Happy Valentine's Day everyone!! For many people, Valentine's day means cards, fancy food and chocolates, and my house is no exception. Well, except how we go about the cards, fancy food and chocolate.
For us, Valentine's day is a family affair. I see Valentine's day as a day to celebrate love in all its forms. Love for spouses, love for kids. Love for our parents, siblings, friends, even co-workers. Love for our pets. Love for our neighbors. It's a day to celebrate something that's good in all of us. A day to really live up to Christ's calling to love one another. A chance to celebrate that love.
So, it starts with cards. On Sunday, we sat down as family and made Valentine's for the kids' friends at school. As we wrote out the valentines, we talked about what we liked about each friend, and how they were special. When we were done with the class lists, each of my kids made a valentine for the other. It wasn't something Husband or I told them to do; it was just that our kids understood that giving a valentine meant making someone feel special. And each wanted to make the other feel that way. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that nothing can make a kid feel more special than a Lightning McQueen or Sleeping Beauty valentine with a sucker attached!
Then today, each kid awoke excited to share in some special Valentine's Day food! Thanks to the amazing effort of each of my kids' daycare teachers, each kid's classroom is hosting a special Valentine's Day meal with mom or dad. We got lucky in that Sweet Pea's class is hosting breakfast; KJ's class is hosting lunch. Each kid was so excited this morning to have lunch or breakfast with Daddy and just share some one-on-one time. While eating lunch at a three-foot high table, sitting in tiny chairs is a far cry from the candle-light dinners of Husband's Valentine's Day past, I'm pretty sure Husband will cherish these meals today more than any of those others.
And then, there's chocolate. As the off-site daycare parent, I didn't have any hope of making the special V-day breakfast or lunch with my little guys. So I set off to make their day special with some chocolate. Tuesday nights are a bad night in our house. We generally go straight from work/school to KJ's hockey, getting home around 7 pm. Then it's time for a quick dinner, bath and bed. Not a lot of time for celebration. But last night, I stayed up and made my kids a "special" dessert. It's only pudding (and instant at that), but it's enough for my kids to know that they are my valentines too. It's something a little special I could do to physically show them how special they are to me.
If you are still looking for some family-friendly ideas on how to make your Valentine's Day a little extra special, check out this link for a bunch of recipes, crafts and other ideas on how to celebrate. http://familyfun.go.com/valentines-day/valentines-day-recipes/valentine-treats-gallery-838251/?CMP=NLC-NL_FFUN_Recipe_020712_valentine-treats-gallery
Karen
Showing posts with label Karen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karen. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Girlfriends (or the Lack Thereof)
Lately I've been lamenting my lack of girlfriends. I don't deserve any sympathy because this problem is completely of my own making. Even before I had KJ I had trouble making many girls' nights out. With my time-intensive job and long commute, most working women were calling it a night before I was anywhere close to home.
And then I had KJ. Nothing else changed in my life - I still found my friends engaging and interesting and wanted to spend time with them - but every potential outing meant time away from my baby. And time was already precious enough as it was. Between working and commuting and KJ's 8 o'clock bedtime, my only chance to really spend time with KJ - or Husband - was on the weekends. So I tried to make the most of that. But sadly, that meant I saw my friends even less.
When I worked at a large firm, my lack of local girlfriends was easier to ignore. I worked with a lot of intelligent, engaging women. Several had kids right around the same time I did, so our struggles were similar. We had a lot to talk about, and a built-in support group who understood things like the need for emergency back-up care and need to negotiate after-hour events with one's husband. These women understood the need for 9-5 friends, with no outside of work time commitment required. Of course, as we all moved our separate ways we've kept in touch. But without seeing each other every day at work, our contact has (understandably) waned.
Even when I first started at my current firm the lack of women wasn't so bad. I quickly became good friends with the other woman attorney, and found we had a lot in common. She had kids both older and younger than mine, and brought a much needed fresh perspective to my working mom life. I felt so lucky to have her. But then she left. And now, for months, I've been all alone.
It shouldn't be a big deal to be the only woman at my job. The guys treat me well, and they generally are as understanding about family obligations as they can be. But I've found that they just can't take the place of another woman. And the fact that I now have no women friends at work or at home just leaves me feeling sad and lonely.
As I said when I started this post - I know this is my fault. I need to make time to get together with the girls. But weekdays are truly impossible - I often don't get home until close to 8 - and weekends require coordinating around at least two separate families' kid and personal obligations. Even on our best weekends I barely have time to do anything for myself (e.g., I had to cancel a hair appointment this weekend that I've had for ten weeks). The thought of carving out a couple of hours seems almost impossible.
Am I the only working mom that feels that way? That I've given up all of my friends so that I can be a working mom? Am I just a bad friend, or are the other moms out there sympathetic to my position? Do they understand that I do want to know what's happening in their lives and I do want to see them, but that Facebook messages and twice-yearly visits are the best that I can do right now? I'm obviously hoping for the latter, and that my friends are forgiving. Because I do care about them and miss them more than I can express.
Karen
And then I had KJ. Nothing else changed in my life - I still found my friends engaging and interesting and wanted to spend time with them - but every potential outing meant time away from my baby. And time was already precious enough as it was. Between working and commuting and KJ's 8 o'clock bedtime, my only chance to really spend time with KJ - or Husband - was on the weekends. So I tried to make the most of that. But sadly, that meant I saw my friends even less.
When I worked at a large firm, my lack of local girlfriends was easier to ignore. I worked with a lot of intelligent, engaging women. Several had kids right around the same time I did, so our struggles were similar. We had a lot to talk about, and a built-in support group who understood things like the need for emergency back-up care and need to negotiate after-hour events with one's husband. These women understood the need for 9-5 friends, with no outside of work time commitment required. Of course, as we all moved our separate ways we've kept in touch. But without seeing each other every day at work, our contact has (understandably) waned.
