A Solo Date

I've never been one to be self conscious about doing things alone.  I have no problem dining alone, and in fact, I actually relish the rare opportunity I get to sit at a bar with a book, an appetizer and a glass of wine.  I also really enjoy going to movies solo, if not for any other reason than my husband hates going, and I am a hard core lover of buttered popcorn.

As you can imagine, solo dates don't come often for me anymore.  And of course, that makes them all the more appealing.  The fact is, I am generally constantly in the company of someone (my kids, predominantly).  And while I'd hardly call myself a loner, the idea of some time to myself - just by myself, for just a little bit - is somewhat of a luxury.

For the past week I have been with my kids in Wilmington, North Carolina, visiting the grandparents.  It's fun and great, but also exhausting and stressful to be out of our fully childproofed environment.  My parents are always offering to give me some time to get out by myself, but I usually decline.  To be honest, I'm usually just so exhausted I don't have the energy to venture out of the house when I have the opportunity.

But last night I mustered the energy, and I indulged.

A few days ago I had read a movie review on CNN of the movie, This is the End.  I had never heard of the movie, but the review was stellar.  I mean, in the I can't remember the last time I've read such a good review of a movie stellar.  It stars Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, and James Franco. Given the great review and the weird connection I have with James Franco, I had a sudden urge to see it.  (I should clarify - I don't directly have a weird connection with James Franco, but my sister does, so close enough.  See picture from TMZ below).

Up and Away

Last month I announced my partnership with OTC Safety.  As part of that partnership, every few weeks I'll be posting on how to use over the counter medicines safely, particularly with little ones running around.  And it's all quite timely, because June is National Safety Month, and in conjunction with that, the CDC and the PROTECT Initiative is launching the social media #MedsUpAway program, which is a campaign to encourage parents to keep their medicines up and away and out of kids' reach.

Don't think you need the advice?  Think you're on top of this?  I thought I was.  Until I took a closer look...

This is about to get embarrassing.

This past weekend, I took inventory of where we kept medicine in our house.  And here's what I found.

On the Side of the Road

A few years back Above the Law ran a story about a mom partner at Kaye Scholer who left her kids at the side of the road.  Apparently, they were bickering and the mom had had enough - she dropped them off in downtown White Plains.  One child (age 12) ran after the car, while the other (age 10) wandered off.  The partner was arrested and charged with endangering the welfare of a child.  (See full story here and here).

I remember reading that story all smug and judgmental like.  Braden was around 6 months old at the time.  What kind of mom does that?  I remember thinking.

For some reason, the story has stuck with me.

To this mom, today I would like to apologize for my judgment.  Not that I condone leaving your kids at the side of the road, and not that I would ever do it really...

But today?  Today I think it might feel amazingly satisfying for a moment or two.

It's been one of those days.

It's been a day of hitting, kicking, screaming, 5 am wake ups, and defiance all around.  It's been a day of empty threats and desperate rewards and proclamations like, "If you don't stop throwing things and kicking the seat, I'm going to stop this car and...."

Well, you know.

Seven hours to go, God help me.  

Need a will? A GIVEAWAY for legal services!

The best thing about this blog is that I get to meet people I never would have encountered otherwise.

A month or so ago, in conjunction with the Mommy Esquire event, I was contacted by Maria Simon, an attorney with the Law Office of Rebecca Geller, a firm comprised solely of moms with young children that specializes in wills and estate planning.  That's right, an all mom law firm!  I was intrigued.

We had a bit of a dialogue, and she mentioned that she would be interested in doing a giveaway for legal services (wills/guardianship documents, trusts, advance medical directives, and legal family documents) on my blog.  I thought it would be a great idea, particularly since I know that many families don't have a will, despite how important it is to have something in place when kids are involved.  I agreed, and asked that she also grant me an interview, as I figured many readers would be interested in hearing her story.

So without further adieu, here is Maria's story of success in having a legal career with children. And be sure to read the entire thing (or scroll to the bottom), because details of the giveaway are below:

Pool Days

Last week, while chatting with my sister on the phone, I mentioned that I would be taking the boys to the pool.

