Lawyer Mama

High School is History

*****
Edited to add: After I wrote this post, I read something that made me incredibly angry.  Some people who didn't like me in high school for god knows what reason and have never known me other than by name, have decided to hurl insults at me from afar. Talk about being stuck in high school.  But, sweetie, let me make this clear: you don't want to get into a bitch fight with me on the blogosphere.  Trust me on that.

I write about myself and my family on this blog.  I don't write about the daily bullshit of my life - going to the store, scrapbooking, picking up the kids from soccer.  Frankly, that bores the shit out of me.  If you think I'm self-absorbed because I write about my inner world or that I'm living life as an adolescent because I wrote two posts about high school in the last TWO YEARS, maybe a blog isn't the right place for you.  I'm just sayin'.

And yes, I tend to swear a lot when I'm angry.  My husband loves it.  (-;
*****

Everyone has a gripping stranger in their lives, Andy, a stranger who unwittingly possesses a bizarre hold over you. Maybe it's the kid in cut-offs who mows your lawn or the woman wearing white shoulders who stamps your book at the library - a stranger who, if you were to come home and find a message from them on your answering machine saying, "Drop everything. I love you. Come away with me now to Florida," you'd follow them. 

-- Douglas Coupland, Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture

I've been thinking about my personal history a lot over the last few weeks.  Maybe it's because of my little walk down Boyfriend Memory Lane.  Maybe it's because old friends from my two high schools keep popping up on Facebook or in my email.  (Hi, Brian, Katie, Bobby, Christy, Dan, Scott, and anyone else from high school who wanders by!)

This isn't to say that I live in the past.  In fact, aside from the last week or so, and a moment of discovery here or there, high school, isn't something that I spend much time thinking about at all.  I haven't shared my high school foibles and romances here in Flashback Fridays like so many people do.  I haven't posted my prom pictures or reminisced about the crazy things we did after football games and at Katie's lake cabin.  I don't write about much of that because I don't think about it.

However, I'm afraid that a few people, one person in particular, after seeing the huge number of posts about high school - yeah all two of them - and the people from it, have gotten the wrong idea.  I am not a single post (or two) on my blog.  From that small selection it would be easy to decide that I regret something or someone. 

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Although I'm certainly not a religious person, I do believe that everything happens for a reason.  To understand that about me, all you have to do is read my series on infertility.  Everything in my life has led me to where I am now, with my family as it is now.

There are people from my past that I will always care about and yes, be curious about.  There is one person in particular that someday I would love to sit down and just catch up with, without all that baggage and bullshit that accompanies relationships.  Someone I wish I could be friends with.  Someone I once loved and now wish all the best in life.  Someone I wish I could know would be OK in the end, despite all the bad luck and tragedy.

Does that make any sense at all? 

I'm not a threat.  I shouldn't even be a disturbance or a blip on the radar because, let's be absolutely clear here: I married the love of my life.

T is my soul mate, my bashert, my gripping stranger.  The day I met him changed my life forever.  He is my best friend, the best of fathers, an amazingly caring and understanding husband, and the best man I've ever known.  He tells me that I give him too much credit, but he truly is my better half.

Together we have two beautiful little boys and will hopefully have another baby if my battered body, and my endocrinologist, will let me.  (No, not right now.  Mom, Dad, no need to alert the media.)

These three boys, one big, two small, are my world.  We were meant to be.

I met T when I was 21.  A mere babe.  We got married when I was 22 and he was 25.  Looking back on our very young selves, T and I both realize how incredibly lucky we've been.  So many of the people we know who got married right out of college are now divorced.  Some are even on their second marriages. If you think about it, 21 or 22 is really far too young for most people to get married.  I didn't know who I was or what I really wanted at 22.  Hell, I'll go so far as to say I wasn't really a grown up yet.

T and I will celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary in two weeks.  We survived because we worked hard at our relationship.  We grew together, instead of growing apart.  Still, T and I are just different enough to keep things interesting.  I'm a Democrat; he's a Republican.  I have a law degree; T has a masters in International Relations and undergraduate degrees in political science and history.  Wanna guess what we fight about the most?

Ah, the fighting.  I think that's actually what made me realize that T and I were going to be together for good.  The first time we had a conflict, he actually fought back.

