happy new year

I still haven't unpacked my bags and am chasing Andrew up and down the stairs so no time for a long post.

Just wanted to wish you all a happy and healthy new year.

The Other Celebration

I honestly don't know what people do on Christmas Eve. You know, the people who actually celebrate Christmas... My whole life, this night has been the same as most Jews everywhere - Chinese food and a movie - because that's the only stuff that's open for us!

This year, however, while the rest of you were doing Christmas Eve your way, we were holding the other celebration tonight. We have a new tradition you see... Christmas Eve means birthday party now.

Everyone just left from celebrating Andrew's first birthday. He finally conked out after spending the last hour crashing from a nasty sugar high. He was hysterical demolishing his birthday cake, throwing it everywhere and smashing it into his face.

Merry Christmas to you and your family. And a very happy birthday to my little guy :)

malls suck

I'm missing whatever girly girl gene is supposed to make me start planning every detail of my future wedding by age 5 and name all of my future children by 7. If makeup weren't part of the required uniform, I'd never wear it. And I really hate shopping.

I try to avoid the mall whenever possible. The teenie boppers annoy me. The people working at the kiosks need to stop trying to sell hair straighteners, fake hair and "as seen on tv" products. And the people with the horrible smelling perfumes - wouldn't the world be a better place without these women spritzing obnoxious odors in your face? As a rule, I don't go anywhere near the mall the entire month of December.

Except this year...

With everything that's happened the past 2 months, I ran out of time to do my shopping. Online purchases will no longer reach me by tomorrow when the family is getting together to exchange gifts... I had to brave the mall.

So I headed out and began cursing my procrastination immediately upon entering the parking lot. There wasn't a single spot anywhere. Even across the street at the typically empty Dick's Sporting Goods. After circling the mall, hunting poor shoppers and stalking them to their parking spaces for 20 minutes, I broke down and attempted to valet my car. $8 to park your car at the damn mall is outrageous. I would have paid it - but they were full. I had to park down the hill and take a freaking BUS to the stores.

The mall was full of last minute shoppers. Don't these people have to work????

I fought my way through the crowds to the Children's Place. Honestly, I just needed some socks. But one look at the line wrapped half way out the door, I knew I couldn't wait 25 minutes for socks. I quickly scanned the store to see if anything truly unnecessary caught my eye. I scooped up a couple outfits and waited impatiently to make my way to the front of the line. As I stood there, 5 women attempted to cut in front of me ("oh! I didn't realize you were on line") and 3 people slammed into me then yelled at ME for getting in their way.

Thirty minutes later, I was off to the toy store to find birthday presents for my boy. Poor kid has his birthday Christmas Eve so even at age 1, he can't be screwed by not getting enough stuff for either the holidays or his birthday. Our mall has a Kaybee toys - which is going out of business - so the place was mobbed! I actually had a woman stomp on my foot and grab an "Elmo Live" doll out of my hands.

Only the fear of calling my boss from jail to come bail me out kept me from punching that cow.

My head was throbbing from listening to the blaring Christmas music. I was hobbling through the stores after being stomped on. And I still didn't find anything I needed.

I left the mall totally defeated and virtually empty handed.

Bah humbug!

frost bite

It is so cold in here that I think I'm getting frost bite. I haven't been able to feel my fingers in an hour and I can see my breath as I type this. It's absolutely frigid outside but I think it's actually warmer out there than it is in here.

I'm all for little cost saving measures so that we can get our bonus checks this year... but skimping on the heat isn't one of the more brilliant ideas.

I'm turning into an icicle. If you don't hear from me for a couple days, send someone to my office to thaw me out.

the office

This shirt has nothing to do with the post - I just think it's funny. My friend actually wore it to an interview. Yes, she got the job.

I haven't worked a full week since the end of October. Even with these short weeks, there still is no shortage of things that drive me crazy at the office.

Here are just a few of my complaints this week:

I'm split between 2 secretaries...who also work for 5 other people. This makes no sense. It also makes no sense that with 2 people covering my calls and my calendar, I have missed more appointments, phone calls and messages than anyone else in the office.

Last week, I asked a certain someone to send out a letter. It had already been typed, signed and the envelopes were done. Instead of sending it out, she put the letter on someone else's desk where it sat for 5 days until they came in again. Now, I don't ask a lot of my staff, but COME ON! How lazy can you possibly be? Or how stupid? Did she really think I wouldn't find out?

People who spend all day making personal phone calls drive me crazy. (First, see above.) And I mean ALL DAY LONG. From the moment they walk through the door to the second they leave at night. By the way, someone should be more discrete. I know who you're talking to. And I don't think your husband would approve.

3 stalls and 95 women... you do the math. this just doesn't work!

The self review. Why make me engage in this pre-review torture? My opinion doesn't count. If it did, you'd ask me questions that are actually relevant to who I am and what I do. My review isn't even with the guys in my department - you know, the ones who actually work with me. I don't even think those guys weigh in on my review. So why bother?

You know how you go to college and gain the freshman 15? Yeah, my office is kind of like that too. Forget about trying to lose weight when you work here, it's impossible not to gain a ton of weight with all the crap people are always bringing in. And you can't avoid it. Even if you stay away from the kitchen, the stuff sneaks its way into your office anyway.

The people in the mailroom are LAZY. They give me all the mail for everyone who's name starts with the letter J. Is it really that hard to take 2 seconds to read the full name? Despite what they think, Jaime, Jim, Jay and Jules really are 4 different people. Stop wasting my time. I can't bill for reading their mail...

And my personal favorite: The powers that be decided that we're all so untrustworthy that they are going to run credit checks on us twice a year. Yeah...can someone please tell me how intruding into my personal finances has any correlation to the likelihood that I'm going to rip off my clients by stealing from the trust account? or why these credit checks would serve as more of a deterrant than, i don't know, the loss of my license to practice?

Let's Do It Again

We now take a break from our regularly scheduled programming to bring you Round 2 of Secret Santa Can Suck It! brought to you by our host, Bee, and starring yours truly...at least on this page.

Just give me a moment to slip into my Santa hat and boots so I can properly get into character.

Ahh...Much better.

Today's recipient is (drum roll please) Queen Goob!

Let's see what's waiting for you inside Santa's bag of tricks




Santa has been very generous this year and there are lots of presents with your name on them.

