Sick Day

Today I woke up feeling sick again. It's just a bad cold I think, but I'm starting to wonder if strep throat may be coming next because it seems to be getting worse. It didn't help that S woke up at 2:00 am and would only sleep if she was laying (and kicking) in the bed next to me for the rest of the night. I took the opportunity to have a sick day because Sunday is about the only day of the week I can pull it off with R's busy schedule. I even made him take all of the kids to church by himself and looked forward to my day of healing.

I went back to bed after helping do the girls hair, finding shoes, filling the diaper bag, and waving goodbye trying to suppress the guilt I felt for missing church with my family. Soon after I called R on his cell asking if I should just get dressed and come, he told me no. I promptly crawled back into bed and fell asleep. I didn't wake up again until I heard my children's happy voices echoing off the walls a couple hours later. After feeding the kids lunch, R came to our room, grabbed a book to read and laid on the bed next to me. As he stared at the book he said with a note of frustration, "This is not going to be a good day for me." I thought he was feeling the burden of being the single parent and asked what had happened. He showed me some emails he had received from work during church that obligated him to finish some documents by the end of the day. So at about 3:30 he had to go into the office to finish these documents that really didn't need to be done today, but the clients wanted them to be, so they would be.

R missed dinner with us, and H called him several times checking when he might be coming home. He said his guess was 8:30. H was working on a project that he was dying to show his Dad. Then R missed bedtime stories, prayers, hugs and kisses. I eventually got the baby into bed at 10:30 and he still wasn't home. I tried calling work and there was no answer. I decided either he had just left, or was run off the road somewhere two hours ago and was lying unconscious. I try not to get myself worked up on thoughts like that, so decided I would try his cell phone in a few minutes if he didn't get home. Well, he finally arrived home at 10:45 and at least he got to kiss S goodnight because she was still awake crying for "uppy" in her bed. Now I can finish up this post and get a few minutes with him for conversation before it's time for bed and we do this all over again tomorrow. So much for my day of healing, I guess I'll have to load up on vitamins and hope for a good night's sleep.

My Double Life

It was Friday night and I was off to a wine and cheese tasting event with R. This was particularly intriguing because we don’t drink wine. We arrive at the home of one of the partners in the firm. It is located right on the Lake and has a beautiful view. Although the yard is not large, it is beautifully landscaped with tropical plants that have grown tall enough to hide the neighbors’ homes on both sides. There are several large tables set up on the patio with white and navy blue tablecloths. Each place setting with a small plate, a napkin, and two wine goblets.

It was Saturday afternoon and R was working so I brought the kids for a shopping trip to Target. I pulled into the crowded parking lot and circled a few times to get a space that is close enough for me to get everyone into the store quickly without the possibility of losing one on the way in. Having the two toddlers I opt for the huge cart with the big plastic attachment for seating two small children (you know the ones that add an extra four feet of length to the cart). I attempt to put S in the cart’s seat, but she kicks and fusses like crazy because she wants to sit in the big plastic thing by HB. So I move her there and off we go in this huge cart that takes some serious steering to avoid hitting other shoppers. Not only is this thing incredibly long, it is also surprisingly loud. I feel as though I am a mini thunderstorm tearing through the store. We’ve just entered and people turn and give me a half smile as they notice the parade rumbling down the isle. The storm is about to pick up because we’re heading for the toy isles.

We arrive on time to the partner’s home after securing our children with a spunky, fun babysitter and walk past the lovely tables to the gazebo area below right next to the water. The ducks are swimming by, a cool breeze blows, and everyone is smiling politely, shaking hands, and making pleasant conversation. We are instantly greeted with big smiles and happy hellos, and offered a drink. We each take a bottle of water and start mingling.

H has some birthday and chore money that he is dying to spend and this is the trip for it. He saw an inflatable air mattress that he says will be perfect for the traveling we’ll do this summer. As soon as HB sees anything with a Disney princess on it she wants out of the giant cart and is soon pulling things off of shelves and bringing me princess toys while exclaiming, “Mommy, my fave it!” And I answer her with phrases like, “oh, that costs a lot of dollars, I think we should keep looking.” To which she responds with wailing and pleading. S wants out now too and she is climbing around the big plastic seats with her little toes starting to pop out of her sandals. She gets her foot stuck in the cart and starts to cry. I pick her up, but she squirms out of my arms not wanting to be held. She stands on the floor in front of me with her arms up still crying. I try to pick her up again, and she squirms down again. What does she want?!

