Toes and Mondays

Mondays are never the best. I was going to say that Mondays are the worst, but that isn't really true- I never mind going to work and for whatever reason Wednesdays and Thursdays often end up being the roughest days for me. But still, Mondays are perhaps not my favorite. And the Monday after a week long, totally unplugged vacation is really not my favorite. It took me nearly five hours to get through my emails and get back on top of a doc review I'm supposed to be managing (10 contract attorneys produces a lot of email traffic) and to shake my head clear from all the time off. It really felt like I was coming back from a mini maternity leave again.

So work was a little crazy, but I had prepared by dressing in a cheerful spring ensemble of white tailored pants, a bright peachy sleeveless shirt (the same one I'm wearing here), gold open toe sandals, and turquoise and gold dangley earrings. I was flagrantly violating dress code with the sleevelessness and the summer sandals, but it made me happy.

It was also necessary. Or at least the offending shoes were, I have no excuse for the shirt other than I like it and didn't feel like wearing a jacket. You see I seriously messed up my toes skiing. I didn't mention it because I was already sick of my whining by the time I wrote the last post about our trip, but damn, my toes REALLY hurt-- enough to keep me from falling asleep at night. It started on Tuesday night with a dull ache. Then on Wednesday my toes were killing me but it was our last day of skiing and nothing was standing in my way, even though that night they felt like they were pulsing with their own little heartbeats and I was limping when I walked. Thursday, our travel day, my toes hurt so badly that I actually sat down while waiting for our luggage because I couldn't handle the pressure of being on my feet. I felt like a wimp. I was determined to suck it up and get over it because seriously, who is sidelined by toe pain? But it just kept getting worse. On Saturday the pressure was so great that after whining to JP for the millionth time that "my tooooeeesss huuurrrtttt" he finally looked at them and said, "hmmm, looks like there's a bruise at the bottom of the nail down there." For whatever reason, that had escaped my notice, so I very quickly and very gently took off my toe nail polish only to find an entirely black, bruised-all-to-hell big toe nail on both feet. Oh. So that's why they were throbbing in pain and I couldn't walk by the end of the day and I visibly flinched any time one of my children came within 2 feet of my feet.

Yesterday I was still pretty sure that ibuprofen and time would fix it, but after yet another night of lying in bed feeling my pulse under each big toe nail, I decided a doctor might be needed. So, even though today was crazy and I was tired, I dragged myself to the urgent care clinic near our house at 6:30, after a brief stop at home to hug the Biscuit and change out of my white pants in fear that treatment might get messy. I wrote "toe pain" on the intake sheet because how else do you describe a toe with its own heartbeat of pain? In triage, when the nurse asked for a few more details, I just pointed to them, figuring they were self explanatory. He stared at my toes, looked back up at me, then looked back at my toes that I was still pointing to, and finally said, "oh, you mean that isn't nail polish?!".

The doctor came in a few minutes later and pronounced my subungual hematoma a "most unusual presentation." He then quite cheerfully informed me that he'd drill into my toenail so I could drain out some of the blood to relieve the pressure, but I'd probably still lose both nails and they take about 10 months to a year to grow back. Awesome, just in time for spring/summer open toed shoe season.

Yes, the first thing I thought about was all the shoes I wouldn't be able to wear, the drilling into my toe nail came second. I laid back on the exam table, hoping some sort of numbing was going to be involved, but it wasn't a big deal. I could smell burning toe nail (not a good smell) and then feel a small prick and then it was over. For the next 45 minutes I got to squeeze blood out of my toe bed to relieve pressure. That was exactly as gross as it sounds. When I got home an hour later, I poured a very large glass of wine and sat on my couch with gauze pads stuck up on my big toes, typing and giggling at my computer (facebook chat with my sister; I'd share it, but I don't think it's nearly as funny to anyone else as we found it to be; it involved knitted hats for my toes and the irony of her toe nail polish being named "decay"). JP was tutoring one of his swimmers in Algebra II at our kitchen table and I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm crazy. I wanted to reassure her that I was a gainfully employed attorney by day, but then I wasn't sure that would make it better. Instead, I opened a large bag of dark chocolate m&m's and munched away.