It looks like Santa stole these from VE - but he probably won't mind if you wear them for awhile.

Sexy? Or tacky? Either way, it's from one of my favorite Christmas movies and now it's all yours!

A mooning Santa? He must really like you...

This may look like an unassuming candle but when you finish burning it to the ground, The Money Tree really contains money.

And finally, for your use next year -or this year if you act fast- someone to clean, decorate the house, put up the Christmas tree...

do all your holiday shopping (on their dime, of course) and wrap all your presents.

Merry Christmas

Vacation

My eyes are closed...I'm taking deep breaths...I'm trying to picture myself in this beautiful setting. (this was the view from the lobby of my hotel on my honeymoon in case you were wondering)

It's not working.

After hubby and I got married, his parents decided that instead of wasting money on presents that no one really wanted in the first place, we would all get together and take a trip somewhere. Nice idea - really nice idea - in theory. In practice, well, that's another story.

My family plans. We're organized. We make all necessary arrangements months in advance. Reservations are made, we have tickets to whatever activities we want to partake in and we've made plans to see everyone we want to see. You may call this being anal - whatever it is, it helps us relax knowing that when we finally get on vacation, we don't have to worry about a thing and can just unwind.

His family...well, they're from Maine. And if you know any Mainers, you understand completely. If you don't, Mainers are the most laid back, indecisive, trust the force type of folks out there.

I suppose neither way is right or wrong. But it's like we're from two different planets sometimes.

Next week we're heading off to Florida.

And I am so stressed over everything that isn't done yet. We're a party of 15 and don't have dinner reservations for Christmas. Even if it wasn't Christmas, don't you think with having a young kid and a party that huge reservations are kind of a requirement? We don't know how we're getting to and from the airport. They don't even know when the flights are. And they won't tell me when they're making it down to Jersey next week so I can plan my son's birthday party around their arrival because they will be pissed if they miss a second of the action.

Maybe you're reading this thinking, "Jaime - you're the planner. Just step in and get things done." Believe me, I've wanted to hijack control of this trip. I could have had everything planned, arranged and set in a couple hours. I'd be relaxed knowing I had taken care of all the details and they'd be happy because they could sit back and not plan anything...

The answer is simple: I'm not allowed.

Everything will eventually get done - in the most backwards way possible - and we'll have a good time. I just have to keep reminding myself to take a lesson from them and trust the force...

...and drink - heavily

Bananas are Evil

Stupid bananas!

I'm allergic to them. Always have been. No one believes me when I say this because "NO ONE is allergic to bananas." I avoid the damn things like the plague.

The last time I touched one was during 12th grade home ec. My kitchen partners were cutting so it was just me and a recipe for banana bread. I asked to team up with another group. My teacher said no. I explained I'd spike a fever and break out in hives if she made me work with bananas. "That's rediculous! No one is allergic to bananas." Then she threatned to fail me if I didn't get in the kitchen and start baking.

So I did. And, despite my best efforts to keep the fruit away from my flesh, an hour later I was burning up and covered in angry red splotches. I took great pleasure going to my teacher's last class of the day, interrupting the lecture with an "I told you so!" while displaying my arms -which by now were covered in the biggest hives you've ever seen.

She gave me an A.

Anyway...I think I had a point here somewhere...

My son loves bananas. He would eat them every day if he could. Hubby takes over the feeding responsibilities when banana is on the menu. Except today because he was working.

I didn't really think about it as I reached for the box of oatmeal, forgetting it contained bananas. (In my defense, it was the only box of cereal left in the house as hubby forgot to go shopping this week.) Andrew decided it was time to try feeding himself and grabbed the spoon, flinging oatmeal all over the kitchen and all over me. He thought it was hysterical and I did too at the time.

Until about an hour ago. That was when the itching started. I am now covered head to toe in ugly banana blotches. Seeing them makes me even itchier.

To make matters just a little worse, my legs got it the worst and all my pant suits are at the dry cleaner. Every last one of them. I am going to look rediculous in court tomorrow.

The Public Defender's Tale

I’ve been alternating between 2 briefs since I got to work at 7:30 this morning. One was a total surprise because - silly me - I assumed when I wasn’t asked to work on it, it was under control and not completely forgotten. I haven’t had more than a 30 second break all day and meals so far consisted of a bottle of water and 2 clementines at my desk.

I'm more than a little punchy and can barely keep my eyes open. So, in this totally delirious state, I give you the Public Defender's tale based upon my time at the PD’s office. Yeah, kind of like the Canterbury Tales, but Chaucer I'm not…

We begin the day with a groan and a sigh,
Representing a man who stabbed another in the thigh.
The action was truly justified –
The victim tried to steal some chicken and fries...

Then off to Femia to put through a plea
Everyone wants this judge, you see.
Time served is the sentece imposed on the masses
Femia makes the cops look like such asses.

Oh good a new VOP comes through the door
Violated his parole looking to score
From an ON DUTY cop! what was he thinking?
Could it be he had done too much drinking?

He wasn’t too smart, let me tell you
Robbed a store then hit on the cashier – it’s true!
He left his phone number and asked for a date
Aren’t our clients truly first rate?

Believe it or not we got kicked out of court
I couldn’t help it - we tried not to snort
But the VW Thing was filled full of bongs,
50 POUNDS of pot and multi-colored thongs!

The prosecutor was cocky, too much so
Didn't establish jurisdiction – a big no no
The case was dismissed and the client went free
Only to rob the WaWa by 3

And then there’s the men I didn’t want to face
They claimed that consent was their saving grace
But when you’re 42 and she’s 13
WHAT WERE YOU THINKING – she’s a baby, a juvie, a tween!

The judge and lawyers showed their age
When they didn’t know Everclear was all the rage
It fell to me to explain this mysterious drink
The judge and jury didn’t know what to think

Donuts were fines in juvie land
And t-shirts with logos were firmly banned

Client showed up hammered and smelling something foul
Passed out, snoring loud and then over he fell (yeah...I couldn't think of a rhyme for foul)
The judge freaked and called for medical attention
No pleas for the wasted was his intention

The summer ended with a 2 week trial
The office was so in denial
Our client was going to go down in flames
Hope was one juror who caught onto the games
She knew the vic was lying – like me, she could see
And almost caused a hung jury

The judge was biased – who was he fooling
No objection was made – but he was still ruling!

