| 個人檔案The Reluctant Grownup相片部落格清單 | 說明 |
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10月8日 Newborn Days Very dear friends of ours had their first baby today, and 8 hours later they are still having a hard time deciding her name. As I was reading through their list of decisions and trying to think nostalgically about our own wonderful newborn days, my darling son was whacking the office door with his head. Maybe it was my keys. I don't know. There was whacking, loud whacking going on, as there always seems to be these days. "Ahhh, do you remember how long it took us to pick his middle name?" "I do. We had quite a list." "We did. It took hours." "We chose Calum, because it meant dove, peace. He was so [WHACK!] quiet and [BANG!] peaceful and swee-[BOOM!]-sweet." "Had we only known. He would've been Jack THE OPPOSITE OF CALUM Adams*." "Jack Loud Adams." "Jack Rambunctious Adams." "Jack Stop Hitting That Adams." "Jack He's All Boy Adams." "Jack Please Quiet Down Adams." "Jack Mommy's Getting Some Valium Now Adams." "Jack . . . no seriously now, Jack, that basket is for Mommy's things, it's not for babies. Stop that. Get down. Don't bang on that." "Seriously. And you think you want another one of these someday?" Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. *Not our real name, cuz I'm all anonymous and sneaky like that. 10月6日 Citation Schmitation Legal citations ARE THE PITS. Gawd, I thought the MLA Style Manual was bad. Commas and spaces and underlining, oh my! My very first legal memo is due on Wednesday, and I'm up entirely too late editing the thing. I still have to read for class tomorrow. Blargh. Or, as my wife Tina Fey says in 30 Rock, Blerg. With an umlaut, of course. Alas, there are no umlauts in windows live crappy spaces we leak your password to the world msn thing. My back is breaking, my eyes, are red, my body is saying IT'S TIME FOR BED! Merry citing to all, and to all a good night. 9月29日 City Living I have pages and pages to read for my 8:30 Contracts class tomorrow. But just now I am watching our cat sleep luxuriously on the dining room table, our short-legged dog fervently and persistently testing all vantage points around her to see if now can I reach? Here? Can I reach here? How about here? Can I reach her now? Cat cat cat cat cat cat reach the cat cat cat cat can I reach here? Etc. I am myself enjoying the heavy-limbed ache that is the fruit of a punishing gym routine. I feel stretched out, well fed, and pleasantly exhausted. Today has been a day well-lived. The air conditioner next door loudly whirs. A distant siren wails, tinny and removed from me. My son snores, and the cat. Contracts beckon, but I hold the subject off for a few more minutes, and paint in my mind's eye the memory of a Tuesday night in my first year of law school, mundane and yet lovely. Few are the nights when I comfortably exist in my immediate circumstance, but this is one of them. 9月28日 Cathedrals Watching the Ken Burns national parks doc with half an eye. It's all about Yosemite at the moment, a place where I spent one heartening summer, teaching children how to keep brown bears out of their packs and flush grody camp toilets with your feet. John Muir is such an interesting man, someone about whom I would love to read more. I can remember telling the children I led through Yosemite that he died of a broken heart when they flooded Hetch Hetchy valley. That was part of the standard speech on how the reservoir came to be. I'm interested to see what Ken Burns has to say about that bit of melodrama. Tuolumne Meadows is one of the quintessential places. The hike to Yosemite Falls is one of the toughest this suburban chick has ever done. They keep throwing these place names at me, and memories flood. I feel guilty sitting here with a laptop. Soft. In those days I slept without a tent, just a sleeping bag under the stars. I had a cheap plastic travel mug which served as cup, bowl, plate; wore sarongs and camis with Chaco sandals EVERY SINGLE DAY; and spent my bleary-eyed mornings French braiding middle school girls' hair while they gossiped to me about which boys were cute and who liked who. It was a pretty much completely terrific. "Wildness is an essential part of ourselves that our ordinary lives tempt us to forget," says someone on the tv. They talk of being nerve-shaken, and overcivilized. High-flying rhetoric always gets my goat. Anybody else feel like going camping this weekend? 