Strolling Down 1L Lane

While reading cases for a research project I'm involved in, I had a sudden flashback to the very first time I ever read a law case. Like every other lawschool graduate/attorney out there, I've probably read hundreds upon hundreds of legal opinions written by the court.

During my research project, I realized how much reading case law is second nature to me. I can (and sometimes do) pick up a stack of cases and skim through it flippantly during my lunch break in search of something relevant to an issue I'm dealing with. I can even do this while scarfing down a bowl of raisin, date and walnut oatmeal, sipping Det Dr. Pepper, and catching up on my emails. Reading caselaw is just a routine part of my life.

BUT. To this day, I can STILL remember the very first time I ever read a legal opinion. Not just a nicely edited portion of an opinion conveniently printed in a caselaw book- but an actual case, printed in full from a legal report.

It's clear to me now that an essential part of lawschool is the hazing of not knowing what the hell you're doing. In this respect, lawschool totally prepares you for a shining career in the legal field. In fact, I think the motto of legal education across the country should be "if you think you know what you're doing, you're probably doing it wrong" or "if you have no clue what's going on, you're in the right place." Anyway, back to reading caselaw.... If you look up the definition of legal career, the words "on the job training" should be the first thing you read.

The first time a lawstudent reads an actual case is a major milestone, fundamental to the experience of becoming a lawyer. Or, at the very least, a definingly traumatic experience. For me, it was scary, exciting and adventurous. And I believe the accompanying feeling of utter confusion it brought may never be rivaled.

The first law case I ever read was Marbury v. Madison (boy, what a doozy for a first time caselaw reader). (Tangent: The second case I ever read was Pierson v. Post. Seriously? One person sued another person over a dead fox? Moral of the story-- "fox killers always prosper?"). The day before my first 1L lawschool class, I opened up and printed the case. And... I couldn't get past the first page without thinking I was reading something in code or foreign language.

The caption was intimidating and scary- what did it all mean? What is a plaintiff? What is a defendant. What are the justices saying? Are they writing in latin? Then I remember how amazed I was when my Professor unravelled the case for me, dissecting it piece by piece. I remember how awestruck I was to learn that just the name of a case tells you who was suing who and where and when. I was amazed to discover that the seemingly incoherent document I read the night before actually meant something, and it meant something rather significant in the field of law.

I clearly remember looking at the jibberish contained within that first case, reading it diligently all the way through and still not knowing who had "won" the suit? In fact, I can't tell you how many times I did this my first semester of law school.

"So a case is 'remanded'.... wait, who wins again?" (Sound familiar?)

Looking back at where I was before lawschool, before I was consumed by the strange requirement to read case law, it's not hard to be amazed at how much has become second nature and fundamental to what I do on a daily basis. Without remembering how far I've come, it's so easy to take for granted all the stuff that I've learned that lead me to where I am now.

Practicing law is such a wild, exhilarating ride. Or I could just be a total nerd.

Muddling Through

There is a lot of stuff on my mind tonight.

We found out that one of Jacob's grandmas might not be able to watch him anymore. During the work week Jacob spends half the time with my mom and half the time with my husband's mom. We've been so blessed that he is being watched by people who love him almost as much as we do. And we've been so fortunate that we haven't had to pay a small fortune in child care. With our mortgage and my student loans, it would be rough.

So, right now we're re-thinking our child care options. We only need to find child care for twice a week but it's still stressing me out. The thought of leaving Jacob with someone who is not family for 11 hours a day (7am to 6pm) is totally weighing on my mind and filling me with guilt. Then there's the cost. Then there's the ever present but usually dormant thought that maybe I'm making the wrong decision by going to work. And then there's the fact that we want to add to our family soon, so the guilt and the cost will likely double. It all makes my stomach churn.

I keep reassuring myself that anytime I feel that I need to, I can quit my job. Quit my career. We could survive off my husband's salary if I took a mindless part time job to cover my monthly student loans. But I love my career. I could never find another job I enjoy this much. And I've worked SO hard to get this far. I worked my BUTT off to get where I am now. Can I just throw it all away- is that even responsible considering my $120K in student loans- in order to satisfy the little nibbles of guilt that come and go?

I think I have to accept the fact that I will never be 100% at ease with my decisions no matter which path I take. But it just plain sucks. I just want to know what's "right." But in life, just as in the practice of law, there is never a simple "right" answer. Life and law are all about muddling through.

Sidenote: We had a great Father's Day weekend. We went on a seaplane tour of Seattle and then had a three course meal on Lake Union!

The "Job Market Sucks And I Don't Know What I'm Doing" Syndrome

I'm paranoid. Each time my phone rings, each time I see a new email in my inbox, each time a partner pops his head into my office, I think I'm being fired.