Justice in action, that’s what we got to see
The 5 little interns of the county’s PD.

secret santa can suck it

I loved Bee's idea to do this Santa Can Suck It swap! Then I actually had to find the perfect picture for my gift. Such pressure! Where am I going to track down something truly bizarre as a gag gift? Do I scrap the idea of being humorous and just find a picture of something I'd like? Or maybe I should actually try to figure out something she'd want? I don't know her - so that might be a bit challenging...

So after much deliberation and truly embarrassing amounts of time trying to post these pics, Tracy, this gift's for you:

Since you can't look inside, you don't see that it contains a subscription to Bag Borrow or Steal so you can have unlimited purses available to you without having to visit the mall during the holidays.

But this is a deceptively small purse... It also holds:

Who doesn't need a pooping santa candy dispenser?

And doesn't everyone need portable mistletoe?

And this since it's one of your favorite smells.

Enjoy!

Thank you sir, may I have another

The beatings are part of the job. And on my side of the letterhead, you better get good at taking your licks - whether they're deserved or not. You learn to keep your mouth shut, endure the blows silently and retreat to your office to nurse your wounds behind closed doors.

The most legitimate of defenses don't matter when your punishment is being doled out - your mom could be in the hospital, you could have done exactly what you were told to do, the building could have been hit by lightening erasing the 65 page brief you had worked for a month on... In that moment, the only words that matter are, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I've choked out those words while the blows fell fast and furious. I've held back tears of frustration at a situation so patently unfair and stupid that I just wanted to scream. And I've taken the beatings that more properly belonged to someone else.

Today was one of those days.

It wasn't my fault. I answered the question based on my personal knowledge and when I was asked to verify that answer with the others who work this file, I did as I was asked. But I was the one who represented that we didn't have certain documents, documents I never saw, never reviewed and was told by 2 other people didn't exist.

This statement proved to be untrue. No harm done really. We found the docs an hour later and our expert is too busy right now trying to go on vacation to go through these 500 pages of daily reports.

But I misrepresented the state of our file and how could I not know what was there in 100,000 pages of stuff that we've billed the client so much money to go through? Blah, blah, blah...

I'm sorry...It won't happen again.

I come back to my office, close the door and say the words I've uttered far too many times in the past "Thank you sir, may I have another."

Just another fun-filled day at the office...

"Really bad luck???"

So today, after 17 doctor's appointments, 5 trips to the radiologist, 6 days in the hospital, 4 specialists, 1 CT scan, 2 xrays, 4 ultrasounds and untold amounts of stress on mom and dad...we learned that the mass on Andrew's kidney is completely gone and this is the healthiest looking kid they've ever seen.

While part of me is frustrated that there's no diagnosis other than the inexplicable "It was really bad luck," I am thrilled. And hopefully we can finally put this behind us...after next week's CT scan and visit to yet another doctor.

Top 10

Things I'll never understand about men

1. Why you have to be dead or dying before you will go to the doctor

2. Why you can't stop and ask for directions when you're lost

3. Why you always touch yourself in public

4. Why you don't put the toilet seat down

5. Why you feel the need to hold an entire conversation with my breasts instead of looking in my eyes

6. Why won't you ever admit to being wrong...even when it's obvious that you are

7. Why you wear black socks and sandals

8. Why you name your dick

9. Why you think foreplay consists of removing your pants

10. Why you have an amazing recollection for baseball stats, every detail about cars you'll never own or drive, and every movie where you'll see any portion of Jessica Alba naked...but can't remember a simple little thing like our anniversary?

help YOU help you

No sooner than I hit "publish post" on my last entry, the phone rang. And the ritual of being asked for free legal advice continues...

I feel badly for her. I really do. She has this on again, off again relationship with this guy who broke up with her after 8 months because she's a Jew and a Democrat. (have you ever heard anything so stupid?) She's having trouble at work because the office slut wants to sleep with her boyfriend and so she keeps filing false harassment claims with HR in attempts to get my friend fired. (yet another reason not to date people from the office...)

HR's brilliant solution to this problem is to confine my friend to her office and not permit her to go over onto the other side of the building where the slut works. Okay...stupid fix...especially since it's affecting her ability to meet deadlines when she needs information from the other side of the office and can't get to it. And to make matters worse, the whole situation has given her a couple ulcers.

Like I said, I do feel badly for her. And, while I'm not a violent person, I want nothing more than to head over to that office and beat the crap out of this little twit who's torturing my friend. But it's not my fight.

I spent the last 20 minutes trying to convince her that she's been a good kid, played by the rules, gone through appropriate channels to correct this situation. It's not working.

Yes, she's being harassed. Yes, she's a victim. I know a little something about this myself... And so I am completely justified in saying: STOP ACTING LIKE ONE.

Do something - anything. Quit. Fight back. Go to the head of the company - he's a family friend and all. Do you really think that he'd let this continue if he knew what was going on? But do yourself a favor and stop acting like a victim.

I stumbled over a blog the other day where this girl got her heart broken...and as revenge against all men everywhere, she claims to have started picking up men in bars, bringing them home, only to stab them in the balls or tazer their genitals. (No, I have no idea if this is f0r real) Now I don't advocate this. At all. It's more than a little extreme, completely twisted, wrong and just plain illegal.

But I suppose my point and the moral of the story is: when the people who are supposed to protect you aren't, a little action is warranted. Help you help yourself. You'll feel a lot better once you do.

help me help you

I'm part of the most arrogant profession in the world. Litigators are the most obnoxious of our breed. I'm not sure at what point we all lose our civility or our ability to just talk to people instead of constantly posturing and sniping at each other.

In stark contrast, my dad has repeatedly told me "I'm no better than anyone else just because I went to law school...Maybe I would have been a carpenter if I were any good with my hands." I try to remember this every day as I feel the need to lash out at the idiot on the other end of the phone.

The largest part of my job is to make other people look good. Although I write the briefs, they go out under the partner's signature. It has to be a damn good brief so they look good arguing my words, my winning points.

I not only need to be on top of my own work, but the theirs as well. Anticipate their needs, their tasks, their fires so that they never actually become emergencies.

