So Profound

A while ago I asked my husband a very profound question in my sleep as he was getting ready for work.

This morning, I did the same thing. From the depths of my sleep, I voiced a very deep concern:

"Why doesn't anyone make special sauce out of mustard?"

Keeping The "C" Out Of Class

As my public benefits law professor handed out our take home exam on the last day of class he made one thing very clear. He does not like to give out C's. My professor went to the University of Washington Law School when they did not give out letter grades. All classes were pass/fail.

My professor turned to the class and asked, "What is the grading like at Seattle University? You mostly get A's and B's right?" 40 heads smiled over-enthusiastically and nodded in unison. I exhanged smirking looks with the girl next to me. If this was true, my transcript would show that I am the worst (or unluckiest) law student on the planet with my handful of C's.

"I try not to give out C's. You have to really botch this exam to get a C. You have to, like, draw pictures instead of actually writing out an answer." My professor exclaimed. Then he continued, "In fact, in law school I really hated this one professor. I knew the class was pass/fail and I really doubted he would fail me, so I actually had the nerve to draw a picture on my exam. It was pretty funny. But DONT do that on this exam."

This is the best news I've heard all semester. This is the one class I never read a thing for. And I'm being rewarded for it! Now I can skim the syllabus for relevant cases and write a simple discussion of the holding in them and how they apply to the take home. If I decide to put in some extra effort on top of that, I could possibly breeze by with an A. Wow, I just got sprinkled with some lucky dust or something. Cha-ching.

I love professors who don't give C's.

Overheard In Law School 2

"Think of Goldberg v. Kelly as Star Wars and Mathews v. Elridge as Emperor Strikes back. And those big walker machines are stomping all over the 14th Amendment." -Public Benefits Professor

"I'd hate to be the person giving my presentation after him. I mean, that'd be like on American Idol if Kristy Lee Cook had to go up after David Archuleta." - Law Student in my row

I am so sick of the valley girl law students sitting next to me. It's so weird to hear them talk about serious things like adverse possession when every other word coming out of their mouths is "like" and with stereotypical flamboyant gay man voice fluctuations..."So like, the main elements of adverse possession, are like, actual possession. Open and notorious. Yeah, and like, hostility. And isn't there like one more? Oh my god. Is that like, a picture of your bf? How old is he? I totally like his hair."

How do these people trick admissions into getting accepted?

Boob Worries

Can one anatomical part perform two functions at the same time?

All my non-reproducing life, I've associated boobs with one thing: sex. Boobs are sexy. I will proudly admit that I am a "boob" girl and (this might be crossing the decency line for the blog world but...) I get turned on by my own pair, especially now that they are two sizes bigger.

But what happens when you become a mom and those symbols of sex take on a more utilitarian function: that of nurturing your baby? I plan to nurse, in fact, I really look forward to it. But I don't want my boobs to lose their OTHER function. So, can boobs still bring you "pleasure" when you're a nursing mom? Can they still be a turn on? If not, can that function be restored at a later date?

I think my husband is crazy sometime because, although I'm over five months pregnant, he still thinks I'm sexy (or so he says....). Ok, maybe I can buy that. Maybe. It seems a stretch to me but people have had weirder fetishes I guess. But how sexy will it be if I started to leak all over the place during sex AFTER the baby? Yeah, didn't think so. Cringe.

Am I the only pregnant person who worries about these things? Am I just being silly? Is it a pointless worry because I will be so tired and consumed by my role as a new mom that sex will be the last thing from my mind? It would just be nice to know how it all works.

The Best Profession Ever

Last night my husband and I watched A Civil Action with John Travolta. In my civil procedure class 1L year, we read about the Woburn case as a case studying for learning the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. Like Rule 11, my professor was obsessed with Rule 11. I'm pretty sure my husband was bored with the movie. Not a typical thriller. No violence, no blood, no shooting.

And when I was running at the gym last night, 60 minutes came on featuring Justice Scalia. It was amazing to watch him interact in the interview. He's a real, down to earth person. Even he has days where the legal profession makes him angry. How amazing would it be to be a Supreme Court Justice?

Every once in a while I doubt my decision to go to lawschool. But the truth is, being a part of the legal profession- even if just as a student for now- is like being in some exclusive club. I feel special knowing things that are not common knowledge. The shared experience of law school torture, socratic method, and taking a bar exam just initiates all lawyers and lawyers-to-be into the same social club. It's a separate academic and intellectual world that we become part of.

And I love having access to the legalese:
Joinder- sounds like a type of drug to me "hey man, wanna smoke a joinder?"
Quantum meruit- a type of space travel, perhaps?
Interrogatory- a torture tool
Indemnification- just sounds dirrrrty...

Mostly, I'm proud to be part of the legal profession. Unlike how I felt my 1L year- lost, dazed and inadequate, I am now confident, in awe of legal concepts, and I have a sense of belonging. I have taken law and made it mine. I feel like I belong to it, and it belongs to me. I feel like it's something that makes me unique and sets me apart from others while at the same time, uniting me with lawyers and law students all around the world.

I still have my off days and I still have days where I hate law school more than I hate folding laundry or more than I hate paying a cover to get into fun places (that's some intense hatred there).

But the best part of the legal profession is that as you grow intellectually, there is always something in the field to stimulate you. Law's philosophical roots tie us to great thinkers like Aristotle, Hume, Kant, Jefferson, Madison. It also connects us to current events and asks us to come up with solutions for society's existing problems. There will never be a shortage of people to help, legal doctrines to study and law articles to read.

Law is the best profession ever. Now I just have to repeat this mantra 100 times a day until finals are over.

You Know You're Old When The Word Prom Makes You Think Of, Not Yours, But Your Future Kid's Prom

When I got married, we moved right into the city. It's a small city with a small downtown and it still has rural elements to it. But it's fun to live right in the action and near everything...even if it means hearing police sirens at night. We went out for dinner and actually WALKED. It was nice. It took ten scenic minutes- we walked near the water and across a bridge, the mountains were hovering in the background- it was beautiful.

