LegalMama

18 pens, 6 highlighters, and 9 bottle caps

Okay, I am such a slob that I just picked up 18 pens, 6 highlighters and 9 bottle caps from under my desk.  Not to mention the post-it notes and various papers, binder clips and old Vanity Fairs.  I also found the receipts for a business trip I took just before the holidays that I never submitted to accounting.  I just forgot all about it with all the craziness going on at the moment.  The case has settled, so submitting these expenses now will not be a popular move.  I hate when I do that! 

I am here in my office on a Sunday evening because I promised someone (outside of my firm) that I would write a chapter for his book.  Why I promised to do this just as I was beginning to study for the bar exam is a mystery that could only be solved by a shrink and a lot of money, but I did.  Just as I promised with two of my partners to collaborate on a book to be published next year, when I shouldn't have.  I thought I'd have plenty of time to throw this chapter together once the exam was over.  I didn't really think about the fact that right after the bar exam was over, I'd be mentally paralyzed and physically exhausted for at least a week (it was really closer to two), that I'd want to spend some time with my children, who had barely seen me for a month, and give my poor husband, who had been doing all the child care, a break, that I'd be desperate to make up for some of the lost billable time spent studying for the bar exam, because my life is ruled, judged and otherwise defined by the billable hour, and that I might be just plain busy with work.  Well, I did think about those things, but I just pushed them to the back of my mind, because that is what I do with unpleasant things when I am saying yes when I should be saying no.  Because I have been so overwhelmed with this task, I've dealt with it by procrastinating until the last possible moment.  Now, the deadline looms so close that I will never make it.  Now, I know these deadlines are not really "real," and that the book author has almost certainly built in some extra time, but I still feel awful not making his deadline.  So I came in today to just churn away, but I couldn't find my notes of the meeting I had with the book author right before I started studying in earnest.  It was just a page or two, but I would really like to see those notes; they would be a big help. 

So instead of writing all day, I've been cleaning my office while looking for the notes.  It is most definitely a form of even further procrastination, but my office is so messy that I cannot even function, and it is embarrassing and unprofessional.  One day I was out of the office, and a lawyer from another office used my office for the day (I did not know in advance that this was going to happen or I would have cleaned up at least a little).  He told someone that I was a slob.  It really got out of control with the studying, and I have been in such a funk until the last week or two that it only got worse, not better.  I hated cleaning up my bar exam materials, because it made me think about the bar exam, so they are all just piled up in my office and in my car, which also is embarrassing.  So I am cleaning my office.  I still haven't come across those stupid notes, so I'm going to just have to fake it, and go from memory.  I do remember that he didn't take many notes, so he probably doesn't really remember exactly what we talked about either. 

I no longer delude myself that I will reform myself and become a neat office person.  It will never happen.  And there are those at the firm who have far worse offices than mine, but it will feel good to have a clean-ish desk for a little while at least.  And I'm pretty sure I'm never going to find those notes, which is extremely annoying because I know I didn't throw them away; they just got lost in the mess that is my life. 

The good news is that all four of my Final Four Picks made it.  I know I was in second or third place on Friday, so I'm hoping I've pulled into first.  That would be very cool!   

Random cute things

So Fiona has this lavendar blanket that I got at Pottery Barn Kids that she loves because it is very soft.  She likes soft things.  She likes to rub this blanket over her naked body (oh, the hits I will get on that one) and "soft herself."  This morning, as soon as she got up, she pulled off her pajama bottoms and took off her wet pullup and threw it in the garbage can.  (I think she thinks it makes up for the fact that she is still wearing pullups at night, while her sister Clare is not if she takes the pullup off and throws it away by herself; she does it in a very "growup" way.)  Then she started to take her pajama top off, and I told her to leave it on because she would be too cold in our drafty house with nothing on.  "But mommy," she said, "I need to soft myself, and then I will be warm."  So she took off her pajama top and wrapped herself in her blanket.  Then I asked her if she wanted to get in bed with me, and we could "pretend" we were sleeping.  I was desperate for another 10 minutes.  She readily agreed, and hopped into my bed wrapped in her lavendar blanket. 

We were lying there for a few minutes, and she said "mom, do you know how much I love you?"  I said "no, how much?"  She struggled for the right words, but couldn't find them, so I said "a lot?"  She nodded happily.  I said "Fiona, do you know how much I love you?"  She said "how much?"  I said "I love you as big as the sky, and all the clouds and birds in the sky."  She said "mom, I love what you just said."  (Melt.)

