trying times

It's been a difficult few days. I've been both glued to, and disgusted by the news. Everyone keeps asking me what I think about Palin. In a nutshell, she's not qualified to be vice-president OR president, and putting an unqualified, and now scandal-ridden woman up for the job hurts all women. So does crying "sexism" everytime someone asks a legitimate question about her qualifications.

And... New Orleans. Some people are saying they won't evacuate next time because they think officials overreacted. This distresses me, of course.

I love New Orleans. Every time I've been, I've been made to feel like part of someone's family. I've been to Mardi Gras, when I took Jeff there for his surprise 30th birthday trip. We returned the next year with our 8 month old for Tulane graduation. And last year I went for a work conference.

During Katrina, all I could think of was, where were the people who helped me carry my stroller on a streetcar, who ooh-ed and aah-ed over my baby at the convention center when she wouldn't stop babbling at graduation. They were warm and helpful and kind unlike people in other tourist cities (yeah, I'm looking at you San Francisco).

Those were the people who were proud of their home and wanted other people to enjoy it. Those were the people that were screwed over after Katrina.

When I went back last year, I was told on multiple occasions, "Thank you for coming! Please come back!" They would ask me what I was there for. I would tell them a work conference, but I was too embarrassed to say who I worked for; the same people who didn't come in August of 2005.

And now, another evacuation. More kids displaced and insecure, more schools closed. I cannot tell you how disruptive these storms are on the children's lives. The schools of Louisiana have not fared well with the children of Louisiana. I won't go into it now.

Hold these people in your prayers, and help them out when you can.

Friday Brain Dump

Back at work today, counting the hours 'til I hopefully get a nice message from my boss's boss's boss about how we work so hard, we should just go home early.

Felt better yesterday afternoon, and took advantage of some time to go to my favorite store by myself - Target. Ahhhhhhh.... I did stock up on some cold supplies for the kids, and got CARDED for buying kids' cough syrup. The cute checker boy apologized profusely for asking my age. I felt rather cougar-ish telling him, while he's blushing and I'm thinking, "you're cute." Yeah, obvious I felt better, hm?

Speaking of my children, here are some things I never want to hear my 3 year old say again:
"Ew, Daddy, don't LICK mommy."
"Maggie, look at my balancing trick." (after I just walked out of the room and knew she was on a rocking horse. Like any good mother, I just ignored her.)

We're looking forward to a long weekend. J is going mountain biking in the morning, and I told the girls I'd take them to the Y if they had a good day today (mama just needs to workout).

Here's a random poll for the day: Recommend a book for me and/or Jeff. I just finished John Adams, and my coworker is trying to get me to read Truman. Can't do that, yet. I like non-fiction, but would not mind venturing out. Plus, we're going to Mexico in 30 days, so I need to get books for that.

Sick again

I'm sick again. J says "you're always sick" and I usually object to that, but I think he may be right. I used to have perfect attendance in grade school. I never got sick. But once I had kids, I started getting sick more often. My dad blames the kids - he calls them "Typhoid Mary" - and the germs they bring home from day care. Maybe pregnancy permanently altered my immune system. Recently, I've been reading / listening to some self-improvement books / podcasts. One that really hit home the week before last was saying that women don't deal with their stress, so it manifests as illness. I think this rings true and is probably why J doesn't get sick as much. I love him, and he's a great dad, but he doesn't internalize stress like I do. He's not constantly second guessing himself, his choice to work, his handle on work/life balance, etc.

I do everything I should to deal with it all; exercise, yoga, meditation, healthy diet. I try to go out with friends and indulge in a nice drink or two. I get a decent amount of sleep every night (more than J) and I take my multi-vitamin and herbs. So maybe I just have a sucky immune system.

Anyway, I went ahead and went to work this morning, only to be told literally, as soon as I got off the train, to "go home!" by a coworker. By 10 I'd heard it several more times, and finally my friend Emily said, "maybe what your body needs is to lay down and sleep today." She's so smart I had to listen to her, so I came home at lunch. When I got home, our house cleaner was here. I felt so bad, I said hi, then went straight to my bed and slept. WHen I woke up, she was gone.

Even while I'm trying to give myself permission to relax and recover, I'm still worrying about whether I can make up the workout I missed today. I am going to Mexico in a month, after all. Maybe I'll be able to relax then.

Something that made me smile....