We went to one of my favorite restaurants. It's called the Boat Shed and its on the water, literally. Part of the restaurant is held up by piers over a saltwater inlet. In fact, people can drive their boats up to the reastaurant, tie it to the dock and walk up for dinner. There are some pictures on their website http://www.theboatshedrestaurant.com/. The Boat Shed serves a great selection of seafood, burgers, sandwiches, and a number of excellent salads. Almost every table is by a window and EVERY table has a view of the water. There is a bar area and they serve good beer and fun drinks...only 123 days until I can have a lemon drop! Woo hoo :)

Seated out on the patio was a group of highschoolers all dressed up for a formal dance. They looked really cute seated in pairs. Then there was a bulbous girl hobbling around awkwardly in heels- it looked like she was going to tip over. I'm only 23, those highschool days aren't that far behind me. But it feels like forever ago. Anyway, seeing this group reminded me of my dances. I loved dancing! The excitement of getting dressed up and hanging out with my girls. Of course, I was lame and never had a date- except for prom. I was always pretty shy at school. I didn't want to stand out for fear of what people thought about me.

I was a completely different person at our school dances. I rocked the dance floor. It felt good moving with the music and didn't care what people thought- in fact, as ridiculous and wacky as my dance moves were (cringe) people actually tried to emulate them! At dances, I was all about having fun, even if it meant looking silly doing it-- and people always wanted to join in. I think not having to worry about impressing a date helped a lot too.

Now that we're going to have a baby, I found myself thinking about the day my own kids will go off to prom all dressed up. I definately look forward to it. But I still feel too young to be thinking about that kind of thing. I know it will be exciting to watch my boy, in a tux, bring bring his prom date to meet us. That is, if he doesn't hate us by then. Then I realized what I was thinking about and it kind of freaked me out.

Every now and then, I catch myself thinking old matronly thoughts and it makes me shudder. While I'm totally gonna be a hip and hot mom (wink), I'm still young myself. I guess it all happens in time, I just don't want to be too eager for the future and miss out on the now.

Working Out My Tastebuds

I wanted to run today, really I did. I planned on running too, just as I had planned on running Monday and Wednesday.

Then I got home. And sat on the couch. And ate some Cheez-its from my hidden stash. And fell asleep for 3 hours.

I feel guilty that I'm not sticking to my running goals or to a daily running routine. It's so easy for me to use pregnancy as an excuse to opt out of a workout when, really, it should be the reason that I work out. Healthy mommy = healthy baby! But I've been pretty exhausted lately. Not exhausted like I didn't get enough sleep exhausted. More like exhausted because I just ran a half marathon exhausted. Physically, I feel so drained. It's super hard to force myself to do a workout when I feel like I've already done one, or two, or three!

Tonight, I'm gonna sit on my butt, eat a whole bag of kettle corn and watch movies. If I get enough energy, I might move the pile of my freshly folded undies (thank you neat freak husband) off the kitchen table and on top of my dresser (it's asking too much to put it IN the dresser).

A Forced Change of Attitude

I guess yesterday was just a bad day. I'm allowed to have those every once in a while right? I'll blame the hormones, oh and finals. While I'm at it, I'll blame global warming and the Bush Administration too.

I feel much better today. I think as my belly starts to look more like a baby belly and less like chub/flab I will like it better. When I see other pregnant women, I think they look beautiful and adorable. I'm just having a hard time seeing myself that way. It's such a big change to get used to. I think my problem is that I'm comparing myself to others. My mom barely showed at all until she was 7.5 months pregnant. I'm been holding on to the unreal expectation that I would be the same. But that's ridiculous and I need to let it go. It's so awful to compare myself with other pregnant people because we all are different and our babies are all different too.

I'm working on a healthier frame of mind. As long as I'm getting all the nutrients that my baby needs, I should be happy. Kids ARE a sacrifice, but in a good way. As soon as Baby Palmer is born worries about my career and future will be replaced by worries of him. I know I will still have to take care of myself but babies and children need parents who are selfless and loving. This whole pregnancy thing is just the beginning and I need to get used to it.

A fellow law student who had two babies during law school told me that she is glad she had her kids so close together so she could "get it out of the way and get back to her life." She didn't mean it in a bad way but I was totally repulsed. Your kids BECOME your life. In my opinion, you shouldn't want to get them "out of the way" and you shouldn't feel like having kids puts your life on hold. At least, I don't want to feel this way. To me, my career is important, but raising children will be one of the most important things I will do. I need to stop myself when I feel like I'm "putting my own life on hold."

For now, I will just think of the end result: a cute, healthy baby boy. It helps to buy baby clothes, plan the nursery, and do all the other prep work- it keeps me focused. I need to remember why we wanted this in the first place.

I can do this. I re-accept the pregnancy challenge! The parenting challenge? That's a whole 'nother issue....

Emo

Today I hate being pregnant.

I used to imagine what it would be like to have kids. I used to try to picture myself pregnant. In my mind, I loved being pregnant. I loved the idea of carrying a product of the love I share with another inside me.

But even though I thought a lot about the pain of childbirth and the joys of caring for a newborn, I never really THOUGHT about pregnancy. I had no idea how much of a burden it would be. I never realized that I would be sharing my body with someone else for NINE whole months! I didn't realize what a physical and mental commitment I would be forced to make.

Lately I feel intruded upon. You know that feeling when a house guests stays for too long? That's how I feel about this pregnancy, except this is worse. I feel so uncomfortable in my body. I hate the awkward new shape of my body and how nothing fits me right. My body seems to be extra unusual. I cannot fit into any normal maternity pants. I have been to all the department stores and specialty maternity stores in the entire Puget Sound area and have discovered all the maternity jeans to be either (1) too short, (2) too big in the hips/thigh/legs, or (3) too short AND too big.

I have been told by many sales clerks that I probably have to buy designer maternity jeans. Um? Are you kidding me? I do not want to pay $200 for a pair of jean I will wear for three months- but I'm getting so desperate that I might just fork it over. Why is this so hard? I've never had problems finding jeans before!