Even when I first started at my current firm the lack of women wasn't so bad. I quickly became good friends with the other woman attorney, and found we had a lot in common. She had kids both older and younger than mine, and brought a much needed fresh perspective to my working mom life. I felt so lucky to have her. But then she left. And now, for months, I've been all alone.
It shouldn't be a big deal to be the only woman at my job. The guys treat me well, and they generally are as understanding about family obligations as they can be. But I've found that they just can't take the place of another woman. And the fact that I now have no women friends at work or at home just leaves me feeling sad and lonely.
As I said when I started this post - I know this is my fault. I need to make time to get together with the girls. But weekdays are truly impossible - I often don't get home until close to 8 - and weekends require coordinating around at least two separate families' kid and personal obligations. Even on our best weekends I barely have time to do anything for myself (e.g., I had to cancel a hair appointment this weekend that I've had for ten weeks). The thought of carving out a couple of hours seems almost impossible.
Am I the only working mom that feels that way? That I've given up all of my friends so that I can be a working mom? Am I just a bad friend, or are the other moms out there sympathetic to my position? Do they understand that I do want to know what's happening in their lives and I do want to see them, but that Facebook messages and twice-yearly visits are the best that I can do right now? I'm obviously hoping for the latter, and that my friends are forgiving. Because I do care about them and miss them more than I can express.
Karen
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Christmas Countdown
Well, here we are five days before Christmas. I don't have everything done because, as I said last week, I don't think "everything" will ever be done before the kids actually wake up on Christmas morning. But as I promised myself last week, I'm taking it in and enjoying the season. And it's been everything I imagined it could be and more.
Maybe it is because the kids are old enough to understand what's going on, or maybe it's because I've made a concentrated effort to focus on my family this season, but I've never felt so blessed to have my kids and husband as I do this season. Seeing the world through their eyes - even for just this little bit - has brought me so much joy. From Sweet Pea's terror in sitting on Santa's lap, to KJ's thrill in bringing home handmade presents for his family this season has been filled with reminders of what a blessing it truly is to be a family. From making a gingerbread house (a first for all of us) to taking Sweet Pea to see her first production of the Nutcracker, I've had the opportunity to really focus on my family and all they bring to my life. And although I still complain that Husband eats all the dough before I have time to bake it into cookies, and despite Sweet Pea and KJ's constant bickering about who gets to turn on the Christmas tree, I know I am lucky to have them. And I'm so grateful for everything they've added to my life.
Wishing you and your family a holiday season filled with joy, magic and family.
Karen
Maybe it is because the kids are old enough to understand what's going on, or maybe it's because I've made a concentrated effort to focus on my family this season, but I've never felt so blessed to have my kids and husband as I do this season. Seeing the world through their eyes - even for just this little bit - has brought me so much joy. From Sweet Pea's terror in sitting on Santa's lap, to KJ's thrill in bringing home handmade presents for his family this season has been filled with reminders of what a blessing it truly is to be a family. From making a gingerbread house (a first for all of us) to taking Sweet Pea to see her first production of the Nutcracker, I've had the opportunity to really focus on my family and all they bring to my life. And although I still complain that Husband eats all the dough before I have time to bake it into cookies, and despite Sweet Pea and KJ's constant bickering about who gets to turn on the Christmas tree, I know I am lucky to have them. And I'm so grateful for everything they've added to my life.
Wishing you and your family a holiday season filled with joy, magic and family.
Karen
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas
Here we are, 12 days before Christmas. It seems like December has gone so fast. I really wanted to enjoy the holiday season this year so I did most of my present buying early, hoping that I could coast through December, just enjoying special moments with the kids. And my plan has kind of worked. I took Sweet Pea and her cousin to see Pinkalicious last weekend. And this weekend Sweet Pea and I are going to see the Nutcracker. While we are watching ballet, Husband and KJ are going to skate with Santa. All in all, we've done a lot of special things, so that seems to be working out pretty well.
Except, I still have a bunch of "little" things to do. You know, like assemble Sweet Pea's doll house. Well, that's actually Husband's job, but you get my drift. We really haven't had much opportunity to focus on things like that - things that didn't have to be done immediately, but are quickly becoming things we can no longer put off. We've been busy going from daycare Christmas event to work Christmas event to charity Christmas event to family Christmas event. It seems like there is something "special" every day, which leaves little time for picking up those little things and tying up the loose ends.
It seems like when you are the mom, Christmas is never really finished. There's always something more to do - another Christmas card to send, a new kinds of cookie to make. I think that's why the season is so stressful on so many people. You're never really done.
These last 12 days of December I'm trying my best to slow down and just enjoy my kids enjoying the season. Yes, I still have to pick up a gift or two. And yes, there is sure to be at least one late night as we assemble some gifts. But there are a lot of special moments to come too. Like making cookies with the kids and counting down to Santa. I'm promising myself not to lose those special moments in the last minute bustle. Because whether or not those loose ends get tied up won't determine whether we have an amazing Christmas. But how I handle these next 12 days will determine how I remember this Christmas. And I want to remember it the way I've envisioned it: Relaxed, happy and together. Not running around the mall. So today, the craziness stops. I'll pick up a thing or two here and there, but our holiday celebration begins now.
Karen
Except, I still have a bunch of "little" things to do. You know, like assemble Sweet Pea's doll house. Well, that's actually Husband's job, but you get my drift. We really haven't had much opportunity to focus on things like that - things that didn't have to be done immediately, but are quickly becoming things we can no longer put off. We've been busy going from daycare Christmas event to work Christmas event to charity Christmas event to family Christmas event. It seems like there is something "special" every day, which leaves little time for picking up those little things and tying up the loose ends.