9月22日 Manslaughtering Little Boys Reading a case in crim about a little boy who was beaten by two adults and then died after they refused to take him to the hospital until it was too late. The case became a contest of medical experts, each defendant trying to prove that the other's beating was the cause of the death. You can only be found guilty of manslaughter if your vicious punch to the abdomen caused his internal bleeding. If all your vicious punch did was badly bruise him, you're just guilty of being a horrific, pathetic mess of a human being (and maybe assault in the second degree.) Oh man. This crap is not easy to read. He was 6 in 1984, making him my age. Lord help me if I have to read about a 1-1/2 year old boy. I hope she doesn't call on me in class for this one. I Liked This Essay http://happydays.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/17/the-referendum/ (Found the link at another blogger's place.) 9月21日 Smack Down Today I made a comment in class that was refuted by a gentleman who declared that "some folks" don't understand what it's like in "the real world," but in his "extensive experience" in the working world, blah blah Gill you're an idiot. I was like - Oh No He Dih-unt. I wear the Crown for Queen of Too Old For This Shizz, and your early-twenties little butt ain't gonna unseat me. If I have to put up with the crows feet and gray hairs encroaching on my youthful hotness, I also get the deference of old age. 9月20日 October Beckons Ah, it's my favorite month, this month of my anniversary (which approacheth post haste!) Back when I was a pretentious and silly young thing, I collected quotes and poems about October in the back of a pink hardbound notebook, a notebook I still have even though I can hardly bear to read the pretentious, silly things I wrote in it. The job I just left has changed me, no doubt, and sometimes I get angry at the Self I was before, the one who thought that being smart and hardworking was all you need to get by, baby. Someday I'll have to deal with this anger I have at the professional world, and the way it handles (maims, crushes, diminishes) women and especially mothers, but it's almost October and October does not lend itself to angst and self loathing. That's more of a February post, when the weather stinks and there are no fun holidays and everyone is depressed. October posts should be about Halloween costumes and root vegetables. October is a month in which I find myself more serene than the other eleven months of the year, and we won't be jacking ourselves up onto a soapbox today. I do realize it's still September, by the by, but football has started and a harvest-y themed Southern Living has just arrived, so I'm in an early fall, October kinda mood. This is the time of year that I make pot pies and beef stew and breads. I've already begun thinking about what Jack will be for Halloween (hint - it has eight legs and it isn't a spider.) I would love to convince my dad to come down here for the holiday. He always did it up right when we were kids: every October 31, slapping face paint and fake blood on us from birth, playing Night on Bald Mountain as loud as the speakers would go, and scaring the crap out of neighborhood kids who came to collect their candy. My sister is coming down just prior to the 31st, and we already have big plans for our annual traditional Scary Movie Night. Young Frankenstein and The Shining are ALWAYS, ALWAYS on the menu on Scary Movie Night. OMG I think we may have to have a Scary Movie Night Preview this week, I just can't wait. Happy End of September, everyone. I have lots to read for Contracts, but with football on in the background and a harvest pumpkin ale in hand. Aaaaah, autumn! 9月19日 Michelle Obama Aint' Got Nothin' My Criminal Law professor is tiny and fierce, a former defense attorney. She's funny, self-effacing - a good teacher, it's a fun class. I have to admit I have a little crush on her. She is the mom of two little boys, and I shamelessly tried to bond on that front. A lot of times I feel more affinity for my teachers than my fellow classmates. There are only 4 parents in my class of nearly 300, and that kind of puts a dividing line between me and them. It is how it is. But anyway. So I attended this lunch lecture that she and 2 other profs did. Not only is she tiny, fierce, funny, and a good teacher - she has the most badass set of arms I've ever seen. I was inclined to ask her her gym routine, but I thought that would be just too much. I'm genuinely interested, but there's no way I can bring it up without sounding like the most pathetic kissup. If I'm ever going to have arms like that, now's the time. Between pregnancies, lots of free time (free time saddled with a toddler, but our gym has babysitting!), flexible schedule. It's time to motivate. I'm going to post a picture of Michelle Obama's guns on my desktop. If she can find the time, I can find the time! 9月17日 FreshOur landlord, who lives upstairs, just brought us some fresh cut basil from her overproductive plant. It's made the whole house smell amazing. Mmmmm. 