You see, I'm a pretty stubborn person.  I'm also quite the steamroller.  And I can be a little intimidating.  (Or so I've been told.)  I'd never dated a guy before T who didn't just give in or only put up token resistance to my arguments.  I don't want someone who either agrees with my every thought or, disagrees but hates conflict so much he just lets me have my way.  I've had both of those.  Neither is conducive to a lasting relationship that grows.  Boooooorrring.

I'm convinced that fighting is what makes our marriage work so well.  Some think that any conflict is a sign of trouble.  I think that's ridiculous.  Conflict is a sign of passion.  Conflict is also a sign of two independent-minded people who have to figure out their differences and compromise in a way that works for both of them.  A marriage without conflict is boring as shit.  A marriage without conflict never grows.

So you see, T and I, we're for good.

I spend about 99 percent of my time on this blog talking about myself (well, it is my blog), my kids (they're so darn adorable how could I not?), and my husband (just to keep him on his toes).  The other 1% of my time covers political posts that leak over here from MOMocrats and people from my past.  That pretty much sums up what's important to me and in what proportion.

So read my blog or don't read it.  Pretend I don't exist and delete me on Facebook.  (By the way, ouch. That stung.)  But this is the last post directed to you.  Perhaps your very own blog post seems like overkill, but this is something that I need to say and obviously it's not going to happen through direct communication. That's too bad, but I'm not going to be dragged into a drama that doesn't concern me.

My blog is more or less anonymous.  Some people know who I am because they are my friends or I've let them know.  But if you look at my blog, my full name doesn't appear anywhere on it.  And honestly, if I'd thought anything I wrote here on my blog would hurt anyone, I wouldn't write it in the first place. If passively aggressively hurling insults makes you feel better, knock yourself out.  You're free to write anything you want on your blog, just as I am free to write what I want on mine. 

You don't have to read it if it bothers you so much.

I have the kindest of thoughts, wishes and hopes for you and your husband.  Whether you believe that, and how you feel about me, is entirely within your control.  But don't make me larger than I am.  Don't make me more important than I am.  Don't make him more important to me than he is.  Because he's not.

They are:

He is:

I don't know how to make this any clearer.  Got it?

*** No, that isn't our wedding picture.  It was taken at T's brother's wedding in January of 2002, I think. Jamie, correct me if I'm wrong!

Our Newest Family Member

Her name is Patches. Hollis picked her out, so he named her Patches, despite the fact that she really doesn't have any patches. But the name seems to suit her anyway.

Yes, she does look an awful lot like Pandy, with white whiskers, white socks, and a white belly. But her cutest feature is totally unique - a little white diamond between her eyes. I thought of all sorts of clever names for her, but I guess the days of actually getting to name our pets are over!

Patches is a rescue kitten and comes with a host of health problems. Our vet tells us she has roundworm, lungworm, and a respiratory virus. We have to keep her isolated from Hilly until she's better. But Patches has made a little boy very happy.


If you're interested, I'm pissing off people left and right on D.C. Metro Moms Blog. I seem to have started a small mommy war. Oops.

Our Newest Family Member

Her name is Patches. Hollis picked her out, so he named her Patches, despite the fact that she really doesn't have any patches. But the name seems to suit her anyway.

Yes, she does look an awful lot like Pandy, with white whiskers, white socks, and a white belly. But her cutest feature is totally unique - a little white diamond between her eyes. I thought of all sorts of clever names for her, but I guess the days of actually getting to name our pets are over!

Patches is a rescue kitten and comes with a host of health problems. Our vet tells us she has roundworm, lungworm, and a respiratory virus. We have to keep her isolated from Hilly until she's better. But Patches has made a little boy very happy.


If you're interested, I'm pissing off people left and right on D.C. Metro Moms Blog. I seem to have started a small mommy war. Oops.