I hate clothes. I look in the mirror and I don't see me, I see someone else. I feel so down when I have to get dressed or try on clothes. The worst part is that I have no control. I'm just gonna get bigger and more awkward. I miss being slender and agile. I miss my waist. I miss feeling sexy when I slide into a fitted top. I miss feeling sexy, period. I miss running the way I used to run. I miss racing and competing. I miss having energy.

I've been so exhausted lately- when I'm at home I'm passed out on the couch or the bed. I don't have energy to do school work, house work, or even fun thing I used to enjoy. I have even been getting nauseous again! That's not supposed to happen! I know this sounds awful for a mom-to-be to say but I can't wait until I'm out of this Pregnancy Prison. How will I survive for four more months? I wish I could hibernate through it all.

I Hate Law School And Law School Hates Me

Law School and me are NOT getting along this semester. For once, it's not me- it's Law School.

Because of Law School, I have to miss out on watching David Archuletta sing his hot, young heart out. It's not often that I feel justified in crushing over a teenager (it's definately justified when the teenager sings like David) so it is just unconscionable that I have to miss American Idol every week.

Law School is being difficult and boring too. None of my classes are particularly exciting. It's getting more and more dificult to force myself to go to class. I started the How-Many-Days-of-Class-Left countdown in January, for heaven's sakes. I'd seriously rather have each of my eyebrow hairs plucked from my face than go to my classes.

Law School is not happy about me being pregnant and takes every opportunity to punish me for it. It doesn't care that I'm tired all the time. It is completely unsympathetic to the fact that I'm at the beginning stages of becoming a whale and that my jeans are starting to be too tight- yet I still have to wear clothes to my classes, LAME! Law School doesn't care that I have to go to the bathroom every five minutes or that I get hungry in the middle of class because the plate of lasagne I had for breakfast is already being worked off.

Because of Law School, I wake up early to face the icebox-like conditions of weather sweeping the Seattle area right now. Plus I have to walk 1.5 miles at 8:30pm in the dark to the ferry because there is no bus.

Also, Law School is expensive- it takes a lot of moolah to keep this awful, abusive relationship going. If I had half a mind, I would have decided to become an ultrasound technician instead. I would already be getting paid to rub goo all over people's bulbous bellies and tell them that they aren't just having a boy, they are having a kitten! Yep, all the parts are there. Oh look, there's a whisker. And a tail!

Losing resolve quickly. On the verge of winning "worst law student in the history of procrastination" award.

Best Recipe In The Entire World: Cuban Chicken

I grew up hating chicken. If you ever came to my house for dinner you would find yourself awaiting a meal of either (1) chicken and rice, or (2) chicken and potatoes. And my mom always cooked her chicken the same way every time- oven roasted. I began to associate chicken with bland, boring and repetative.

When I got older and had to start cooking for myself I realized that chicken, although I hated it, was the easiest and most versatile thing to cook with. There is so much you can do with chicken! I can't believe we had chicken prepared the same way for 18 years of my life when there were so mnay other options out there. Chicken with mangos and onions, chicken curry, chicken stuffed with cheese...and now I am proud to announce my very new favorite chicken recipe: Cuban Mojo Chicken!

I started to watch the food network when I run on the treadmill. Like all good foods, that channel is addicting! I just discovered this hilarious show called "Paula's Party" or something. It stars this old, large spunky woman with a southern accent who likes to dance. She's so wacky that she's kinda funny...anyway, on her show she had a recipe for cuban mojo chicken- which is chicken marinated in cuban sauce. I tried the recipe last night from what I could remember from watching the show.

The chicken was SO EASY to make, and it was INCREDIBLE. It was juicy and kinda spicey and perfect! Straight from a fancy restaurant's menu.

I tried the recipe out on my dad and my husband and they were both amazed. This recipe is definately a keeper. I will have to remember to make it next time I go to a party or a potluck. I don't have exact measurements for ingredients because I didn't write it down when I saw the show, but I think you can put in any amount of the ingredients according to your preferences and it will still be awesome.

From what I remember:

• 1 yellow onion, minced
• 6 garlic cloves, minced
• 12 ounces of orange juice
• 5 ounces of lime juice
• 5 ounces of lemon juice
• heaps of pepper (or ground peppercorn)
• teaspoon of salt
• cumin
• oregano
• garlic powder
• fresh chopped parsley

Put all this together in a bowl and marinate boneless, skinless chicken breasts for a couple hours in the fridge. Then cook it all in a sauce pan over medium high heat until the chicken is done- about 30 minutes. The chicken was so full of flavor! And the sauce left in the pan is really good to spoon over more chicken or use to dip rolls in. It goes really well with pasta.

I challenge you to try this recipe, I promise you'll love it! To top it all off, this was the first time in a while that my smoke alarms haven't gone off while I was cooking! Why does that always happen?

If You Got It...Flaunt It!

Alternate title: My baby, The Show Off.

We found out we're having a boy! The ultrasound tech said he was very obviously a boy. She kept trying to check out all his body parts to make sure everything was there and his little boy parts kept popping up on the screen.

"Ok. Let's check out his hands...oops, there's the scrotum sack again. Let's count his toes. There they are again, those boy parts! Let's measure his belly... oh my, he's showing off his manhood."

It was pretty funny because we had a hilarious ultrasound tech. She kept making comments about how little boys start flaunting their stuff early. Then she kept making random comments like, "Well, we know he doesn't have clubbed feet. Ohhh, see that, he doesnt have a cleft palate. And we know for a fact he has a left arm!" I kept belly laughing which totally disrupted the scan. Then she told me I had the fullest bladder she had ever seen. How is that for compliments!

The tech kept pointing out random things but all I saw was blobs of grey and white and black. Finally she got another angle of the baby and the parts that showed up on the screen were very obvious to me: the butt cheeks! He has cute little cheeks, he must get those from his dad.

