Got a date - can't wait!

I have a date! Don't worry hubby, it's not with a man. And it's not that kind of date. My good friend M emailed me yesterday so we could make an appointment with each other to catch up on the phone. Now, before you judge us and say how sad that is, that two girlfriends have to "pencil" each other in to catch up, let me explain.

First of all, we live about 200 miles apart. Second, we're both full-time attorneys, married, she's pregnant and I've got Bear to contend with. I truly treasure my girlfriends (of which I'm starting to feel there are fewer and fewer), but I don't get much face time with any of them. Oh, and I am not a huge fan of the telephone. That doesn't mean, however, that we can't still stay connected.

So, I am totally looking forward to my phone date at 4:00 today with M. It'll be nice to hear her voice and nice to have an uninterrupted conversation (since I'll be at the office, not at home). She's one of the few people that truly understands that just because we don't talk or email as often as we'd like, she's never far from my mind and we always pick up right where we left off.

Talk to you soon, M!

A Little Piece of Heaven

I love my house. That might sound silly because I'm sure that most people do love their home, but it is not something I say lightly. We bought our house pre-construction, were intimately involved in picking out EVERY single thing that is in the house (by the time we had to pick out door handles and hinges, I didn't even care anymore) and we have finally begun getting the house painted.

That being said, when we moved in a little over 2 years ago, it didn't feel like home. It felt like a big, empty house. And then we started removing the temporary paper blinds and put up real grown-up drapes (except for the dining room, where the last remaining paper blinds reside). And then I got pregnant, so the nursery became our first painted room. And on New Year's weekend, we painted our downstairs powder room, living room and kitchen (essentially it's a great room) and it finally looks lived-in (in a nice way). We still have a lot more to go, but now we're motivated. We have all the colors for the rest of the house picked out, it's just a matter of finding the time to get it done.

But, back to loving my home. I don't know if it's that we now have the pitter-patter of little feet in the house, or just that it took a while for it to really feel like home, but it does. I'd rather be home than pretty much anywhere.

And tonight everything feels just right. Bear is upstairs fast asleep. The house is spotless (thanks to my cleaning lady) and it smells heavenly, as I just took homemade flourless ooey-gooey chocolate brownies out of the oven. If my husband weren't toiling away at his job (yes, at 9:30 at night) it would be perfection. But I will settle for the feeling of coziness that I'm feeling right now.

Finally, a non-issue!

I am hearing a lot of "NO!" and whining in my house lately. Bear has decided (at 17 months) that he WILL do everything himself. Even though he can't. I mean, he's only 17 months! For example, every morning, he fights with me about putting on his jacket because he wants to do it himself and after 5 minutes or so of letting him try, I have to take over or we'd never make it out of the house. This morning, he tried to put my shoes on my feet while we were getting ready!

So, lately, Bear is fighting me on everything. I appreciate that he's an independent little boy, but his motor skills haven't caught up with his brain yet. But there is one thing I CANNOT complain about. And that is bedtime.

Every night, after Bear's bath and subsequent oil-down session (I love that apricot oil!), we cuddle together on my big, comfy leather chair in my bedroom to watch The Goodnight Show (on PBS Sprout). I smell his hair (mmmm, honey & oats from Grins & Giggles) and cuddle his fleecy softness (I love footie jammies), while he chews on his blankie and watches Dragon Tales.

At some point between 6:30 and 7:00, depending on how heavy his eyelids are, I say, "Ok, Bear. It's time for night night." And does he fight me?? Nope. He lets me carry him (like a baby) with his blankie and put him down in his crib. On the way, he says "night night." As I put him down in the crib, he stuffs his blankie under his head like a pillow and smiles. As I walk out of the room he says, "Mommy. Night, night."

And then I wonder if my heart will physically burst, it's so full.

You Say Tomato...

Today's post is going to have to start with an apology to my husband. He's mortified that I'm posting this, but I just couldn't hold back.

My husband and I have very different culinary backgrounds. He grew up eating macaroni and cheese as a main course, having McDonald's in the car on the way to his various sports practices, and his family didn't usually sit down together for dinner. Mine -- the complete opposite in every way. I still feel compelled to put three things on a plate or it's not a proper meal (meat, starch, vegetable) and in my house, mac & cheese was a side dish, not the main event. My mother even made us eat a carrot (or some other vegetable) before having take-out pizza.