It seems like when you are the mom, Christmas is never really finished. There's always something more to do - another Christmas card to send, a new kinds of cookie to make. I think that's why the season is so stressful on so many people. You're never really done.
These last 12 days of December I'm trying my best to slow down and just enjoy my kids enjoying the season. Yes, I still have to pick up a gift or two. And yes, there is sure to be at least one late night as we assemble some gifts. But there are a lot of special moments to come too. Like making cookies with the kids and counting down to Santa. I'm promising myself not to lose those special moments in the last minute bustle. Because whether or not those loose ends get tied up won't determine whether we have an amazing Christmas. But how I handle these next 12 days will determine how I remember this Christmas. And I want to remember it the way I've envisioned it: Relaxed, happy and together. Not running around the mall. So today, the craziness stops. I'll pick up a thing or two here and there, but our holiday celebration begins now.
Karen
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Reconsideration
Before last week, I had been feeling a little down about my job situation. Overall I like my job and the people I work with, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how things would be different this year if I had stayed with my last firm. Because if I had stayed with my last firm, I would have made partner this month.
It sounds like a self-aggrandizing thing to say since partnership decisions are never set in stone, but I was certainly on the path to partnership at my last firm and by all indications, I would have been named a partner this December. Of course, at that firm, "partnership" meant non-equity partner, but still. I would have had the title. I knew when I chose to leave that firm that I would not be considered for partnership at my new firm for at least one additional year, and that my current firm's partnership decisions were not made in December, making the process even longer. But partnership at my current firm means full-on equal ownership of the business, so the decision to add a new partner is taken very, very seriously. It only made sense that they'd want me around for a while before they decided to own a business with me. And truthfully, when I was making the decision to move, I pretty much thought I'd want that extra year to make sure I wanted to own a business with them. So back then, the extra year of associate didn't seem so bad. Which may be why I was so surprised to be a little down about what could have been this December if only I had stayed.
Until last Tuesday.
Last Tuesday around 9:30 a.m., I got a call from daycare that Sweet Pea was sick. I'll start by saying she's fine, the worst case scenario that I am about to describe was not the situation. But at the time I got the call, Sweet Pea's sickness seemed pretty serious. And, it seemed potentially related to all of the "tummy troubles" she had as a baby. Sweet Pea needed to see a doctor right away, and hospitalization was not out of the question.
One of the reasons I left my last job was for how they treated me the year Sweet Pea was born. Sweet Pea had a lot of trouble eating - and thus a lot of trouble growing - her first year of life. There were all kinds of doctor appointments. All kinds of tests. You know the pre-tax dollars you can set aside for medical expenses each year? We blew through all the money we had set aside for the year by the first week of March. I only have a few memories from 2009, and sadly the most poignant one is of sitting at my kitchen table at 2 a.m. on my last week of maternity leave crying. I had been in the hospital for an infection and discharged myself so that I could relieve my parents who had been watching the kids and needed to work the next day. Sweet Pea had been very sick for my parents. And despite their best efforts to be reassuring, I knew they were worried. When they left that night to get some sleep, I sat at the table and cried. My baby seemed seriously sick. And I had to go back to work. And my firm had just laid off over 100 people due to the terrible economic climate. How was I going to do it?
Somehow, I managed to make it. I worked full-time, five days a week, scheduled as many doctor appointments and tests as I could on Saturdays and just generally tried my best to make it work. But I was so tired. By the end of July, I knew I couldn't keep at that pace much longer. So I asked my firm if I could go on the (firm approved) four-day-a-week part-time plan for 6 months. And was denied.
They "needed" me full-time, they said. Never mind the fact that there wasn't a lot of work to go around at that particular time. That associates were billing less than 100 per month. Never mind that many of our clients had stopped all unnecessary litigation in order to save capital for their actual business needs. And never mind that my firm would have saved tens of thousands of dollars in salary that I couldn't make up with billable work if I stayed. They wanted me there, and that was that. I had no choice but to continue on full-time. In December, I resubmitted the part-time paperwork and started looking for a job. And in May, I left.
When everything with Sweet Pea had settled down on Tuesday and I had time to reflect on my current firm's response to my emergency, I realized how happy I am to wait a couple more years to be considered for partner. My experiences with my "new" firm have been night-and-day from my old. My current firm started me with every-other-Friday off, and moved me to a four-day work week within a year. I've brought my kids to the office more times in the last 18 months than I did during the entire three years I had kids at my last firm. And, most importantly, they've supported me whenever I've needed to be there for my kids. Whether that's meant handling a routine court call so that I could attend my kid's holiday party, or handing over their car key so that I could get to my sick kid (which actually happened on Tuesday).
For all of my complaints, the men I work with now have priorities like mine. They understand how important family is, and are willing to support me as I try to balance a young family and a demanding profession. They are willing to work with me, even if that means sacrifice on their part from time to time. They understand that I only have one chance to be there for my kids when they are small. But I have my whole career to build a book of business and be named partner. In other words, they are the kind of people that I would want to be partners with. Someday.
And for that, I'm happy to wait.
It sounds like a self-aggrandizing thing to say since partnership decisions are never set in stone, but I was certainly on the path to partnership at my last firm and by all indications, I would have been named a partner this December. Of course, at that firm, "partnership" meant non-equity partner, but still. I would have had the title. I knew when I chose to leave that firm that I would not be considered for partnership at my new firm for at least one additional year, and that my current firm's partnership decisions were not made in December, making the process even longer. But partnership at my current firm means full-on equal ownership of the business, so the decision to add a new partner is taken very, very seriously. It only made sense that they'd want me around for a while before they decided to own a business with me. And truthfully, when I was making the decision to move, I pretty much thought I'd want that extra year to make sure I wanted to own a business with them. So back then, the extra year of associate didn't seem so bad. Which may be why I was so surprised to be a little down about what could have been this December if only I had stayed.
