On the Lighter Side

Jeez, this blog has been heavy for the last few weeks.  I am getting so sick of my own lamenting. So today?  Today we are keeping it light.

On Sunday we took the kids to the National Building Museum (which is AWESOME if you're in the area and have never been).  All was well and good until another mom looked down at Casey, smiled, and turned to me and said:

"How adorable.  How old is she?"

SHE is a boy, bitch!

No, I didn't say that.  Though I have to admit, I am a bit sensitive to this issue given the gender-neutral nature of Casey's name.

Instead I just smiled and said thanks.

But when I thought about it, I realized this woman didn't know Casey's name.  And he was wearing a blue and green striped shirt, jeans, and sneakers.  Why would she think he was a girl?

I knew the answer.  I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

Happiness

There's nothing better than an unexpected good mood when you have been stuck in a funk.

Nothing monumental has occurred, I just woke up today feeling happy.

For one, here is a screen shot of the weather forecast:

Goodbye, seasonal affective disorder happy light.  I won't be needing you for a while.

Second, I have a night out tonight with an awesome friend.  And we are actually doing something other than getting dinner and drinks (not that I'm knocking that at all).  Instead, we'll be going to Lunafest, "a traveling film festival of award-winning short films by, for, about women."  Yay for something different.  And if it sucks, we'll just get dinner and drinks.

And there are so many other things.

It's Only Preschool

When Braden was two years old and one day, he started preschool at a neighborhood Montessori. It was a rough beginning, with a lot of leg clinging, and a lot of tears (on both our parts, I have to admit).  But my God, he looked so adorable on that first day of school.

I did have some guilt and a bit of trepidation about starting him in school so young.  But with work and a second baby on the way, I fledged ahead.  And after a few months, it proved to be a good decision.  Braden loved the school, I loved the school, and I had my mornings with Casey.  We were in a groove and Braden was thriving.  He was in a cute little classroom with 11 other cute little kids and two awesomely loving teachers.  

This year Braden moved from the 2's room to the "real" Montessori room.  Real Montessori meaning mixed ages (3-6), larger class size (around 18 kids), and real Montessori work.  I was a Montessori kid myself, and I believe in the philosophy, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.  Braden has a September birthday and would be one of the youngest kids in the class. He is a little wild.  He is a little sensitive.  He is a little shy.  He's a little boy.

Girl Friends

In the past two weeks I have been showered with love by my girl friends.  Not that I didn't know this already, but I have some pretty amazing friends.

I've had dinner brought to me.  I've had dinners out planned for me.  I've had wine nights brought in for me.  I've had countless offers of childcare.  And that's only the local ladies.  For the next three weekends, three of my best friends are descending upon DC to hang with me.

I'm very lucky.  Particularly because as I've gotten older, I've noticed that it's easier and easier to let friendships fall to the wayside.

It's nobody's fault, really.  Life just gets in the way.  People live in different cities.  People have husbands.  People have kids.  Weekends are designated family time.  And before you know it, weeks have gone by without a phone call, and facebook becomes your major mode of communication.

Getting Away

Way back when I used to be a world traveler.  When I had kids, I figured it was something I would need to give up, for a variety of reasons - some financial, but mostly practical.  It's just not so fun to jet set with a toddler.

Then, when Braden was 15 months old, a good friend in Australia proposed that we meet in London, where we both had mutual friends.  My gut reaction was to say of course not, but then I reconsidered.

Why not?

So I did it.  I flew out on a Wednesday night and was back on Sunday.  It was exhausting, it was fun, it was refreshing.  I felt like I found me again, if only for a few days.  The me who wasn't a wife, wasn't a mother, wasn't a lawyer.  The me who was just a fun loving, laid back, globetrotter up for anything.  And I really love that me.

It's not everyday that you pound on your bladder for 20 minutes

In general, I consider myself to be an up for anything, open-minded kind of person.  In particular, since leaving my career, I have been committed to trying new things, meeting new people, and being receptive for whatever comes my way.  As part of this whole self renewal thing, I have been wanting to start doing yoga again.

Right before I got pregnant with Braden, I was going through a really stressful period in my life (during which time my jaw was locked shut for two months, but that's a whole other story!).  I took up yoga, and actually really enjoyed it.  After a few months, I ended up on pregnancy bedrest, and my yoga mat has been collecting dust in my closet ever since.