That being said, husband has come a long way. When we first met (in college), pizza was as ethnic as his food got. He was a "meat and potatoes" kind of guy. Salt was the only spice he knew. It's been a long road, but now he will eat anything (or at least try it), no matter how spicy, how raw (he loves sushi!) or how foreign. I couldn't be prouder.

Due to husband's crazy work schedule, we rarely eat dinner together during the week anymore. So, when he came home (late) last night and I offered to make him anything he wanted, imagine my disgust/surprise when he asked for corned beef hash (we had ONE can in the house, which he bought), fried eggs and baked beans. I am ashamed to say that THIS came off my beautiful stove.

Husband ate every last bite. To each his own!

Tickled Pink

Soooo....I have been "tagged" by Melissa for my first meme! I kind of feel like I've been asked to sit at the cool kids' table (wow, that makes me sound like a dork!). Seriously, though, it's nice to know that not only are there some people out there reading my blog, but there are some (ok, at least one) who wants to know a little more about me. So without further ado.... my first meme:

How long have you been blogging?

Since January 4, 2008. Yup, a whole 24 days. I have, however, "lurked" on other people's websites (and sometimes commented) for a lot longer.

What inspired you to start your blog, and who are your mentors?

All of the blogs that I most enjoyed reading fell into the "mommy blog" category. One thing all those moms had in common was that they were SAHM moms or worked part-time. I felt that there was a place (or a space) for my voice as a full-time attorney and equally full-time mommy in this cyber-world.

As far as mentors, I would have to say that I'm currently without. My FB was my mentor in many ways (career-wise, mother-hood, fashionista), but that is no longer the case. Instead, I try to take a little something from all of the fabulous women I know and emulate those qualities.

Are you trying to make money on-line, or are you just doing it for fun?

I am SO not trying to make money. This is so much fun for me, I don't need anything else from it. And I have NO aspirations that someone is going to contact me and say, "hey, I love your blog, how about I pay you for it?" Nope. Not going to happen.

What 3 things do you love about being on-line?

1. I can do it in my pajamas. (I try to spend as much time as possible in my p.j.s)
2. I can do it while spending time with my husband while he's watching football.
3. I've "met" some really great people and gotten a glimpse into how others live. In other words, it makes me not feel as alone in my craziness.

What 3 things do you struggle with on-line?

1. Until very recently, I was heavily editing everything I wrote as if it was an entry in an essay contest. I have now decided to take the "post it as it comes out" approach (after fixing typos, I can't stand typos) and don't worry about whether anyone's judging me.
2. Not having anything "important" to say. I often feel that my thoughts are not blog-worthy or even remotely interesting to other people. Then I get over it and post it anyway.
3. Deciding when to reply to a reader's comment. I am so thrilled that I even have people commenting I am ready to hop right on and thank them just for reading. But, I've been trying to keep any replies I have relevant to the post. So, if I didn't reply, know that your comment was appreciated, I'm trying not to scare you off!

So, that's it! We made it through my first meme together. And now, I am supposed to "tag" (or is the right term, link?) some more people to keep this thing going. Some writers I would like to hear more from: Shar, Tattooed Mama and American Girl in Japan.

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

I LOVE the expression "hot mess." As in, "She's a hot mess!" (I know that was really descriptive, but that's how I would use it) But, seeing as how I am not Southern, I don't feel entitled to use it. I do say it in my head. A lot.

If I was entitled to use those lovely, concise words, however, "hot mess" is how I would describe myself this fine Friday morning. Or, "walking germ." (hot mess has a nicer ring to it, don't ya think?) I am sitting at my desk, coughing, sneezing, blowing my nose, answering questions in the raspiest of voices, wondering why oh why is it not even 9:00 yet??? (I got in before 7:30 this morning).

And at 10:00 this morning, I will be in a closed boardroom with another attorney, my client and a court reporter for yet another deposition. And they will be treated to the "hot mess" that is me this morning, up close and personal. I am such a germaphobe (ever since the Bear's been born) that I am disgusted on behalf of those people that will be forced to sit in an unventilated room with me for at least 2 hours. Maybe it will make the defense attorney ask fewer questions....hmmm...new strategy....

Anyway, I hope everyone who stops by my blog today has a much better day. I do not wish for any of you to have the hot messiness that is my life today. Have a great weekend!

Como se dice "failure"?

I studied Spanish from 8th grade, all the way through college. I loved Spanish. I went to Spain in high school and always hoped to one day go back. I minored in it in college because I knew I wanted to be a lawyer and I thought that I'd be able to help the Hispanic community (typically under-represented in court) if I was fluent.