Then she said "mom, I'm done sleeping, but you can have my blanket to soft yourself, because I'm already warm" and she slipped out from under her blanket and hopped down from the bed all naked and delicious. 

When her sister Clare got up, she came in and asked for her daddy, who was downstairs working.  She said "I have to go potty."  I said "well, I can help you, too, you know."  (My husband is the potty police, and gets her on the potty the minute she wakes up every morning.  I think she thought I wouldn't know what to do.)  So we went into her bathroom, but she wanted to do everything herself.  So she pulled down her pajamas over her tiny skinny legs and her itty-bitty butt.  She was having a little trouble, but did not want me to help her.  She pulled her step stool over so she could climb up, and put her little potty seat on the toilet, and then wiped and flushed when she was done.  All by herself with no help from me at all.

Then I thought my son was sleeping in, because he always comes in our room as soon as he gets up, so I went into his room to kiss him awake, but he was already up, sitting in a chair, "reading" a comic book, all lost in thought. 

I guess every single day, they grow just that little bit more independent, until one day they will be walking out the door, and we will be left wondering how all those little tiny moments of doing it themselves added up to this grownup person walking away.  Well, if everything goes right, that is how it will happen.  I just wish I could freeze mornings like today forever. 

We made a match!!

This post is really about selecting our next au pair, but I have to start it off with a description of how ridiculously cute my girls are.  I had to take Fiona to her eye surgeon in the big city today.  She used to have crossed eyes, and had surgery to correct it in September.  This was her follow-up appointment.  Whenever we talk about her doctor, she tells me that she "loves him."  Believe me, there's a lot to love.  I told her yesterday that when she grows up, she should meet a man like Dr. S., love him, and marry him and make her mother happy.  He is incredibly successful, and really warm and nice, loves kids, and is not bad-looking.  He has the fanciest doctor's office I've ever seen, super high-tech, great toys for the kids, beautiful artwork, nice staff.  He is dreamy. 

And he changed my daughter's life.  She was always shy and fearful.  Her sister was definitely the dominant twin, and Fiona took a back seat.  No one ever really noticed her at all, she was always in the shadows.  Our local doctor had us patching and doing eye drops, etc., to try and correct her strabismus, none of which was working.  Dr. S proposed immediate surgery, which we agreed to, although it was a little scary.  The surgery was a success, and Fiona's entire personality has changed since her eyes are correctly aligned.  I never attributed her personality to her eyesight, it never even occurred to me that one had to do with the other.  But she is so much more outgoing and confident now; she runs and jumps and climbs where before she would have been very cautious and afraid.  The transformation has been stunning.  Well, duh?  Try crossing your eyes and imagine going through your life like that.  So I love him too.

When she saw the doctor today, she was shy with him, and when he showed her pictures on a screen to test her vision, she literally whispered: "birthday cake," "ducky,"  "hand," "house."  He put some drops in her eyes to dilate her pupils, and we went out to lunch while they took effect.  Over lunch, she said "I didn't tell Dr. S. I love him."  I told her she would have another chance.  I never in a million years thought she would actually do it, but when we got to the end of the appointment, I asked her if there was something she wanted to tell him.  She nodded, and he leaned in to her and she looked right in his eyes, and said in a quiet voice "I love you."  He was not expecting that at all.  He actually turned red, and he said "I can't believe it, but I'm blushing."  It was the sweetest thing, and I was so proud of her for telling him, because I knew if she hadn't, she would have felt sad.  My sweet, loving little girl.    

Okay, now my happy news.  I've been going through the grueling process of selecting an au pair, again.  I really like participating in the au pair program.  So much more than I ever thought I would.  But I HATE the selection process. 

First, there was the girl from Mexico, who spent her entire interview with my husband with a detailed list of questions: can I drive the car? will I have a curfew?  what days do I get off?  will I have to cook or clean at all?  do I have to pay for gas or internet access?  She clearly was interviewing us and not the other way around.  My husband found it very annoying, but I reasoned that it was actually pretty smart.  Lay the cards right out on the table.  We had one au pair who was quite lovely, and we were very excited about, but didn't work out at all, because our expectations were so vastly different.  So I gave her points for that.  Then she sent a follow-up email with 21 questions, many of which had already been answered at least twice.  Her last question was a catch-all "please describe exactly what my duties will be from the morning until the night every day."   I decided to plow through her questions, and actually answer them, because we were coming up on our deadline, and she was the best prospect so far.  After I answered all of her very detailed questions I called her.  She had even more questions.  And before I could ask her any questions about her, she asked when she would have to give us her answer.  That was pretty much the last straw.  I told her we hadn't offered her the job yet, and it was important for me to know something about the person who would be taking care of my children before I made such an important decision, so could I please ask her a few questions.  Then she spoke with my current au pair, who speaks Spanish, and asked her questions for about an hour, until she finally said she would "consider" coming to live with us.  We did not make a match. 