9月14日 Correction My sister Caki gave us The Little Mermaid and the book described below, not my mom. They both have the same name, Catharine. It's confusing. FYI - I can still recite every word of this movie, every orchestral swell, every sound effect. I watched it 2-3 times a day when it came out. TWENTY YEARS AGO. I'm killing myself now. Zombie Mush Empty Wilting Blaaaaaaah I walked approximately fifty miles last night, all in the comfort of my own home, hefting 30 pounds of toddler. Incidentally, I love describing him this way - 30 pounds of toddler - and when I say this I want you to think of 6 bags of potatoes and how much that would weigh and then I want you to say Bless You Child and know me for the wonder that I am. Anyway, 30 pounds of unhappy toddler began wailing uncontrollably about point oh three seconds after I reached REM depth sleep last night. We let him cry, as we usually do, but he didn't simmer down, as he usually does. The husband and I played the Waaaaaaaait, Pretend You're Asleep, Don't Give In, Deeeeeeeeeeep Sleeeeeeeep game for a while. He won. I huffed loudly, knowing full well he was wide awake and could hear my displeasure, and then went in to rub the 30-pounder's back. He wailed louder. Thinking of the landlords who live upstairs, the childless landlords with the perfect, non-barking dog who had to go to work in a few hours, I began to rub more in earnest. His wails reached screech level, and I pictured the eviction notice on the door as I hauled him out of bed to change his diaper. He was really screaming now, for no reason we could ascertain, and absolutely nothing would calm him down. Usually this Cry It Out method results in further sleep, but occasionally it ends this way - with the baby having gotten good and warmed up, and ready to rumble. Patrick got up to fetch the kid some milk. No dice. I rubbed and patted and did the mom bounce. Nope. Not having it. No rocking, no soothing voice, no music, he was having none of it. As the visuals of a New Lease Agreement with triple rent flashed through my mind (Sorry! Rising costs and all! Can we help you move out?), I hefted him, Bear, and Binkit into my arms and, lower back creaking, began the shuffle. We shuffled to the front of the house, and peeked out the blinds at the night. We turned and shuffled to the back of the house, and looked at the twinkle lights on the tree of the house behind us. We turned and shuffled back. Lather, rinse, repeat, for an hour, me whispering soothing things in his ear the whole time, him getting heavier and heavier in my arms. He stopped crying pretty quickly, gave up whimpering soon after that, and just looked out, silently, at the world that had wronged him. Eventually he put his head down, thumb running over the tail stub of his Bear, fingers laced in the crochet stitches of his Binkit, and breathed deeply. We walked 10 minutes more, and returned to his room, and I lay him on the big bed and lay next to him but OH! NOT READY YET! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!! and I had to start all over. These are the days I wish for a 20th percentile child. I met his needs, because that's what I do, but I wish his needs included a cushiony, pillow-filled wheelbarrow. My arms are champs, but my lower back, as I've mentioned lately a few times, is suffering the hell out of some toddler+law casebooks=no rest. Last night we walked from midnight until 3, largely because I was afraid of disturbing the people who have the power to make us change our address. I thought moving in the same house as the landlords would be great, because it would mean the house was kept up nice. This problem never occurred to me, this fear I have of disturbing them in the wee hours, but now it makes me long for our tiny, impossible little detached house back home in North Carolina, where a toddler could scream for hours and I could at least go stand out on the deck for a breather. He eventually allowed me to lay both of us down on the big bed, where he proceeded to kick me for the next two hours, and if you're adding up all these hours then you'll see that this carried us til dawn. I myself am a poor sleeper, wiggly, too hot, too cold, too stuffy, drafty, can't breathe, blah. Put Jack and me in the same bed and it's no Zs for either of us. He also, Side Note, will only sleep perpendicular to me. He finds my midsection, buries his head in it, and sticks his feet straight out, and given he's almost 3 feet tall that gives me about 5 inches of play on the double bed. This is the way of children, is it not? Take everything you've got, mercilessly, and leave you with your butt hanging off the spare bed just praying that they won't make a sound? It sounds like I'm complaining, but actually I'm not. I