I attribute my constant fear for my job to the deadly combo of knowing there are very few jobs out there, living through the current recession and feeling constantly inadequate. I love my job. I LOVE it. But sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. I feel like I'm such a drag on the firm because I require constant hand holding. I make a lot of mistakes and I can barely, if ever, meet my billable hours. I feel like there is a job axe murderer out to get me. And anyminute, my career is going to be hacked to pieces. A part of me thinks that I only feel this way because all the partners seem constantly busy and stressed out lately. They all seemed stretched to capacity. As a result, there is little room for my error and even less room to stop and ask them for guidance.

The looming feeling that disaster is around each corner is grating on my nerves. It's this constant sickness that silently eats away at my confidence and my gut. I feel unworthy. And I can't help but think that any minute my bosses will also realize this fact. Then I worry about what will happen if I do lose my job. I could never get another job in this market, not without more experience. I'd have to go into laon forebearance again. I'd have to sell all my clothes to feed my kid (oh tragedy! Not the Frye boots!)- ok, it's not THAT drastic, my husband has a very stable job- but I'm a worry wort. It's what I do.

I've come to accept that all I can do is my best. I have to hold my head up and just focus on the tasks right in front of me. I have to hope that the partners will not focus on my inadequacies and my mistakes but, rather, see me for my dedication, hard work, and passion for litigation. I have to convince myself that this paranoia is all in my head. One good thing about this paranoia is that it sure as heck makes me appreciate my job.

Most importantly, I have to realize that I, just as much as anyonelse, deserve my chance to grow into my new role. At one point in time, all superstar lawyers were in the very position that I am currently in. After all my hard work in lawschool, as a summer associate, and studying for the bar, at the very least, I deserve a chance to prove myself, right?

Today especially, I needed a little extra boost. So, when picking out my outfit for work today (which, thankfully happened to be casual day), I donned on my "power piece." A power piece is that one piece of clothing that makes you feel completely unstoppable and confident. It lets you be you, without apology or reservation. Ok, some of you may just cringe at this next part because...my power piece is..... my cowgirl boots! Yup, cowgirl boots at the office! I wore them with my Paige jeans, matching leather belt with fancy beltbuckle and a fitted button up shirt from Banana Republic. In spite of the curious sidelong glances from people in the elevator, I felt totally awesome all day long. I felt like I could kick major butt! It jsut about canceled out all my career fears and paranoias.

You know what? There is nothing better in the world than to feel comfortable in your skin, without any reserve, knowing your outward self reflects your inner self. (I may have just met my weekly philosophical quota).

Discard Your Social Camo

There is something so sincere about a child. When we are children we have less social inhibitions and are more free to be who we really are. As a child/tween, I was a total free spirit- I was who I was with no care about how society viewed me. Proof: I wore sweatpants, Ninja Turtle t-shirts and a purple rhinestone baseball cap to school until like 7th grade. I was a fashion nightmare- but my outfits reflected 100% who I was. I didn't care how I LOOKED compared to everyone else. I cared only about how my clothess made me feel- I wore what I was comfortable in.

When I was 11, my best friend and I had big plans for our futures. We spent our time planning every detail and outlining our thoughts in a spiral notebook. We were going to move to Montana. We were going to have a house and a barn with horses, cows and other farm animals. We were going to make our money teaching horse riding lessons, holding summer camps, teaching line dancing and making and selling pottery (ok, so the plan had some gliches). In our journal we named our animals, kept a newspaper add of the land we were going to buy, and drew blueprints to our house and barn. We loved getting together and dreaming. To us, it seemed like anything we could dream up, we could do.

Then you grow up and society tells you to "get real." Get into a good college. Get on a fast track to a professional career. One day, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, you are suddenly aware of your "flaws" and the many ways in which society is judging you- you feel naked and inadequate in front of everyone. You have to buy nicer clothes, have nicer things and act like everyone else.

I admit that for a good couple years, I fell into these pressures. In college (the first time I ever started caring about my appearance), I burned up my highschool savings on clothes. I still never felt accepted, mainstream or satisfied. Inside, I was still that free spirit. But except for certain times when I was with close friends, I felt like I had to suppress that quality of myself.

You think pressure is high in highschool and college? Well, it's through the roof in law school. There isn't so much pressure to fit in- it's more like pressure to do well in the traditional law school sense of getting good grades, being on a law journal, earning awards and achieving a high class ranking. Oh yeah, and get a JOB. And although I find that your average law student is unlike your average undergrad student and may be more prone to being "awkward" and "nerdy" and accepting of people who are unlike them- there is still a sense of "fitting in."

However, after 2.5 years of lawschool, 2 years of marriage and one year as a mom, I'm finally unlearning all the things society taught me about what being "cool" is. It finally clicked as I read To Kill A Mockingbird the second time this past summer (and as I ruminated on the concept of International Law and how the law is basically defined by behavioral "norms"). It finally hit me that- duh- society is just a herd of sheep being lead by a handful of blind but really loud shepherds. Someone yells, "this is cool! come this way!" and we all rush to comply. Society is not some divine truth. Society can be wrong just like any other individual. Proof: skinny jeans- holy hell those things are awful.

