When Balance is a Verb

I woke up yesterday at 7 a.m. to fifteen new emails regarding my biggest case and an emergency Temporary Injunction hearing scheduled (by the other side) for Tuesday morning. I have worked almost non-stop since then, though I did take a park/hamburger break yesterday evening to watch Landon run about Zilker park and then refuse to eat a hamburger. I ate it for him, along with the enitre basket of fries JP and I were supposed to share. And then I worked from Landon's bedtime until midnight, starting again at 8:30 a.m. this morning with an all hands conference call.

But just before that 8:30 a.m. call, I went upstairs to get Landon only to find him covered in puke. He's thrown up less than three times since babyhood so this was most unusual. I cuddled him while we both got in the bathtub to clean him off, leaving JP to the sheets (in my delicate condition I can't handle getting that close to puke, unless of course it's already on my child and then mothering instincts conquer the urge to dry heave). By 8:28 we were back downstairs in the study. Landon's hair smelled like Johnson's baby soap, and he stayed wrapped around me like a little monkey for the duration of the 90 minute call. Afterward we gave him a sip of very watered down powerade which he threw up five minutes on the kitchen floor. This was repeated 30 minutes later when I stupidly gave in to his requests for a small cup of milk.

In between puke cleansings and clothes changings I have revised a Motion to Quash, drafted a summary of a deposition, started a Motion to Compel, and agreed to head to Fort Worth on Monday morning for the 3 days of hearings. Just after I sent the email saying I could attend, JP handed off a sleeping Landon and ran into the bathroom to throw up himself. Thankfully, his involved no clean-up because I'm not sure who could have done it.

Landon is now sleeping soundly in his bed (updated with a nice plastic cover under the sheets), JP is sleeping in our room (sans plastic cover, he better make it to the bathroom), the dogs are sleeping under the desk, and I am working as quickly as possible so I can assist whichever one of them needs me when they wake up. It is moments like these when I fantasize about having a grandparent with lots of free time (i.e. not my parents) and a willingness to help with unpleasant things (i.e. not my in-laws) living near by.

But it's fine. I don't mind the work- it's necessary and every partner on this case is working even more than I am to prepare for this last minute emergency. One was already in California for the U.T. game and is having to fly back to attend the hearing. I am not fancy enough to have these kinds of vacation plans, so all it's doing is delaying when I can go to Victoria's Secret to buy these pants which I just realized I need.

As a co-worker jokingly said a few days ago, "We're overpaid 350 days out of the year. We're paid what we are because of the other 15." This is one of those 15 and I accept it as such. It would just be nice if a bunch of vomit hadn't been thrown in the mix as well. An inauspicious start to 2010 to be sure!