And I was fluent. 10 years ago (gasp!) when I graduated college, I was the only non-native speaker in my 400 level Spanish classes. It came easily and I loved it. Well, you know what they say. If you don't use it, you lose it!

Other than my honeymoon in Cancun, I have not spoken Spanish pretty much since college. And my law firm has no spanish-speaking attorneys. So, I decided to step up to the plate and offer to become fluent again if the firm would pay for computer software to help me.

Well, the firm did pay. I think I began around Thanksgiving and, as of late, have been devoting almost NO time to the program. You know how it is, getting caught up in your day at work, then once at home it's kiddie time until Bear goes to bed and then clean-up time and then bed-time. (Notice how I didn't schedule any study-Spanish time in there)

So, this morning, my boss pokes his head in my office to ask me to come see a client with him. A spanish-speaking client who would like an interpreter. I was pleased at how well I could understand her, but the words WOULD NOT COME out of my mouth in Spanish! I am so NOT fluent!

And more than that -- I'm embarassed. Here I spout off at the mouth (boca, if you will) about how it shouldn't take me more than 3 months to "get it back" and I could barely string sentences together. I was barely speaking Spanglish! (and doing that annoying thing where you just speak REALLY LOUDLY as if that will make the other person understand your language better)

I am now re-dedicating myself to studying. I will shut my office door every day and for at least 1 hour, practice, practice, practice. My clients deserve to understand their rights and I would love to help some people that seem to be forgotten by most everyone else.

I went into law to help people. I went into law for all the idealistic reasons most people enter the practice, but few carry through. Here's my chance to make a difference and not just work to pay my mortgage and law school loans. So, more important than any New Year's Resolution, I'm resolving to habla espanol!!

You ARE What You Eat

I am in shock. Or, more accurately, I am shocked. I'm sitting here, watching "Too Young to be So Fat" on TLC. It's a documentary following several morbidly obese teenagers (one as young as 13 who wants liposuction but isn't healthy enough to undergo the surgery). I can't shut it off, it's kind of like watching a car accident.

Over the last few years, I have read and/or watched anything I can get my hands on regarding nutrition. I have found that most books are pretty fanatical (complete with conspiracy theories against the FDA or government in general), but have good information if you read them with a grain of salt. Actually, one of the best books I've read that doesn't make you feel terrible about yourself for what you do eat, but explains very well how your body processes food is You: On a Diet: The Owner's Manual for Waist Management. I'm currently reading Skinny Bitch (I had to put it down, though I'm almost done because it's pretty heavy stuff -- I've been a vegetarian for about 3 weeks now, but don't see myself going vegan).

For me, it really is about nutrition and health. I've never had a weight problem. Sure, I've gone through phases in my life (law school, post pregnancy) where I could definitely stand to lose more than 10 pounds, but by and large I've been pretty tiny my whole life. 

For about 8 years, I suffered from migraines. Debilitating, life affecting, horrendous migraines. It got to the point where I was taking daily medication as a preventative tool (it was seizure medication for epileptics at a low dosage) that had horrible side effects. I endured the side effects because it was worth it to me to not have migraines. After about 1 1/2 years, the medication started losing its effectiveness. I went on a different one, with different and new side effects. Again, it wasn't the wonder drug I was hoping for. And then I wanted to get pregnant.

The doctor recommended that I go off the meds 3 months before getting pregnant. I wasn't taking any chances, I went off 6 months beforehand. I was determined to get my body healthy and hopefully get a handle on my migraines. I knew I wouldn't be able to take anything stronger than tylenol for 9 months during pregnancy and I my migraines would last for days if there was no intervention. 

So, I read Natural Cures and changed my diet. I did a candida cleanse and chilled out with the Chinese take-out I was eating a few times a week. And know what? My migraines WENT AWAY. I went about 2 years without ONE migraine. After 8 years. I am now convinced that food can be medicine (or conversely, it can be poison) and now that my migraines have reappeared (not as bad as they once were) due to my slack-ness in diet again, I am determined to take control.

So, this long-winded tale has a point. How can these parents let their children become morbidly obese? Short of a medical condition, as a parent, how can you not have control of what is going into your child's body? How can you let them sit in front of the t.v. with NO exercise and poison their bodies with fast food and empty calories? I get SO mad at the parents when I see these big kids. Because they are kids. They can't even drive -- which means their parents are the ones (mostly) that are feeding them. My husband and I hope to instill good eating habits and healthy living with the Bear. We don't want weight to be an issue for him. Kids have enough to deal with these days. Ok, I'm stepping off my soap box...