Aw, that's so great!  she said.  I'm just picturing you and Braden and Casey walking arm in and arm and playing and splashing in the water.  So cute!

I laughed.  It's not quite like that.  I told her.  No, it's not quite like that at all.

Our neighborhood pool is 4 houses down from our house.  It's convenient, inviting, and a great place for the neighborhood kids to gather.  When the summer arrives in full force in the DC area, it becomes a staple of our day.

But man, is it an exertion of energy.

Lets break it down:

Step 1: The Preparation (Approximately 25 minutes)
We don't just get to decide that we want to go to the pool and then go. Noooooooooooo.  Instead, a lengthy preparation must take place.

First, I get myself ready.  This is the easiest step of the process.  Suit, coverup, sunscreen, done.

Then I make the announcement to the children.  Who wants to go to the pool?  The boys usually always say yes, but when it sinks in that they must cease whatever activity they are currently engaged in (playing downstairs, playing outside, torturing one another or the dog), they aren't happy.  It takes a few minutes to get them rallied and in one room.

Once I do, I fetch Braden's bathing suit and plead with him to put it on himself (which he is perfectly capable of but usually refuses to do).  I bribe, I reason, I threaten, and 9 times out of ten I end up dressing him myself.  I do it quickly, slather on sunscreen, and then turn to Casey.

Casey, my needier child at the moment, requires a bit more energy. First, there's the swim diaper, which inevitably gets stuck and twisted and turned around somewhere at his hips.  I then put on his bathing suit and turn to the sunscreen.  My God, that kid hates sunscreen.  I basically pin him down on all fours and smother it over his entire body, with him thrashing and screaming the whole time.  There's snot, there's tears, there's major defiance  By the time I am done, only half of the sunscreen is sufficiently rubbed in, I am sweating, and my ponytail has somehow been removed.  I usually don't put it back in.

A Partnership with OTC Safety

As moms we wear a lot of hats.  Disciplinarian.  Comforter.  Cheerleader.  Role Model.  Chef. Cleaner.  Chauffeur.  Teacher.  Doctor.

I don't mean doctor as in the kind with a medical degree (though obviously some moms have that). I more mean the family caretaker, pharmacist, soother.  We become the resident experts of our children's health.  We are the first line of defense against illness in our own homes - we dispense medication, we sanitize, we tend, and ultimately, we become the gatekeepers for deciding when it's time to call in the professionals.  

Because after all, we know our children better than anyone.  We learn to read their cries, their body language, their jumbled words.  Our lips on our children's forehead end up serving as the most accurate thermometer there is.  We have, for lack of a better word, mother's instinct. We know when illness descends, and when it does, we know what works and what doesn't.

And man, does it descend.

When I embarked on this whole motherhood journey I'm on, I knew my kids would get sick.  I knew I would take them to the doctor and give them vitamins and dispense medications as needed.  But I wasn't aware of just how often this would happen, and just how seasoned I would become.  In the course of nearly five years, we've had it all - strep, stomach flu, allergies, every rash known to man, impetigo, hand foot and mouth, Fifth disease, fungal infections, RSV, croup, scarlet fever, and probably a hundred other diseases I've never heard of and can't even think of right now.  So, yes, after five years, when it comes to my kids' health, I do consider myself an "expert" in a way.

But even the most expert, seasoned, mom can use a little help.

Macro Traders - Beware of the Bosom!

By now you've probably already heard the sound bites.  Last week, Paul Tudor Jones, a hedge fund billionaire, appeared all over the national media regarding his comments to an audience at the University of Virginia about what happens to women "macro traders" once they have children. Apparently, in his vast experience with women traders (which involves working with two women turned mothers in the 1970's), once motherhood hits, women are worthless at trading.

"You will never see as many investors or traders as men, period, end of story . . . . As soon as that baby's lips touch[] that girl's bosom, forget it . . . . Every single investment idea . . . . every desire to understand what is going to make this go up or go down is going to be overwhelmed by the most beautiful experience."

Quotes taken from here and here.

