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Month: March 2016

March 2016

Of Mice and Divorce

“We have to ask our client if she has 100 mice in her house.”  My paralegal, Lori, said matter-of-factly as my mouth dropped open a bit, “What?” I uttered in my normal you-have-to-be-kidding-me voice.  “Opposing counsel called today and was informed by her client (the soon to be ex-spouse of our client) that their six year old daughter had reported to him on the night prior that there were 100 mice in her mom’s house.  So some dollars were spent on legal fees confirming that in fact, my client did not have 100 mice in her house. Advice that Lori
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It was astonishing. Two white girls each born into large Catholic families in the Midwest in the middle of the 1950s. Both bright, each college educated, married, with children. But such different stories. Two weeks after the first girl was born her mother went back to waiting tables to support the five children, and the baby was left in the care of her alcoholic father who was laid off that winter. Growing up, the little girl was sexually molested first by a neighborhood boy and later by a family friend. To pay for college, she worked long hours scraping garbage
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The Lucky Ones

“I am lucky my parents are divorced.”  This statement uttered from the mouth of my nine year old at dinner the other day.  A classmate had confided in her that her parents fight all the time and this classmate’s dad asked her what she thought if her parents got divorced.  She went to Sophia to find out what that might really be like.  Sophia’s reply was an honest one. She explained, “I told her she gets two Christmases and birthdays.  My mom is always happy and it is better than being in a house with fighting.”  Anna, who is nearly
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Sunny Detox

My head encased in a flurry of bright yellow yarn and wearing a giant yellow dress retrieved from the prop box, I stepped onto the platform as the emcee for talent night. As “Sunny”, I held the toy microphone and appeared a cross between adorable and absurd. Unable to discern any talent of my own, I had volunteered as the master of ceremonies to celebrate concluding a week of an intense cleanse of mind and body. Since our arrival, we had eaten small plates of raw vegetables for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with the exception of three days when we
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A Stranger Scenario

“Whatever, Mom!” and up went her eyes rolling into her forehead.  My hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as I forced myself to focus on keeping my Irish temper at bay.  My eleven-going-on-twenty-seven-year-old daughter, Anna, had just disclosed to me that she had, let’s say, not been as helpful when a teacher asked for assistance as I thought she should have been.  When I said so, this prompted my first experience with both a “whatever” and an eye roll.  Double whammy day.  I knew to be quiet and let her sit with it. Later that evening, she came
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