So that was my Monday. My toes still ache, but they don't pulse with quite the same intensity as they did yesterday. Progress, I suppose. They do look like they were shot with a very tiny gun with even tinier bullets. I have to wear flat, open toed shoes to work for the next week, so at least my co-workers will get the benefit of seeing some super cute illegal sandals that they've never seen before. Of course they'll also have to see two dark purple toe nails with holes in the middle. I wonder if my cutely fashionable reputation can withstand that? I suppose not, but my red wine and dark chocolate m&m intake has reached a level where I have ceased to care. Bring it on Tuesday and Toes!

Snapshots of Spring Break

We're back!

Actually, we've been back since Thursday, but I spent Friday doing laundry, running errands, and snuggling my children, and we went to the Rodeo on Saturday, and then there was this new series of books I started when we flew to Denver last Sunday and thanks to the instant gratification of a Kindle I was able to finish the fifth and final one this morning after church (yes, the irony of returning from church and immediately putting your children to bed so you can dive back into a book about demons... also ironic? singing Rihanna's "S&M" under your breath as you walk into the sanctuary only to stop abruptly when you realize what you're saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me..." - actually, that's more inappropriate than ironic). Anyway, so what I'm saying is I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted, but I've been half busy and half hiding from the world (and my blackberry) until both are forced back on me tomorrow. This week has been awesome- almost in the same league of awesome as maternity leave. I've been able to really unplug, forget I'm a full-time attorney, and just ski, read addictive books, and sleep. Possibly one of my best Spring Breaks ever- at least under my new, post-college definition of awesome spring breaks.

The rest of the adult family ski trip was fabulous. My only fall was the one on the South Bowl that first day, reinforcing my decision to stay on groomed runs (and avoid moguls- I hate moguls, they make me think too hard when I just want to ski).

the original three, in birth order

My ski boots beat the crap out of my shins the first day- it was so bad that the first run on the second day actually made me cry halfway down and I do not have a low threshold for pain. I sucked it up, but let myself quit a little early that afternoon, curling up in a chair in the empty condo to finish off the 2nd of my demon books. I'd never thought I'd be okay with leaving the slopes early, but I still see that afternoon as its own kind of success.

at Starfire, a very fast, favorite run

By the third day, my shins were better, and I skied with the group until the end when I splintered off with JP to watch him do a jump at the terrain park. A jump he swears he had mastered that morning, but which he fell on, hard, as I watched from about 5 yards away. I was close enough to see his face twist in pain as he landed on his neck and then skidded several yards down the slope. I was frozen until he stopped sliding, sat up, and punched the snow- I think he was mad that he messed up the jumpy thing while I was watching, but I was so relived he wasn't paralyzed that I skied over and nearly punched him for scaring me like that. We skied down the rest of the mountain together and called it a day.

Danger.

On that final night, my dad surprised everyone with a trip to the top of the second mountain for dinner at the "highest AAA four diamond restaurant in North America" - the Alpenglow Stube. A surprise I had helped coordinate before we left (I'm the details person in my family, not sure who I got it from). It was a fancy, fabulous meal and a great way to cap off the trip. Dinners like that are a very special treat in my family and I was so happy it was every bit as good as we'd been promised.

full group, one more gondola ride to go before dinner

We got home at 4:30 on Thursday, in plenty of time to pick up the kids from daycare-- a pick-up that I think we were more excited about than them. Oh, they were excited, Landon raced over for a hug as soon as he saw us. But then he turned around and raced back to the playground to finish whatever superhero game he was playing with his friend. Claire was also super excited, before squirming out of my arms to continue crawling fast and furious around her room. We forced a few more bear hugs on them and headed home for dinner and unpacking.

After all that was done and the kids were in bed, I turned on my big camera to find a few pictures my aunt and uncle had taken while we were gone:

My uncle, engineer, Air Force Academy grad, and pilot, making sure he understands all
the intricacies of Candy Land before playing

After crazy hair day at daycare

My grandparents (my mom's/uncle's parents) came to visit

I think this is my aunt trying on The Shoes; thank goodness my feet are way bigger than hers
because their allure is strong and she might have had to take them back to Atlanta with her.