Mommy Blogs are the New Pink

The recent brouhaha over at Pundit Mom's has made me think about a lot of things. Some are obvious if you've been following Linda Hirshman's attack on Pundit Mom and the aftermath - what I think feminism should be, of course, and combining motherhood and family. But a comment by a poster at PM's place really stopped me cold. A 25 year old, childless law student, I suppose in defense of Linda Hirshman, went after PM personally. She managed to hit below the belt, attacking a blogger I consider a "friend" and an important part of this little blogging community I've found here in cyberspace. I made the mistake of responding to her comment, which was clearly intended to provoke ire, by pointing out that it is awfully easy to judge women with children when you don't have any yourself. Only I didn't say it quite so nicely. I believe my exact words were "come back to play when you're a bit older and maybe we'll listen to you." That resulted in an interesting comment exchange on my last post, where she insulted all Mommy blogs as "creepy:"

[...]the theme on all these mommyblogs seems to be an almost creepy mantra of "mothering is the most important job." Why the need for constant restatement of your position? I don't understand it. In other words, if you (plural) knew in your heart of hearts that mothering is the most important job, or more important than lawyering, why do you (plural) need to state and restate it at every chance you get?

Yeah, I know I shouldn't have let myself get drawn into a pissing match, but I did. Live and learn. However, the whole exchange has made me think quite a bit about how my life has - no, how I have changed since having children and why it is that I, and so many others, feel the need to blog about it.

Before you have kids everyone tells you how much your life will change, blah, blah, blah, blah. But you don't get it. You can't get it. You won't get it. Until you join that sleep deprived, wondrous, frustrating, awe inspiring, hands in poo, overwhelming, beautiful, baby puke covered, life altering Mommy Club. (Or Daddy Club.) I hate to quote that corny Johnson & Johnson commercial (makes me cry every time, damn it!) but having a baby changes everything. Being responsible for this little creature not only feels like someone cracked open your chest and pulled your guts out with a pitchfork, it changes how you think and how you view the world. You start to see the world through the filter of Motherhood, with a capital M.

I watch the news or hear about a car accident, a murder, or even worse, abuse of a child and through my Mommygoggles, I picture one of my children dead on the side of the road/stabbed/battered and beaten. Having children has changed how I view war and global warming and even my job. I think very carefully about how I treat people, how I act, the example I set, all in a way I never did before. As a mother, I am motivated to truly make the world a better place in a totally different way. Welcoming a child into your world fundamentally alters everything about you in way you couldn't possibly have expected. It's the converse of a brush with death, but it alters you in a similar way - you realize that your family, the people you care about, your children, are the most important thing in the world.

And then we all step into the dark underbelly of the Mommy (or Daddy) Club.

The guilt. The judgment.

The fear.

Oh, the fear. We push it out of our minds, and move back to the guilt. And the judgment.

Nothing evokes more passionate feelings of hatred and judgment than the work versus stay-at-home debate. We're hit with it from both sides. If you stay at home, you're wasting your education and are a drain on society (ala Linda Hirshman). If you work and enjoy it, you're worse than a child abuser. (See comments). If you have to work to pay the bills or work part-time, then you're somewhere in Mommy purgatory. But really, honestly, all of us are part of that same wonderful, scary Mommy Club. We should support one another rather than tear each other apart. Deep down, I think every Mommy who lets a grenade fly knows that. They know how hard it is to make a choice.

The complaint I got from the comments of the vitriolic poster I quoted above was that we (meaning Mommy bloggers) keep repeating over and over that motherhood is the most important thing in the world unnecessarily. What she didn't understand, and I don't know how to explain, is that being a parent is the most important thing that many of us will ever do. But motherhood, and the way it elementally changes you, is scary as hell. And so we write about it. We try to make others understand how we feel, we seek others who understand, and we share all those frightening and overwhelming feelings in the way we know best. We've built our own little blogging community of people who understand exactly why it is that our families are more important than any paying job we will ever have.

The commenter above also made a valid point - that everyone can have something to say about the work versus family debate. I completely agree. I agree that everyone in our society should be able to join the discussion about combining work and family. It's an issue that concerns all of us, male and female, young and old, childless or not. But how do you explain to someone who doesn't have children, who doesn't yet know what's in store, just how hard that choice between career and family is? How do you explain how wonderful and terrifying it is to be so completely and irrevocably changed by another human being? I have absolutely no idea. But I think that all these Mommy Blogs are a damn good start to the conversation.