Finally we got to see his little hands flailing around and his legs kicking furiously. It looked like he stepped in poo and was trying to shake it off or something. When she showed us his face, omg, it was incredible. I saw his mouth open and close. We watched him suck his fingers. We saw him cross his little arms in front of his belly. It's so amazing. We could even make out five itty bitty fingers on each hand.

My eyes were teary the entire time. I didn't really cry, but the very first image that popped up on the screen was the image of the baby's tiny spine. It was the first glimpse I had of this person living inside me and even though it wasn't anything that I was looking forward to seeing (like the face or hands), it just hit me. This was our baby. We created him. In four short months we will be holding him and caring for him. And this creepy skeletal like spinal shot on the screen is our first real image of him. Our first clue that he really does exist. I realized that right at that very moment, his nervous system was sending signals down that little spine. He is a fully functional being in so many ways.

It's more than any words can say.

The Preggosphere: Let It Bump

My tummy seems to have "popped" and it literally happened over night. It's actually a little bit creepy. One day I'm going along, not looking pregnant at all- maybe a little "pouchy." Then I wake up and there it is staring at me defiantly in the mirror...the belly. It's not a huge belly- it's still small and easy to hide but it's definately there in its distinct globe-like shape. The pouch that used to be more evenly distributed across my stomach and could have been mistaken for the result of eating too many white cheddar cheetos has defined itself into a distinct Preggosphere.

People are telling me that I am starting to show. And when the strangers at the gym see me in my awesome spandex shorts, it is obvious to them that I'm pregnant. I love when men on my gym's indoor track get all determined as soon as they notice that they have been passed by a pregnant lady. This seems to set off a "manhood" alert bell and compels even the oldest, fattest, most out-of-shape men to pick up their pace to catch up.

I'm still very self conscious going out into public in a fitted shirt. When I went out in public before, my pregnancy was still my own little secret. It felt sacred and private. Now, I feel like this intimate part of my personal life is on display for everyone. I know it shouldn't be a big deal because almost half of the country's population becomes pregnant at some point, but it's still hard for me to get used to. I feel like everyone is staring at my belly all the time. I have yet to have a stranger ask me when I'm due but the attention I think I am attracting (whether imagined or not) sometimes gets old.

Other times I wish pregnant people had to wear little badges that say "I''m pregnant" or something. Then I probably could cut to front of bathroom lines and not feel guilty when ordering an extra cookie at the cafe. Also, then I could finally know whether or not the lady that I always see in my law school's bathroom (we must share the same pee cycle) is pregnant. She has a belly that looks like a pregnant belly, but she is a little larger, so it's hard to tell. I want to ask her but what if I'm wrong? How horrible would that be?

I Dream Of Beer

There is one pregnancy craving I have that just cannot be satisfied: beer.

I usually hate beer. There are probably two kinds of beer I like and they both taste like water. So why is it that I have been craving beer for the past two weeks? Should I be alarmed? Should I tell my doctor?

I'm sure giving in to half a cup of beer would do me and baby no harm. But these cravings are recurring and I'm pretty sure just half a cup would whet my appetite for more. Plus, my husband watches me like a hawk and wont even allow me to have one itty bitty sip out of his beer. I think its the smell/taste of wheat that's really getting me. Maybe I should ferment some wheat soaked in apple juice?

In 134 days, I will be drinking from the biggest tallboy I can find.

Overheard In Law School

Our Professor re-asks a question that he had asked at the end of class last week.

One student raises his hand and starts answering, "I have been thinking about this a lot since last class..."

(i.e., I am a geek that reads discourses on law for fun on Saturday. I have no life and no girlfriend and I still live with my mom who starches my underwear and packs my lunch.)

If You Smell Like Shit, No Trespassing

I always look forward to the time that exists between 1:15pm and 2:00pm. This is inbetween class time for me, and I usually have no additional reading to rush through (if I do, I ignore it anyway). I like to sit down in one of the comfy law school chairs and surf the internet for all things fun related (baby, online shopping, blogs) and NOTHING law related.

It's my happy bubble.

Today my happy bubble was burst. My bubble was burst when a large, pony-tailed, fedora wearing, computer-playing goth sat in the chair next to me. I have nothing against "goths," although I am surprised at how many of them are actually in attendance at my law school. What bothered me about this particular man was his horrid, rancid, awful, faint-inducing SMELL. He smelled like a racoon that had been run over by a car then left to decay in the hot sun for ten days that also had its internal organs picked apart by crows. I mean, this guy smelled awful! Does he not wear deoderant? Does he not shower? Is there a colony of fleas inhabiting his hair?

He smellled so awful that I actually had to remove myself from my seat and transplant my happy bubble across the room. My happy bubble is in disrepair. It will take quite a bit of work for me to resurrect the happy feelings necessary to fix this crisis- perhaps a chocolate bar and a Diet Dr. Pepper.

Feeling Lucky

Sometimes I can't get over how lucky I am. Some people search their whole lives for someone that they are compatable with that they can experience life with. I often wonder how many people feel like they are settling when they eventually commit to someone. At the young age of 21, when I met my husband, I not only found a best friend, but I found love and the most valuable thing in my life.

The random choices and decisions we made that brought us to work in the same organization - could have easily brought us to a different present. It's too close to comfort thinking about how things might have turned out differently- my alternate reality like in the moving Sliding Doors- if either of us would have made just one decision differently. After a series of bad dating experiences, I decided that love was a romanticized idea that didn't exist in reality. I decided the reality was to find someone you can co-exist with and who will reciprocate a level of commitment to you.

I almost succombed to what I thought was my fate. I came home for Christmas one year in college and my parents introduced me to the son of their best friends through church. This was a guy my mom has always hinted about me marrying. To my surprise, I actually liked him. We dated for a little bit. He was tall and strong and muscular and lived in California, he was studying engineering. I would fly down to visit and we had a lot of fun together. Everything seemed to work perfectly- our parents were happy, we enjoyed each other. I envisioned settling down with him. I even mentally prepared myself to not date anyone else. I thought I was finally done.