The kids had a great time with their great aunt and uncle (or "my parents" as Landon keeps calling them; I've tried to explain that JP and I are his parents, but he quickly corrects me with, "no, you're my mommy and daddy" and then shakes his head and moves on). And seeing as how we came home to happy kids, a clean house, and freshly laundered linens, I'd say his "parents" did a pretty fantastic job taking care of their temporary children. They insist the kids were "so easy" and they had a lot of fun spending 5 days with them in Austin, and I hope they're telling the truth, because that means I don't have to feel guilty for having such a great time!

One of My Favorite Places on Earth

We made it. We're here, we're skiing, and it is awesome.

We flew in yesterday, met my parents and siblings at the airport in Denver, and drove to Keystone. We picked up our ski rentals, loaded a cart full of groceries to make all of our meals, and unpacked in my dad's co-worker's beautiful condo (ski-in/ski-out, something we've never been privileged to experience before; it's spoiling me). JP and I took my family out for pizza as a thank you for providing the lift tickets, and then we went to bed early with plans to hit the slopes as soon as the mountains opened.

(JP, me, and my baby siblings)

And we did. My family skis hard and skis fast, and I was a little concerned that I'd lost my touch after 6 years off the slopes, 2 babies, and a 4 years out of the gym. But I need not have worried. I can still hack it, and while I won't go through the trees anymore (it makes my heart pound to think of some of the stuff we used to do), I can handle black diamonds just fine.

(me and my sis after hiking up the Outback)

We hiked up to the Outback and skied down the South Bowl. It's steep and ungroomed and I had a huge wipe-out which resulted in a nearly runaway ski. It was captured and I got it back on, even with the steep incline, but I skied pretty slowly until we got back onto normal terrain. JP did the bowl again, but I decided groomed runs are a better place for me now.

I've been asked a few times if it was so hard to leave the kids, and while it probably makes me sound bad (please see pretty much every post since 2008 to see how much I love them), the answer is, "No." It was not hard at all. They're totally healthy (thank goodness), they're being doted upon by a loving great-aunt and uncle, and everyone is fine. Is anyone as good at caring for them as JP and I are? Probably not. Are they being cared for with all the love my aunt and uncle have for them? Yep, and they are doing great. I think it's nothing but good that they can be so comfortable in another's care, and it's nothing but good that JP and I can spend a whole day racing each other down a mountain, flirting on a ski lift, and having a blast pointing out every single thing we know Landon will just love as soon as we can take him skiing.

I miss them. I can't wait to bring them here. I know I'm going to want the plane to fly extra fast once we're on our way home to them. But I'm having a really wonderful time hanging out with JP, my parents, and my now grown-up siblings (siblings I can actually hang out with because I don't need to get up early with my kids). My body is so exhausted it feels almost numb, my shins are beaten and bruised from my ski boots, and I'm having the time of my life. This is my first "original family" vacation since I was 20 and I'm so, so glad JP and I can be here with them.

On Our Way

In just a few hours.

After a crazy week -- more work than could possibly be done, a sick 3 year old who couldn't shake his stomach bug, a teething baby who got sent home from daycare twice with fevers, forcing her to be near her much sicker brother, and trying to prepare the house for our 5-day vacation -- everything is ready and we leave in the morning. I worked until 1 and 2 a.m. three nights this week, and was back at work by 8 a.m. on all of those days. By Friday I was exhausted, the kind of exhausted I don't think I'd been since Landon was a baby. Luckily, JP proved for the millionth time what an amazing partner and father he is because he let me sleep in today, even after he did 100% of the work taking care of two sick kids at home for a full week (and doing 17 loads of laundry and all the other clean up that comes with a child who can't keep any food or water in his stomach; it was bad). Landon seems to be better. I saw "seems to" because we thought that once before only to be surprised with more puking the next day. The poor guy- he hasn't been sick for more than 24 hours since he was a baby and he's only thrown up a handful of times in his life. Even on Thursday, when he was well on the road to recovery, he was just so weak that he only wanted to lay on the couch and watch movies (something he never asks to do) and when we went to read a book before bed he only wanted one- and then asked that it be short. The Biscuit is teething and angry about it; her allergies have also come roaring back so she's all runny and red.