Mommy Blogs are the New Pink

The recent brouhaha over at Pundit Mom's has made me think about a lot of things. Some are obvious if you've been following Linda Hirshman's attack on Pundit Mom and the aftermath - what I think feminism should be, of course, and combining motherhood and family. But a comment by a poster at PM's place really stopped me cold. A 25 year old, childless law student, I suppose in defense of Linda Hirshman, went after PM personally. She managed to hit below the belt, attacking a blogger I consider a "friend" and an important part of this little blogging community I've found here in cyberspace. I made the mistake of responding to her comment, which was clearly intended to provoke ire, by pointing out that it is awfully easy to judge women with children when you don't have any yourself. Only I didn't say it quite so nicely. I believe my exact words were "come back to play when you're a bit older and maybe we'll listen to you." That resulted in an interesting comment exchange on my last post, where she insulted all Mommy blogs as "creepy:"

[...]the theme on all these mommyblogs seems to be an almost creepy mantra of "mothering is the most important job." Why the need for constant restatement of your position? I don't understand it. In other words, if you (plural) knew in your heart of hearts that mothering is the most important job, or more important than lawyering, why do you (plural) need to state and restate it at every chance you get?

Yeah, I know I shouldn't have let myself get drawn into a pissing match, but I did. Live and learn. However, the whole exchange has made me think quite a bit about how my life has - no, how I have changed since having children and why it is that I, and so many others, feel the need to blog about it.

Before you have kids everyone tells you how much your life will change, blah, blah, blah, blah. But you don't get it. You can't get it. You won't get it. Until you join that sleep deprived, wondrous, frustrating, awe inspiring, hands in poo, overwhelming, beautiful, baby puke covered, life altering Mommy Club. (Or Daddy Club.) I hate to quote that corny Johnson & Johnson commercial (makes me cry every time, damn it!) but having a baby changes everything. Being responsible for this little creature not only feels like someone cracked open your chest and pulled your guts out with a pitchfork, it changes how you think and how you view the world. You start to see the world through the filter of Motherhood, with a capital M.

I watch the news or hear about a car accident, a murder, or even worse, abuse of a child and through my Mommygoggles, I picture one of my children dead on the side of the road/stabbed/battered and beaten. Having children has changed how I view war and global warming and even my job. I think very carefully about how I treat people, how I act, the example I set, all in a way I never did before. As a mother, I am motivated to truly make the world a better place in a totally different way. Welcoming a child into your world fundamentally alters everything about you in way you couldn't possibly have expected. It's the converse of a brush with death, but it alters you in a similar way - you realize that your family, the people you care about, your children, are the most important thing in the world.

And then we all step into the dark underbelly of the Mommy (or Daddy) Club.

The guilt. The judgment.

The fear.

Oh, the fear. We push it out of our minds, and move back to the guilt. And the judgment.

Nothing evokes more passionate feelings of hatred and judgment than the work versus stay-at-home debate. We're hit with it from both sides. If you stay at home, you're wasting your education and are a drain on society (ala Linda Hirshman). If you work and enjoy it, you're worse than a child abuser. (See comments). If you have to work to pay the bills or work part-time, then you're somewhere in Mommy purgatory. But really, honestly, all of us are part of that same wonderful, scary Mommy Club. We should support one another rather than tear each other apart. Deep down, I think every Mommy who lets a grenade fly knows that. They know how hard it is to make a choice.

The complaint I got from the comments of the vitriolic poster I quoted above was that we (meaning Mommy bloggers) keep repeating over and over that motherhood is the most important thing in the world unnecessarily. What she didn't understand, and I don't know how to explain, is that being a parent is the most important thing that many of us will ever do. But motherhood, and the way it elementally changes you, is scary as hell. And so we write about it. We try to make others understand how we feel, we seek others who understand, and we share all those frightening and overwhelming feelings in the way we know best. We've built our own little blogging community of people who understand exactly why it is that our families are more important than any paying job we will ever have.

The commenter above also made a valid point - that everyone can have something to say about the work versus family debate. I completely agree. I agree that everyone in our society should be able to join the discussion about combining work and family. It's an issue that concerns all of us, male and female, young and old, childless or not. But how do you explain to someone who doesn't have children, who doesn't yet know what's in store, just how hard that choice between career and family is? How do you explain how wonderful and terrifying it is to be so completely and irrevocably changed by another human being? I have absolutely no idea. But I think that all these Mommy Blogs are a damn good start to the conversation.