thought that as I walked. I thought - my back hurts. I am TIRED. I just want to lay down. He is crying for no reason. It is 3 in the morning. But isn't this nice, just us two. I'll just breathe in his hair, put my hand on the back of his neck, and whisper in his ear. We'll lay together. One day this won't be proper anymore, you know what I'm saying? One day, I won't be able to fix his sadness with a late night shuffle. One day, I won't be able to pick him up and soothe his hurts with the sound of my voice. That'll be the day I can relax at the pool in the afternoon, or read whatever book I want for however long I want, or sit for more than five seconds on the couch without having to leap up and find what dangerous object has caught him in its tractor beam and is reeling him in. That day will have some perks, but how I'll long to hold my baby again, my baby who will be a man. One thing I think I'm good at with this mom thing is enjoying what we have when we have it. Doesn't apply to many areas of my life, but I think it does here. Not that I'm saying I wouldn't mind a few hours off - today is my day to watch him, so I've been chasing him around all day dreaming of his naptime. (He's now taking a nap, and instead of sleeping I'm writing this, because - why? Again? Am I not sleeping now?) I do wish that one his grandmothers lived five minutes away and could take him and do dinner and baths tonight, and let me go to bed at 7 like I want to. But that isn't how we've set up our life, and his dad teaches a class this evening, so it's me trooping along through hour 38 or so of Mommy Duty. In this hour it's become a bit of a trudge, I don't mind saying, but we're having frozen pizza for dinner and I'm not above putting Finding Nemo on repeat, skipping bathtime, and playing a book on tape instead of reading stories. We both make sacrifices in this relationship, ok? I'd love to wind this up but my mush brain is not handing me any cute tag lines. I'll finish with this - my mom sent us a package today. She bought Jack The Little Mermaid, because he loves Nemo so gosh darn ridiculous much, and she's thinking he'll dig another Disney flick about the sea. Included in the package was a book by Lane Walker Foard called "New Parent Apology Cards." This couldn't have come at a better moment. They include customized apologies to the restaurant your baby just trashed, the seatmate on the airplane who had to listen to him scream, your friends and family for forgetting to write thank you notes, and even your own body for the pain you put it through. I'm leaving this one upstairs with a plate of cookies. Food Lion cookies, because who has time to bake?? "It is to engage in severe understatement to sugest that things have been a bit amplified on our side fo the fence lately. The 3 am crying has become extraordinary. . . . We are so very sorry. Your complimentary earplugs will arrive shortly. SORRY." - signed, the 30 pound toddler and his mush-brained zombie parents. And a dog who spent the whole day asleep on the couch. 9月13日 I'm MEEEEEELLLLTTTIIIIIIING It is hot in this house. Patrick has gone to church without us. I am hacking and nose-blowing my way through the morning, relying on Ms. Tele Vision to be babysitter. Jack watches Disney froth, Virgil runs from couch to couch, bored out of his mind, and the cat is sprawled on the cool tiles in the back hall. She has the right idea. I can't wait for the cooling month of October. We're wilting down here. Along with my hair, my clothes, and my lovely potted plants that I dragged all the way here from North Carolina, my blogging inspiration is falling flat. Sorry. I hate to just throw out status updates, but the well has temporarily run dry. My old stand-bys just aren't doing it for me. It's hard to wax poetic on my love for my son when I just want him to take his hot sweaty little body OFF ME RIGHT NOW, go play, leave mama to blow her nose in peace. I lack the energy to search for pretty pictures of places I've lived for Five Environments. I Drink Your Milkshake is on temporary hiatus, although we will most likely be moving again, and I'll probably revive it, ooh la la. I can't have any more angst about whether or not I should go to law school, and now that I'm in it I don't find it to be too terribly hard. I could bore you, as I do my husband, with stories about some of the outrageous cases we read . . . but, as I mentioned, it would bore you, so why waste the energy typing? We don't have cable so I can't discuss what's on tv. Gawd. I'm not bored, but I sure am boring. I'll come up with something. Maybe we should turn down the AC a couple of degrees . . . 