My uncle is here to watch the kids (he and my aunt are staggering their time here; they're flying over from Georgia to watch the kids, because they are awesome and generous and responded immediately to a desperate email I sent out after JP's parents told us they weren't coming. My family is amazing) and Clairebear was so fussy the first few hours he was here he accused me of photoshopping all my blog pictures. Luckily Claire rallied and put her smileyness and cuteness of full display (plus, I don't even have photoshop). Hopefully both kids will be their usual healthy, easy selves for my aunt and uncle.

I haven't really thought about the fact that we're leaving them for 5 days. I know they'll be fine with aunt and uncle, I just wish I could get two vacations -- one with JP and then another one with them, especially after this week of working so much. But it's going to be a great vacation- I've probably never worked so hard to make a trip happen! Work has been so insane- I'm blessed with very supportive co-workers because no one even suggested that I cancel it. I have my kindle loaded up with three new books, my old ski clothes are packed in their UT swimming duffel bag, and my clocks and alarm have all been sprung ahead for daylight savings time.

Twelve hours from now, we'll be on our way to Denver!

9 months

My dearest ClaireBiscuit,

You turned 9 months old last week. I can't tell you had makes me feel - you have been such an incredible little baby, so happy and smiley - you've had us all wrapped around your chubby little fingers from day 1 - and I'm actually a little sad to watch you leave your infancy behind.

That said, you're a pretty incredible pre-toddler as well! As your Gigi says, "every stage is the best stage" with your kids, and I know that will be true with you too. I also know that I thought your brother was fun at 9 months, but that pales in comparison to how fun he's been at 18 months and 2 years and how fun he is now at 3 1/2. So every phase may well be the best phase, but oh Claire, I will miss your snuggly newborn self.

Now, there are no time for snuggles (though you do give the most delicious hugs with your lobster claws clamped around your daddy or my arms and shoulder and your head buried into our neck, but they are growing brief- you are far too busy). You crawl and you crawl fast. You are fiercely determined to get from point A to point B just as quick as anyone else.

If you aren't moving, you must be vertical. You pull up on everything, including flat walls, and you've figured out how to set yourself back down on the floor with a bit more finesse than those first few days of crashing down with a cry. You cruise along furniture and continually impress (and frequently frighten) me with how fast you move from the place I set you down to the place you think you need to be. And it still surprises me every morning to head to your room and find you standing up and staring at me with a giant smile.

Most of the pictures I take of you now involve you moving way too close to the camera or crawling quickly away from it. You shower affection on your cat and dogs, and though they probably aren't quite as thrilled with your mobility as you are, they've tolerated it well. Rosie the yellow lab is your special friend and I swear she's smiling at you even as you poke her nose and try to crawl over her tummy.

You enjoy your daycare class more and more each day. Your teachers are a special group of three women who cheer and celebrate your every development along with your daddy and me. You love your baby friends and chatter away at them as soon as I set you down on the floor. You are enjoying your mobility there too, and according to your teachers, you are very proud of your lofty new position at the big baby table where eat your cheerios and puffs.

Speaking of eating- you're doing doing it all by yourself! A little over a month ago, I dumped a few cheerios on your highchair tray to keep you busy while I made dinner. It was way too early for you to have the fine motor pincer grasp or the aim to get any cheerios in your mouth, but I thought it might entertain to push them around. But when I looked back a few minutes later, about half the cheerios were gone and you were chewing! I watched in awe as you carefully selected one with your thumb and forefinger and then popped it in your mouth. I promise I won't compare you two too much, but Claire, it took your brother about 3 months to figure out how to do that, and I have several charming pictures of him with cheerios stuck everyone on his face except in his mouth. I missed out on those with you. You also drink water from a sippy cup and even drank your formula from one the other day when I didn't feel like cleaning a bottle. Your brother threw his sippy cup at me the first time I tried putting his formula in there.

In other new developments, you are clapping! You clap for yourself and others and always look delighted as you do it. You play peekaboo with your own hands over your face, and sometimes look honestly surprsied when you pull them away and find us back in front of you after disappearing. You play with your brother for hours, either following him around or trying to take his toys or letting him push you around in various transportation vehicles.