Then my husband walked into my life. I liked him right away. He was mysterious and quiet but also very polite and kind. The more I go to know him, the funnier he became. We had a professional working relationship as interns for the same direct supervisor. Soon I found myself trying to impress him, through my dress and through my work achievements. It didn't take much longer before I was head over heels. Apparently he was too. He asked me out to lunch one afternoon, later he would tell me that it took him a whole month's worth of courage to do so. We clicked immediately, in a way that I didn't click with Cali Boy. I could talk to him like a best friend, I could be myself (i.e. I could admit that I went to Space Camp and had participated in Model United Nations).

That summer I ended it with Cali Boy, which was not easy to do as I had mentally and emotionally commited to him already. But in doing so, I was able to free myself entirely for my husband. All my prior beliefs of love as a fantasy melted away. Love was not only real to me, but it was so much better than I had ever imagined it could be. I love how handsome he is, I love how he caresses me, I love how fun he is to hang out with on a Saturday while we are doing nothing in particular. but the way I love him also transcends physical attributes and tangible ideas. I sometimes think that my body just cannot contain the contents of my love and that I might overflow. If I was a good writer, I might be able to better express what it is to me.

I know love alone doesn't make a marriage. The truth is, it's hard to live with anyone. To really make things last you need commitment as well. You need to commit to making your relationship work even when things get hard. But the love is a running current behind our day to day activities. The thing about love is, that is changes all the time. It changes in form and in substance. It becomes less of a commodity and more of a thread that is woven into your everyday life keeping you together.

It Takes A Dream To Wake Up To Reality

I woke up this morning with my heart pounding in my chest. Thank goodness I woke up when I did too because I might have had a heart attack in my sleep if I hadn't.

I dreamt it was finals. When I got to my school I saw that my mom was one of the test administrators. I was supposed to take an ethics for lawyers test. I hadn't studied for the test at all, I hadn't even read the book. I thought it would be ok because I wasn't registered to the take the test until the afternoon so that I had the whole morning to study. Then my mom came up to me and told me to get into the exam room NOW because I had to take the test at 7am. OMG, I was freaking out. I grabbed a pencil and sat down in my assigned desk.

Our professor instructed us to read through the exam together, as a class. The students took turns reading the questions out loud. My mom came in and sat at my desk with me, she was taking the test as well just for fun- and I could see all her answers. One of the questions was "who is allowed to take birth control bills." Possible answers included: "young Maidens," "anyone with a vagina," "married couples," and "single women with children." I was completely stumped.

It was my turn to read the next question. It was made up of a picture with animals and animal foot prints. I had no idea how to read the picture out loud. I remember thinking wtf? What kind of question is that? So I tried to read the picture outloud by saying, "Elephant, Cat, Elephant, Puppy, Dinosaur?" then the professor came up to me and gave me a really dirty look. He said, "We just covered this question in class two weeks ago, so I expect you all to remember it!"

Then it dawned on me. I hadn't attended a single day of class for this ethics for lawyers course. In fact, I don't even remember registering for the class. Why was I even taking this test? I felt dumb asking the professor if I could leave because I hadn't registered for the course. I felt trapped. I was faced will all kinds of questions that I was totally unfamiliar with. If I didn't do anything, I would fail law school. Worse yet, my mom would do better than me! But I didn't know what to do! Should I copy her answers? Could she even get them right?

That's right when I woke up. Breathing hard and heart pounding. Unfortunately the reality of finals is actually coming upon me. And much like my dream, I haven't read the books for my classes and, for some courses, I have missed more class than I have attended.

I'm So Scrubby, You'd Think I Was A Medical Student

Sometimes I think I can't be the same person I was last year.

I have never been a stylish person. For most of highschool I have been awkwardly tomboyish with a 1o year old girl's body to match it. In college, this was pretty much the same (that's what you get when you run cross country).

My 1L year, however, was the peak of my fashion glory. Maybe I finally acquired a fashion sense or maybe I just wanted to make a good impression on my law school peers. My 1L year, I actually wore heels to school. I also wore designer jeans, flatteringly fitting tops and cute accessories such as necklaces and earrings. I made the effort to put on make-up and fix my hair. You wouldn't have recognized me from my prior years in academia. From all outward appearances, I was a decently put together human being.

This year? I have reached a new level of scrubiness. I now commute which means I end up walking at least a mile and a half each day (can't wear heels when you walk THAT much). Commuting also means getting up super early and being in a rush to catch the ferry (which takes away time to do my hair and make up and adds about an half an inch worth of dark circles under my eyes).

My designer jeans sport a huge rip at the knee where I tripped on an uneven Seattle sidewalk and gouged out my flesh- are ripped jeans trendy again yet? My heels have been replaced with flat, dingy pumas. My fancy jackets have been replaced by my warm, worn out northface jacket that's covered in cat hair because otherwise I would freeze to death during my walk to the ferry.

Accessories? Forget it, I can barely keep track of my keys let alone jewelry. Flattering fitting tops? I may have only gained 6 lbs since becoming pregnant, but I'm already too self conscious of my growing belly to wear my nice fitted shirts. I'll stick to that oversized hoody thank you very much. I must appear to my classmates as a bum who wandered into the wrong building, seeking out handouts and public benefits. With my lack of sleep and lack of ability to form a coherent thought, they might even think that I'm one of those bums frequently found to be drunk before 10am.

If there is this much difference between my 1L and 2L year, I dread to think how I will dress my 3L year.

Why My Husband Is Cute

He picks up the latest edition of "Cottage Living" during his trip to the grocery store.

When he visits a place with a nice garden, he stops to take pictures of garden ideas.

20 Week Halfway Mark

I'm halfway done! It's incredible, this pregnancy is going by SO FAST. At the same time, I wish it would go by much faster. I have so much going on right now with finals approaching for classes that I am far behind in. Also I'm trying to wrap up projects at my current job so that I can start working full time at my new job this summer.

So, it's gonna be pretty hectic around here until this baby is born, but on the other side of this pregnancy, there is five months of doing nothing but spending time with the baby waiting for me- that is enough to keep me going!