Until last Tuesday.
Last Tuesday around 9:30 a.m., I got a call from daycare that Sweet Pea was sick. I'll start by saying she's fine, the worst case scenario that I am about to describe was not the situation. But at the time I got the call, Sweet Pea's sickness seemed pretty serious. And, it seemed potentially related to all of the "tummy troubles" she had as a baby. Sweet Pea needed to see a doctor right away, and hospitalization was not out of the question.
One of the reasons I left my last job was for how they treated me the year Sweet Pea was born. Sweet Pea had a lot of trouble eating - and thus a lot of trouble growing - her first year of life. There were all kinds of doctor appointments. All kinds of tests. You know the pre-tax dollars you can set aside for medical expenses each year? We blew through all the money we had set aside for the year by the first week of March. I only have a few memories from 2009, and sadly the most poignant one is of sitting at my kitchen table at 2 a.m. on my last week of maternity leave crying. I had been in the hospital for an infection and discharged myself so that I could relieve my parents who had been watching the kids and needed to work the next day. Sweet Pea had been very sick for my parents. And despite their best efforts to be reassuring, I knew they were worried. When they left that night to get some sleep, I sat at the table and cried. My baby seemed seriously sick. And I had to go back to work. And my firm had just laid off over 100 people due to the terrible economic climate. How was I going to do it?
Somehow, I managed to make it. I worked full-time, five days a week, scheduled as many doctor appointments and tests as I could on Saturdays and just generally tried my best to make it work. But I was so tired. By the end of July, I knew I couldn't keep at that pace much longer. So I asked my firm if I could go on the (firm approved) four-day-a-week part-time plan for 6 months. And was denied.
They "needed" me full-time, they said. Never mind the fact that there wasn't a lot of work to go around at that particular time. That associates were billing less than 100 per month. Never mind that many of our clients had stopped all unnecessary litigation in order to save capital for their actual business needs. And never mind that my firm would have saved tens of thousands of dollars in salary that I couldn't make up with billable work if I stayed. They wanted me there, and that was that. I had no choice but to continue on full-time. In December, I resubmitted the part-time paperwork and started looking for a job. And in May, I left.
When everything with Sweet Pea had settled down on Tuesday and I had time to reflect on my current firm's response to my emergency, I realized how happy I am to wait a couple more years to be considered for partner. My experiences with my "new" firm have been night-and-day from my old. My current firm started me with every-other-Friday off, and moved me to a four-day work week within a year. I've brought my kids to the office more times in the last 18 months than I did during the entire three years I had kids at my last firm. And, most importantly, they've supported me whenever I've needed to be there for my kids. Whether that's meant handling a routine court call so that I could attend my kid's holiday party, or handing over their car key so that I could get to my sick kid (which actually happened on Tuesday).
For all of my complaints, the men I work with now have priorities like mine. They understand how important family is, and are willing to support me as I try to balance a young family and a demanding profession. They are willing to work with me, even if that means sacrifice on their part from time to time. They understand that I only have one chance to be there for my kids when they are small. But I have my whole career to build a book of business and be named partner. In other words, they are the kind of people that I would want to be partners with. Someday.
And for that, I'm happy to wait.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Selling Yourself
Lately I've been doing a lot of the thing I dislike most about being a lawyer: marketing. I understand that marketing is part of the job, and I know how important networking is. I know that the most successful lawyers have large networks of people referring business to them. But I still greatly dislike marketing anyway. I hate the bar meetings and rubber-chicken dinners. I hate making small talk with strangers about what I do and hoping that maybe we'll forge a relationship and someday, many, many years from now, this stranger will send me business. But most of all, I hate missing out on time with my kids so that I can hob nob with a bunch of strangers.
So far, for me, none of the traditional marketing strategies have worked. I've been to plenty of dinners, joined plenty of professional organizations and I sit on the junior board of a great not-for-profit. But I've never gotten business from these sources. Instead, my client base has come from my past. I took my largest client with me from my last firm. I had worked for them for about a year, knew their business inside and out, and when I left, they came with me. My other work I get from my friends. People who knew me in law school or my last firm. Former opposing counsel, or friends whose firms are conflicted out of a certain representation. These are my business sources. I, therefore, am marketing to my friends.
I find this uncomfortable. My friends are smart people who know that I'm not taking them out to lunch just because. They know I need to build a book of business and that my interest in their work extends beyond how they are spending 8 hours at work every day. They know that I'm listening to learn if there is a way I can help them. And they know that if they give me a legal matter, it will help me. Because lawyers, after all, eat what they kill. If I don't have any cases to work on, I have nothing to eat. So, I take a direct approach with my friends. When I call up in-house counsel to go to breakfast or lunch, I flat out tell them I'm doing some marketing. And then I take them out, we talk about our work a bit and then just generally catch up. I've found it to be a frank way to handle things that allows us to get business done and still enjoy our time together. It works for me.
At my last breakfast meeting, my good friend indicated that my approach was unique. In fact, he thanked me for my candor and told me that he found my approach to marketing refreshing. Apparently he too, felt uncomfortable suffering through lunches with friends where the real purpose of the lunch boiled gently beneath the surface.
Which got me wondering, how do other lawyers approach marketing? Do the bar meetings and not-for-profit-boards work for you? Do you write a lot of articles? Speak? Where does your client base come from? Maybe if we swap some ideas, we can all learn something that will help us grow our own practices.