The scary part- laws are created by society. If society can be "wrong" then laws sure as hell can be "wrong." I mean, how do a lot of law come about- Legislators are pressured by their constituents and society as a whole to enact them. As lawstudents, I think we often view laws as the Ultimate Truth- this is because outcomes turn on what the laws say and how they are interpreted. But we shouldn't forget that those laws establishing "justice" and "order" are often merely what the majority of people (or even just a handful of people) think are "just" and may be a far cry from what they should be. (Getting off my To Kill A Mockingbird soap box now).

Admittedly, I do take into consideration the messages society sends me. And, I also have to admit, that while I balk at some social trends and messages at first, many times I learn to accept them and sometimes I even start to agree. But I try to accept those messages and trends only if they mesh with me personally- I won't accept them JUST for the sake of accepting them and JUST because of social pressure. So yeah, I will always be influenced by society, and my internal compass might be "adjusted" in part by social pressure- but I strongly reserve the right to be a free spirit.

I want to be like the kid I used to be. I want to do things regardless of how society views me and do them just because that's who I am. There is always going to be a force within me saying "don't go too far if you want people to take you seriously" but I think it's healthy to know how to get along in your environment and connect with others. Like most of the themes of mommy-lawyer blogs, the key is BALANCE. Be part of your environment. If you want people to take you seriously as a lawyer, then you have to fit into certain social perameters. but you can be an individual at the same time and you don't have to suppress that inner free spirit (unless your inner free spirit tells you to wear skinny jeans or become a card carrying member of a Nazi survivalist group- both are equally heinous). And most importantly, it should be our JOB as lawyers to always scrutinize the laws and norms of our society and challenge the status quo rather than mindlessly accepting them.

Christmas & Mothers

My very Catholic background kicks in once in a while. Yesterday I was driving to the store and listening to Christmas music. Silent Night came on and I teared up all over the place. Particularly over thoughts of Mary. Yes, Catholics are famous for their "Mary worship."

I have been in a religious funk/crisis this past year. But I pushed my questions, criticisms, and doubt aside for just a minute and soaked in the emotional power of God coming to earth as a baby. And the thought of a human mother bringing him into the world. I hope God showed her some mercy via a miraculous and jumbo-sized Epidural. Maybe he threw in some needle-less morphine shots for good measure?

This is really the first year that I understand the importance and magnitude of Mary's sacrifice. Not only did she carry and give birth to a Very Important Baby- but she raised him to one day witness his torture and death on a cross for millions of thankless souls. That is real sacrifice and I cannot imagine the strength someone like Mary must have had.

I die a million deaths when Jacob gets shots. The thought of him experiencing unpleasantries in the future makes me want to throw my body in front of a bus. Watching FICTIONAL movies in which babies cry gives me a heart attack! How could one woman give up her only son and watch him suffer and die? Only another mother could understand her magnificance. Days like today, I think it's totally fitting to "worship" Mary.

Introducing Your Next Super Hero: The Reluctant Empathiser

I have an unhealthy impulse to want to help all of mankind.

I'm usually quite capable of drowning it out most of the year when I'm preoccupied with my personal responsibilities, daily routine and instant desires. I mean who can think about saving the world when Nordstrom is having it's yearly half off sale or when you are at risk of having the dignity kicked out of you by an ornerous Professor and his deadly Socratic Method. I hate to admit it but the thought of starving children in Africa is kind of a downer when you are enjoying an expensive meal out on the town with your girlfriends.

In the hustle and bustle of everyday, my philanthropic intentions often get pushed to the side and forgotten unless the needs of others are brought directly to my attention. But the holiday season always seems to bring the needs of others (or at least what I PERCEIVE their needs to be) to the forefront. A force of nature constantly drums the back of my head- urging me to do something.

It's like I'm a super hero and my calling is to eliminate the sadness, disappointment, and pain that I perceive in the world. Minor problem: I'm doing a lot of perceiving and not a lot of eliminating. During the holidays I just can't seem to shut off my fountain of empathy. This makes me miserable because often times I lack the means, ability, or the guts to help. I didn't ask for this gift, mind you. It found me. I'm a RELUCTANT super hero.

When I visit my single friends with small children and see how hard they work, I have this heart tugging urge to anonymously send them things they need in the mail. When I found out that my mom was only giving my ten year old brother socks for St. Nicholas Day, I had to run to the nearest toy store, buy something amazing, and beg my mom to give it to him instead (when I was growing up my parents always put a small toy in our shoe on St. Nicholas Day and the thought of my brother finding a disappointing pair of socks was TOO MUCH TO BEAR).