Eventually we are called to sit down for the evening’s presentation. As I sit I notice that the wine glass that has been filled for everyone else has been mistakenly skipped for me. A lucky thing, being a non-drinker, so I turn one goblet upside down and fill the other with water to communicate to the waiter that I will not be drinking tonight. R’s has been filled, so he pushes it to the top of his place setting and we settle in. Nobody gives us a hard time about not drinking, nor do they ask why. So the remainder of the evening is spent listening and learning about wine, but not tasting it.

H and E are bringing me interesting toys and E comments, “If I buy this Spongebob game I’ll only have one dollar left. Never mind, I don’t want it. ” And she quickly turns and walks down the isle to look for a better choice. I start scanning the shelves to find where this toy belongs, and see S happily pushing buttons on a driving toy. “Perfect” I think, “She can sit in the cart and play with this while we finish up.” Of course I have no intention of buying the toy, just using it until we reach the checkout. I set her in the cart with the toy and she starts up her fit again. She has no interest in it, but now HB does. She positions herself on the ledge between the two seats (you know the part that has the picture of the kid sitting on it and a big red line through it) and starts playing with the driving toy, pushing buttons that beep and ring. I hold onto her with one hand and push the giant cart with the other as we thunder down the isle with S strapped tight into the cart screaming and kicking her legs wildly. I have now reached the point where I turn a corner to find that everyone on the other side of it is already looking at me to see what the heck is coming around that corner. I have learned the difference between the happy half smile an annoyed half smile, and the pitying half smile.

Tonight I learned that the thing commoners may refer to as an “aftertaste” is actually the “long flavor” of the wine. And before tasting it you swirl it around in the glass to check for clarity (no floaters), and that the alcohol content can be judged by the amount of clear liquid that drips down the sides of the glass after swirling it. There were also a variety of cheeses served. There were goat’s milk, sheep’s milk, or cow’s milk with sage and truffle additions and a bright orange blue cheese that I just couldn’t make myself try. At this sophisticated party people happily ate what was offered after the cheese expert explained about the edible mold that makes each cheese so special. At the end of the evening we thank our host and he and R discuss a project they’re working on as we walk to the front door. He and his wife wave good-bye and we stroll to our car and head for home.

H found what he came in for, so we rumble towards the checkout stands. I grabbed some milk, cereal, and other grocery items and got in a line. I ditched the toys that made there way into my cart including the beeping driver one, and breathe a sigh as it’s my turn to checkout. We’re almost done! I think about what an awesome mom I am for not giving in to any of HB’s princess demands or tantrums. A lady standing by the checkout with a clipboard asks me if I’m paying with a gift card to which I answer, “no.” I don’t know why she’s asking and I don’t care as long as she doesn’t ask me anything else. We made it out of Target and head for the minivan. As I buckle my kids in I think to myself, “Thank goodness for online shopping. I’m never going out again!”

———-

The summer brings a lot of events for the firm and after my Target experience we had a nice dinner at a beach restaurant called “The Cannery.” We noticed a film crew out on the dock, and were told they were filming for the show “The Real Housewives of Orange County.” One of the “housewives” was having a party on a boat that was docked there. I sat in the restaurant and looked down at my oversized white plate decorated with a swirl of orange mango sauce and topped with a perfectly lovely crab salad. As I look up I see the boat full of “real” people set off for the ocean. I realize that although I live in Orange County and catch glimpses of the lifestyle shown on the show, which by the way I have never seen, I would never qualify to be a “real housewife.” I might be a better candidate for Super Nanny. My show could be called, “The Normal Mom of Orange County,” anyone want to tune in?

Originally posted to my family blog June 2007

Firm Widow

I was a "bar widow" for the summer of 2005. This meant that R was technically home for the summer, but nobody knew it. He could have holed up in the library or something, but since my parent's basement is pretty soundproof from the chaos in the rest of the house it worked for him to study in there. He was in that basement bedroom studying all day; reading, taking sample tests, writing, and stressing out. Then he drove to Stockton every night (almost an hour away) for the BarBri class. This class is essential to preparing for the California bar, and he took it very seriously. It was brutal.