Karen
So far, for me, none of the traditional marketing strategies have worked. I've been to plenty of dinners, joined plenty of professional organizations and I sit on the junior board of a great not-for-profit. But I've never gotten business from these sources. Instead, my client base has come from my past. I took my largest client with me from my last firm. I had worked for them for about a year, knew their business inside and out, and when I left, they came with me. My other work I get from my friends. People who knew me in law school or my last firm. Former opposing counsel, or friends whose firms are conflicted out of a certain representation. These are my business sources. I, therefore, am marketing to my friends.
I find this uncomfortable. My friends are smart people who know that I'm not taking them out to lunch just because. They know I need to build a book of business and that my interest in their work extends beyond how they are spending 8 hours at work every day. They know that I'm listening to learn if there is a way I can help them. And they know that if they give me a legal matter, it will help me. Because lawyers, after all, eat what they kill. If I don't have any cases to work on, I have nothing to eat. So, I take a direct approach with my friends. When I call up in-house counsel to go to breakfast or lunch, I flat out tell them I'm doing some marketing. And then I take them out, we talk about our work a bit and then just generally catch up. I've found it to be a frank way to handle things that allows us to get business done and still enjoy our time together. It works for me.
At my last breakfast meeting, my good friend indicated that my approach was unique. In fact, he thanked me for my candor and told me that he found my approach to marketing refreshing. Apparently he too, felt uncomfortable suffering through lunches with friends where the real purpose of the lunch boiled gently beneath the surface.
Which got me wondering, how do other lawyers approach marketing? Do the bar meetings and not-for-profit-boards work for you? Do you write a lot of articles? Speak? Where does your client base come from? Maybe if we swap some ideas, we can all learn something that will help us grow our own practices.
Karen
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Crazy Hair Day
Last week was spirit week at the kids' school. Every day of the week, the kids had to bring in or do something different to show their support for the school. For example, one day was pajama day, and the kids wore their jammies to school. Another day was sports day, and everyone wore jerseys in support of their favorite athletic team. And one day was crazy hair day. Sounds like fun, right?
It was. Despite the fact that the "thing" each kid needed to bring in or do was different each day of spirit week, we had a good time with it. Sweet Pea wore her Elmo slippers for silly sock day. KJ brought in his beloved hockey stick on sports day. And then came crazy hair day.
On the morning that Sweet Pea's class had crazy hair day, I gave Sweet Pea crazy hair. She looked great. She looked so great, in fact, that KJ wanted crazy hair too. KJ's class had not designated that day as crazy hair day, but in the spirit of sibling harmony (and really, just generally not caring what the other daycare moms think of me), I gave KJ crazy hair too. He was thrilled with it. He thought he looked cool and the kids were happy. So, we went about our days.
Fast forward to 7 p.m. When I came home from work that night, the kids had already eaten dinner and were playing in our family room. Notably, both heads of hair were still crazy. As my usual, I asked the kids how their days were. And KJ immediately answers me, "today was picture day!"
Oops.
Those are going to be some school pictures I'll never forget!
It was. Despite the fact that the "thing" each kid needed to bring in or do was different each day of spirit week, we had a good time with it. Sweet Pea wore her Elmo slippers for silly sock day. KJ brought in his beloved hockey stick on sports day. And then came crazy hair day.
On the morning that Sweet Pea's class had crazy hair day, I gave Sweet Pea crazy hair. She looked great. She looked so great, in fact, that KJ wanted crazy hair too. KJ's class had not designated that day as crazy hair day, but in the spirit of sibling harmony (and really, just generally not caring what the other daycare moms think of me), I gave KJ crazy hair too. He was thrilled with it. He thought he looked cool and the kids were happy. So, we went about our days.
Fast forward to 7 p.m. When I came home from work that night, the kids had already eaten dinner and were playing in our family room. Notably, both heads of hair were still crazy. As my usual, I asked the kids how their days were. And KJ immediately answers me, "today was picture day!"
Oops.
Those are going to be some school pictures I'll never forget!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Wanted: One Wife
I was reading an US Weekly the other day (I'm not proud to admit this, but it's true), and came across a quote from Gwen Stefani that echoed sentiments my fellow working moms and I have made from time to time. Stefani was quoted as saying, "It [touring]'s challenging, especially for me because I'm the mom. [My bandmates] are just the dads. . . . They have their wives with them. I don't have my wife with me." While I don't agree with the "just the dads" part, Stefani's statement still hits close to home.
Although I think for the large part, male lawyers see female lawyers as equals, I don't think male lawyers with families always understand - or maybe even think about - how different the role of lawyer-with-family is for men versus women. Most of the male-partners-with-kids that I worked for had stay at home wives. Because they had stay-at-home wives, they were used a reality where the wife took care of all of the "domestic" things. Things like laundry and cooking and taking care of the kids. Things that sound little in the abstract, but really are time consuming and important to the everyday function of a family. By having a wife to take care of all of these things, the male-partners-with-families were free to perform their duty: earn income.
But many working moms don't have a stay-at-home spouse. We don't come home to an ordered house and completed homework. We come home to hungry kids, irritated spouses, piles of laundry and ticking time clock reminding us each second of all the things we need to get done before the next day. While Husband and I try to share our daily tasks, there is no doubt that the majority of the burden falls on me. If I haven't pre-made dinner so that Husband can just stick it in the oven, he'll feed the kids cereal. Husband will put laundry in the washer or dryer, but folding is a foreign concept to him. And don't even bother asking him to put away folded clothes -- he doesn't know where anything goes. And these are just the basics. When we get to things like remembering the item the kids need to bring into school the next day or signing the kids up for activities or even buying Christmas gifts, it's all mom all the time. It's overwhelming.
The male partners I work with seem to have no concept of all of the balls I am constantly juggling. My life is foreign to them, and they truly don't understand why meetings in which it is advised that associates ask their wives to host dinner parties or ask their wives to hand-make special holiday gifts for clients get under my skin. It shows a lack of understanding of what my life is like and how hard I am truly working to make this all happen.
