Be Careful What You Dream Of

Last night I had a dream that I woke up starving in the middle of the night. In my dream I went to the kitchen, opened a box of brand-ex coa coa puffs (called Coa Coa Balls or something ghetto weird), and scooped handful after handful down my throat. After consuming half the box, my inner beast was satisfied and I went back to bed.

Next, I dreamed that I was a man's head. My body had been burnt to nothingness in some kind of explosion, leaving me nothing but a half melted off face. I was sitting helpless and unable to move in the hallway of a hospital just waiting for someone to notice and take care of me. Yeah, it was pretty freaky.

When I woke up, I went to the kitchen to make my lunch and noticed that the box of Coa Coa Balls was opened on the counter. Hmm.... I peeked inside to confirm my fear. It was half empty.

It could have been worse- I could have woken up as a half melted Man Face.

Excitement On Hold

I'm feeling left out. All my classmates are signing up for fall semester courses. Signing up for classes had always been my favorite part of school. On a fresh sheet of paper, each class still looks interesting and exciting. My disillusionment isn't broken until AFTER classes actually start and I realize that they are like all the other ones I've taken.

This year I'm EXTRA excited to sign up for classes. After gaining more experience drafting motions, writing interrogatories, and being a part of litigation strategy- I'm ready to soak up some more knowledge. I want to take classes that will improve my work at the firm I am currently with.

I feel a lot of loyalty to the firm I work for this summer. It's only a summer internship but the managing partner has already asked me to send my resume in next summer and to apply for a position when I graduate. Yesterday, the associate I'm working for told me my writing was better than his- probably not true but nice compliment! Other partners I've worked for have given my work a lot of kudos. I feel valued here and I want to learn even more so that if I get to come back, I will be extra helpful.

But I'm taking the semester off. Once the baby is here I know I will be glad about my decision. But right now I feel a let down. My excitement to start a new semester will have to be put on hold...until January.

Can Your Job Warp Time?

I hate the kind of days when your time at work goes by so slowly. Even during the course of one day, parts of it can drag on forever and other parts can fly by. This morning flew by, but 3:00 to 3:15 seemed like an eternity. Then I looked up and the clock said 4:58!

I think I discovered the proximate cause of the weird time warp phenomenon. There happens to be a causal connection between time slowing down and having to sift through 300+ cases on Westlaw looking for the one that best fits your own case. Reading and skimming through cases is just pure torture sometimes, especially if what you want to find is really obscure. Similarly, trying to fathom how different legal doctrines work when you put them all together is also very time slowing.

Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out how worker's compensation laws worked with the doctrine of implied indemnity when the parties are two subcontractors that do not have privity of contract?! My head hurt ALL DAY! I still didn't figure it out. The odd thing is that a westlaw search turned up very few Washington cases with the phrase "implied indemnity" in the text. I always think I'm missing something when my search turns up very few cases. Like the time I searched Oregon cases for the Oregon Dead Man's Statute. It took me about 45 minutes to realize that Oregon DIDN'T HAVE a Dead Man's Statute. I felt dumb having to explain that one to my billing supervisor...

Anyway, I can make time speed up just by typing. Seriously, typing up a summary, outline or statement of law makes time go by three times faster. Drafting any type of pleading or motion will do this as well. Also, the excitement of working on a brand new case as well the excitement of starting research on a new topic makes time speed by. But the farther into my research I go and the more frustrated I get, the more time begins to slow down again.

So, if I could just draft motions all day and start new research projects without having to finish them, I would be the happiest person ever. I would probably eat less junk at work too. Because let's face it, when you're bored and time is standing still, the only remedy is a donut, bag of chips or a candy bar.

Childbirth Education Is A BIG Mistake

I finally bit the bullet and signed up for an all day childbirth education class. For some reason, I felt inadequate and irresponsible NOT taking a class. My sister in law never took one and she had the easiest experience ever...but I felt like I HAD to do it.