Seriously?

Some days I think to myself, "this is not what I signed up for." As in, my life is not how I pictured, planned, etc. For someone as anal, organized and type-A as me, it is not a good day if I'm having that thought. Today was one of those days.

Nothing in particular happened -- I don't have a witty anecdote with which to amuse you. I may be feeling this way because I'm at the start of what seems to be an awful, lingering cold. Or, it could be that I didn't picture putting in 11 hours a day at work, to come home (starving) to an unbathed, cranky toddler. I didn't picture only getting to spend time with my husband just before drifting off to sleep (he works late) and on weekends (in between football games, errand-running and other obligations).

Don't get me wrong -- I have always said that I lead a blessed (if not charmed) life. I have a job I love, a beautiful home, I'm married to the love of my life and have the most precious little boy ever. I have a sister who is my best friend and have even lost all the baby weight. 

But I still get to complain. Today I have to remind myself that I lead a charmed life. I have to dig deep into the exhaustion, past the frustration and watch the clock until my husband gets home, wraps his arms around me, and we both creep upstairs (get your mind out of the gutter) to go peek at the Bear sleeping in his crib. Then, my heart will remember that this is not only what I signed up for, but the life I wouldn't trade for anything.

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy

Bear is VERY verbal for a 16 month old. I have literally lost count of how many words he can say because there are new ones every day, but it's at least 50 words. He is not speaking in sentences yet, but is stringing 2 or 3 words together.

He is going through a major "mommy" phase right now. He is my shadow, is always calling my name and wants me to hold him. I hear "uppy mommy" at least 20 times a day (and that's with me at work for 10 hours!). It was cute for the 1st day, but now, a few weeks later, it's getting a little old -- especially for my husband. Poor husband, he works such long hours and when he gets some precious time with the Bear, all he hears is "MOMMY!!"

So, Bear's new thing is ending everything he says with "mommy." He babbles constantly (it sounds like a foreign language) and finishes everything up with "mommy." We're teaching him "please" and "thank you" right now and even if he's thanking someone else, he says "nanu mommy" (that means thank you). I'm also hearing a lot of "uh-oh mommy" which translates to: I did something bad, but if I say uh-oh in a really cute voice, mommy won't yell.

I am sure that the "daddy" phase is not far behind and I will one day soon long for my little shadow. But right now it's hard on me and husband to hear Bear only calling for me. Don't get me wrong, Bear still jumps up and down and screams "Daddy Daddy" when husband gets home from work, but after that 1st hug, he's back to me. It's nice to be needed, but mommy needs a break!

Curly-Q

I try so hard not be vain about the Bear. I'm sure every mother thinks that her baby is the most adorable one alive and I'm no exception. But I try not to focus on the fact that he is (in my opinion) a real cutie-pie.

That being said, I am soooo missing Bear's curls. I waited until after his 1st birthday for his 1st haircut (where he was a champ) and I barely let them take anything off. I was so worried that his gorgeous curls wouldn't come back. I have straight brown hair and brown eyes, so I revel in the fact that I have a green-eyed, blonde, curly-haired son. So, after his 1st haircut where I let them barely take anything off, I was relieved to see that his curls remained. Since then, we have been going shorter and shorter because, frankly, it is too difficult and expensive to have to run him to the stylist every 3 weeks!

Since we've been going shorter, his curls are no longer. Sure, it'll curl up in the bathtub and until he goes to bed. But come morning, his hair is poker-straight. And when we let it grow so the curls come back he looks so messy and disheveled that I run to get it cut. Is it so wrong that I miss those big beautiful curls? I am forever grateful that I am blessed with a healthy, happy, intelligent baby boy, but are a few curls too much to ask?

When the Cat's Away...

Yes, I'm blogging from work. Ssshhh, don't tell anyone. Not like there is anyone to tell. I work for two partners (in law firms there is a hierarchy, partners are at the top, associates are at the bottom. Because I've been at the firm for over 5 years now, I'm a senior associate), one male (MB for male boss), one female (FB for female boss).