And so I feel badly for other associates - even ones who are my adversaries - when I see them drowning or thrown into a file and just have no clue what's going on. I've been there. It wasn't that long ago. Because of this, I try to throw them a bone when I can... I have particular empathy for the law clerks, fresh out of law school, completely overwhelmed trying to learn the law, the court system, the motion calendar and try to keep up with the never ending stream of stuff overflowing across their desk. I go out of my way to help those guys. Half the time I end up giving them the answer when I've called to ask the question.

But some days I just want to scream HELP ME HELP YOU! (Very Jerry Maguire, I know)

When I call to tell you that you've scheduled motions in the same case for 9 am and 2 pm on the same day, return my freaking phone call. I'm trying to prevent you from getting yelled at tomorrow by your judge, in open court, on the record when he realizes what you've done. When I remind you that for a YEAR you haven't responded to my discovery demands and I'm about to send a nasty letter to your partner so we can finally move the case forward, get me the docs that have been sitting on your chair for 6 months. I know you're going to get yelled at for neglecting the file. I really want to save you the beating.

And when I call to say "you want to resolve this issue...now" you may want to listen. I do have your best interests at heart. I have no objection to burying you in paper for the next two years. But when you can resolve things for minimal money or with minimal effort - do us both a favor... help me help you

sweet dreams

Things are crazy, a bit too crazy right now for my liking. But if I stop for a minute and close my eyes, like magic I'm swinging on my favorite hammock on my favorite beach. The sky is scarlet and gold as the sun sets over the water. I can hear the waves crashing, smell the hibiscus and feel the wind in my hair.

No stress. No illness. No work. Nothing to stop my enjoyment of this perfect moment.

As I open my eyes, there's a smile on my face. I've finally remembered that even though I'm at work and not on that beach, I can retreat there whenever I want for a few more perfect moments before jumping back into the fray.

And some days, that makes all the difference.

it's a curse

For as long as I can remember, my mom has called my dad superman. She doesn't mean it as a compliment. In fact, she calls it the family curse. We're a bunch of ambitious, overachievers, trying to single-handedly take on the world. And we dont need any help from anyone, anytime, anywhere, thank you very much.

I have the superman curse too and was well on my way to total world domination...until Christmas Eve last year. Because that's when I found my kryptonite:

This is Andrew and he is the center of my world. (Isn't he the cutest lion ever?) He has had me wrapped around his little finger from day one. He is such a good baby...so happy...so sweet...

And recently, so sick. I'm not going to rehash the past month of visits to the ER, doctors, radiologists, oncologists, hemotologists and the week long stint in the hospital. (If you really want to know the story, read my entries from last month.)

We thought things were finally getting better. Even yesterday, although there's now something else wrong, the infections all appeared to be under control because he's not running a fever.

Until this afternoon.

I could hear him crying from the parking lot. One look at him and you can see he's so miserable. He's burning up. He won't eat. Won't drink.

It breaks my heart to see him like this. I would do anything, give anything for someone to finally figure out what's wrong with him so he can finally get better.

This "superman" doesn't know how much more of this she can take!

Tag!

I've been tagged.

Before we begin, you should know that technology and I do not get along. But thanks to Brad at Diaries of the Professor, I've been forced to learn how to post pictures and how to link to other web pages. You have NO IDEA how long this took me to figure out. Don't ask... It's truly embarrassing.

Now for the rules:

First, Link the person who tagged you.
Then post the rules on your blog.
Next, share seven random or weird facts about yourself
Then, tag 7 random people and include links to their blogs.
Finally, let each person you've tagged know about it by commenting on their blogs.

7 Random Things About Me:

1. I wrote my first book at summer camp when I was 12. It was a Christopher Pike-type mystery. Not half bad for a kid. I wrote my second one in high school. It was a piece of historical fiction about Belle Starr the bandit queen of the old west. I'm waiting for inspiration to strike for book number 3.

2. I founded my school's law review. People find this impressive. I'm more modest about it. Particularly because for an editor-in-chief, I have amazingly bad grammar and spelling...

3. I am deathly afraid of bees and will break out in hives if I touch a banana.

4. My favorite place in the world is the hammock on the beach of Paradise Island's sketchiest hotel - the holiday inn sunspree.

5. Panty lines drive me crazy. If you are wearing tight pants or a form fitting skirt, do everyone a favor and invest in a thong. This is the one bitchy sorority girl thing I've held on to post-graduation. And yes, this was a totally valid reason to cut you during rush. We really were that shallow.

6. I failed parallel parking on my driving test. I haven't really attempted it since.

7. I'm a glutton for punishment. Twice a week I work out with a personal trainer. They kick my ass and I love it. Two days later and my arms are still stiff and my legs and stomach ache. Supposedly they torture me extra hard because they like me. I find this hard to believe, but I might as well get my money's worth, right?

Now for the tagging:

Just a Girl

Vodka Mom

Mo

VE

You're it.

random thoughts

I'm wearing a white shirt, brown skirt and brown boots. WHAT is so wrong with this outfit that the fashion police are raising eyebrows when I walk through the kitchen? My top isn't too low cut. It's not too tight. My skirt doesn't reveal half my ass and my thong isn't sticking out. What is the problem here?

Like there isn't enough wrong with my poor baby, today we get to add broncheolitis to the list. (I can't spell it nor can I pronounce it). If we're lucky, this stays a bad cough and runny nose for 10 days. If things remain true to form, Andrew will start wheezing, we'll have to put him on nebulizer treatments and this will turn into bronchitis. And how does this even happen? My boy is tanked up on so many antibiotics, he should be the healthiest kid ever!

I really need to get away. Just for a day. One day where I don't have to take care of everyone and everything. I doubt it will ever happen.

I don't know how I'm going to survive two whole weeks with the inlaws at the end of the month. Maybe I'll plan to run away then and there will be plenty of people around to help hubby with Andrew. Hmm... this idea may have potential.

I cannot force myself to work today. My desk is covered in stacks of papers 8 inches high and I cannot bring myself to work on any of it. Hell, I'm down 130-some odd hours from last month. There's no way for me to make all that time up. Why try?

did you hear the screaming?

Just a few minutes ago, it became morning in New Zealand. My clients arrived in their office, ready to start the day and plan next year's vintage. As they turn on their computers, waiting for them in their inbox was an email from their favorite American attorney they hoped never to speak to again.