One time in highschool, I saw a Maury episode featuring orphan teens. Ever since, I have been haunted by the fact that there are acne-ridden, hormone crazed teen with behavioral issues out there that need families! After the show, I think I paced around my room for an hour trying to figure out what I could do. Never mind that I was a teenager myself because, seriously, they needed MOMS. FAST. I had to do something! See how traumatizing my human empathy is? To this day Maury taunts me from the back of my mind.

The other day I read an article about how food stamps and WIC benefits are not keeping up with this year's food inflation. One woman told the reporter that she often had to go hungry so she coud afford to feed her young daughter. My mind almost exploded. People are going hungry, people! We have to do something! It was all I could do to stop myself from taking my MasterCard and buying baby formula for all the families within driving distance of my house.

See. There is so much need. And, aside from participating in the various Secret Santa charity programs, so little I can do at this very instant. It's heart breaking. Families are hungry. Children will not get toys for Christmas. People are losing their jobs. And I can do nothing but keep thinking about it.

Maybe this is why I need to be in law school. Not only will all the hours of studying fry my brain and make it impossibe to think about anything but finals. But when I graduate, maybe I can do some good. Help change some laws. Represent the needy. Save the World. And then maybe I can go to bed at night during the holidays.

What Obama's Win Means to Non-Minorities

As ecstatic as I am about Obama's win, I wish I could experience it as a minority. It must be just overwhelming.

I've never known what it feels like to be marginalized. During my entire childhood, my parents repeatedly told me I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up (with hard work of course) and I believed them. The only barrier that ever stood in my way was myself- could I do well on my LSAT, could I get good grades, could I work hard enough for something I wanted. I never once thought that I couldn't do something just because of how I looked. Until I moved to Chicago for college, I didn't know that people of other races were still experiencing prejudice on a daily basis. I've been privileged my entire life.

My baby is a quarter Filipino but he doesn't look it. He has a boring, familiar last name. He will likely never experience marginalization either. While we are very lucky, I hope we can someday understand the experiences of others in our country who fight for equal treatment everyday.

Hearing my friends of other races talk about Obama's win. I felt a little left out at first. As if I could never fully grasp the importance of his win among minorities because I was not a minority. That I couldn't be as excited because of my white privileged background. That my excitement for Obama might appear shallow to those who have experienced prejudice. While some of this might be true, I realized that it was silly to dwell on. I realized I was drawing an "us" and "them" distinction in my mind and going against all that Obama stands for. He hated that people focused so much on his race and ethnicity.

I understand now that Obama is a win for all of us. We should be excited that another barrier has been broken. For those who never thought they could, Obama's win says "yes you can." For those who grew up experiencing no prejudicial barriers, Obama's win is a challenge to eradicate the prejudice that still remains and help us break free from what is left of the backward social thinking that causes us to fear those that are different from us. His win shows us a glimpse of what the nation could look like if we make the American dream a reality.

Love Affair With Obama

No world or national event has ever made me as happy as election night 2008!

I remember having a discussion with my old political savvy boss in late 2006. She told me she hoped her candidate of choice would make it to the November 2008 ballot. I told her that if he ran, it would be Obama for sure. She respectfully disagreed with me and went on a rant about how he didn't have enough experience and that it just wasn't his time. I would love to make her eat her words today!

I was first introduced to our new President-elect when I was a student in Chicago. I watched his Senate race on TV while huddled in a room with my two roomates. I had no idea who this man with the funny name was but I was impressed with his electricity. He had captured the attention of the democratic youth at the national convention (can you believe I turned down a chance to go watch it in order to finish a paper!). I saw signs with his name posted all over the greater Chicago area- dorms, driveways, streets, sidewalks. Not too much later, I caught Obama fever myself. And after reading his book Audacity of Hope, I became convinced that no other man or woman was so right for American Presidency in our time.

When Obama beat Clinton for the democratic seat, I was ecstatic and that is when I knew he would make it all the way to the top. I was so happy to be proven right last Tuesday. I cried listening to his acceptance speech (I also cried during McCain's speech but it was tears of pain from having to listen to another one of his repetative, stale and very lame diatribes- "this isn't your failure, it's mine" what the hell?!). I would seriously have given one of my toes to be in Grant Park that evening with my old college buddies.

Aside from being totally hot (we're talking multiple hot peppers), he is almost unbelievably charismatic, intelligent and eloquent. Although I've been trying all week, I feel like I can't say anything original about Obama's greatness. So I will just say that I think we have a real chance to fix some of America's greatest social problems.

I'm so looking forward to the next four years. I know Obama has a lot of work to do and a lot of promises to fulfill but I also know that exciting magical things are on the horizon!

Anyone know a bitter Republican with a subscription to the New York Times? I tried to find a copy of the Wednesday paper for my scrap book- every vendor sold out of copies!! Today I tried to buy a copy on the Time's website. They are charging $15!! That's robbery! So, should I just go ahead and pay it?!?! (If I had a job- I would have bought two copies already).