You went to your 9 month check-up yesterday. Here are your stats:

29 inches (90%)
20 lbs. 8 oz. (75%)
47 cm (99%)

Basically, you have an off-the-charts head, a long body, and a perfectly chubby middle. You showed the doctor all your tricks and she rewarded you with a finger prick that made you SCREAM. You don't get any shots at the 9-month appointment, but as it turns out, you're like your mom and don't bleed, and you had to get pricked 3 times just to get enough droplets to fill a tiny vial. You did not stop crying until we got about a mile away from the office, and even then, as soon as you saw your daddy back at the house you launched into a crying/babbling tirade that I'm sure told him all about the injustice you were forced to endure.

Claire, there are so many things I want to make sure you know about yourself, about us, about how much we love you and always will. There aren't words, so I can only hope that you grow up feeling its truth. I feel like the love and pride your Papa and Gigi showered on me while growing up is simply part of the fabric of my being; it's immutable and it's with me in all I do. Our lives are a little crazy at times, and while I think it's important that you have two parents who pursue their careers and passions while sharing all the work and joys of home, I hope you always know this to be true:

But oh my baby, little one,
the sweetest thing I do
is sweep you up and hold you tight
and come back home to you.

And I hope you one day understand how your mommy could both love her job and still get choked up every single time she read the last page of that book.

I love you my Clairebear- these past 9 months have been some of the happiest I've ever had and I look forward to all the rest.

Love, mommy

Hepatopters

My Monday has not improved. I am beyond exhausted and still working on this assignment that I absolutely have to email out tonight so I can get comments, do the additional research I know will be needed, and turn to my five other projects before we fly to Denver on Sunday. Sitting in my 8-hour mandatory training was painful; all I could think about were all the things I needed to be doing two floors up in my office. Landon has fared even worse. He still can't keep down even the smallest sip of water and is currently curled up on the couch in a dehydrated, feverish, weak little ball while we wait another hour to try again. The poor little guy has gone through four sets of clothes, two sets of sheets, and four towels that were draped across his lap on the sofa. All day, as I got my text updates from JP, I just wanted to come home and cuddle with him, but I knew JP was doing a great job playing nurse.

So because today has pretty much sucked, my tomorrow is not going to be any better (though I really, really hope it is for Landon), I thought it was time to share these pictures from The Day A Helicopter Landed at Daycare. You see one of the little student's dad flies the Austin Police Department chopper, and for the past two years, he's landed it in the daycare parking lot for the kids to come explore. Landon was SO excited and JP surprised me by showing up at daycare with my camera and capturing the event on film. He's getting good at this part-time stay-at-home-dad thing.

Most of the pictures have other people's kids in them, so I can only share a few, but I just love them (particularly the second one).

The big day is here!

It's a bird, it's a plane-

It's a hepatopter*!!

Landon and friends got to sit inside and touch a few of the buttons. He told me over and over how "a helicopter is really small in the sky but when it lands on the ground it gets HUGE!" Claire's class also came out in their 6-baby buggy to see the helicopter, but I don't think the Biscuit was quite as impressed as her brother. Next year, perhaps, she will understand the awesomeness of the incredible shrinking (and expanding) hepatopter.

*He now calls them by their proper name, but "hepatopter" was my favorite of his toddlerisms and I continue to use it on occasion.

Mission Impossible, updated with more impossibility

I enjoy most of the work I do-- even the mundane things that junior associates frequently get just because they're the lowest cost billers, I manage to enjoy by virtue of my love for chronological and alphabetical order (and rainbow order, but I rarely get to use that outside of my closet). But sometimes, I will develop a strong dislike for a project- usually because it won't go away, no matter how many times I revise and edit and look for new case law and revise again. And even more rarely I will occasionally hate a project.

I hate this project.