And the email brought such good news.

After spending a mill on this case between legal fees and the settlement funds and although their case settled months ago, funds changed hands and there are full mutual releases - they will have to incur more legal fees to fight over two $6,000 invoices the other side previously agreed to pay.

If you heard the banshee wails like we did here in Freehold, those were my boys in New Zealand...THRILLED at the good news I brought them this fine Tuesday morning.

thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. My whole family gathers together - no matter where we are or what else is going on in our lives. We stuff ourselves in minutes with the food it took days to make. It's the one time of year I actually set aside my title as "undomestic goddess" and excitedly spend hours in the kitchen baking, cooking, mincing, stuffing. (And for the record, I am a very good cook when I want to be.)

This year it was different though.

Maybe it's the exhaustion from spending the past 3 weeks not sleeping. Maybe it was just too much trying to juggle a very active 11 month old with getting the holiday feast ready. Maybe my inlaws were just more annoying this visit than any other time I see them. (How long do we REALLY have to debate whether it's safe to use the mayo that expired back in July? And why do I end up explaining to mother in law at literally every meal we have together that she cannot feed my son seafood until he's a year old?)

I had to leave the house at one point because I couldn't deal with everyone. (Having to get the new jar of mayo was a convenient excuse). It took at least half a bottle of wine to get through the meal. And my poor son appears to be allergic to his new medicine - for the past 2 nights he has puked up everything he's eaten within minutes of taking the meds. Back to the doctor tomorrow to see what they're going to put him on and if 2 days of not being on antibiotics has done any more damage to Andrew's kidneys.

But no more complaining. This is a day to be thankful. And I am thankful -

My son doesn't have cancer. If I had nothing else to be thankful for - this would be more than enough.

Andrew. He's just amazing. And it never fails to melt my heart when he smiles at me or when he walks over to me, arms open for a hug, screeching "mama" at the top of his lungs.

My husband, Brian. More than ever with recent events, my rock.

Our moments together, which are too few and far between.

My friends and family. How could I have gotten through this month without their love and support?

Holiday pies and bonus checks from the office.

My very understanding boss who has exempted me from my billable hours requirement for the month.

XM Radio so I don't have to listen to Christmas music beginning November 1

Cold nights and warm fires.

And I still hold on to hope - hope for my first full night of sleep since I was 5 months pregnant...


Happy Thanksgiving

i love my job

But is it really necessary...

To confirm an “adjournment” of a motion that was never an adjournment at all? (If you’re stupid enough not to file a motion on time for the return date you want, of course it’s going to get bumped to the next motion day. This isn’t an adjournment. It’s you being too stupid to count to 16)

To object to form interrogatories? (These are the Supreme Court approved questions for your type of case. You have an issue with the question, take it up with the Supremes, not me)

To object to a question where it only asks for your name? (what legitimate basis could you POSSIBLY have for this?)

To call me 3 months after declining my client’s offer to represent you in a case and say “whoops! Changed my mind. NOW can you represent me?”

To call me a stubborn, unreasonable, stonewalling junior associate in every letter? (my lovely adversary strikes again… I may be all these things and this may be the nicest thing she’s said about me in this case…but why bother with the attack on my level of experience when YOU have as exactly as much – or as little – experience as I do)

For my business manager to get on my case about an open receivable for TEN CENTS? (I threw a dime on his desk and told him to get a life.)

No wonder there are so many jokes about us lawyers

and it's only 11:00...

Despite the rainy weather and my very frizzy hair this morning, it's shaping up to be a great day...

Andrew actually slept in his own bed last night.

I look really hot in this dress.

Today is the last day of my work week.

It's pie day at the office.

And with our pies, we will be receiving our holiday bonus checks!

Now if I can just get through the rest of my day without speaking to (or killing) my least favorite adversary, it will be a fantastic day...

ahh...

We had to go back to the hospital today for another ultrasound. I almost had a heart attack when I misread the tech's measurements and thought the mass increased in size by a centimeter.

This is one of the few times I am happy to be wrong, because the mass actually shunk to half its original size. And everyone is feeling pretty confident that it's just a symptom of a really bad kidney infection at this point.

Had to follow up with the oncologist - and she doesn't want to see us again. hopefully EVER.

What a relief!

We went out to lunch to celebrate. Andrew wanted to cling to my neck the entire time. And when I didn't pick him up fast enough, he grabbed onto the neckline of my sweater, yanked on it until my entire breast was exposed and I was flashing half the restaurant... As if that wasn't bad enough, the table next to us was full of rabbis. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed - me or them.

Go ahead... get a good laugh out of it... i'm still completely mortified!

out of touch

I have to write about something else today... It's hard since my life is being consumed by worrying about tomorrow's follow up tests and what they're going to show... So you're stuck with this mindless bit of rambling instead.

I fought getting a Treo for a couple years. Those things are evil and addictive. And I didn't want to be totally plugged into the office, didn't want clients to know they could reach me 24 hours a day or, even worse, for really annoying adversaries to have that kind of access to me. Plus it always pissed me off how hubby would constantly have his head in his phone, checking emails, news sites or whatever he was doing. Thanksgiving last year, my mother instituted a Treo ban. Everyone had to check their phones at the door and she hid them all in a closet until the meal was over.

I finally broke down and got one when I came back to work in May. I'm totally addicted to it. I check my email about 100 times a day on my phone - even when I'm in my office because emails arrive 30 seconds earlier on the Treo. It's particularly annoying because my clients in Belgium and New Zealand know I'll respond at 3 in the morning if Andrew isn't sleeping through the night. And I'm compulsive about returning the stupid emails if I actually see them come through.
This morning, my son decided that he wanted to use my phone as a pacifier. It's hard to deny him anything after all he's been through. But he decided to suck on my phone and drool into it to the point where he fried the circuits and it now only functions as a paperweight. (Let's keep this little secret away from the phone company)

And, of course, they can't replace the phone in the store.

I have to wait until they ship me a new one. I have no house phone and now no cell phone. The only way to reach me right now is by email.