But clients of mine, take heart. I'll be sure to get on making dinner invitations and hand-crafted holiday gifts. . . . just as soon as I find a wife.
Karen
Although I think for the large part, male lawyers see female lawyers as equals, I don't think male lawyers with families always understand - or maybe even think about - how different the role of lawyer-with-family is for men versus women. Most of the male-partners-with-kids that I worked for had stay at home wives. Because they had stay-at-home wives, they were used a reality where the wife took care of all of the "domestic" things. Things like laundry and cooking and taking care of the kids. Things that sound little in the abstract, but really are time consuming and important to the everyday function of a family. By having a wife to take care of all of these things, the male-partners-with-families were free to perform their duty: earn income.
But many working moms don't have a stay-at-home spouse. We don't come home to an ordered house and completed homework. We come home to hungry kids, irritated spouses, piles of laundry and ticking time clock reminding us each second of all the things we need to get done before the next day. While Husband and I try to share our daily tasks, there is no doubt that the majority of the burden falls on me. If I haven't pre-made dinner so that Husband can just stick it in the oven, he'll feed the kids cereal. Husband will put laundry in the washer or dryer, but folding is a foreign concept to him. And don't even bother asking him to put away folded clothes -- he doesn't know where anything goes. And these are just the basics. When we get to things like remembering the item the kids need to bring into school the next day or signing the kids up for activities or even buying Christmas gifts, it's all mom all the time. It's overwhelming.
The male partners I work with seem to have no concept of all of the balls I am constantly juggling. My life is foreign to them, and they truly don't understand why meetings in which it is advised that associates ask their wives to host dinner parties or ask their wives to hand-make special holiday gifts for clients get under my skin. It shows a lack of understanding of what my life is like and how hard I am truly working to make this all happen.
But clients of mine, take heart. I'll be sure to get on making dinner invitations and hand-crafted holiday gifts. . . . just as soon as I find a wife.
Karen
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Temptation
This weekend we are traveling to see my in-laws. For over a month, the plan has been for my in-laws to come visit us, but they called this week and asked if we could come see them instead of them coming to us. I pretty much expected this call as I know they hate driving "in the city" and it's a long drive for them. This also isn't the first time they've called and either cancelled a trip or asked us to come their way instead of them coming ours. In fact, that's exactly what happened last time. So we weren't exactly unprepared when they called to make the request. Husband and I had already discussed it, and agreed that we'd simply go down and see them. And, now we are.
Traveling to visit my in-laws means a hotel for us. My in-laws recently moved in with my mother-in-law's father (Husband's grandfather) to help him out a bit. As a result, the house is a bit crowded. There are two households' worth of furniture squeezed into the house already. Another four people with all the stuff two preschoolers "need" to make it through a weekend just aren't going to fit. So, we get a hotel. As I noted, plans with my in-laws are often fluid, so we are often making hotel reservations last minute. And because I have bad luck, there is almost always some kind of giant event going on that makes getting a hotel room difficult or impossible. And this time is no exception.
As we were discussing the hotel difficulty to my in-laws, my father-in-law made us a tempting offer: he offered to keep the kids overnight at the house, so Husband and I could have a night to ourselves. Husband and I haven't had many nights to ourselves. The only time both of us have been away from the kids overnight was when Husband's grandmother passed away in 2010. I've been away on business a few times by myself, and Husband has gone camping or out with the guys, but that pretty much sums up our nights out since 2007. We don't even go out for dates. About twice a year, my parents will watch the kids and we go out for dinner. And once (that's right, one single time), we hired a babysitter to go see a play. But that sums up all of our nights out. No exaggeration.
The idea of having my in-laws is a tempting one. I would love to sleep one whole night through without having to get up to chase away monsters or console someone after a bad dream. I'd love to sleep past 6:57. It's not that I dislike these parts of motherhood. It's just that the idea of having one day of a break sounds wonderful. But Husband and I agree that we can't let them do it.
There's no question my in-laws love my kids. They'd never purposefully hurt them. But they aren't used to having kids around. And they do things at their own pace. I think I've written before about how they like to sleep in. When we visited when the kids were babies, it was not uncommon for the baby to be up and back to sleep for a morning nap before my in-laws got up for the day. And they leave their medicines around. Once, when they were visiting our house, one of them left a collection of pills on the night stand table - perfect KJ height. Thankfully, I caught KJ before he ate any of them. And once, when KJ was a baby, we left him with my in-laws for dinner while we went out with Husband's brother and sister-in-law. Honest to God, mother-in-law had a roast in the oven when we left. At 2 am, KJ woke up screaming in hunger. Turns out, mother-in-law never fed him the roast: she gave him green jello (and only green jello) for dinner instead. When I finally figured out he was screaming for hunger and asked what he ate, mother-in-law truly had no idea why jello for dinner was a bad idea.
Of course, none of these things make my in-laws bad parents or bad grandparents. They're just evidence that my in-laws are out of practice. They aren't used to having little hands around, and they've earned the right to sleep in (although the dinner things I still can't explain). But as a result, Husband and I just don't feel comfortable leaving the kids with them. Truthfully, the kids would probably be a little scared. Although they've been to the house before, the house they'd be staying at isn't the one they know and grandma and grandpa's. And the house is in no shape for small kids. Husband's grandma liked stuff, and the house is full of all kinds of hidden treasures. And really, even grandma and grandpa are kind of strangers at this point. It's been 6 months since we've seen them. All things considered, it the risks don't outweigh the (very tempting) benefits.
So now we're left with the problem of how to let them down gracefully. We don't want them to feel like we don't think they are good grandparents. We know they love the kids and would never purposefully harm them. But we also aren't convinced that they can handle a night (or probably more accurately, the early morning hours) with the kids. They certainly won't say "no" to anything the kids ask for. And I don't really want to deal with them watching tv all night long and eating cookies for breakfast. Any suggestions on how to decline gracefully?