We spoke with one au pair candidate who seemed great on paper.  My husband spoke with her first, and said her English was excellent, which is always good news.  She seemed lovely, very bright and well-educated.  She is a speech therapist, and has a degree in audiology.  But her biggest concern was that we expected her to prepare some meals for the kids.  I explained to her that we don't expect a gourmet chef, and that we try to buy foods that are very simple to prepare.  No real cooking skills are required.  We're talking chicken nuggets in the microwave people.  I also told her that I'm a lousy cook, and don't expect much from her at all in that department.  She explained that this was really a problem for her, because she had never learned to cook at all, because her housekeeper does all of the cleaning and cooking in her house so no one in her family knows how to cook.  I got the distinct impression that she also wouldn't have the foggiest how to make a bed or do her own laundry.  She explained that in her country, many people have full-time housekeepers, and that her family had always had someone who did all of that work for her.  I explained to her that in the United States only very wealthy people have full time housekeepers and cooks, and that certainly any family looking for an au pair would not have someone who did all the cooking and cleaning.  She seemed quite surprised by this.  I told her that she would almost certainly have to do at least a little cooking for any children she was caring for, and probably also for herself.  She didn't seem too happy about this.  I think she was imagining that being an au pair would be like being Anna in Anna and the King.  She would swirl around the house in fancy ball gowns, instructing the children in deportment, and grammar while the servants served tea.  Or something like that.  No match there.

Then there was the Venezuelan girl, who had a very nice essay, and an interesting background.  My husband spoke with her first, and he said her English was very rough, but maybe she'd be okay.  Then my current au pair spoke to her (in Spanish).  She loved her, thought she was great, and told us the girl was really interested in making a match with us.  I wondered why she was so eager.  We have three kids after all, not the easiest job.  Then I called her.  The woman speaks English like I speak French.  I can say hello and goodbye and I can count to 50.  I may be able to order in a restaurant, and ask someone to please open the door, or close the window, or tell them that Alain is in the pool.  But I certainly could not have a conversation about meals or play dates or school or homework or any of the things that I would need to talk to an au pair about as part of our daily routine.  This woman struggled so hard to speak with me, and I tried so hard to make myself understood, but we could not communicate.  I would ask a question, she would say "repeat please," I would ask it more slowly, with simpler words, she would try to answer, but I couldn't understand a word she said, so I'd ask her to repeat what she's said, and then she would say "repeat please" and I would say "would you repeat what you said?" and on and on like that.  It was painful.  I asked her when she started studying English, and she said six months ago, once a week.  Normally, I would end the conversation very quickly, but because my husband and au pair had already spoken with her, I tried my best to give her a chance to warm up, but it was a disaster.

If an au pair candidate is reasonably proficient in English, even if her English is rough, I will at least consider her, because their English (usually) improves very rapidly once they are here.  But they have to have at least a basic knowledge to improve from.  This girl didn't.  I felt very bad for her, because I don't think any family will choose her until her English improves dramatically.  And I could not believe my husband even considered her.  Men!

Then we found Rebbecca.  She is from Brazil.  I am deeply in love with her.  Please don't disappoint me Rebbecca.  My heart will break if you are not all you say you are.  She was smart, incredibly well-spoken, with really great English.  We could actually have a nuanced conversation and she had a lot of interesting things to say.  She seemed to genuinely love children, and to have a lot of real experience.  She has much much younger siblings, so has spent her life taking care of kids.  She currently is working with special needs kids, and despite her degree in journalism, wants to be a teacher.  And I believed her, and didn't think she was just saying what she thought I might want to hear.  I just really liked her. And she liked us!  She has spoken with lots of families, but she likes us!  She said she fell in love with the pictures of our kids, and I didn't think she was full of shit!  She gave reasons for wanting to be an au pair that didn't sound like they came off the au pair brochure.   She was selling herself to ME!  It was either the world's greatest snow job, or the beginning of a love affair. 

It is really tough to make the decision to have someone leave their family, and travel thousands of miles to live with your family, and take care of your kids, on the basis of one or two 20-minute phone conversations.  We've had pretty good luck so far.  I hope the trend continues.  It is a giant leap of faith.  But I'm extremely happy with how it has gone so far.  Yay!