I thought it would drive me crazy being so far out of touch with everyone and everything...but it's actually kind of nice.

aftershocks

andrew is home. he's happy - loves the freedom that comes with not being constrained to a hospital bed, having use of both hands now that the splint and IV line have been removed and being in a familiar place.

but the stint in the hospital has definitely affected him worse than i thought... he gets hysterical if hubby or i leave his line of sight for any period of time. he falls asleep only to wake up screaming bloody murder and is absolutely inconsolable until he realizes where he is and that no one is about to inject stuff into him, draw blood or examine him. he alternates his time between playing joyfully and desperately clinging to my neck.

hubby is exhausted. he's trying to be strong for andrew, strong for me. although he's probably been a much better support system for a 10 month old than for me... but this has really worn on him. i think he's looking forward to returning to work today to restore some semblance of normalcy to his life.

and me? In the hospital I was terrified and at how unfair this is. I should be relieved for us all to be home. I should be happy that Andrew is acting more like himself.

I don't feel anything. It's like I've gone completely numb...

When is everything just going to go back to normal?

six days

This afternoon, I stepped through the door of my house for the first time in almost a week.

Finally.

It's good to be home.

day 5...

day 5. day fucking 5. are they ever going to let us out of here?

we didn't sleep well last night. being here day after day, hour after hour, never leaving this damn hospital is getting to all of us. i was woken up not just every 3 hours when they'd come in to check andrew's temp and blood pressure, but also every hour and a half to see if he ate anything or had any wet diapers.

um... if we're all alseep, WHY are you asking me if he had any bottles? the nurses know where i keep the dirty diapers - WHY are you waking me up to see if there are any? if they're not on top of the garbage can, there aren't any! it's been five days - we've worked out a good system here...don't mess with it.

someone changed andrew's meds so he got his IV at 5 am instead of 1 in the afternoon. then they decided it would be a GREAT idea to draw blood at 5:30. there was no way he was going to sleep after that.

by 7 andrew refused to stay in the room any longer. i have to say, it's totally adorable how he points to the door with his splinted arm, huge smile on his face - this is the signal for "get me outta here mom!" it was too early for the wagon so we walked around the hallways until my back hurt so badly i had to put him down.

we didn't have the usual person dropping off breakfast. (she is very pleasant, greats my son by name and tells him how great he is until she gets a huge smile, which she says is the highlight of her day) this woman growled at me as she threw the trays down on the table.

andrew is fast asleep. hubby is fast asleep and he's snoring like a buzz saw. it's why i'm not sleeping even though i can barely keep my eyes open. well, i suppose the constant string of text messages from my mother doesn't help either!

this has been so hard. and even after they release us, it will continue to be hard. we'll need to really closely monitor what's going on with him. repeat ultrasounds and scans to see whether the mass is increasing or decreasing in size. if this is an infection, it'll take at least a month to go away...

thirty very long days...every single one holding my breath, hoping and praying for the best, being terrified of the worst.

day 4

in the past week, i've been to 3 hospitals, 5 doctors appointments and the radiologist. We've had x-rays, ultrasounds, CT scans. He's been poked and prodded and examined inside and out more times than i can count. Andrew has been seen by no less than 10 doctors and there's currently a team of 6 coordinating his care.

It's now day 4 in the hospital.

It was a boring day. Everyone checking in on us but no tests, scans or drawing blood.

Do you know how hard it is to entertain a 10 month old in a hospital? Particularly one who finally feels okay after a week of being curled up in a ball whimpering and burning up?

By 9:00, we had completed 50 laps of the floor in the radio flyer wagon. We converted his crib into a playpen and filled it with toys. We checked out all the kids on the floor, chattered away at the security guard next door and andrew had flirted with all the nurses...twice.

Now the current thought is that they'll release him on sunday. I don't know how we are going to keep him entertained until then...

One of the doctors used the c word today. They've all been pretty careful not to, referring to it as the possibility of "something else." We're all hoping this mass is related to his kidney infection... some of the best medical minds are optimistic that's exactly what this is.

but what if they're wrong?

I don't think I can cope with that.

Day 3

We're at a teaching hospital. I suppose that's a good thing. Because even the residents and attendings seem puzzled. Someone needs to teach them what to do here... We all knew my kid was special, but he doesn't need to be a medical mystery on top of everything else.

More tests today...More bloodwork... My kid looks like a human pin cushion. He freaks out every time he has to lay on his back because he's convinced someone is going to jab him with a needle, push on his belly with ultrasound paddles or examine him.

The good news, if there is any in this situation, is that Andrew has been fever free for more than 24 hours and that meant he could go to the playroom today. He loved the change in scenery and being able to actually move around.

We're here at least through Saturday. Maybe by then, someone can tell me exactly what the hell is wrong with my son.

day 2 - the hits just keep on coming

So the rules are that the tv and lights have to be off by midnight. And only one parent can sleep in the room at a time. Bull shit! They will have to drag me out of the room kicking and screaming if they think I am leaving this hospital room.

Sleeping was interesting. I had my choice between a really uncomfortable chair and a chair that reclined into a chlaustrophobic bed if it actally went down all the way which ours did not. Whoever drew the bed-chair got andrew, who slept in spurts waking up aggravated at the iv in his arm and the split holding his arm out straight.

Today we had to do his CT Scan, an adventure and a half with a 10 month old. He had to drink contrast, which he promptly threw up all over me. They gave him meds to knock him out for the procedure. He threw most of that up too. So as soon as they tried to put him on the machine, he was up and they had to knock him out with a second dose...

Do you know how much I hate waiting? Waiting for the blood tests...waiting for the scan results...waiting to hear if they'll let my boy go home today... Patience is a virtue I do not have.

So now that it's almost 8:00 our second night in the hospital, what do we know? We know we're stuck here for at least another day or two. He's anemic, hopefully a temporary side effect of the infection and all the fluids they are pumping him up with. We need to draw more blood and do more tests. We've been seen by 5 doctors today and are still waiting to meet with the kidney specialist.

And the scans show there's a "spot" on the top of his kidney that no one has any idea what it is. Best case scenario, we're looking at a symptom of the kidney infection. Worst case, I don't even want to think about it and writing it would make it too real.

His fever is starting to spike again and they're never going to let us go home until his fever finally gets under control.

Have I mentioned that this just sucks?

too much stuff...

Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger... God never gives you more to deal with than you can handle.... You're stronger than you give yourself credit for.

the last time my dad said these things to me I was in college. I broke up with my boyfriend who can only be described as an abusive alcoholic ass (i'm being kind with this description even 9 years later). And instead of taking rejection like a man, he chose to stalk me instead.It was by far the worst and hardest time of my life.

until now.

Because now I am sitting on the floor of my son's hospital room. He has been running a fever of 104 for a week. He's hooked up to an iv which he has finally stopped trying to rip out of his arm...because he finally fell asleep.

he's wearing a blue hospital gown and finally is peaceful. He looks like an angel. and it's all I can do not to cry. Again.

I just want my boy to be healthy and happy again

did i shave my legs for this?

*sigh*


and really what more is there to say?

I NEED A DRINK

I have a confession... I'm terrified of hospitals. I have been ever since I was little and saw my dad hooked up to all kinds of machines after a major asthma attack. So to this day, being in the hospital completely freaks me out.

I spent 8 hours in the ER today. I spent about 7 of them trying not to let anyone see me crying. The good news is Andrew is now happily crawling around the floor, trying to eat my dinner. His fever has started to go down and for the first time in 3 days, it seems like he's starting to feel better.

When he goes to sleep, I need a drink...or ten.

another day in paradise

Today began at 2:30, 3:30, 4:45, 5:30 and finally 6:15. Sleeping in hour spurts is killing me. It led to some fairly obvious mistakes in a mediation statement that I normally would have caught BEFORE sending it to the judge had I not been writing and editing half asleep. By noon, I'd consumed more coffee than I typically do in an entire week.

A mindless, but extremely busy afternoon. By now I'm too tired to string together a coherant sentence. Two minutes after my client meeting, the phone rings. I know the number by heart and it never fails to make my heart race and bring on full blown panic. Day care's inside line - the one they only use when there's a problem.

I rush across town, almost causinng 4 accidents on the way there. I had hoped they were overreacting again. But one look at my boy and it's clear there was no mistake. He's burning up, staring blankly at me, barely able to keep his head up. He spiked a fever of almost 103 and so far nothing is bringing it down.

My poor boy.

It's could be a very long night.

part of the uniform

for someone who hates being dressed up, i picked the wrong profession.

we used to be able to wear jeans on fridays but all that changed when one friday a younger associate had to go over to the jail in jeans. do you really think the inmate cared what his attorney was wearing? his attorney had breasts. his eyes never once went below the neckline anyway. and ask any of the other guys in his pod - they didn't notice that she wasn't in a suit either!

so now it's mandated that we're in a suit, all the time. full make up, every day. "appropriate colors" must be worn, though i'm still not sure what that means. and no more pulling my hair back into a ponytail. it's all part of the uniform.

i long for my one day a week working from home where i can roll out of bed and work in my favorite ratty old jeans and maryland sweatshirt. i'm far more productive being comfortable camped out on my couch with the tv blaring in the background...

make it work

Our well known mantra goes something like this: When you don't have the facts, argue the law. When you don't have the law, argue the facts. And when neither are on your side, argue like hell.


Just make it work.

You need to take deps next week in a case where after 2 years of litigation we still don't know what the claims are about? No problem... Let me roll up my sleeves because I've got 2 weeks of hellish days and nights ahead of me condensing over 100,000 incomprehensible documents into nice, neat little dep binders organized by claim, person and date.

What? Our male client got together with 2 other men to form a "women owned business" and now is getting screwed out of the profits by his partner? Give me a couple hours of uninterrupted time and we'll have a winning order to show cause in his oppressed minority shareholder suit. Forget about the fact that he was technically scheming the system... We're dealing in the realm of chancery and equitable principles rule here.

We need to do a proof hearing without a little something called PROOF? Bring it on!

Take a situation, analyze it from all angles and find a way to make it work.

It's not always glamorous or easy, but it's what I do - on the job and off. And I'm damn good at it.
But always trying to make the impossible possible is exhausting. I'm not sure it's in me to keep trying. Especially when I'm not sure what I'm fighting for or if I even believe in it anymore.

I suppose with this too, I'll have to find a way to make it work.

Bah humbug!

Take a look at the calendar. It should read November 1. Halloween was yesterday. Thanksgiving is in a couple weeks.

So WHY am I already listening to "Jingle Bells" on the radio? And the mall is already covered in Christmas trees, Santa's workshop and sparkly decorations. All the sales clerks are dressed in red and green.

I get it. Everyone is looking forward to Christmas... but come on! do we have to start celebrating THIS early?

my overpriced legal education...

I'm tired. My son didn't sleep at all last night, which meant for the second night in a row, neither did I. I'm feeling a little bitter about being at work... Don't get me wrong, I love my job and I love being a lawyer. But for now, let me introduce you to: The Top 5 law school lies

1. Law School Prepares You for the Practice of Law

YEAH RIGHT!

Law school is designed to teach you to think like a lawyer. Three years and a hundred grand just to teach you how to think.

You learn how to read case law. Sometimes this is like learning to read a foreign language. Especially when dealing with mysterious things like the rule against perpetuities or subject matter jurisdiction. You learn to write like a lawyer, which is amazingly difficult for English majors and journalists who steadfastly insist they know how to write and don't need to change for anything.

Law school teaches you general concepts. Best case scenario, you come out knowing how to read, write, think and sound like a lawyer. But when it comes to actually knowing what to do, you're pretty clueless.

2. Law School Prepares You for the Bar Exam

HA! You learn everything you need to know for the bar exam through your 2 month long bar review course. Yes, that's right. Three years of law school crammed down into 2 months and a few grand for the study materials. And that's EVERYTHING you need to know. That overpriced education really comes in handy right away...

3. What You Learn in Law School Translates to Other Professions

I don't know why anyone would spend the time and money going to law school if they don't want to be a lawyer. But what law school REALLY does is ruin you from ever having a normal conversation with anyone. EVER. You look around and find possible liability everywhere. And when it doesn't really seem to exist, believe me, you'll find a problem somewhere.

And forget about trying to talk to non-lawyers when you're in full on lawyer mode. I once had a client -an exceptionally bright, Harvard educated businessman- tell me that I had to dumb things down for him and "stop talking all this legal mumbo-jumbo." Legalese is our language. And why should we explain things in English? Do you expect your doctor to tell you that you have radiating pain down your lower back and the treatment is sticking you with needles? No. His job is to tell you that you have L4-L5 radiculopathy and you need trigger point injections... It's the same thing with lawyers. Let us feel important by using the big confusing words!