Let me say at the outset that I am LUCKY. They are genuinely good people that I like to be around and like working with. I also think they are good attorneys. When I first started here, FB was my mentor in every way (one of the few women partners; she has 2 kids, is super-fashionable and lots of fun). That being said, FB has gone through some personal issues over the last few years that have made her attendance at the office spotty, at best. And they aren't health issues. MB has always been notoriously bad about keeping office hours, but he is a kick-ass trial attorney, makes a ton of money, so the big-wigs let him do his own thing. That leaves me, pretty much alone most days (well, with my 3 secretaries and 3 paralegals) to handle a LOT of cases.

So, MB went on a 2 week vacation at the start of the New Year. When I got married 3 years ago, I didn't take that much time off for my honeymoon! But, he can do whatever he wants. Needless to say, I was anxiously awaiting his return, saving up lists of questions I have about cases and/or clients that I couldn't figure out myself (mostly b/c he works on cases and doesn't leave any notes in the file, so I have no idea what he did). He was supposed to be back this past monday. He got sick immediately upon his return from vacay and hasn't been back YET. And hasn't called me ONCE to see if there's anything he's needed for!

FB is going through yet another dramatic thing that has limited her time at the office this week to no more than 4 hours straight in any given day. Some days she hasn't come in at all. Without MB around, she doesn't usually keep long hours. So I've been left to cover BOTH MB and FB's appointments, as well as my own. Which is why I feel perfectly justified in sitting here at my desk right now, blogging instead of working. (it is also lunch time, I'm actually not that brave)

If I'm going to be optimistic about it, and I really am trying to be, I guess it's nice not having anyone breathing down my neck. It's nice that they trust that I will handle everything and that they must think I'm capable of doing so. It will also be nice not to have to sneak out the door at 4:45 tonight to go get Bear out of daycare. Tonight I will walk out with my head held high (and no one to see it).

But it's kind of lonely. I don't come to work to socialize, but it can be a very social place. I spend more time with and see more of the people I work with than my own family. I feel like I'm toiling away and for what? I don't get a share of the firm's profits like they do. I get my paycheck no matter how much work I do (obviously, to a certain extent. I can't go fall off the face of the earth like my bosses and expect to keep my job) or how much money the firm makes. And I haven't had a review in 2 1/2 years (more on this later), so it's not like they are singing my praise from the rooftops. These are the thoughts and feelings I'm trying not to have.

So, in an act of (silent) rebellion, I choose to blog. I could be writing a brief right now, or drafting a complaint (a legal document, not a grievance), but instead, here I am. And I'm happy to be here!

Let's Keep it Clean

I have a love-hate relationship with my cleaning lady. Mind you, she's not aware of this, because I've only ever met her once (when she came to see the house and I gave her a key) though we do speak on the phone, I'm just not home when she comes over. 

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE coming home every other Wednesday to a shiny, sparkly clean house with fresh sheets on the bed and the scent of cleaning products in the air. That's not to say I don't lift a finger - I am like a CRAZY person the night before moving every little thing off every hard surface, hiding valuables, etc.

What I HATE is how she moves things. Like the magnet for our tot-loks that are on our kitchen cabinets. I'm about to get out a cutting board tonight and, wait, where is the magnet-thingie? I left it in a spot I thought she wouldn't move it (attached to our metal fruit basket) and yet, it's not there. The fruit basket isn't something that required cleaning, so why would she move it? I found it about 15 minutes later on the window sill!! WHAT?!

The other thing is that I know no one is going to clean my house the way that I would. But what would possess her to use ONE clorox toilet cleaner head for 3 toilets? They're disposable for a reason! The cleaning product comes off after the first use, which means 2 of my toilets aren't really clean! And I don't know which one she started with! And she goes through TWO rolls of paper towels per visit! That's insane, considering I buy her Method cleaning wipes for all of the wood, and I really don't have that many non-furniture items that need cleaning. Not enough for two rolls of paper towels!

Like I said, it's a love-hate thing. In an ideal world I would be home more often so I wouldn't need to have someone come in and clean for me while I'm at work. Since that is, clearly, not the world I am currently living in, I have to resign myself to giving up a little control (gasp!) to try to make my life easier.

I've got nothing

Ever have one of those days where, at the end, you just have nothing? You are too worn out, wrung out, exhausted, etc. to have any emotion, any laughter, any energy, any ANYTHING? Today was one of those days.

Mental -- I had a new client come in today. He had to take the bus to my office because he doesn't own a car; he lives in the projects; he lives alone; he is unemployed; he has no health insurance; he had a cold (which he told me after shaking my hand); and he was dressed fairly shabbily. 