The class turned out to be the most horrifying thing in my life. Before I got pregnant, the thought of giving birth totally freaked me out. Everytime I tried to read about it, I would faint. Just THINKING about it made me sick. That all changed when I actually found out I was pregnant. The farther along I was, the more my excitement drowned out any of my past fears. As long as I had drugs, I could do anything!

THEN I took THE CHILDBIRTH CLASS.

First of all, it was super lame. I would say that this class is for someone who knowns absolutely NOTHING about pregnancy and labor and has never read a book about the subject. This class would be more effective as a birth control method- let them teach THIS stuff to highschoolers! Things I DID learn from the annoying instructor included: how waves move on the ocean, exactly how heart rate monitors are like submarine sonar machines, how baby cats nurse, and how if we tighten one of our muscles the rest of our body will tighten as well (she made us all practice this too).

Then came the videos. OMG. Everyone else seemed to handle them just fine. Some people turned away during the graphic parts (including my husband). Some people watched with fascination while others expressed their feelings with eeeew's and uuugh's.

Me? I hyperventalated. Tears ran down my cheeks as I sobbed violently into my jacket. I found myself breathless and suffocating, forcing deep breaths as I emitted sick wheezing sounds. I wanted to run away. Not just from the class but from my pregnant, walking, time-bomb of a body.

When I caught my breath, my husband asked me if I was ok. Looking purple in the face, I softly told him, "I changed my mind. I don't want to have a baby."

Next came the "Intervention Methods" video. This is the one where they talk about and show you procedures to aid the childbirth process, including pain relief and happy drugs. Phew, this would make me feel better right? WRONG. The "pain relief" methods seemed JUST as painful as the labor itself. From the long epidural needle, to the episiotomy incision, catheders, IV's, forceps, c-section delivery. I felt trapped. No way out. Pain at every corner. OMG HELP ME. NO SEX EVER AGAIN!

I freaked out again. I felt naseous and dizzy. I couldn't breath. I felt like I was in a nightmare. Like I was slowly awaiting execution by guillotine. What the hell was I thinking? Can't there be an easier way to bring life into the world? Exactly how cruel can god be? I left the class feeling sick, shaky, depressed and scared.

My advice to pregnant women is to go into the process of labor knowing nothing more than the basic options your doctor explains to you. Just trust the doctor. DO NOT watch a video. Do not learn about the icky stuff. Education is over-rated. Just know that it's gonna hurt but be worth it in the end.

From The Desk Of Me: JD/Mom To Be

8:25: Get off the ferry boat. Try to manuver around the old, young, slothlike, and the humongous that walk super slow and take up the entire sidewalk. Then procede to walk up the monster hills of Seattle, wheezing and huffing in high heels (yes, high heels during pregnancy allows me some delusions that I am still attractive and not completely turning into the large Safeway deli lady with a mustach so long she should be forced to wear a mustach hair net).

8:40: Walk by five consecutive Starbucks and try to talk myself out of splurging on a Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte five times. So much willpower!

8:45: Walk past the firm's receptionist and hear her tell me that soon I will be needing a wheel chair. Great. Thanks. You look good too.

8:45: Sit in my office and check my personal email. Then check my work email. Then finally get to work having nothing left to enable my inner procrastinator.

9:15: First trip to the restroom. Walk past receptionist with my head still held high.

9:45: First snack- apples and water.

10:30: Second trip to the restroom. Try to coordinate this trip with a trip to the kitchen to refill my water bottle. Hope that receptionist is away from her desk for a minute (I know she counts how often I pee).

10:45: Second snack- heart healthy Kashi-version of cheerios, eaten plain like a five year old.

11:30: I eat my lunch while I work on an assignment. Somehow, breadcrumbs manage to slide down the crevice between my boobs. They eventually get stuck on top of my baby bump and make me itch for the rest of the day. I have to go to the bathroom again but try to hold it for when I go on my lunch break outing.