It's for an IP case I'm not really staffed on, I just get pulled in whenever there's an impossible research assignment and they want someone to do a survey of all of patent law just to make sure they didn't miss anything. I'm not an IP lawyer and have no interest in being one, but I am becoming a westlaw expert on impossible IP research assignments. I suppose it's a compliment that they keep roping me in a few weeks after I've finally believed I'm free, but a much better reward for my finding of the last impossible citation would be for everyone on the case to forget my email address. You see because I'm not officially "on" the case (and I'm doing all I can to avoid being on it, the trial schedule is going to be crazy and I like to sleep and see my children), I don't know anything about the facts, the procedural posture, the evidence, or our strategy. I know a few obscure arguments and I've drafted a motion to compel based on a single deposition on a discreet side issue, but I'm not sure what else is going on. And yet, I now find myself drafting a response to a motion in limine for the trial that is in a month.

For the non-lawyers out there, a motion in limine is a motion filed by a party to preclude the other party from introducing certain evidence at trial. It is filed before trial because the moving party feels it would be unfairly prejudicial for the jury to hear it (so they don't want to follow the normal procedure of objecting after it's introduced in front of the jury). Responding to one of these often requires the person writing the brief to have some idea of the arguments in the case and an understanding as to why we might want to use the evidence the other side is trying to preclude. It would be good if I knew those things.

I was asked to draft this response because it involves the legal issue I spent a lot of time researching for the motion to compel I wrote earlier, so I'm assuming they just want law and understand that I can't add facts. Accordingly, the following are phrases I've included in this first draft:

... (case citation). Clearly, (case) applies because [insert facts about why the case applies; if there aren't any, remove this paragraph.]

... [insert facts to support prong 1 here; we have some right? we need them]...

... [is there an argument the patent is invalid? if so, we can't use this paragraph or the previous two cases I cited]

... can make a showing of objective recklessness. [Attach exhibits? describe one or two here.]

It's kind of like a Choose Your Own Adventure Book. If we have facts for x, insert paragraph y; if not, use alternate paragraph z. Good times.

Thank goodness I have leftover Caramelita Bars from the bbq lunch I hosted today for a friend/co-worker and her family, and lots of smiley memories of what my house was like with four kids under the age of 4 (that sounds crazy, but it was so fun and I got to cook lots of recipes I never make anymore). It was a great morning. Thanks to this impossible little project, my afternoon has been somewhat less pleasant, but I did at least get to work from home with Clairebear crawling laps around my desk, and I was productive enough that I'll be in bed by midnight. I've just got to draft a few more choose your own legal argument plot points. Next is alternate argument 2: "if we don't have evidence for any of the facts I've suggested, use this paragraph and delete all the others."

Bleary Monday Morning update: Went to bed at 11 p.m., planning to get up at 6 a.m. to be at work by 6:45 to finish assignment before all-day mandatory training began at 8:45. Finally beat back insomnia to fall asleep at 2 a.m. Alarm went off at 6, dragged myself out of bed and got dressed, Landon came down covered in throw-up at 6:30. Bathed him, cuddled him, sent him off to JP's master's swim class with toast, a new book originally intended for the Easter basket, and a personal DVD player with Nemo. Finally got to work at 7:45 with no chance of handing off project to people who actually know things about the case before training begins. Now about to lose my Monday to learning about expert opinions while under caffeinated and seriously over tired.

Did I mention I'm leaving for vacation for 5 days on Sunday and both my cases have suddenly exploded and I have more work than I can possibly get done before I leave even if I simply stop sleeping?

And then I got an email from a partner in a case I worked on nearly a year ago asking for some random, follow-up research by Wednesday. I wrote back what basically amounts to a "No. Full stop." and almost cried. I don't do well on 4 hours of sleep. When I get to the ski slopes on Sunday I'm going to throw my blackberry off the ski lift and then probably fall asleep and fall off the chair myself.

Born to Friends

I was talking to a co-worker this morning about what it's like to have two kids. I remember so well all the fears I had about the extra time, extra demands, extra money, extra TIME, extra everything a second child would need. I wondered if I had enough extra to give, if we could be as good a parents to two as we try to be to Landon, and if I would ever secretly long for my days when I was mom to only one and I could give that one everything I had.