9月4日 Ouch Hoisting 30 pounds of toddler has caused me some serious lower back pain today. It doesn't help that I heft around extremely substantial law casebooks whenever I'm not carrying him. I've never had this twingey thing before. Twinge. Twinge. It feels serious. I think I'm dying. This isn't interesting. It's ok, I realize that. But my husband's out of town and I have noone to whom I can complain. It's all on you, innernets. It's either this or rail against hissyfitting politicians, so in an effort to, as I mentioned before, preserve a little mystery - I'll refrain from the latter. Heck, I'll go ahead and refrain from the former, from this sentence on. Carry on with your 3 day weekend. 9月1日 Tuesday with Cake I am thirty one years old today. I share this birthday with little Max, a friend-of-a-friend's baby who was born this morning at 5:30 am, and whose delivery stats I followed closely on facebook, excited for some reason that a new baby would share my big day, even though thousands of new babies are no doubt born on this day every year. I also share this birthday with my sort-of-uncle, that is to say the man who married my husband's maternal aunt. We call each other Birthday Twins, because he is jolly and kind and likes to find things in common with people he sees once a year at weddings or maybe Christmas. And so am I, I suppose. I also share this birthday with someone in my Torts class. I called happy birthday to him across the room, and he called the same to me, and then everyone started talking about being twenty four years old and approaching thirty and all of that. I didn't share my shiny new age. I'm trying to practice preserving a little mystery. Tonight it's just us three. We will go to the pool, and then we will go to have dinner, and then we will eat a cake I made my husband bake for me, and I'll open the gifts that came to me by mail. The day will pass. My brother will forget to call. Happy Birthday to me. 8月30日 Saturday Late wakeups. Coffee and magazines, Jack still in bed. Adult quiet for a few blissful moments. Up, dressed, in the car. We leave our urban home, looking for Nature. We find her, dear god, Nature with all her enormous spiders and enormous flightless grasshoppers black as night and enormous alligators rolling, trolling through bayou. A hike, one with no change in elevation, on life-saving, elevated boardwalk, as the calculating reptilian face ponders our toddler's chubby legs, dangling from the Ergo baby carrier like Tantalus's fruit - deliciousness, just out of reach of his jaws. Thanking, again, the builders of the elevated boardwalk, which intervention saved Mama from having to tussle with an alligator. Then he is asleep, face planted in the middle of Dad's sweaty back, as we rumble through the tropical, spideriffic forest, steamy, swampy, hot, heading back to the parking lot where I shake out my hair. No spiders. After, we stop for gluttony at Sonic Drive In - grilled cheese, burgers, fries, tater tots, and ice cream shakes to finish it off, all this without even having to step out of our car. I spoon tiny bites of ice cream into Jack's baby bird mouth. Home, naps all 'round. A little laundry, a little tv, early bedtime. In the night, lightning, thunder. The dog frets, the baby cries. I pull him out of his crib and into bed with me. A chubby arm around my neck, wide glistening eyes. Nestled in the curl of my body, he sleeps. 8月25日 Rockin' the SuburbsThis title has nothing to do with anything, except the Ben Folds song is in my head.
The toughest thing about law school so far has been managing the information feeds. I have approximately forty seven new websites I have to constantly check to see what's coming up when for this class, that organization, this Career Development whatever-the-heck. Each one of them has their own username and password, and keeping them straight is - phoo - a chore. I spent this evening trying to figure out a system to manage, filter, and automatically feed this info to myself. I was unsuccessful. But tomorrow, once more unto the breach. I also have to decide which organizations I want to join, and quick - each carries a $25 membership dues, so I can't go signing up willy nilly. I'm most interested in the Environmental Law Society, Public Interest Law Forum, and the Black Law Students Assocation. Yes, I'm white as a ghost, but see I want to show my son (who happens to be a white male) that diversity is something we don't just pay lip service to. When I found out it cost $25, though, I wanted to slink away from the initial meeting. I'm not racist, I'm just cheap. However, now that I've been to one, and everyone will remember me because I was one of the two non-African-American people there (and the other one is disabled, which means no one is going to mistake her for me or vice versa), I feel compelled to cough up the bucks. It's a weird situation.