I was kept sane by staying with Nana and Papa who would help out a lot with the kids! Also, in the middle of it all, we found out that we were expecting baby S just days after HB started crawling at six months old. I put myself in denial about what that would mean for me, and dove into finding our family a place to live in LA. I did tons of research online, where were the best schools? a low crime rate? a decent commute? I drove down with my Mom and HB and we stayed at Auntie J & D's house while we looked around. We timed the drive, checked out neighborhoods, called realtors and scanned the papers for rentals. Unfortunately we didn't find anything from that trip so I went to plan B and started calling bishops in the area and friends of friends etc. Finally, I found a bishop's wife with a lead! Someone in their ward (LDS congregation) was taking a year to practice law back east and wanted to rent out their house while they were gone. Ta da! They sent us pictures and told us how great the neighborhood was. We felt like it was a good fit, and signed the lease by fax. Luckily, it turned out to be just as nice as we had hoped and our blind faith paid off.

When the bar exam was over we started preparing for our move to LA. We settled in and loved our new community. The hours at the firm were a very hard adjustment for all of us. In fact I still have a tolerate/hate relationship with all firms. Regardless of where you work there is an unpredictable schedule and lots of surprise late night shifts. If getting through law school weren't so expensive I think most people would never choose to work there, but when you finish school with undergrad debt and then law school debt, you do what it takes to pay the bills. It's like having to pay for two homes, one that you live in and the other that houses your opportunity for a career. The firm takes good care of you financially and gives you lots of little parties and perks to keep you from saying "I'm outta here!" It's what has been called the "golden handcuffs." Once you go in it's hard to leave behind. However, we are determined to not buy into the lifestyle and will use these as our big earning years to pay things down to a more manageable level and then R can get a job with better hours, etc. So until then I have morphed from the "Bar Widow" into my current status as the "Firm Widow." My next title had better be more glamorous!
Originally posted on my family blog October 2007

I'll Tell You Why

The following story is the reason I have started this Big Law Blah Blog:

T'was the Wednesday before Christmas and all through the house,
not a child saw Daddy, not even his spouse.

He told us, "Don't worry, today is the day.
The deal is closing -hip hip hooray."

Two children in school, so I'll finish some shopping.
With the two toddlers with me, there was lots of stopping.

With me in my ponytail I got to the task.
This year it's on me every doll, book, and flask.

When I finished in line at the big Dollar Store,
I said to myself, "there must be something more."

But there wasn't, how 'bout that, I have extra time!
I called up my hubby, "Hi, lunch on my dime?"

So away to the firm I drove in a flash,
Threw open the door and yelled, "hop in fast!"

The mini van circled the parking lot slowly,
We'd just started talking about where we'd be going.

When what to my wondering ears did I hear?
A ringing cell phone heading up towards his ear.

"That's ok," he said plainly. "I'll have her turn 'round."
Then to me, "yes, it's as bad as it sounds."

"I'll have to go back now, they say this is it.
I guess I'll skip lunch," and our girls start a fit.

More rapid than gunshots, I heard in my brain,
My mind calling out every mean word and crass name.

Oh "darnit," and "dangit," and "hangit, it figures."
Oh "fetcher," and "flipper," and "sucker, dumb signatures."

Then just like that, he ran out of sight,
So much for lunch. I can't eat a bite.

This is a true story, and it's not even the whole story. Later that afternoon, Dad called and told the kids the deal was closed, and he would be coming home "early" (aka before bedtime) and we should all be ready to go out to dinner to celebrate the end of this horrid deal that took away all of his time with the family for the past two weeks.

It was 5:30 and still no sign of Daddy, so I called and he told me how there were all these loose ends to tie up and things he had to do, so he wouldn't be home until after 7:00. He ended the phone call with a sigh, and added "I miss you, I love you."

I decided to order a pizza to be delivered instead of a dinner out. The kids thought it was a fun dinner, but still missed Daddy and we all lamented the nature of his job. He does what he has to do, when it has to be done. I suppose there are a lot of jobs out there like that, but this one is particularly frustrating because the lifestyle and prestige you think you are getting going into the job is just not there once you're in it.