And Stephanie Edwards is going home.  I felt sorry for her when she cried at the end, but the girl is 19, she has a lot of living ahead of her, and what a fantastic opportunity and exposure.  She'll be just fine.  I thought it would either be her or Phil Stacey.  I would have picked Phil over her to go home, but I won't miss her. 

   

I think it is a sign -- and not a good one

As I was driving home tonight very late -- partly because I'm swamped, partly because I'm inefficient, partly because I "worked" in a conference room while American Idol was on "in the background" and partly because my husband is going out of the country for TWO WEEKS next week and I'm trying to get ahead -- I allowed myself to indulge in a little fantasy about the funny way I would tell people I passed the bar exam if I in fact managed to pass.  And then I berated myself for allowing myself to think that I could possibly have passed.  Then I told myself that the words on the paper are not going to change because I imagined passing, and I either passed or I didn't, and a little fantasy won't change that result, so I should just shut up and leave myself alone.  I actually had this ridiculous conversation with myself in my head.

Then I got home and checked the mail, and there was a letter from the attorney assigned to do my character and fitness evaluation, telling me all the things that are missing from my application and that I must submit them immediately or I will not be considered for admission to the bar.  But of course I've already sent in everything he said was missing. So somehow they have lost part of my file.  And it was all stuff that was a royal pain in the ass to get.  Now, a normal, organized person would know exactly where to find the copy of the letter I sent enclosing those materials, and be able to immediately forward a copy to this guy, with attachments, but all I know is that I think it is buried somewhere in the pile of crap covering my desk, but it could be somewhere else, like in a briefcase or something.  I mean sure, it would make sense to have a file marked "bar application" and, you know, file it.  But that would be extremely organized and totally unlike me, so instead I will panic all night that I didn't keep a copy of my letter, and will frantically rip through my desk looking for it tomorrow, and it is already keeping me awake tonight, which is totally stupid, because one way or anopther, it will all get worked out.  But you can see why I want a new me.   

And I think this is all a very bad omen. 

On a far more interesting note, I watched American Idol tonight.  I have never watched American Idol until this season.  But now I'm hooked.  Melinda Doolittle is going to win, and she should, but man, could she pick more boring songs?  Yeah, yeah, the song she sang tonight is okay, but it was British Invasion week.  Does a song from the soundtrack of Oliver really count?  So many great songs she could have sung and she picked that one.  She was great of course, but not fun, although I thought she looked awesome.  Lakisha is a great great singer, but what the hell was that???  I just don't see what niche she will really fit in, so as much as I like her, she is not my first pick.  Blake, weird, but growing on me.  Haylie much better tonight, I actually liked her.  Gina -- um, dawg, she is so pitchy.  Chris Sligh -- get over yourself.  Don't like him.   The bald guy.  Uh, no, go home.  Stephanie is beautiful and has a great voice, but she just can't get it right.  Too late.  Jordin rocks and is way up there for me but she is unnaturally tall and it freaks me out when she stands next to Ryan and he looks like a toddler.  Chris R.  He's okay, but creepy to me.   And Sanjaya -- he was not the worst tonight, in my opinion, or not so obviously the worst.  Does that mean these "vote for the worst" assholes might vote for someone else?  Because it is just too painful to watch him and I want him to go away.  And what the hell was with the little cyring girl, and where the hell was her mother?

Last, but not least, I am a little obsessed with Simon Cowell.  He is like the guy you really want to sleep with, and then hate yourself for doing it.  As an aside, I had a guy like that in my life.  We had an affair, and one night, when it should have been over, there he was in my bed (for the last time; I met my husband like a week later.)  After we'd done it, I said "God, I hate myself."  I thought I'd said it in my head, but I guess I said it out loud and he heard me.  It made him feel pretty bad, and I was sort of glad.      

Where can I get a new me?

Every day, I vow that the next day, I'm going to become a completely different person. 