Clouds In My Silver Lining

The following post is a little dark so I apoligize for that. I kept going back and forth on whether I really wanted to post this but for some reason I really just want to get it out... Maybe this post is a sign that I need to get drunk, a shrink, or a religion.

I have a morbid obsession with death. Maybe it's not so much an obsession but a constant awareness of my transience. You know the cliche about young people- that they think they will live forever? Not me. The fact that I will one day be gone consumes me on a daily basis. I know this can't be healthy but I also wonder if I'm the only one?

The better my life gets and the happier I am in this world, the worse this awareness is. My good moments and happy experiences are often clouded by the realization that I will lose all these things one day, even the memory of them. Sometimes it's even hard not to view my life as a count down of the years I have left.

I think this awareness became more acute since Jacob was born. I love him so much and I can't imagine not being with him. The same goes for my husband. These two people give me so much joy and fill my days with so much love. The fact that one day I will lose them is just unbearable. So I guess the downside to being so happy and finding life so precious is that you just have more to give up in the end. Seriously, how morbid is that?!

When I think about giving birth to Jacob, I am often torn between the awe I feel over bringing a precious new life into the world and guilt that the life I helped create will one day have to leave this world behind too.

Up until I graduated from college, I was quite religious. Then, I was content to live my life believing that I would end up in the happy heavenly afterlife I learned about at Sunday School. But somewhere in the past couple years, I lost my ability to believe in what I cannot see or touch or understand. Now I require science and logic and I have a hard time believeing that there is anything more than what I can physically see and touch. I hate that my innocence and blind faith is gone. I would be greatly consoled by faith in the divine and in knowing there is a pleasant afterlife waiting for me.

I try to talk about these fears with my husband but he just looks at me like I'm crazy. Instead of talking about this, he tries to distract me or take my mind off the issue. But it's never too far from my mind. At night I lay in bed feeling the warmth of the man beside me and listening to the calm breathing of the baby across the room and I just tear up thinking of the day I will be forced to leave them behind.

A Blonde By Any Other Color...

This weekend my hair changed color. Not by itself like the magic rainbow horse in Wizard of Oz, although wouldn't that be cool? I had my hair DID. First let me preface this by saying that I've had the same haircut for years. Medium length with long layers and blonde highlights to accentuate my natural dirty blonde-ish color.

I think I just woke up Saturday morning, looked in the mirror and had a new-mommy life crisis. The kind of life crises where you think, "Omg, I'm someone's mom. I'm someone's mom AND I'm required to feed that someone every three hours for the next eleven months AND I have a mortgage AND I've never been to India AND I'm one step closer to the end AND (as a final straw) I have REALLY BAD HIGHLIGHT GROWOUT!

So I got myself to the Salon faster than a baby can spit up on a newly washed shirt. But somewhere between me asking my hair dresser (that's a funny title because hair doesn't wear clothing!) to dye my hair back to it's original color and me dishing out way too much money, something went horribly wrong. Horribly BRUNETTE wrong.

I know I've been in denial about my hair color since I was six when a hair dresser chopped off the last of my bleach blonde baby hair. In first grade my best friend colored a picture of us together and I threw a hissy fit that she colored my hair light brown. "What is that?!" I yelled at her, "My hair is blonde, NOT brown!" Then in second grade when we were coloring self portraits, meany Matt Smith (who always scribbled on my desk) exclaimed to me that my hair was Dirty Dishwater Blonde. I ran up to the art teacher with tears in my eyes in search of a second opinion. According to my diplomatic Art Teacher, my hair was "golden blonde." Then after I graduated from college, I started highlighting my hair as a final act of denial.

To me, being blonde was just who I was as a person. It was as central to my identity as my running habit and my love for chocolate bars.

So when I asked my hair dresser to take me back to my natural color, I was finally accepting the fact that I am who I am. I was accepting that the almost 25 year old me is tied down to student loans, a house, a husband and a son. That I have never travelled the world or explored the jungle or solved a mystery (other than to find the location of missing house keys and work socks) or raided a lost arc in Egypt or flown an airplane. I never became fluent in a foreign language and I've never been on an adventure grander than my middle school trip to Space Camp.

While I was prepared to look reality in the face, I was not prepared to walk out of the salon as a 100% brunette. Either I was REALLY in denial about my hair color before or my hair dresser took come artistic liberties. I'm inclined to blame my hairdresser because she was calling me by the wrong name the entire time. *SIDE NOTE: You know how awkward it is when you don't correct someone the first time? It makes you look bad to correct them later and so they keep on calling you the wrong name for the rest of your life and you have to pretend that's your actual name?*

Anyway, I'm starting to get used to this new look and I'm almost starting to like it. I can't yet say the same for the new perspective on my identity.