I'm amazed at how tired I still am. I'm tired ALL THE TIME. I also feel the baby wiggling around almost every day now. It's such a weird feeling but it's really the only proof I have that there is a little person in there and that's a good feeling.

There are times when I really, really want my body to myself. And I'm not even at the worst parts of being pregnant yet. I can't wait until I can run/exercise without my boobs smacking me in the face and without my bladder feeling like it will explode. I can't wait to have at least some control of my weight and what my body looks like (to whatever extent that is possible after having a baby). I can't wait to not feel a huge energy/fuel drain on my body every day. I can't wait to meet Baby Palmer.

I also miss margaritas... am I allowed to pack a bottle of malibu in my hospital bag?

As much as I'm excited about having a baby. I'm sad that these last couple months are the last time I will have my husband to myself for a while. We only have a couple months without the responsibility of parenthood and I hope we take full advantage of them. We better stay up late watching movies, sleep in, go out to brunch, take off to the coast on a whim, and enjoy quiet cuddle time as much as we can.

I'm really going to miss these days but I also know we wont regret becoming parents at all.

20 Items Or Less

I love my neighborhood Safeway. I'm there more than I am at class. I go everyday to select fresh Diet Snapple for my fridge and to replace the box of Cheez-its I shoved down my throat the night before. Ok, I know I'm pregnant so I might have random craving and I might eat more than normal, but I'm still embarrassed to admit to my husband the fact that I can eat a box of Cheez-its in one sitting.

So I have one "filler" box of Cheez-its that I keep on the pantry shelf. I eat a little bit out of that every day- you know, the amount a normal person would eat. Then I have my "stash" box of Cheez-its that I hide with the cooking oil or the flour or someplace my husband would never look. I can gorge freely from that bag and not have to own up to it. The tricky part: what to do with all the empty Cheez-it boxes that I'm accumulating...

Ok, so back to Safeway: I was at Safeway the other day, I went for my usual snapple and cheez-its as well as to buy some fun bath oils and accessories. I couldn't decide whether to buy the lavendar milk bath, the body oil lather, or the green bath crystals that smell like Icy Hot and make you tingle all over. So I put them all in my cart. On top of that I bought 6 packs of M&M's - in my own defense, it was buy three get three free. When I get to the express check out, I'm pretty sure the check-out guy thinks I'm a crazy person with a weird bath-M&M fetish. Oh well.

Well after the guy rings me up, he says, "I have to remind you that the express lane has a limit of 20 items..."

I look at him like, so? what? give me my stuff so I can take an M&M bubble bath.

Then he add, "you have 22 items."

OMG, my jaw probably dropped. Is this guy for real? No one is in line behind me. Who cares if I was over by two items? Most of my items were small, six of them were little bags of candy! I knew he was being ridiculous but I couldn't help but feel really really guilty. I took my bags and left the store with my head hanging low. I felt like I was being kicked out of Safeway for shop lifting or something.

Now, I will never feel the same about my beloved Safeway. A feeling of shame will always hang over me like a big fat cloud.

Sigh. I hope Albertsons is good about keeping its Cheez-its supply stocked.

Crazy Talk

I woke myself up this morning talking in my sleep. I don't remember much of what I was saying except for the very last line that eventually stirred me from my slumber.

As my husband was primping in front of the mirror in our room, getting ready for work, I rolled over and asked, "Do mosquitos ever fly into each other?"

Then I snapped awake and realized the crazy thing I had just asked. My husband told me I had been talking in my sleep all night. Poor Guy. I wonder what the heck I was dreaming about?

Cavities Are Just A Conspiracy

I hate going to the dentist. Apparently, I had two small cavities that they wanted to "fix." These cavities never bothered me. In fact, until my dentist told me about them, I had no clue that they were there. My mouth worked just fine and I was completely pain free. Problem? I think not!

Oh well, I decided to believe the dental office anyway and showed up for my appointment today. Having two cavities drilled is definately no fun (these were my very first cavities ever!). But to make it even worse, they would not give me a full dose of anesthesia because I'm pregnant. "Better safe than sorry," the dental assistant told me. "Oh great. Well, I'm gonna be sorry in a couple minutes," was my bitter reply.

That anesthetic shot that they did give me, I felt every second of it. Oh man, feeling that long needle dig deep into my gums...my legs shot straight out from that dentist chair (I really wanted to give the assistant a nice big kick). I wanted to cry like a baby and run away already.

The rest of the procedure wasn't so bad considering that my low dose of anesthesia was wearing off towards the end, ouch, ouch, ouch. The worst part was hearing the drill in my mouth, feeling it vibrations through my gums and seeing drilled-off flecks of my teeth come flying out of my mouth. Ew. How could someone do this for a living? How could you wake up one day and decide- I want to drill holes in peoples heads, for the rest of my life!

Hours after the procedure, my teeth hurt and my gums were still sore.

The point is: before I went to the dentist, I was pain free and problem free. After going to the dentist, I was a mess.

I've been going to this same dentist since my very first dental check up. Nothing about the office has changed. All the same people work there too. This means that I'm entrusting my precious mouth to 60 year old ladies with sharp objects. The thing I always remember most about the place is the lighting- because dental patients end up spending a lot of time looking at the ceilings. I'm so grateful for that intricate circular pattern on the light fixtures that I can make into animals and people and crazy optical ollusion designs, otherwise I would have to pay attention to THE PAIN.

When I got home and told my husband about my experience with my cavities, he told me, "I hope you learned your lesson."

"What lesson? Don't get pregnant?"

"No, not to eat so much sweets!"

"Does this mean I shouldn't have eaten that bag of Skittles on my drive home?"

Yup, my mouth was still partially numb and I was probably chewing off the flesh of my cheeks, but I REALLY wanted that bag of Skittles buried deep in my purse...

Lusting After Law

For some odd reason, I am fiercely attracted to construction law, particularly construction defect. I know, it's a super niche area of the law and it's pretty random. But something in the way that construction defect issues blend the borders of tort and contract law gives my body a rush of that hot and bothered tingling feeling.

