"
"Um..hmmm... I think it's when your mean and nasty, yell alot, and nobody likes you." (ouch, sounds a tad bit closer to home then i'd like)
"Huh, yah, not quite."
I then explain to him in a "G" rated version of what a whore is. I think if the word is being used, he is better off knowing the real meaning.
"Now Kendell, based on that definition, am I a whore?"
"Oh NO Mommy!"
"There's no way. You've never even slept with another man since my daddy!." (this is the same father that hasn't been around for 11years)
*cough, cough, choke*
"You're right Kendell, you're absolutely right!"

Hell has my torture cell all picked out for me dontcha think?

You know I'm not petty.
Ok, well, you know I'm not in denial about myself.
Ok then, you know deep down I'm really a kind person.

Ok, Fine. You know all the above is just bullshit.

Now that we got that out of the way, let me be petty, guilt free.

Last night was another night on the town. Gowns sparkling in the crystallized glow of the silver danceball as beautiful women glided across a dance floor as if on skates.

I was watching dancing with the stars last night (you didn't really think I was talking about me did you?). It was the Waltz and the Paso del ..oblique or something...whatever, that's not important. It was the night that Jerry Springer has been waiting for. Yes, you heard me, Jerry Springer.

Yes..he is on this show.
Yes, he does suck.
No, I don't know why they put him on the show.
Yes, his partner makes him look like a bumbling fool.
No, he has not gotten better.
No, no intentional boob flashing...Yet.
Fights? No, but I think there may be some bumping uglies backstage.
Are you done yet?
Yes?
Good..now back to what I was saying..
Where was I?

Oh, yah, Jerry Springer.
So he wants to learn the waltz for his daughters upcoming wedding. Have you heard anything so sweet? Seriously, I was touched. I think I might have even sniffled...
Anyways, last night was the night.
I was all hyped up and even more so when they announced that his daughter was there to see him.
"Awwww", I said to myself, "How cute is that! What a good daddy."
(Shuddup, don't try and pretend you do not have conversations with yourself)

So I'm eagerly awaiting the quick shot of his daughter, wondering what she will look like. I'm imagining a blond woman, fairly decent shape, since her father has made enough money off the lowest order of our society to sculpt Rosie O'Donnell into shape, when they pan to this:

Yes people, that is Jerry Springer's daughter. I about fell outta my chair! (ok, I was on the couch, details, details...)

Seriously though, this child must have been a very very bad child in a previous life to get saddled with this genetic baggage. Just picture Jerry Springer as a woman, with the same hair and the same glasses...um, yah.(shudder).

Kinda makes you a bit nauseous doesn't it?

Editor's Note: When searching the web for a REAL photo of the young Ms. Springer, I found out she is legally blind, deaf in one ear, and was born without nasal passages. No nasal passages people!!. This is indeed Further Proof that I am going to Hell.

'Sigh', someone pack me some ice cubes please.

Friday night was a rare night out for me. I won tickets to a local haunted house from my current favorite radio station. I am not a big fan of paying someone to scare the ever loving crap out of myself..but since it was free they could scare the pee outta me, besides, we got free dinner with the deal.

I decided to take a male friend because..hey, this is a haunted house people! Males have to go first..It's Kara's law; I can be a feminist again tomorrow. Kendell got a rare night out with a favorite person of his, my friend Kimmy. Even though Kendell knows the man I was going with is just a friend, I still got the no kissing warning before he left with Kimmy.

As we were waiting in line, I spoke to Kendell to see how he was doing. Being the loving mother I am, when he asked if I was kissing my friend I of course immediately began making smacking kissy noises over the phone and assured Kendell that I was indeed kissing my friend at that very moment...he hung up on me.

Kimmy and Kendell had a fairly in depth discussion about why Mommy's date and that if he wanted to have a daddy, I would have to find him. She was quick to reassure him that I would never marry a man that he didn't like. When questioned if he liked my friend I was out with, she got
"I don't know. I don't know him well enough." "I should get to pick him out."
When she tried to express how Mommy's had to make sure the person was right before he got to meet them, he responded with,
"I think I'm too young for this conversation."

As we were inside the house waiting for Kimmy and Kendell, I could hear them walking up the driveway and Kendell rattling the door knob. As the knob began to turn I could hear him muttering to himself, "They better not be kissing!"

Sometimes I believe I gave birth to my father.

Name:Kara

Location: Tacoma, Washington, United States

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