Rubbing Elbows

Last night my husband and I attended an event for local democrats. The event consisted of local candidates giving speeches about why we should elect them and then watching the Presidential debate, which was projected onto a huge screen in our historic theater.

It felt great to shed my sweats and puffy vest and wriggle into a nice dress skirt and heels. For the first time in weeks (maybe months) I felt not just like a member of the human race, but I felt hot! It was great leaving Jacob home with my sister too. I was only gone two hours but it was the longest I've ever been away from him. I enjoyed the break.

My husband and I sat at an empty table reserved for my husband's boss (who never showed). I had just finished making some unprofessional remark about how Obama made me hot all over when my husband nudged me and nodded toward two men and one woman who sat down unnoticed on my other side. One happened to be the old Mayor who is currently running for State Representative, the other was a State Senator and the third was the Speaker of the House of Representatives. I turned red hoping they hadn't heard my comment.

My husband and I are fairly used to being around elected figures. My husband works for a public agency and I interned at that agency for almost two years. The work put us into direct contact with Mayors and County Commissioners (who sit on the board of the agency and technically are the real bosses), and State Representatives. I even got to job shadow one of our State Representatives two years ago and when I see her at functions, she still remembers me. That, of course, makes me feel special. For a while, I even shared an office with our Congressman, thought he was rarely there.

My point is this isn't the only time I've been humiliated in front of elected officials. Two years ago, at a dinner function after I had my wisdom teeth pulled out, I was seated next to a County Commissioner and a local Mayor. They witnessed my undainty attempt to eat cooked carrots with swollen gums. At least three of those carrots popped out of my sore mouth and onto the floor/my lap.

Then at a conference dinner in San Francisco, we dined with our boss, a County Commissioner, and her very short Republican husband. After three glasses of wine, the Commissioner's husband talked about his recent trip to Disneyland and how much he hated it. My husband then shot out a remark about how he would hate it too if he was too short to ride on the rides.Turns out he had a sense of humor...Thank GOD!

But last night, it was very cool to sit next to the Senator and Speaker of the House. I got to listen to the elected officials at our table talk like real people and not just politicians. My favorite comment was by the Senator. While holding a chicken kebob in one hand he snickered, "I never pass up an opportunity to eat meat on a stick."

About the debate: I'm not a die-hard democrat but I'm certainly not a republican. I like to take things issue by issue and I will vote for the person I agree most with regardless of party ties. It was a little infuriating to see the intense democrats at the event make rude and ignorant comments about McCain's answers during the debate. I agree that he had some awful and redundant answers (sometimes he completely failed to answer the qt!). I will also say that he sounded like a whiny baby when he asked for more time to speak ("Obama got more time, I want more time too!"). But I feel like some people want to just hate him without sincerely trying to listen to his position or give him a chance. Of course, I think he blew any chance he would have been given, but some people at the event were just so negative.

Obama on the other hand was patient and calm and intelligent and gracious. I think I'm in love.

World Peace? Maybe When Lawyers Rule The Country

I hate political parties. I don't want my political views categorized in a neat little box labeled "democrat" or "republican." These labels say little about what a person actually believes. What if the needs of our society change faster than the policies of either party? How can we make this country better if we disregard sound solutions just for the sake of maintaining a strong base of support from our designated "party."

I think we need political systems based upon logic. Not rhetoric or ideolody. While I am pro-life, I think it is important to put logic and reason above my own ideologies and religious beliefs when it comes to policy. We need to be rational about existing problems and possible solutions. This is one of the most important things I have learned at law school. Societal rules should be based on the greatest common denominator among the people. I could be wrong but it's my view that the ability to reason is that common denominator. Therefore, we should limit our discussion about policies to pure logical debate.

Having said that, I'm so excited about Obama/Biden. Both were educated as lawyers and both learned to think critically and analytically about problems. It's not necessarily WHAT they believe that I'm so excited about but the fact that I trust their judgment and ability to make sound logical and EDUCATED decisions. I think its about time we got more legal minds in positions of leadership. I trust that Obama and Biden will keep logic at the forefront of their decisions. I also have faith in the diplomatic skills of these two candidates- and diplomacy is something we really need in the international community right now.

I'm sure there are many people out there who think the LAST thing we need is two lawyers running the country :)

Can Parents Be Friends Too?

Yesterday we headed out to my husband's friend's mom's house to celebrate the Fourth. Every year all of my husband's friends (and their girlfriends and their one-night hook ups- oddly, we're the only married couple of his friends- at least until next week) gather there.

My husband's friend's parents show up too and everyone plays a huge nine-hour game of bocce ball (an interesting game I am just learning about). My first point is that these friends whose parents show up are so lucky. They have awesome parents. Parents that aren't embarassing. Parents that match their kids beer for beer. Parents that laugh and engage in their kids' conversations, even when it becomes borderline inappropriate. These are parents who have hung up their hats after successfully raising adult children and can now relax and accept who their children have become.