But now?  There really is no reason I can't do a yoga class here and there.  I've been trying out a couple of different yoga centers in the area, and this weekend, I cashed in a Groupon I had purchased for 10 yoga classes at Dahn Yoga.

As I approached the studio, I noticed that it said on the sign "Yoga and Healing Center."  Hmmm, healing center.  This should have been my first red flag that this was not going to be your typical cafe latte drinking, Colorado exile yoga crowd, but hey, whatever.  I walked into the main reception area, with yoga mat and Groupon coupon in hand.

Bah, Humbug!

I've never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day.

The whole thing is just so contrived.  The flowers.  The set price dinners.  The gross Russell Stover chocolates.  My husband and I go through the motions and do cards and perhaps a dinner (on a different night, to avoid the aforementioned set price meals).  But between wedding anniversaries and dating anniversaries and birthdays and Christian and Jewish holidays, I think we're both kind of over it.  

But this Valentine's Day?  This Valentine's Day REALLY sucks.  For a couple of reasons:

First, I was inspired by some of my fellow bloggers (check out this and this) to do something crafty with Braden for Valentine's Day.  Why?  I have no idea.  We all know I don't have a crafty bone in my body, and by all indications, neither does Braden.   But for some reason, when we were at a specialty toy store last week, I thought this might be a good idea.

Over the past few days, I have tried to get Braden excited about it.  I've given him full access to the glue stick.  I've attempted to entice him with hearts and stickers and a bic pen.  But no.  Out of 18 Valentine's cards we had to make, do you know how many Braden made?

One.

So what am I doing tonight, on the eve of the sacred preschool Valentine's' Day party?

Making stupid homemade Valentine's Day cards.

And trust me, they ain't pretty.

If I seem overly bitter, it's also because I'll be flying solo on Valentine's Day evening, as my husband must answer to work demands.

Sigh.

At least I can look forward to the Teen Mom 2 finale.  It's the little things, you know?

A Year Out

In the past few weeks, I have picked up some additional freelance work.  I love that I am making a bit of extra money, and I especially love that the work doesn't require a law degree.  There's just something strangely satisfying about getting paid for work involving no legal skills.

It's been almost one year since I left my job.  And the longer I am out of the workforce, the more I am realizing that I may never be a lawyer again.

I don't know what I thought when I quit.  I guess part of me always assumed I would go back to a law firm after this little break at home with the kids - as if I was on another leave of absence, or maternity leave.  I even found myself researching law firms which did in fact have sabbatical programs for women (Skadden's Sidebar program being one of them), and casually mentioning it to my former supervisors, as if they would form a special program just for me.  Ha!

But now, one year out, the idea of going back to a law firm, or even being a practicing lawyer again, is scary as hell to me.  When you're in it, you accept it, because it's your life.  But having the opportunity to step away - I get anxiety just thinking about it.  The pressure, the hours, the politics.  I just don't have the energy or the passion for it anymore, and I don't think I ever will again.

So maybe my law career really is over.

The Era of Casey

For all of Casey's life, he has essentially been a tag along - dragged to his big brother's playdates, to preschool pickups, to parks he was too little to navigate.  The poor kid has taken it in stride.

But now?  At 15 months, Casey is coming into his own.  As of this weekend, his morning naps officially ceased.  So on Monday, when my husband left to take Braden to school, we bid them farewell as we usually do and waved until they drove out of sight.  And when 9:00 am rolled around, instead of putting him back to bed, we just looked at each other.

Now what do we do?  

Casey's lack of morning slumber left us with 4.5 hours to kill.

4.5 hours.  That is a long, long time to hang with a wandering 15 month old who is determined to engage in continuous suicide drops from stairs, coffee tables, couches, anything above six inches, etc.

Bringing Vacation Home

My internal pep talk began on the second to last day of my vacation.

See this, Shannon?  See how relaxed you feel?  How happy?  How at ease?  You can carry this on beyond your vacation.  You don't have to be depressed about going home.  Vacation is a state of mind!

Two days later I was on the plane ride home, with my head between my legs, assuming crash position, during a particularly turbulent patch of clouds.  The xanax hadn't worked.

Who am I kidding?  I don't want to go home!  Get me off of this mother !*?ing plane, and take me back to the Caymans!

And it's been a bit downhill from there.