Karen
Traveling to visit my in-laws means a hotel for us. My in-laws recently moved in with my mother-in-law's father (Husband's grandfather) to help him out a bit. As a result, the house is a bit crowded. There are two households' worth of furniture squeezed into the house already. Another four people with all the stuff two preschoolers "need" to make it through a weekend just aren't going to fit. So, we get a hotel. As I noted, plans with my in-laws are often fluid, so we are often making hotel reservations last minute. And because I have bad luck, there is almost always some kind of giant event going on that makes getting a hotel room difficult or impossible. And this time is no exception.
As we were discussing the hotel difficulty to my in-laws, my father-in-law made us a tempting offer: he offered to keep the kids overnight at the house, so Husband and I could have a night to ourselves. Husband and I haven't had many nights to ourselves. The only time both of us have been away from the kids overnight was when Husband's grandmother passed away in 2010. I've been away on business a few times by myself, and Husband has gone camping or out with the guys, but that pretty much sums up our nights out since 2007. We don't even go out for dates. About twice a year, my parents will watch the kids and we go out for dinner. And once (that's right, one single time), we hired a babysitter to go see a play. But that sums up all of our nights out. No exaggeration.
The idea of having my in-laws is a tempting one. I would love to sleep one whole night through without having to get up to chase away monsters or console someone after a bad dream. I'd love to sleep past 6:57. It's not that I dislike these parts of motherhood. It's just that the idea of having one day of a break sounds wonderful. But Husband and I agree that we can't let them do it.
There's no question my in-laws love my kids. They'd never purposefully hurt them. But they aren't used to having kids around. And they do things at their own pace. I think I've written before about how they like to sleep in. When we visited when the kids were babies, it was not uncommon for the baby to be up and back to sleep for a morning nap before my in-laws got up for the day. And they leave their medicines around. Once, when they were visiting our house, one of them left a collection of pills on the night stand table - perfect KJ height. Thankfully, I caught KJ before he ate any of them. And once, when KJ was a baby, we left him with my in-laws for dinner while we went out with Husband's brother and sister-in-law. Honest to God, mother-in-law had a roast in the oven when we left. At 2 am, KJ woke up screaming in hunger. Turns out, mother-in-law never fed him the roast: she gave him green jello (and only green jello) for dinner instead. When I finally figured out he was screaming for hunger and asked what he ate, mother-in-law truly had no idea why jello for dinner was a bad idea.
Of course, none of these things make my in-laws bad parents or bad grandparents. They're just evidence that my in-laws are out of practice. They aren't used to having little hands around, and they've earned the right to sleep in (although the dinner things I still can't explain). But as a result, Husband and I just don't feel comfortable leaving the kids with them. Truthfully, the kids would probably be a little scared. Although they've been to the house before, the house they'd be staying at isn't the one they know and grandma and grandpa's. And the house is in no shape for small kids. Husband's grandma liked stuff, and the house is full of all kinds of hidden treasures. And really, even grandma and grandpa are kind of strangers at this point. It's been 6 months since we've seen them. All things considered, it the risks don't outweigh the (very tempting) benefits.
So now we're left with the problem of how to let them down gracefully. We don't want them to feel like we don't think they are good grandparents. We know they love the kids and would never purposefully harm them. But we also aren't convinced that they can handle a night (or probably more accurately, the early morning hours) with the kids. They certainly won't say "no" to anything the kids ask for. And I don't really want to deal with them watching tv all night long and eating cookies for breakfast. Any suggestions on how to decline gracefully?
Karen
Friday, October 21, 2011
Vindication
A few weeks ago, I mentioned in one of my posts that we had enrolled KJ in a new hockey program for the fall. I had the best of intentions in making the switch. KJ had already done a (long) session of learn to skate, and was antsy to play real hockey, with a stick. The original program through which KJ skated was run through the United State Figure Skating Association and had a l-o-n-g learn to skate program. He was going to have to pass 5 levels of learn to skate before he was ever given a puck. That's over a year of learn to skate. Because I skated through the USFSA growing up, I knew the program was a good one and KJ would be a good skater if he completed all 5 levels. But KJ is 4. I had some serious doubts that he would even be interested in hockey if he didn't touch a stick or a puck for another year.
So, I sought out and found another rink that taught learn to skate through the USA hockey program, as opposed to the USFSA. While it still had a learn to skate component, the program was much more compact and introduced stick handling and pucks much, much earlier. I figured that if KJ passed the fall and winter sessions of learn to skate in this new program, he would be using sticks and pucks around Christmas. I knew the boy wanted a stick. So, I signed him up.
But I did not anticipate how KJ would react to the new hockey program. The old hockey program was taught at a new, modern rink that actually had several sheets of ice. There was always something going on, and he almost always got to watch a game either before or after his lesson. The old hockey program divided kids by age and ability. So most of the kids in KJ's class were around his age. And the old hockey program was taught by women. In fact, my old figure skating pro taught KJ's Sunday night lesson. The new rink is none of those things. It's a bare bones operation run by a bunch of men who are hockey coaches or retired professional hockey players who coach kids by ability, not age. It's true hockey.
KJ, as it turns out, was not ready for true hockey. The very first week of learn to skate he cried. He didn't want to go out onto the ice. He didn't like the teachers. He didn't like the whistles. And he certainly didn't like the mascot of our local professional team skating out there with him. It wasn't a complete metldown, but it wasn't what we expected either. I had taken KJ skating just 24 hours earlier and he had loved it. In my opinion, there was nothing so different at this rink so as to warrant tears. I tried to reason with KJ, tell him that this hockey would let him play with sticks sooner, but he was still upset. Eventually, I handed him - still crying - to the one woman coach and asked her to get him started. I hoped that once he started skating he'd get over the whistles and everything would be fine. She got him on the ice, saw that he could skate and sent him over to the advanced section of the learn to skate class. KJ, still crying, was on his own.