To be fair, Mr. Jones acknowledged that men could also have such lapses, such as during a divorce.  In fact, he says that one can "automatically subtract 10 to 20% from any manager if he is going through a divorce."  (Quote taken from here).

So basically, if you're looking for a macro trader, avoid someone who is going through a divorce. And avoid all women with children.  And maybe even avoid Paul Tudor Jones himself.  Given the public relations disaster he has been enduring for the past week, I'm betting he's lost some focus himself.

Your Turn - Sarah's Story

"Your Turn" is a series of posts where readers share their stories of parenthood, work, the struggle for a balance, or just life generally.  If you are interested in contributing a story, please email me at butidohavealawdegree@gmail.com, or click here.  

When I joined a large Washington, D.C. based law firm six years ago, I fully expected that Big Law firm life was incompatible with family, but I thought that I had plenty of time before I had to worry about it. After all, I was newly married, no kids, and a lot of ambition.  About two years into litigation practice, with a baby on the way, I knew that the time had come to take stock of my life, my career, and my priorities.  I came home only to shower, sleep, change clothes, and occasionally walk the dogs.  My husband took care of everything else from cleaning to bill paying to grocery shopping.  He was growing tired of our arrangement.  Our home was my hotel, restaurant, and dry cleaning service.  Convenient for me; painfully frustrating for my husband.

After a particularly grueling month of working around the clock late into my pregnancy with our first son, my husband gave me an ultimatum: do something about your job or this marriage/family is going to fall apart.  Bamm! Less than 2 years into my legal career and I was at the mom vs. career crossroads—job or family.  The next month I requested an alternative work schedule (AWS). 

The Seven of Us

When I was in college I had six best friends.  I know that sounds all cheesy and sorority like (and it kind of was).  But the fact is, there was a group of seven of us that more or less spent four years together.  We lived together, we drank together, we traveled together, we grew up together.  Our senior year, we dressed up as the seven dwarfs for Halloween (I was Dopey).  

It wasn't like we all always got along perfectly and we all were equally close, but for a group of seven girls, we went through college surprisingly drama free.  We looked out for each other.  We were a team.  

Now having had children, I can't say my time at college was the best time in my life, but it was damn well near close.  I can't imagine having a better college experience.  Truly.  And in large part, it was because of those six girls.  

Thirteen years ago.

We've all kept in pretty good touch since graduation.  Some of us even lived together over the years.  And during what I like to call the "wedding circuit" (that five year period where every one you know and then some gets married), we saw each other all the time as we attended bachelorette parties, showers, and wedding receptions.  

But then life went on, and we all went our separate ways.  There was marriage, careers, and lots of kids (15 so far between the seven of us).  There was also divorce, separation, and setbacks.  Our visits got less frequent as life, and distance, got in the way.  And before I knew it, it had been several years since all seven of us had been reunited together, all at once.   

Warning - Pregnant Lady Bitching

When I found out I was pregnant a couple of months ago I made a promise to myself not to turn this blog into a pregnancy rant.  I mean, who wants to read that?  For leisure?  I have stuck to it. Until today.

Allow me to bitch.  

1.  I REALLY WANT A GLASS OF RED WINE OR A MARGARITA OR A CORONA.  HELL, I'D EVEN TAKE A SHOT OF JAGER AT THIS POINT. 

Look, I don't want to appear to be an alcoholic.  But as some of you long time blog readers will know, I really enjoy a glass of wine or two.  Not just for the nice relaxing buzz it gives, but also for the taste of it.  The feel of it.  The aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh you get after a long day and you finally get to sit down.  As far as beverages go, for me it's a staple.  

Fine, I get it, I'm pregnant, inx-nay on the wine.  But with this nice weather and vacation coming and walking past people sitting in sidewalk cafes having cocktails... I am getting a major hunkering for a margarita.  Or a nice cold beer.  Or something that indicates celebration and summer and adulthood and the chance to numb my stresses if only for a few minutes.  And the fact that I CAN'T have it, that I SHOULDN'T have it,  that it's PROHIBITED just makes me want it more in an almost frantic, psycho way.