He was also a Columbia University graduate; a published writer and in the midst of writing another book; and one of the nicest new clients I've had in a while. So, how did this man get from Columbia to where he is today? How does this happen? I met with him almost 8 hours ago and I can't get him out of my head. 

Emotional -- my family. I'm sure there will be more posts to follow, but I have a complicated relationship with my parents. Who doesn't? Well, I'm sure there's a select few, but mine is compounded with the fact that they live 3 hours away, so whenever they visit, they stay at my house. They're here tonight. A work-night. It would be SO much easier if they lived close enough to come over for dinner and then GO HOME. But no, I'm going to wake up every time I hear one of them go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (this happens a lot). So, I'm on edge until tomorrow morning when I leave for work (and they are still here, to let themselves out later).

Physical -- I had another bath-wrangling session with Bear tonight. It has got to be a control issue because his skin is now baby soft, thanks to that apricot oil. (why would Burt's Bees package OIL in a GLASS bottle anyway?) 

AND, I had to run around like crazy to get my house clean for the cleaning lady who comes tomorrow. I have her come once every other week (a necessity, NOT merely a luxury) and the night before I am a madwoman. If I don't move it or pick it up, I'm terrified she won't clean under it or around it. And tonight, I have even more to clean up because I have houseguests.

So, I'm sitting in bed, pecking away at my laptop (annoying my husband who is trying to watch "Fight Club" over my pecking), thinking about what to blog. And I've got nothing. I am seething with jealousy over the several witty, insightful blogs I have read tonight because those people all had something to say. If I had any energy, I would've laughed out loud. And I've got nothing.

The Mirror Has Two Faces

It never fails to amaze me how different I am at work than at home. Today was a prime example.

Today, I took the deposition of two defendants in my case and defended my client's deposition. (You don't have to actually know what a deposition is in order to follow this, so stick with me). I was the only woman (and a young one, I'd like to think) attorney in a room with three other much older, male attorneys. (And they were all wearing the SAME tie!! It really is a boys' club, there's a uniform!) So, anyway, the point is, I was not nervous, I was composed, I was concise, I was authoritative -- in short, I was fearless.

Fast forward to a few hours later when I'm home with Bear. He ate his dinner nicely (translation: he didn't throw any on me) and it was time for bath. He usually LOVES his bath time. After chasing him around my room for 10 minutes before tackling him to get his clothes off  -- he's screaming the whole time -- I finally get him into the bath. 

And that's when the fun really began. First, he went limp noodle on me when I tried putting him into the bath. Nothing like drowning your kid in order to get him clean. Then, he THREW A FIT. In the tub. Kicking, screaming, beating his arms. I temporarily distracted him by making some bubbles (i.e., put the faucet on and started squeezing his shampoo out). That pacified him until I tried to wash his skin. He LOST it on me. 

This is not normal. Bear loves baths. He even puts his own head under the faucet to wash the shampoo out. In between screams he's whimpering "mommy, mommy." And what do I do? I keep asking my 16 month old, "What is wrong? What do you want?" Over and over and over again. As if he's going to answer!! 

I quickly ended the bath and it took me another 10 minutes to get him into his diaper (all the while praying that he wouldn't pee on my bed). Once in his diaper, I started rubbing apricot oil all over him (thanks for the tip, Melissa) and he FINALLY calmed down.  Until I tried putting his jammies on. Back to square one. Screaming, crying. Making me sweat with anxiety and the physical exertion of trying to contain him.

How can I be so sure of myself at work and so, completely undone by a baby??

(I couldn't resist showing you how much he normally enjoys his bath!)

Guilty Pleasures

So, at the risk of revealing what a big dork I can be (you'll have to take my word that most of the time, I'm pretty cool), I thought I'd blog about some of my guilty pleasures. You know, things I love, that I would only admit to publicly under the threat of death! You will see a recurring theme of "things a teenage girl likes" (according to my husband) and these have been on my mind given the fact that there is NO good TV to watch right now.

And in no particular order...

1. Gilmore Girls -- you have NO idea how sad I am that this show is over! I watched all 8 (?) seasons and, sadly enough, sang the theme song every time I watched (at the top of my lungs).
2. Rain boots -- I just got black with white polka dots and can't WAIT to wear them. I don't even think I wore rain boots as a little girl...
3. The Hills -- um, yeah. I know there is NO good dialogue, but I love seeing how these people live, I can't believe it's a "reality" show! And if we're really being honest, any MTV "reality" show pretty much does it for me.
4. Any documentary on conjoined twins -- I end up in tears if one of them doesn't survive separation surgery, but for some reason, I can't stop watching.
5. The "Coo-coo-chee" song -- it just makes me smile.