The speech was great and I was teary, of course, over the whole mother - daughter - daughters - daddy - husband stories that somehow, so resemble my own, except of course the Southside / Princeton / Harvard journey or the husband gonna be President aspect. How can we NOT have this woman in our White House? This is the very best that America can accomplish.

To make you smile

I was surfing youtube the other day to find a decent recording of Bruce Robison's Lifeline, which has been a favorite song of mine this summer. I found this video, which should make you smile. I love the dancing, plus, watch the little girl and her dad as they go around.

I am Alice and here is the rabbit hole

Definition of Bureaucracy:

Being assigned to do a project by the boss. Then being told to fill out a form requesting that the boss approve my already-assigned project. The boss has to get approval from headquarters. My already- submitted form stated that I will be using a headquarters-approved policy document that is found on headquarters' webpage. The boss requesting that I attach an electronic copy of the approved document to my form so that headquarters can approve the use of the already-approved document in the already-assigned project.

Just a little plastic surgery and I too could be an idiot

The DMN very kindly printed another column of mine yesterday and everyone at work found out about it. My colleague T introduced it in an e-mail as my “debut.” I’ve been writing for the paper for…. 5 years now? But I’ve kept it quiet at work because my employer has rules about employees publishing. Since I am very careful not to cross THE LINE that they do not want me to cross, I didn’t make a big deal about exercising my other 1st Amendment rights. A few friends knew, but not the whole office. When the link was e-mailed around, a lot of colleagues were graciously complimentary, which is nice, of course. Then one stopped me yesterday afternoon:

Coworker: Your column was SO GOOD! You missed your calling!

Me: Thank you.

C: No, seriously, you should have been a journalist.

Me: I don’t think I’d want to be a journalist, but thank you, that’s nice of you.

C: Ok, well not a journalist, but a legal analyst, like those people on tv!

Me: That would be great. I’d be happy to just get paid for writing, but those people are idiots, so I’m sure I could do that, too.

C: I mean, you’re prettier than Greta VanSusteren. You could do that.

Me: Um, thanks?

C: You just do your hair, and maybe get some work done, you’d be better than Greta VanSusteren.

Me: [starting to laugh uncontrollably]

C: Or you could be Dan Abrams!

Me: [trying to keep a straight face] Well, since he’s an idiot, I hope so.

C: You could totally do that!

Me: Thank you, I, um, have to go get water. [laughing to keep from crying]

Seriously. Greta VanFreaking Susteren or Dan “The Plaintiffs are upset about what the Defendant did to them” Abrams. There are no words, right?

I'm back baby!

I missed my blog. I've been fired up over some things lately, and need an outlet before I dip into my stash of Percoset. It was my goal this year to get a domain, so that may still be forthcoming. In the meantime, hope you enjoy hearing about my crazy life.

Flight of the Conchords

If you don't have HBO, I'm sorry, but the Flight of the Conchords is probably the funniest thing on TV this summer. I have a weird sense of humor, and it cracks me the hell up.

See for yourself?

Stupid Mondays

Monday: Taco Salad for grown ups / Taco "Bowls" for Kiddos (In scoop doritos)
Tuesday: Red Beans & Rice & Sausage
Wednesday: Crock Pot Chicken & Green Beans
Thursday: Mac & Cheese & fruit for kiddos w/ babysitter (Mom and Dad OUT for anniversary)
Friday: pizza


Non-menu related rant. Mondays are tough enough already without a 2.75 year old screaming and crying, "I want daddy" and "I don't want to go to school, I want you to stay home." I was thisclose to coming in to resign today, except that I'd have to deal with said 2.75 year old drama queen all day, EVERY DAY. To moms with babies - if you think leaving an infant is hard, just wait until they can talk and tell you exactly what they're thinking.

Menu Plan Monday

I do it anyway, I thought I might try posting it.

Monday: black bean quesadillas & salad
Tuesday: whole wheat waffles & fruit
Wednesday: seefood / out to see Mimi
Thursday: grilled ham & cheeses w/ fruit & chips
Friday: pizza

Can you tell it's summer and I don't want to cook? LOL

Learning mommy

The days have been slipping by. E had an ear infection, them M. E is 95% potty trained, M is 95% walking. Some days they look so big. I've been telling E stories about when she was a baby, she did this, or that. She thinks its funny that she used to kick mommy from inside the tummy.