Why didn't I learn about the Economic Loss Doctrine earlier in my law school career? Where has it been all my life? The Economic Loss Doctrine fills a gap in my soul that I didn't even know I had. I feel a sense of completeness in my life knowing that when a construction defect occurs, there is generally no tort claim available because the loss was not a loss to person or property, it was simply an economic loss, or a defective product (and therefore, recovery is only available through contract- well, at least, this is the case in Washington State).

The Doctrine draws a sharp line between contract and tort law in regards to the area of construction. It encourages the owners of projects to play a more active role in inspecting the construction work. It encourages people to contract for warranties and other provisions to cover potential defects. And we all know that the legal jargon in contracts is just plain sexy. Not to mention the over-all sexiness of a well-bargained for contract which accomplishes the purposes of both parties.

I am so enamored by the Economic Loss Doctrine that each time I go to bed, I expect to have a raunchy sex dream about it. Hopefully in my dream, the sexy doctrine would be personified with the body of a muscular construction worker- now wouldn't that be great :).

When my professor brings up the Economic Loss Doctrine in a class discussion, I get so excited that I think I will pee my pants a little. I sure hope the doctrine will be on our exam because that would make the exam much more enjoyable- like I was writing a lustfull letter to a far away lover instead of just taking a law school exam.

Fresh Off The Boat

Yesterday, I was furiously studying for my International Business Transactions class, and by furiously study, I mean I outlined my outline...as in, I wrote down the name of each chapter of the book...

We have to learn contract shipping terms for that class and one of the main shipping terms is Free On Board, otherwise know as FOB. I have to laugh everytime I hear that term because of a particularly funny incident that happened in my 1L contract class. So- in one of our assigned cases, our class came across the term FOB. In class that day the professor asked the class if someone could explain what FOB meant.

The room was silent for a couple minutes until one particularly unfortunate student raised his hand, "it means "fresh off the boat." he chimed, referring to the derogatory term for immigrants who have not yet assimilated to their new culture. The entire class gasped in unison, waiting to see what would happen next.

Our contracts professor grew up in South Asia. He likes to tell us stories about his first job in America: working at a Seven- Eleven gas station, to perpetuate the stereotype. He then got an undergraduate degree and a law degree. But, he still has a very thick accent and might be mistaken by others as being "fresh off the boat" himself.

Fortunately for that student volunteer, he just laughed and then asked, "does anyone want to correct this bum and give us the CONTRACT term?"

I absolutely loved this professor. He was hard core about the socratic method. When someone got a question wrong, he would form guns with his pointer fingers and pretend to shoot them. One time he said, "I have to get out my rifle for this one" and put both his hands into a rifle shape and pointed it at a student.

This is also the guy who said things like: "If the law didn't inflict pain, it wouldn't be law" and "the only legitimate excuse for getting out of a contract is death, and it has to be yours."

He always had the best way to sum up the facts of the cases we were studying:
"she got this ugly stupid roof"
"give me my remodeled kitchen and take your justice home"
"the bum breached the contract, tell the bum to 'go to hell'"
"hell, damn no bum, 'go to hell'"

and he used Janet Jackson's song "What have you done for me lately" to explain the concept of consideration. That lyric was a running theme in our class. As was the phrase "go to hell" when a contract was found to not be enforceable.

Inner Tantrum

People who know I am pregnant can tell that I'm showing- even if it's just a little. Yesterday, I ran into someone who knows about my pregnancy and she commented, "oh, you're popping out a little. you look so cute!" I know she was just being nice and sweet about it and I know she was complimenting me but I totally wanted to SPAZZ out on her.

My lack of a waist is killing me. Like one day this week it just decided to take off on a five month sabatical. I hate wearing my tight fitting tops because I think now I just look ridiculous. I have a small frame and so a normal sized preggo (I hate the word "preggo"- it reminds me of spagetti sauce) belly on me makes me feel like a bulbous circus freak. Like I'm walking around with a huge stomach goiter.

When this person told me how cute I look, I may have smiled on the outside, but on the inside I was bubbling with un-explainable rage. I was yelling all kinds of explitives at a decibal level closely bordering the "public nuisance" range.

Why? Because both my regular clothes and maternity clothes DON'T FIT. Because the Bella Band is useless on my hipless body. Because I feel so damn uncomfortable in all this extra bulge. Because my body collects fluids all day long so by the end of the day I feel as if I have gained 10 pounds since the morning. Because I can't control my own body and it's driving me insance. Because I don't look pregnant, I just look like I just won a hamburger eating contest.

So Don't Freaking tell me I look cute! All you non pregnant people who enjoy tracking my weight gain for your own amusement! And stop staring at my mid-section trying to find the "baby bulge" all the Freaking time! At least notice how awesome my huge boobs are or something!

There, I'm done. Now I can study and resume civilized, controlled, normal people behavior.

Summer: Where Rest Goes To Die

I've been waiting anxiously by my phone for my OB to call and schedule my BIG FAT 20 Week Ultrasound. I am not a patient person. The suspense of whether I'm having a boy or girl is killing me. For some reason I feel like I will be able to personify the baby, get to know the baby, and bond with the baby better knowing if it is a boy or girl.

When my phone rang at lunch time, I seriously jumped three feet in the air. When I answered it, the person on the other end was not the person I had expected. It was the Managing Partner of the Seattle firm with whom I had interviewed almost two weeks ago. They offered me a full time summer position! He asked me when I could tell them if I would accept their offer. I'm sure I sounded very unprofessional as I practically shrieked- "I can tell you now! I'll accept!" but I was so excited. Especially when I heard how much they were willing to pay me...omg. I would make a small fortune this summer. Ah, the beauty and glamour of working in a Seattle firm.

It sounds like I will be able to work on a couple cases that are being tried at the Appellate Court level as well as a number of high stakes construction defect cases.

The down side: I will have to commute to Seattle by ferry, every day- 1.5 hours each way. This means leaving my house at 6:10am and arriving home at 6:45pm each day. I will also have to buy a handful of maternity suits and professional outfits. For what they are paying me, I cannot justify showing up for work in a gunney sack or a bright blue tarp- darn!