To put it mildly, I need not have worried. Claire has been a dream of a baby (though the poor thing still has terrible allergies and still can't tolerate milk or soy proteins at all), and Landon, mellow, loving kid that he is, adapted immediately to having a little sister around. And it turns out, that once you've changed your life to go from "single" to "couple" to "family with a baby," going to "family with two kids" isn't much of a change at all. The biggest adjustments- the seismic shift that happens when you realize you can no longer do whatever you want whenever you want to do it, and that you are totally responsible for the care of a small, initially helpless, and sometimes unreasonable human being - those adjustments are made. We are a family with young children now and our life looks very different than it did pre-kids, and we've discovered we like it that way. And sure it's now a little more work to get out the door in the morning, and JP and I can't tag team the way we used to, but overall, throwing Claire in the mix hasn't had nearly the draining effects I imagined.

And it's had one effect I didn't anticipate at all. Watching Landon and Claire together is just the most wonderful, gratifying thing. They play together- really play, and each is made happier by the presence of the other. There's simply nothing like watching the two children you made, whom you love with all you have, love each other.

Certain things are easier on a practical level too. Landon is Claire's source of non-stop entertainment. When Landon was a baby, I remember constantly feeling pressured to entertain him, because really, when left to their own devices, adults are pretty boring. A 3 1/2 year old is never boring- at least not to a baby who is pretty sure her big brother might be some kind of super hero.

I drove the kids to Houston this past weekend (JP drove over later and then took them back Sunday night while I stayed over to work out of our Houston office on Monday). Claire woke up from her nap about halfway through, quite irritated about being in her car seat and not on the floor crawling or in my lap drinking a bottle. Landon, without any prompting from me, jumped into action, playing peekaboo with her from around the wings of his car seat, and reading her books and singing songs. It was awesome, and I had the biggest smile on my face while listening to them and driving east on I-10.

Sunday morning: Claire spies her big brother


He makes a hat adjustment


Claire rejects his fashion advice


They engage in their trademark head bump move; giggles ensue.

These pictures made me think of a quote I read once and just re-found:

I, who have no sisters or brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends. ~James Boswell

There may well be a period in their lives where they forget they were born to friends, but their lives will always be a special part of the other's. And it is a joy I never anticipated to watch.

9 Things, with bonus Wedges

My busy-ness remains all consuming, and but I need a break. I feel chatty and have no outlet because everyone around me is also busy and with bullets 1 and 8 below, I fear I should not use my new tan wedges, which just arrived from DSW.com with the last gasp of my birthday money (thanks Grandma and Grandpa- you know I love any excuse to be 6 feet tall), as a conversation starter with my office neighbor.

A colleague who I assure you, would ordinarily give them at least .25 billable hours of praise and commentary. She would also fully appreciate how great they will look on the weekends with the jeans I wore last Friday cuffed up a little. These are the things I look for in an office friend.

This wedge-focused intro should really be bullet #1, but that's okay, we'll just start here:

1. My cheerful outfit has been postponed until tomorrow because I remembered that we were hosting a lunch today for the two firm-wide heads of my section who were coming in from Houston and Dallas.  Sadly, attorneys in Houston and Dallas don't wear jersey dresses with peep-toe wedges to work, so I'm wearing a suit.  I've probably worn a suit in the Austin office less than a dozen times in 2.5 years. When you do, people assume it's because you have an interview elsewhere. 
2. On the positive side, since I divide the price of any outfit (or pair of shoes) by the number of times I wore it, the cost of my new suit has already been cut in half twice.  Also, wearing a suit makes me feel like a lawyer when I drop my kids off at daycare.  Sometimes, that's fun.
3. On the negative side, that dress is really cute and I would have been more comfortable wearing it after eating the large slice of triple chocolate cake I had with lunch. 
4. My little Clairebear/baby Biscuit is turning 9 months old on Friday.  I never thought I'd want babyhood to last any longer than necessary, but I'm really quite sad about Claire getting any older.  But then I look at Landon and remember that 3-year-olds are pretty freaking awesome, so maybe aging is okay.
5. I've embarked on a month-long plan of personal and professional development.  If I didn't have so much work to do, and didn't have a husband or children, I feel that I would do a much better job of growing both personally and professionally.  But even with all that, it's still going well.
6. I love the beginning of the month because I'm not behind in my time yet.  I loathe entering my time. 
7. I realized the other day that while I have had many projects that I did not love, and quite a few that I actively hated (including one I'm working on right now), I have never once dreaded going to work. I think that's pretty good.
8. I love the Katy Perry "Firework" song more than I should.  It's playing on my pandora station right now and the only thing stopping me from singing out load is the fact that one of those visiting partners is sitting in a visitor office directly across from my open door. 
9. I went birthday shopping with my mom this past Sunday while I was home and my shoulder is still sore from carrying around my purse for that long.  My mom is a dynamo of discount shopping (or diva, given that she did it all in 3.5" spike heels; I caved to flip flops).  I was foolish to think I could keep up with her- by our 6th stop (and our 2nd stop at a TJ Maxx), I needed a large diet vanilla coke from Sonic just to keep functioning.  But despite what I fear is some sort of permanent shoulder damage, it was a great day.  I purchased several cute new things for Spring, all for a very small amount of money because my mom is also made of bargain hunting magic.  I look through a rack at Ross and find nothing.  My mom looks through the same rack and pulls out 6 things that I love and fit perfectly and all cost about $14.99.  If I worked out, we could go shopping more often. 