My parents will never be this way. My parents are really amazing, don't get me wrong. And I love them so much. But I wish that they knew how to "hang out" with us. My mom is a little crazy. I know everyone says that- but my mom TRULY is. Ask my husband. She's super religious and conservative- so the things we joke about would not be tolerated by her. She could never engage in our conversations. She's always trying to convert my friends and give them religious "trading cards" as I call them. She loves to tell people things about me that are no longer true and that are completely embarassing. She likes to wear the muu-muu she purchased in Hawaii ten years ago around our house, and she frequently likes to dance by herself while wearing it.

Recently, my mom started having little moments of forgetfulness or absentmindedness. During these moments, her mind goes blank for like 10 seconds and she doesn't repond to anything. The doctors told her these episodes might be little seizures and they wanted to do a psych evaluation on her. She replied, "I'm not crazy. When I don't respond right away its because God is telling me what to say. He talks to me." This might very well be true. But it's not the kind of thing you say to doctors when you are trying to convince them that you aren't crazy.

There is nothing wrong with my mom self expressing herself. It's great that she is so full of joy and that she is comfortable with herself. But when she does things like that around my in-laws or my friends, something inside me curdles and I want to be anywhere else. I feel awful for feeling like this, but I can't help it.

My mom and my dad will never stop being the kind of parents who have to always be teaching us, lecturing us, or managing us. My dad is super cautious. I can't tell him half the things I do because all he does is worry. Now that I'm pregnant, its 100 times worse too. He tells me how to drive, how to mow my lawn, how to paint my house, how to juggle family and work. Sometimes, I just want him to have a little trust so I can show him that I'm responsible and really do know how to handle my life. (ok, I don't really know how to handle my life but I'd like the opportunity to learn and experience it anyway).

Long drawn-out point being: my parents could never participate in our activities the way other parents do. They just don't know how to be "friends" as well as parents. Maybe it's my fault or maybe it's all in my head. While it's nice to have parents that are always looking out for me and trying to protect me from the "bad things" in life, parents that I can always count on for guidance and unconditional love, it would be great to have parents that can also be part of my "friend" circle once in a while.

When I become a parent, I might feel differently, but I would like to be the kind of mom that kids feel comfortable being themselves around. I want to be able to participate in some of their activities as more than a mom (when they are adults of course). I can't imagine missing out on a whole part of who my children are just because I cannot accept that part of their lives or because I'm always trying to change that part of them.

In Re Estate of Fluffy

Interesting story about an animal rights case:

One day a dog jumped his fence and killed the neighbor's three-legged cat. The owner of the deceased cat filed suit against the owner of the dog on behalf of themselves AND on behalf of the deceased cat. (I can just see the case title: In re Estate of Fluffy v. Smith). Anyway, the case settled (duh, what kind of lawyer would let that go before a judge?) for a whopping $20,000.

True Story.

An associate at my firm told me this story- he represented the defendants in the case. I would love to take a look at the claims listed in the complaint. Do you have a claim for loss of consortium when a pet dies? I can see a claim for emotional distress but really, what other claims could be in there? And what about damages? Since they were represented by an animal rights lawyer, I doubt they claimed a property damages. An animal rights activists would NEVER admit to an animal being property, right? If a human death is called a homicide, what is an animal death called? We don't even have a special name for it in our local criminal code.

I'm all for the humane treatment of animals. I'm a huge sucker for those animal adoption displays at Pet Smart and the mall. Whenever I see little kittens, or even older cats for that matter, locked up in a cage, sticking their little paws through the bars in an attempt for human contact and love, I get all weepy and BEG my husband if we can take them ALL HOME NOW.

But something about giving animals legal rights and allowing them to bring a suit in court just seems ridiculous to me. Ok, it was funny in Bee Movie, but aside from the cinemas- nuh uh, no way. I mean, animals have their own set of laws, the law of nature. Of course people shouldn't be allowed to purposefully harm or torture their animals, but you know, such things should be left to animal control agencies. And when one animal attacks another animal on the inferior end of the food chain- who are we to jump in with our man-made laws?

Plus, I love my cat, but there is no way in hell he is worth $20,000.

The Waiting Game

It's the time of year when grades start to trickle in. A solitary grade magically appears on my transcript one day. Another day or two passes before it is joined by another. This drags on untill all grades are slowly and finally revealed. It's a nerve racking phenomenon. Why can't professors just end our torture on one day?

I have four out of my six grades to date. I really can't believe it. This semester I got pregnant, surfed baby websites instead of doing homework, skipped half of my classes, slept through the other half, failed to complete even HALF of the reading assignments, then crammed like crazy the two weeks before finals. And so far (fingers crossed), this is my best semester yet!