But now that I will be making more per hour than my husband (no power complex here, I promise...well, maybe a little) I can afford to buy all three seasons of Desperate Housewives and a lifetime supply of fudgcicles. Oh the joy!

Running For Two

Is a lot different than running for one. I constantly fear that my internal temperature is going to skyrocket and tranform my future baby into a deep fried side dish. I have to drink A LOT more water than I usually do, and I am freakishly thirsty all the time.

My boobs bounce a lot. Sometimes, when I look into a reflective surface, all I see is a big pair of jiggling boobs attached to road runner-like legs. I already wear two sports bras when I run, the next logical step is resorting to duct tape.

The most un-sexy thing about running for two: every step forward (or in place, if running on treadmill) adds like a million tons of pressure on my bladder. Each time one of my feet makes its touch down, I think I'm gonna lose it and decorate the rotating belt with a big yellow puddle. But that wouldn't be the end of it- have you ever dropped something on the moving belt of a treadmill? It ends up shooting off the other end and flying half way across the room. I can just image how many people I would splatter if I had an accident while running.

Watching the Food Network while I run is no longer easy. When the network's shows feature delectable dishes from all over the world, visions of dinner start to dance in my head. Then the only thing keeping me going is imagining a chocolate pudding pack being dangled in front of me.

Over all though, running regularly is the best thing I do for myself. It makes me feel more at ease with my slowly growing tummy. It makes me feel like my old self since running has been part of my daily routine since I was 14 years old. And it regulates my whacked out hormones. Plus, at the end of the workout, I feel completely calm, relaxed and accomplished. The world could start to crumble around me and I would still be at peace with it all. Running is the best and cheapest therapy. I wonder if doctors should start to prescribe running to people with mental or emtional medical issues. Who needs medication?

So my goal from here on out is to continue running 26 miles/week. I wish I could find a pregnant running group in my area, that would just be the best thing ever. You know so we could all run without worrying about the embarrassment that we might pee ourselves, we could rant about how much we hate people touching our bellies, and we could all wear t-shirts that say "Caution: hormonal pregnant woman on the run." I just worry that that much jiggling and bouncing concentrated all in one running group would be considered a public nuisance?

The Free Ridership Dilemma Of Toilet Flushing

I attend school with about 1,000 or so ADULTS, but I have to keep reminding myself that I am NOT in a kindergarten.

I have to remind myself that these Adults have at least four years of undergraduate school under their belts. I'm pretty sure they took a college level science class, are proficient in the English language, and have the motor skills to handle simple hand eye coordination. So it must simply be that they missed a crucial three year old potty training session: the Art of Toilet Flushing (or is it politically correct to call it Waste Recepticle Management?)

I did my fair share of running to the bathroom today (I should say that I am the perfect candidate to carry out a study re: how many people fail to flush the toilet since my pregnant bladder thinks it is the size of a lima bean). Three of the six times I walked into a bathroom stall today, the toilet was NOT FLUSHED.

Since when has toilet flushing become a free-rider problem? Or is there a three year old running around the law school carrying out acts of bathroom sabotage? Hmm, perhaps these protestors of bathroom etiquette are actually carrying out an environmental crusade to conserve toilet water? Either way, it's very inconvenient for me. I have to decide whether or not I will put on my hero spandex and step in to perform the dreaded task for the welfare of the public or if I will simply move on to the next stall.

I just can't believe this is even an issue at a tier one law school!

Confessions

I have been plagued with the gift of over-active guilt. I call my guilt a gift because, while it tortures and hounds me until my heart feels like it will reverbrate out of my chest and my breath will die trapped in my lungs, it has done a lot of good for me. The guilt I feel over small trangressions is so great, that I will never be able to do anything really bad. This will, hopefully, keep me out of prison from committing bloody murder or grand theft.

I know there must be other benefits that go along with possessing concentrated guilt, but I cannot think of them right now.

So, this leads me to the purpose of my post. There is one thing that I did in tenth grade that I deeply regret and I have never told a single person about it. Every now and then the memory creeps up, gnaws at my soul, and makes me feel as though I have tainted all the beauty and purity of the world around me.

I was a straight A student in highschool, I was always prepared for class, I always completed my homework, and I always paid attention during discussions and lectures. However, when my tenth grade English class was reading "Their Eyes Were Watching God"- I was staying up late to watch Star Trek instead [wincing at the memory of my own nerdiness]. I hated that book. It was dull, I couldn't get into the characters, and I didn't get anything spiritual or intellectual out of it, unlike "Grapes of Wrath", "The Scarlett Letter" or "Lord of the Flies."

One morning we had an unexpected Pop Quiz. I could answer most of the questions from paying attention to class discussions but there were a couple detailed questions you had to read the book to know the answer to. One of those questions happened to be something along the lines of: "What was Character X wearing when Event Y occured." I had no freaking clue! I couldn't even come up with a likely guess. I did the unspeakable, I let my eyes wander to Lizzie G's paper. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the class, in fact, she was a football cheerleader and a very unintelligent one at that. But hers was the only paper I could see. So I copied her answer and wrote "swimming suit," hoping to God that she had read the relevant chapter and had a little sense in that bloated head of hers.

The next day we got our papers back. I got a big fat C. The swimsuit answer was COMPLETELY off. You know how when two students put the same random wrong answer, there is major grounds for teacher suspicion? Well right after class, I heard the teacher ask Lizzie to stay behind for a little chat...I knew what was going to happen. I was the straight A English student, it made sense that the teacher would suspect her over me.

I felt sharp knives imbed themselves into my flesh and gouge out all respectability and honor that I had. I let Lizzie take the fall. I was a BIG, FAT CHEATER. But I didn't say anything because I had a whole lot to lose. If I confessed, my perfect straight A record could be tarnished by a blot of untruthfulness and disingenuity in academia.

My personal scale of character feels a lot lighter now, even though I'm permanently scared by my actions. But you can bet one thing: since that day I have never cheated. On another English test.