Quick crash course on the Socratic method - which is how they teach in law school. We read briefs of cases for each class, and then when we arrive some poor slob gets called on and becomes sort of the Captain of the day's case. The teacher asks the student questions about the case, just that one student for the full hour of class, and h/she either answers correctly or incorrectly, and it can either be an informative hour for the rest of the class, or an incredibly awkward and stare-at-your-shoes kind of hour. Most teachers that I have at my school are not known for drawing it out once it becomes painfully obvious that the day's Captain didn't prepare, but at some more competitive schools it can be brutal. So anyway, on Monday I arrive to Contracts and breathe a sigh of relief that my name wasn't called. Ditto Criminal Law for later that day. The same for Civil Procedure this morning. And then, at Torts, our very interesting and charismatic and popular teacher closes his eyes, waggles his "fickle finger of fate" as he likes to call it, and makes a big show of selecting a name at random from the class roster. And guess who he calls??
I laughed out loud, and raised my hand, and he asked me if I was ready. I tried very hard to answer Absolutely! with gusto, though I think it ended up as more of a high pitched chrip. In any case, I did just fine. There were a few stumbles - and can I say how annoying it is when I am thinking for three seconds about the answer to a question and 20 hands go up? relax, kiddos, your day will come, ok? - but for the most part I got to his points pretty quickly, and the hour went by without any memorable screwups. There was one thing I didn't know, and I told him I didn't know, and he opened it to the rest of the class. Turns out all the brainiacs with their hands up didn't know either - a few wrong guesses were tossed out before he finally had to tell us. Anyhow, I'm sort of glad I was first because now I can relax - although we didn't finish with the case on this day, so I'll still be on the hot seat come Thursday afternoon. At the end of class, a girl came up and said I'd done wonderfully, and she could tell I was smart, and could she have my email address so we could form a study group? I beamed.
So far, and this is HUBRIS screaming loud and clear from over my shoulder - so far, this isn't that crazy hard. I know as we get deeper into the semester the readings will get a bit longer, more detailed, and require closer reading, but I was expecting way worse as far as a work load. I was reading and doing more with my self-assigned pre-reading stuff before law school started. I have to say I am so glad I read Planet Law School II and did the readings he suggested - or anyway, as much as I could get through with a full time job, baby, house and two cars on the market, move, etc. Any 1L wannabes who stumble on this ever in the future and wonder how to prepare for your first year of law school? Do that! Remember hyperbole sells books, so when the author talks about how horrific law school professors are, and how you learn nothing, and all that jazz - remember it probably won't be that bad. But also know that there will be a lot of legal terms bandied about, lots of assumptions about what you already know about the law, and you'll have an easier time of it if you've had some exposure to at least a few of these things ahead of time. Says the genius after day two of class. Perhaps you should check back after I've taken an exam. 8月23日 Hello (hello) (hello) Is there an echo in here? (in here?) (in here?) Anybody there? (there?) (there?) Orientation is ova, homies. It went fine. I was being a snot about it, but it was actually pretty useful. I met some wonderful people, including a mom! Who is in her early thirties! Has a one year old boy! Married to a student finishing his PhD! AND they just moved here from where we used to live in North Carolina. If I wasn't so relieved to meet her, I might've been creeped out. We have a date planned. She and I are 2 of about 5 parents in the whole class of 288. There is a large number of frat boys and girls still seeking their M.R.S. degrees, and also a large section of really cool people who I like. Most of them are 2 years out of undergrad, putting them 7 years younger than me, but still. I think we'll get along. Class starts tomorrow. I just realized that the bookstore, which shuttled us through a line and handed us our required books to purchase without letting us verify we were getting the right ones - anyway, the bookstore neglected to sell me the book I'm required to bring to class tomorrow morning at 8:30 am. Oh well. He can't kill me, right? 8月17日 One Sentence Story - The WisdomParenting, like driving, is an act of such magnitude and potential for life-altering screwup . . . that when performing it, it's best not to think too deeply about it and just enjoy the ride. |
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