When I go to sleep at night, I swear that I will wake up early the next morning, make my bed, get ready for work quickly and efficiently and spend quality time with my kids before leaving bright and early for the office, and that I won't linger at the table reading the paper, or surf through YouTube watching videos from Season 1 of American Idol when I should be showering and dressing, and that I won't take a bath instead of a shower and read in the tub for far longer than I intended, and be rushing out the door in a big hurried mess, with my hair only half-dry.  I also swear that when I get to the office, I will get straight to work, and will not stand around gossiping about the weekend and how annoying the secretarial staff is before I even take my coat off.  I will not check on all my blogs before I begin working in earnest, and I will actually accomplish things on my to-do list well before lunch. I will eat a healthy lunch, and will not indulge in french fries or ice cream or dessert of any kind, and I won't linger over People magazine while I do it.  I will catch up on all the things I need to catch up on, and get ahead on others, and will take care of signing my kids up for this class or that class before the classes are full and it is too late, but I won't do that until I have done an acceptable amount of work.  After my efficient and productive day, I will leave work at a reasonable hour so that I can spend time with my children without feeling guilty that I left something undone in the office, and when I come home, I will get the kids to bed on time, and I will clean the kitchen and put away laundry and clean up the big mess on my desk before I start watching television or surfing YouTube again.  Every day I tell myself that this is what I will do the next day. 

But it never happens. 

What is wrong with me?  My life would be so much better if I would follow that schedule even some of the time.  I'm not trying to make any radical changes in my life, I'm just trying to stop wasting so much of this precious life with trivial pursuits.  Sure, I love some of the blogs I read, and I read far fewer than many people I know, but I act as if my job is to read blogs and interesting news items, and when I've finished that, to do some legal work.  When at the end of the day I realize I've gotten my priorities all screwed up, I sometimes feel guilty and I stay late to make up for the goofing off I did during the day, and then I feel guilty because I spend less time with my kids.  Sometimes I feel guilty about not spending enough time with my kids, so I go home even though I should work. 

I suck at everything.      

Still here

The very few readers that I have (if they ever come back) might wonder if I actually died from taking the bar exam, if the test literally ate me up and spit me out. 

Well, I'm still living and breathing.  I have worked on a long post about the whole thing, but I realize that I'm never finishing that post, so I either have to go away forever, or come back without a long dissertation on the bar exam.

The first time I took the bar, I was absolutely convinced that I failed, until I found out that I passed.  And that time, I studied for 6 weeks, full time, took Bar Bri, PMBR, and did lots of practice essays, etc.  Suffice it to say the fact that I am older, and presumably wiser has not changed my basic nature.  So I think most of the time that I failed, but hope that I am wrong.  I could kick myself, because if I failed it is because I sort of panicked on one essay.  The essay was clearly based on a case that I personally worked on for about two years, and I couldn't see the forest for the trees.  It should have been a gift, but it was the opposite.  Based on conversations I had with people after the exam, and things I've read, other people wrote about issues that I didn't "spot," because they weren't real issues in the actual case that I worked on, or they were issues that were resolved during the course of the litigation in a minor way, and I just didn't focus on them at all, but I'm pretty sure the bar examiners wanted that analysis.  Our case revolved almost entirely on one particular issue, and I focused on that issue too much.  When I realized that I was not really getting this essay, I moved on without finishing it, and never really had time to get back to it in a comprehensive way.  I had one other very weak essay (that I know almost everyone else also had trouble with) and I think with two very weak essays, one very strong essay, one pretty strong essay, and the others fair to middling, I'm doomed.  It kills me because if I had just plowed methodically through the one that was like my case, I think I would probably be fine. 

If I failed, I know why, and I'm sure I will pass the next time.  That's all I will say until the results come back in May.  I just wish I would stop having nightmares where I forgot to answer three essays, and stole my test booklet, and am trying to answer the questions in the bathroom stall without anyone finding out, and stuff like that.  `Cause that dream, that dream is really annoying. 

I will move on to other things, like my life, as best as I can. 

Some random cute things, just to get back into the swing of things.

This weekend, Clare came running out of her brother's room, shouting "mommy, daddy, emergency, emergency!!"  So of course we dropped what we were doing, and ran as fast as we could to see what was wrong.  The emergency was that Fiona was peeing on the floor.  They are very newly potty-trained, so this is not an entirely unexpected occurrence.  But as my husband was peeling off her brand-new pants, that I had put on her literally 15 minute before she peed through them, he said "don't worry Fiona, we know it was just an accident."  She said "oh, no, Daddy, it was on puhpose, I was too busy playing with Polly Pockets to use the potty."  She wasn't the least bit bothered by having peed on the floor.  I had to leave the room so she wouldn't see me laugh.

Fiona also said this weekend "mommy, when I was a baby, before I was a grownup girl, I ran up your leg and jumped in your tummy, and that is where I grew."  Clare said "I used a ladder to climb up your leg and I jumped in your belly."  I guess that is a reasonable understanding of the facts of life for a three-year old.  It will be quite a while before I try to straighten them out on that one.  And considering we did IVF and ICSI and PGD to make them, maybe it is not such a bad explanation.