That's all I've got. Now, sadly, it's back to work.

Degree Appreciation

Sometimes, after being productive for what feels like too long without pause, I like to click around on random websites to find a distracting tidbit. It's like a battery charge for my brain. I just need a little boost, and that boost comes from turning it off and reading something mindless. This is why, at my busiest, I am unusually up on celebrity gossip.

Today, after billing a solid 4 hour block to something involving painstaking details and lots of squinting, I clicked over to Above the Law (an online gossip blog about law, law school, and BigLaw firms). I don't check ATL nearly as much I used to. It was fun in law school when it seemed like every day was an update on which firms were raising their associates' salaries, but when it switched to depressing updates on how many associates were being laid off from those same firms, I stopped reading (unless, of course, someone sends me an article about my firm, then I click right over).

Today I found an article called, "Best Law Schools for Getting a BigLaw Job" and guess who was #1?

I don't know why that made me happy, since I'm on the other side of that issue, but it did. As long as I'm paying $2,000/month in loans, I suppose the least my school can do is get jobs for those who will soon be doing the same. Plus, I'm on the local alumni admissions committee, so now I have a stat to tell the admitted undecided students. I was also glad to see that the class number has remained under 200. The small class size at Chicago matters a lot. I believe that even more so now that I've graduated and have talked to my colleagues who went to other, larger law schools (mostly UT and Harvard, which are both huge). I think it's hard not to let numbers creep up, after all, it's extra money and Chicago doesn't have a large endowment, but I'm proud they're sticking to it. That article links to another article about Chicago's grading system describing students' battle with the administration about our low (and possibly lowered) curve. I'm kind of proud of that too (the low curve, not the complaining, though I think it's good to have a voice; another good thing about the small class size is the administration is usually responsive, even if their response is no); it's a tough school. Some days when I feel overwhelmed by whatever task is in front of me, I'll catch a glimpse of the picture of Chicago's chapel that is framed along with my diploma. The chapel is where we graduate- where I got my hood and carried Landon down the aisle, and I think, if I survived 3 years there, then I can probably handle this.

Something I should keep in mind right now, actually. I'm drafting a response to a motion in limine that involves a terribly complicated area of IP law and I keep putting off my westlaw searches (and my reading, oh the reading that needs to be done) in favor of things like checking Above the Law and writing about it. (Also accomplished so far: catching up on the Go Fug Yourself and TLo fashion posts and planning my outfit for tomorrow: a navy blue and white striped jersey dress with pale yellow peep toe wedges and pearl earrings. It makes me feel cheerful to think about it and I'm afraid I'm going to need the cheer.)

Okay, back to work, I need to be in bed by midnight. An update on other things, like the Biscuit, her superhero-obsessed brother, and JP's job search coming soon.

Oh, but P.S. This WSJ article about playing Monopoly at UChicago in the 1970's made me smile. A constitutional convention for the game? Protest signs? It is truly a haven for nerds and it makes me happy they have a place to run free.