So far, the less I care about grades and classes, the better I do. Either I've learned how to better and more efficiently prepar for exams, or I've learned how to bullsh*t my way through it all. I don't really care which it is, as long as the grades keep coming in the way they have been.

Unrelated note: I watched the movie The Firm last night. I was really looking forward to it because I read the book last week. The book was really good. The movie....sucked a big fat one. I didn't exactly mind that the plot differed significantly towards the end (ok, maybe I did) or the outdated fashion and furniture, what mostly got to me was the poorly delivered lines, that it moved too quickly through the plot and how freakishly boring it was.

The book is a thriller, a nail biter. I read it in three days. But during the movie, I was trying not to fall asleep. Ok and the ending DID make me mad. It didn't follow the book AT ALL. I thought the book had a great ending and I hate the fact that Tom Cruise was able to find a legal "happily ever after" way out. It was just ridiculous and unbelievable. The book was more disturbing (in a good way) and kept you guessing.

The Enormity Of It All

There is no worse feeling than the desperate helplessness of missing someone. When your starvation for his simple touch is left unfulfilled. When desire to just be in his presence is met with emptiness. Hopelessly yearning to carry out daily activities side by side and exchange meaningless banter.

This weekend, my husband went on a camping trip to Canada with "the guys." He was only gone two nights, nothing like his week long trip to Mexico, but I didn't have school or work to distract me from missing him.

Usually, every eight hour work day that we spend apart, the only thing on my mind is the second that I get to walk in the door and be with him again. After a year of marriage, it amazes me how I still get excited when I see him and how essential he has become in my life. Missing him is so awful because there is no parallel to the feeling that rushes over me when he softly kisses my shoulder, reaches for my hand or rests his palms on my knee. It's just scary and tormenting to think how devastated I will be if he is ever gone.

When he came home tonight, I followed him around the house. Like I could somehow make up for all our time apart. When we sat down and watched a movie, I wrapped myself around him, appreciating his presence and purposeful reciprocity more than usual. We watched Ghost because I had never seen it before. The theme of the movie only accentuated my gratefulness for the present moments I have with him.

Someday, I wont be able to trace his rough cheeks with my finger or rest my head against his chest. The thought kills me. Resting side by side in bed after the movie it hit me how precious one individual human life is. Anything in the world can be replaced if lost. Ipods, goldfish, and other belongings can be bought anew. Even fine art can be reproduced and replicated. But human life...each one is different. No one can replace or duplicate another being.

I don't know if there is some grand "purpose" of life and if there is, I have given up ever figuring it out. But tonight I realized the importance of each irreplacable human life. I think discovering that is almost purpose enough. Because if you truly understand the value of each person- including yourself- you can't take anything for granted and you develop persective of what it is that is really important.

Realizing all this, I am breathless by the enormity of my current task: creating a brand new life. A new person who will be shaped by his environment and his experiences as he grows. A person who will seek love, feel love and be loved. A person who will develop his own personality, habits, and likes. A person who will not only mean the world to me and my husband but to the other people who become a part of his life. Someone who will miss and be missed and who can never be replaced.

I'm awestruck that humans are not only given the valuable gift of life but also the amazing ability to create one. The key is to keep myself reminded of all this- not just when my husband goes away for a weekend- but constantly.

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.

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.

Things Husband Needs To Learn Before The Baby Comes

1. You cannot substitute a car seat by putting baby on a bed matress in the back of a pick up truck.

2. Babies cannot drink Rainier Beer. Until they are at least six months old.

3. Not only is it unsanitary, but it is impossible to train the baby to use our cats' litter boxes.

4. Regardless of your own father's behavior (yeah, I know, you turned out alright- but DID you?), an outdoor "hosedown" is not an appropriate way to clean a baby's dirty bottom or to give a baby a bath.

5. Tempting as it may be, you cannot clothe a baby in garbage bags, or a towel.

6. He will have an obligatory role in midnight feedings: bringing me a glass of wine and a bar of chocolate.

Tangible & Transient

Last night as I lay on my husband's chest while we were falling asleep, I felt so comfortable and so in love with him. His arm was wrapped around me and his soft breath skimmed across the top of my head. As I caressed his chest with my hand, I felt like I was holding the world. As if I was surrounded by everything that ever mattered in this life. I realized that if it was possible to physically clasp onto happiness, it would feel just like my husband's warm body felt wrapped within my content arms.

Then I had a horrible and morbid thought.

My evenings with my husband are numbered and limited. This is something that I cannot fully fathom but, nonetheless, keeps gnawing at the back of my thoughts. Right now, there is a tally of the remaining days and nights that I have with him and, worst of all, I don't know what that tally is. There will be a day when I no longer have these evenings. It's such a sad thought but it makes me wrap my arms around him a little tighter and treasure these moments just a little bit more.