12:15: I can't hold it anymore. I run out the door and dart into the bathroom. The receptionist gives me a humorous look as I walk back in.

1:00: Go for a walk around Seattle. Get hit on by bums. Try to avoid the annoying street solicitors who work for political activist groups. If I fail to avoid them I have to explain that I can't save the cleft palate children of the world today because I'm only on my lunch break and I'd rather use that time by buying consumer goods that I do not need. Pee BEFORE heading back to my desk.

1:45: Snack #3- a banana and Diet Dr. Pepper (I pretend I'm drinking a beer and it tastes just a little bit more heavenly). Then it's the time of day where I magically begin to feel nauseous- it's like clockwork everyday.

2:30: Another bathroom break. I wonder how it is that a person can poop three consecutive times in one day.

3:30: Final bathroom break. My head is pretty much hung in full-out "shame" position as I walk by the receptionist AGAIN. Note to self to drink less water or get a key to the back entrance. I think about all the time I waste with my potty breaks.

4:40: Spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to bill my time. This is such a dreaded part of a lawyer's daily activities and it's such a freaking pain in the neck. I need a billing category just for entering my billing.

4:59: I'm out the door, walking down the intense Seattle hills toward the ferry. With the size of my belly, I should consider rolling rather than walking. It sure would be faster.

Harboring Baby Shrek

Last week I wrote a post about how my Dr. is on crack. This week, she surprised me with her own comment about crack...coincidence?

I had an ultrasound last week because my Dr. thought I was on the smaller side. She said I was measuring a couple weeks behind. So I submitted myself to the gooey pleasures of an ultrasound in the third trimester, which happen to make you feel barfy and lightheaded as well: oh joy. (why is that goo so hard to get off anyway? I felt like a whole bottle of KY had been rubbed all over my belly for the remainder of the day).

This week my Dr. gives me the results. Despite the fact that my own size is still measuring a couple weeks behind, Baby Palmer is, in fact, Baby Shrek. He measures somewhere in the 75th-90th percentile in size/weight. At 34 weeks, they estimated his weight to be 6lbs! WTF? Come on! Both my husband and I were 7 pounders and I've gained less than the average amount during this pregnancy- what gives?!

It must be because I didn't listen to the research advice that I posted earlier on my blog. This advice said if you run only partway through your pregnancy and then stop, you will have the biggest baby possible because runners have larger placentas and more effecient systems.

Right now I'm banking on the fact that ultrasounds are not 100% accurate. In fact, my doctor said it can be about a pound off- in either direction. Wait- so that means my Shrek Baby could actually be 5 pounds (which is right about normal) or *GULP* 7 pounds (give me drugs- no, knock me out cold)?!

My Dr. told me that if I was still pregnant at 38 weeks, she wanted me to have another ultrasound to check Baby Shrek's weight. Hopefully, this means that if he does turn out to be gigantic, that they will induce me earlier (please, please!).

I told my Dr. I was worried about the baby being so big and that I hoped the ultrasound got it wrong. I told her that I just couldn't believe that I could have Shrek Babies.

Her reply was simple and awkward, "Don't worry. It just means you aren't getting enough crack."

Guilty

I hate brushing my teeth. It's only two minutes out of my day but I dread it every single night.

Recurring battle with self:

"Do I really HAVE to brush tonight? I didn't eat THAT much junk."
"But do I really want to sit in the dentist chair with a drill in my mouth?"
"I brushed all week, I can skip ONE night, right?"
"Maybe if I chew gum instead..."

Usually my guilt wins out and I end up with fresh breath and sparkly molars each night. But once in a while, when I feel extra exhausted, I give in to my inner sloth.

On the nights I skip, I use a little trick I learned as a kid to convince my mom that I had in fact brushed my teeth- she used to use a smell test each night- gross, when I'm a parent, do I have to smell my kid's breath too? Anyway, the trick is to rub toothpaste on your tongue. Except now, I don't do it because of an impending parental breath check. I do it so my husband will still make out with me...