I will stop here before you decide to never read my blog again. But, if you're brave, please share your guilty pleasures!

NEVER say never!

So, I am posting today through a slight haze of my post-op LASIK eyeballs. Yesterday afternoon, I went under the laser and got my horrific vision corrected. This morning, the doctor told me that I now have 20/20 vision. You can't begin to imagine how psyched I am!

I was supposed to get this surgery done two years ago, but two weeks before the surgery, I found out that I was pregnant with Bear. The doctor then told me that I had to be at least 6 months post-partum before he would do the surgery. And, finally, two years later -- it's done!

So....LASIK is now one of the many items that can be added to my list of "Things I will NEVER do" that I have now done. Here is fantasy v. reality:

1. Get tattooed (got one at age 26, as my "last crazy thing before having a baby")
2. Have a midwife (and will again, if I'm lucky!)
3. Go through natural childbirth (was a HUGE proponent of the epidural before I got pregnant)
4. Let my baby sleep with me in bed (thought parents were nuts who did that. Bear slept with me until he was 2 months old)
5. Let my baby watch TV before the age of 2 (was I nuts?? The 20 minute break I get every morning while Bear watches Hi-5 and Paz let me get ready for work!)
6. Get LASIK (coke-bottle glasses and contacts for the last 20 years, I was MORE than ready!)
7. Be a vegetarian (I've LOVED meat my whole life, but after reading Skinny Bitch, I've been meat free for the last week and don't see myself going back)

So, there you have it! I have done at least 7 things on my "I will NEVER do that" list and couldn't be happier with my decision to just do it. Like my mother always told me, "Never say never..."

Thank you, thank you!!

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The Boy's Got Attitude

I don't do mistletoe

Boys' clothes are just not as much fun as girls' clothes. It's a fact. I'm not saying that there isn't cute stuff out there. But after dressing my son for the last 16 months, every day is the same: pants and shirt, pants and shirt. With the occassional over-alls thrown in, of course.

One thing I do like is the attitude t-shirts. My husband and I think they are hilarious and we always get comments from other people. Bear's daycare teacher sent me the following email today:

He really is a pleasure to be around. And I absolutely adore the t-shirts he wears sometimes. Especially the one that says he still lives at home with his parents.

Note: that's one of my favorites, too!

Some other top faves are, "Mom's Little Monster", "Big Trouble in a Little Shirt", "Being Cute is a Full-Time Job" and "Daddy's Little Rebel." He has more, but I won't bore you with the whole list.

Sometimes (not often) I feel badly about putting him in "attitude" tees. I mean, he's barely old enough to have an attitude and he certaintly wouldn't be saying anything that he's wearing on his chest! The little voice in my head says, he is a child, not a billboard.

What can I say? I get my kicks where I can and since there is so little accessorizing you can do with a boy, his tees are all I've got! The attitude is here to stay!

Night, Night

Today I met with new clients, ran some errands at lunch time, caught up on my cases -- the usual. On Wednesdays, my sister picks Bear up from daycare, brings him to my home, feeds him, bathes him, plays with him and will put him to bed if I'm not home in time. 

Since Bear has been crashing sooo early lately, I rushed home so I could get a few minutes of snuggle time before he went to bed. I walked in the door around 6:30pm and there he was, freshly bathed, fed and clothed in his adorable fleece footie jammies. He was sitting on my sister's lap with his blankie in his mouth, fighting to stay awake.

And then he saw me. "Mommy!" with his arms stretched wide to hug me and the biggest smile on his adorable face. What a homecoming! No guilty looks, no anger at why I hadn't been home all this time, no wondering where I'd been. Just the unconditional love that only a child can give because he was truly happy that I was home. 

Cuddling him, singing him "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" in the rocker and putting him down for the night was the best 10 minutes of my day. He really is the best part of all my days. 

Goodnight, Bear.

And the winner is...?

I'm a competitive person. I hope I'm not obnoxiously competitive, but I definitely like to win. That's one of the reasons I became a lawyer. At the end of a trial, there's a winner and there's a loser. Outside of being a professional athlete, there aren't many jobs that have that aspect. It's nice to know which side you fall on, even if it's the losing side.

And then there are days like today. 