I haven't journaled or blogged about M the same way I did about E's babyhood. Lack of time, fear of showing "favoritism", I'm sure a thousand other reasons. I need to start. I need to write things down to remember how she crams food in her mouth, how she clutches her blanket at nighttime, and lays her head on my shoulder when I sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to her. I need to remember her sweet disposition and how she's already chasing and playing with her sister. I'll try to do better, baby.

And now some words from another mommy that I found in my inbox. I love this piece. I need to find out if Anna Quindlen really wrote it. ;-)

An Essay by Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago pouring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.

I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, and matter-of-fact - I was sometimes over the top.

And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

22 hours after I got the book, I'm finished. All 730-something pages of it. Thanks to my husband, who took E out this morning, while M had her first nap, and thanks to all of them for napping this afternoon, I had some quiet time today.

It was sooooo good. I'm sad it ended, but it was an awesome ride. Thank you JK Rowling!

I will start the re-read Monday morning, during my commute!

I'm no Little Ball of Hate

My recent column.

One of the most interesting things about having a semi-regular column in the paper is the mail I get afterward. Usually, it's pretty polite, and pretty supportive.

Today, I got this:
"You need to understand something. The only thing people want to hear less from (more than a lawyer) is a female lawyer. Do your best to try to stay quiet."

Which just really makes me laugh.

Someone else accused me of being high. Which also made me laugh.

Then I was copied on an email by a city manager, to another concerned resident. The city manager forwarded this other person my column, and said he was sending it to the city council.

I guess he hasn't heard that he shouldn't listen to FEMALE lawyers.

making plans

People come up to me all the time, asking me, "Legal, how do you and your husband stay together, year after year?"

My answer, "We spend lots of time apart."

No, not really. But ever since we were dating, we do respect each other's need for space. Now that we have kids, the "need for space" requires planning and marking each other's calendars several months in advance. We send each other Outlook requests when we want to go out. Seriously.

So a certain person is having a girls' fiesta next Friday (con margaritas - Yo amo margaritas) and then the next week is a boys' birthday celebration. We trade off, you see, and it works well for us.

Imagine his reaction when last night over dinner I told him I'd need him to watch the kids for "approximately 48 hours next weekend." "You have a party next Friday night... is it for 48 hours?" he asked with that edge in his voice.

"No, but the new Harry Potter book is coming out, and I require some uninterrupted reading time. Thank you!"

Hmmm... my suggestion was not taken well. But I'm still working on it. This ONLY comes once in a lifetime, right?

Momentous Occasions

Yesterday was such a huge day. E started the 3 year old class on Monday, and yesterday wore big girl panties -WITH-NO-ACCIDENTS-...!!!!! She also went poopy on the potty ("but just a little bit, mommy.") If she does it again today, I'm taking her out for ice cream, or something.

Also, M walked. Repeatedly. Granted, it was like 3 steps, fall down, Mommy pick up, 3 steps, fall down, Mommy pick up, but still. She knew what she was doing too, I could tell. For the past few months, I've been trying to get her to "walk to mommy" since she is the biggest mama's girl ever and who does she finally walk to, last night? E, the big sister, who was brushing her teeth and running around having a grand time. J doesn't believe me, as he worked late last night and didn't see it, and she wouldn't repeat the feat this morning. But I think we're off and running.

What else is happening? I get to close out a case that was reassigned to me when I returned from maternity leave... from my first baby. This was not a complicated case, but still rather huge and one of first impression. We got a signed commitment from the recipient last night, and I get to tell the person who filed that it's finally over. Yay me.

So Together

Honestly, since my Pocket PC died this spring, I am leading a far more organized life. I switched to a paper planner, and it took some time, but I am back in the swing of things organizationally-speaking, far more so than I had been in the last few years.

Want proof?

It’s 167 days until Christmas.

And I have lists started to prove it.

Boo-yah.

Could more frequent blogging be next? Oh my!

'08

I was just telling my like-minded friends at work yesterday, how torn I am about the prospects in '08. One speaks to my heart, and one to my head.

Then one does something like this which is so fun, plus... Bill!

I know it's all over the place this morning, but for a political person and a Sopranos fan, it's pretty cute: www.hillaryclinton.com Click on the video. Enjoy.

'08

1 Year

A year ago today I was tired of being pregnant, excited to find out if my baby was a boy or a girl, nervous about how E was going to handle it all... I'm going to cry a lot today, tomorrow, the next day. Happy Birthday Margaret. Your mommy loves you very much.