Sebastian is NOT a Chicken!

T recently taught H&H the Chicken Dance.





It's frigging hilarious! However, T is now using his power for evil.

T hates the Miami Hurricanes. (T is a Nebraska fan.) He tolerates their existence because of my love for the Canes, but still constantly makes fun of the Miami mascot - Sebastian, the ibis. (Like, Herbie Husker is anything to be proud of, T!) Anyway, T was wearing one of my Miami sweatshirts yesterday and Hollis kept pointing to it & then doing the chicken dance arm flap (see video above). T swears he didn't teach him that, but it looked suspicious to me....

Sebastian is NOT a Chicken!

T recently taught H&H the Chicken Dance.





It's frigging hilarious! However, T is now using his power for evil.

T hates the Miami Hurricanes. (T is a Nebraska fan.) He tolerates their existence because of my love for the Canes, but still constantly makes fun of the Miami mascot - Sebastian, the ibis. (Like, Herbie Husker is anything to be proud of, T!) Anyway, T was wearing one of my Miami sweatshirts yesterday and Hollis kept pointing to it & then doing the chicken dance arm flap (see video above). T swears he didn't teach him that, but it looked suspicious to me....

Sebastian is NOT a Chicken!

T recently taught H&H the Chicken Dance.





It's frigging hilarious! However, T is now using his power for evil.

T hates the Miami Hurricanes. (T is a Nebraska fan.) He tolerates their existence because of my love for the Canes, but still constantly makes fun of the Miami mascot - Sebastian, the ibis. (Like, Herbie Husker is anything to be proud of, T!) Anyway, T was wearing one of my Miami sweatshirts yesterday and Hollis kept pointing to it & then doing the chicken dance arm flap (see video above). T swears he didn't teach him that, but it looked suspicious to me....

Sebastian is NOT a Chicken!

T recently taught H&H the Chicken Dance.





It's frigging hilarious! However, T is now using his power for evil.

T hates the Miami Hurricanes. (T is a Nebraska fan.) He tolerates their existence because of my love for the Canes, but still constantly makes fun of the Miami mascot - Sebastian, the ibis. (Like, Herbie Husker is anything to be proud of, T!) Anyway, T was wearing one of my Miami sweatshirts yesterday and Hollis kept pointing to it & then doing the chicken dance arm flap (see video above). T swears he didn't teach him that, but it looked suspicious to me....

Sharing

The other day after admonishing Hollis to SHARE his legos with Holden for the 5000th time, I started to think about sharing a bit more. I mean, I can understand why it's such a hard concept for toddlers to grasp. Most of the adults I know still haven't figured out how to share. When was the last time you had some random stranger sitting next to you in the movie theater reach over & take your popcorn away? Never happened to you? So can you get why a toddler would be slightly peeved when some kid on the playground comes over & wants to use your toddler's favorite truck? I totally get it.

So if we're going to insist that our toddlers share with everyone, let's apply the same rules to ourselves. We could start with Israel and Palestine and make them sit down and figure out how to share. Maybe that's too controversial to start out, so let's try this - the next time a pan handler on the street asks you for some money, bust out your wallet and give him a few bucks. Sharing's not so hard, is it?

Sharing

The other day after admonishing Hollis to SHARE his legos with Holden for the 5000th time, I started to think about sharing a bit more. I mean, I can understand why it's such a hard concept for toddlers to grasp. Most of the adults I know still haven't figured out how to share. When was the last time you had some random stranger sitting next to you in the movie theater reach over & take your popcorn away? Never happened to you? So can you get why a toddler would be slightly peeved when some kid on the playground comes over & wants to use your toddler's favorite truck? I totally get it.

So if we're going to insist that our toddlers share with everyone, let's apply the same rules to ourselves. We could start with Israel and Palestine and make them sit down and figure out how to share. Maybe that's too controversial to start out, so let's try this - the next time a pan handler on the street asks you for some money, bust out your wallet and give him a few bucks. Sharing's not so hard, is it?