Today there were no winners. I went to court to watch the sentencing of a woman who lost control of her car and hit my clients' car head-on. My client was badly injured, her children were in the car, as was her mother who was killed on the scene.

As is her right, my client stood up in court today and gave a victim's statement. She told the judge all of the things she will never have back; her health, her mother. The judge imposed the maximum sentence for this traffic violation.

My client got no satisfaction because it doesn't help her recovery and it certainly doesn't bring back her mother. The defendant got no satisfaction because she doesn't feel the maximum sentence should be imposed, as the collision was weather-related. She is remorseful for the accident and has to live the rest of her life knowing that her actions caused another person's death. 

All in all, a very unsatisfying day in court. Technically, we won. But it sure didn't feel like it.

Mondays, yuck.

I know that no one (in their right mind, that is) likes Mondays. But I really don't like them. After two wonderful days with my husband and the Bear, Monday comes and ruins it all. Back to work, back to daycare, back to reality. I dislike Mondays so much that I start getting pissy on Sunday. 

I've tried to make my Mondays go more smoothly, but there always seems to be a snag. This morning, I forgot to pay Bear's daycare. Good going. Don't pay the people who are taking care of my child, my little love. I realize that this snafu shouldn't have ruined the whole day and it didn't, but wait, there's more.

My 1:30 appointment showed up at 9:00am (....um, have a watch?) and my other 1:30 appointment (OK, so technically I was double-booked) showed up at 2:00 which would have been fine except I had a 3:00 eye doctor appointment. I barely made it to the Dr. on time and once there, of course, they made me wait an hour. 

Nothing like rushing out of the eye doctor with dilated pupils in rush-hour traffic to get my son out of daycare. Really, they shouldn't allow people with dilated pupils to drive! There should be a warning in the waiting room. I'm a personal injury attorney, I know something about liability. Oh, and by rush to daycare, I meant rushing home first (to get the check I never wrote to pay daycare) and then to get my son. The silver lining? He wasn't the last kid picked up -- he was the second to last. 

Sometimes I think my Mondays go this way just so I'm reminded that I can't (and don't) control it all, no matter how organized, how well-planned, or how determined I am. Thank goodness tomorrow's Tuesday!

Sleepyhead

I am both cursed and blessed with having a toddler who's an excellent sleeper. Obviously, it makes my life much easier after he's in bed (with his blankie in his mouth and his butt up in the air) to clean the house, do laundry, etc. But, Bear loves to sleep. He goes to bed around 6:30 and I rush to get home at 5:00, just so I can have that measly 1 1/2 hours with him. On the 2 days a week I don't pick him up from daycare (so I can get more work done), I get home just in time to give a goodnight kiss and that's all I see of my Bear.

Oh, and did I mention that he's really cranky at the end of the day? And that I don't even get to play with him for those 1-2 hours? Because I never know if he's going to conk out at 6:30 or 7:00, it is a mad rush to give him dinner, a bath and storytime. Then, if we're lucky and Bear's still in a good mood, we get to play. Until he grabs his blankie and throws himself on the ground, indicating that he's had enough and would like some sleep, please. Now!!

It's just not fair. I know it probably won't be long before he has a later bedtime and I'll be missing the days I get hours to myself when he goes to bed. But right now, while he's still so small and cuddly and delicious, I just wish I had more time... 

I'm taking the plunge...

Welcome to the maiden voyage of my blog. Does cyberspace really need ANOTHER mommy blog? Probably not. I already read at least five different mom blogs a day. What makes mine different? Or interesting? Or even remotely readable?

For starters, I'm a lawyer. No jokes please. You CAN'T make up the stuff I see and hear on a daily basis. After being in the courtroom for the last five years, I think the show Night Court was, in fact, a reality show.

The other main reason I'm logging on is that I have yet to find a blog that is from the point of view of a professional woman in a mostly-male field struggling with motherhood. And not just motherhood, but wife-hood (I know that's not really a word, but it should be) and the pressure of trying to build a successful career. I don't want to "float" through the day at my job. I'm not working just for a paycheck. I am passionate about practicing law, about making a difference and helping those who need it. And I am even more passionate about my family.

So, whether I get many readers or none at all, I'm taking the plunge. I'm hoping we can exchange words of wisdom, of encouragement and of reality with one another. I'm hoping that whether you're a stay-at-home mom or a working-outside-the-house mom, we can all have a good laugh (or cry) together at the end of the day. If nothing else, this is WAY cheaper than therapy!

More to come...!