4. Law Students are Mature Adults Focused on Learning

Let's face it - going to law school is like reverting back to middle school. Cliques form by the end of the first day of orientation. Rumors fly fast and furious. Did you know that I had 15 children by the end of the first month of law school? Two of these imaginary babies were with my FEMALE roommate. You show up to school once in leather pants and a tight black t-shirt and that entitles everyone to invent your past, present and future... Though I suppose the leather was a bit risque for Concord, NH...

We rip pages out of books in the library so that other students can't find the answers. We team up in study groups only to screw each other over by the end of the semester because someone inevitably feels their outline is the best and why should they share it with the rest of the group?

Maybe the people up in the front of the room are paying attention to the professors. But those of us in the back of the lecture hall have a completely different experience: passing notes, endless IMs, playing games and watching movies on our laptops. I suppose I perfectly lived up to (or down to, depending on your perspective) my dad's reputation at our law school - we were both total degenerates. :)

5. Learned Professors...the Best of the Best

Okay...I'm generalizing here. Some professors are excellent. But when your torts professor only teaches you to "back up the money truck" and forget about the merits of the case, just go for the deep pocket - what are you really learning? Or how about when your constitutional law prof decides to tell the class more about her trip to walmart at 1 a.m. to buy $500 worth of underwear instead of bothering with silly little things like TEACHING? And is it REALLY going to be on our contract drafting final that our professor has a place in P-town and his last lover got so painfully sunburned all over his body that our poor prof couldn't get laid for a week?

Is it any wonder that law school doesn't prepare you for the bar or the practice of law?

how was your day dear?

I spent the past two nights in the city at the w tuscany. Fabulous suite. Enormous bed. Huge tub. And no one to share it with...No one except the couple next door who from the sound of things were having an amazing time...all night long.

I've been excused from today's dep prep as a cost savings measure... So I stumble out of bed pull on my suit and check out. In room check out is broken. I call the front desk. Love how they address me by name and ask "what do you desire?" (Hmm... what i desired was a full night of sleep. or an incredibly sexy man to service me like the woman next door was being worked over.)

It was pouring. I had to walk to grand central before finding a cab. The cabbie proceeds to tell me how his last fare wanted half the city exterminated because there are too many people. This was more than a little concerning... I think the fare had given way too much thought to how to wipe out the city.

Got to penn station just in time to miss my train. So now I'm stuck on the local. We're stopping every 30 seconds and I probably shouldve waited the extra half hour for the next express...I'm on one of those damn double decker trains. I have 3 bags weighing in at a combined total of 75 lbs. You can't pay me enough to go up and down the stairs with these things.

ah...handicapped seats. Hopefully no real handicapped person comes along and makes me forfeit my seat . Nope. But 20 nonhandicapped folks are crammed into this space the size of a large shoebox. I have a woman who can't speak english next to me who is basically sitting in my lap. At least she showered this morning...which is more than I can say for the heavily tattooed kid wearing his gang colors standing in front of me staring me down.

Creepy!!! He got off the train without killing me or stealing my purse. Half the section cleared out. So why is this damn woman still sitting on my lap brushing her hand against my thigh???

I make it to metropark without further incident. Step off the train right into a massive puddle which soaks my shoes and my pants up to the knee. I have to pay $16 to bail out my car... How does THAT math work? It costs $5 to park there for a day. 3 days. Last time I checked, 3x5 does not equal 16.

It's now snowing. SNOWING. in october. I left New England because I didn't want my winter to start this early.

Almost two hours later (of what should be a 45 minute ride), I'm driving past my son's day care and the need for an Andrew fix was overwhelming. At this point, my clothes are soaking wet, my hair is so drenched it looks like i just stepped out of the shower and my mascara has run half way down my face. This doesn't bother Andrew, whose face lights up the second he sees me. He has a smile that just melts your heart. And as he throws his arms around my neck, nuzzles against my cheek and lets out one of his big happy sighs, I know he's right. Nothing else matters.

It's good to be home.

Life in Six Minute Increments

Like most associates, my life is ruled by the billable hour. Not meeting the yearly billable requirement means no bonus and the threat of no raise. Meeting the requirement means you get the nod for meeting the bare minimum. If you're crazy enough to exceed the quota for the year by more than 100 hours, you get a few extra bucks...

1960 hours for the year. 163.3 for the month. which breaks down into roughly 40 hours a week and 8 hours a day.

Everything is recorded down to the nearest tenth of an hour. It's amazing how quickly your mind adapts to thinking this way. I get pissed off standing in line for 15 minutes waiting for my morning latte knowing I'll have to make up this .3 somewhere during the course of the day. If the waiter is particularly slow bringing the check and lunch takes 1.2 hours instead of an hour, he gets a smaller tip. In the morning as I roll over to slap the snooze button, I think to myself "it's okay. It's only a .1."

And as I drift back to sleep, I can't help but think how life is so much better, so much sweeter, so much more enjoyable when it's not lived in 6 minute increments.

Perfectly Imperfect

I am an overworked, underappreciated, sleep deprived attorney who also is the mother of an amazing 10 month old baby who still doesn't sleep through the night and wife to another wonderful overworked, underpaid, sleep deprived litigator...

Having two lawyers in the family is both a blessing and a curse. Since we both get paid to argue for a living, it's not fun when those skills get turned on each other.

I horrified my mother in law by buying a sign that says "The only reason I have a kitchen is because it came with the house." I prominently display this sign next to my almost new, rarely used stove.

I would rather make reservations than cook dinner for my boys. If I only have an hour at the end of the day for dinner (and sometimes that's a strech), I'd rather pay someone else to cook and clean the dishes.

I don't clean as often as I should. I'm busy. I'm tired. And what's the point? As soon as I clean up, my son comes along and decorates the floor with papers. He finds papers everywhere and then proceeds to crawl around the floor with them, fling them with amazing force and pull them down onto the floor before jumping into the piles like a little kid jumping into a pile of leaves.

I'll never be perfect. I try, but there just aren't enough hours in the day. And some days there's just not enough caffeine in the world.

This is me...for better or worse...perfectly imperfect.