I felt like a terrible parent. I was that mom, living through her child, making him do something he clearly didn't want to do. Except, I'm not that mom. I couldn't care less if KJ plays hockey. In fact, from a financial perspective, I sort of hope he doesn't. I pushed KJ out on the ice because I know he loves hockey. Every Saturday morning since last February he has woken up, donned all of his equipment and played me in floor hockey until Sweet Pea wakes up or he gets so hungry he remembers to ask for breakfast. Believe me, there were plenty of mornings where I would have preferred to nap quietly on the couch while he played matchbox cars in the playroom. But KJ wanted to play hockey, so I did it. KJ wasn't crying because he didn't want to learn to skate, he was crying because it was different. And different is sometimes scary. But as I sat on my side of the plexi-glass watching my little guy cry through a facemask and hockey gloves, I knew that he had to get through this little bit of scary to reach his goals. That someday the salt of these tears would be replaced by the excitement of a stick. That I was doing my job as a parent in helping him face a fear.
Thankfully, KJ didn't cry on the ice for too long. A high school kid who was assisting the learn to skate program took pity on KJ and helped him calm down. He also held KJ close whenever the scary mascot skated by. He was kind to KJ. Kind in a way that he didn't have to be. Kind in a way that makes a mother grateful. By the time KJ got off the ice, he was - once again - all smiles.
Happy hockey didn't last long, however. The very next week KJ cried that he didn't want to go on the ice again. And the third week, KJ cried when he found out that his special high school friend wasn't there. Each week I'd talk to KJ, tell him that he had to finish out this session, but then he never had to play hockey again, and then I'd put him on the ice crying. And each week, I'd feel like all of the other parents were looking at me, judging. Each week, I felt like a bad mom.
Somewhere around the 4th week the crying stopped. KJ did his lesson and had a good time. And with the exception of weeks were there's a mascot on the ice or when KJ gets run over by an 8 year old, there's no more crying. But it wasn't until this last week that I knew for sure that I'd done the right thing sending KJ out on the ice all of those weeks. Last Saturday, after a learn to skate with a horse mascot that even I found disconcerting, KJ's coach told me KJ passed learn to skate entirely, and was ready to begin real hockey. With sticks and pucks.
I will never forget KJ's face when I told him the news. It was like Christmas had come early, and everything Santa brought had Bauer written on it. To say KJ was excited was an understatement. KJ wanted to skate with sticks and pucks right that very second. He was so proud of himself. And so excited to get back on the ice. It was as if those weeks of crying had never happened. My little guy was happy. He had done it.
Tomorrow, we start "real" hockey with sticks and pucks. This afternoon, we are going to the store to get his suspenders and his first real stick. I had planned on asking Santa to bring KJ a stick for Christmas, but I'm happy to be buying one for him now. KJ has truly earned this stick.
Karen
So, I sought out and found another rink that taught learn to skate through the USA hockey program, as opposed to the USFSA. While it still had a learn to skate component, the program was much more compact and introduced stick handling and pucks much, much earlier. I figured that if KJ passed the fall and winter sessions of learn to skate in this new program, he would be using sticks and pucks around Christmas. I knew the boy wanted a stick. So, I signed him up.
But I did not anticipate how KJ would react to the new hockey program. The old hockey program was taught at a new, modern rink that actually had several sheets of ice. There was always something going on, and he almost always got to watch a game either before or after his lesson. The old hockey program divided kids by age and ability. So most of the kids in KJ's class were around his age. And the old hockey program was taught by women. In fact, my old figure skating pro taught KJ's Sunday night lesson. The new rink is none of those things. It's a bare bones operation run by a bunch of men who are hockey coaches or retired professional hockey players who coach kids by ability, not age. It's true hockey.
KJ, as it turns out, was not ready for true hockey. The very first week of learn to skate he cried. He didn't want to go out onto the ice. He didn't like the teachers. He didn't like the whistles. And he certainly didn't like the mascot of our local professional team skating out there with him. It wasn't a complete metldown, but it wasn't what we expected either. I had taken KJ skating just 24 hours earlier and he had loved it. In my opinion, there was nothing so different at this rink so as to warrant tears. I tried to reason with KJ, tell him that this hockey would let him play with sticks sooner, but he was still upset. Eventually, I handed him - still crying - to the one woman coach and asked her to get him started. I hoped that once he started skating he'd get over the whistles and everything would be fine. She got him on the ice, saw that he could skate and sent him over to the advanced section of the learn to skate class. KJ, still crying, was on his own.
I felt like a terrible parent. I was that mom, living through her child, making him do something he clearly didn't want to do. Except, I'm not that mom. I couldn't care less if KJ plays hockey. In fact, from a financial perspective, I sort of hope he doesn't. I pushed KJ out on the ice because I know he loves hockey. Every Saturday morning since last February he has woken up, donned all of his equipment and played me in floor hockey until Sweet Pea wakes up or he gets so hungry he remembers to ask for breakfast. Believe me, there were plenty of mornings where I would have preferred to nap quietly on the couch while he played matchbox cars in the playroom. But KJ wanted to play hockey, so I did it. KJ wasn't crying because he didn't want to learn to skate, he was crying because it was different. And different is sometimes scary. But as I sat on my side of the plexi-glass watching my little guy cry through a facemask and hockey gloves, I knew that he had to get through this little bit of scary to reach his goals. That someday the salt of these tears would be replaced by the excitement of a stick. That I was doing my job as a parent in helping him face a fear.
Thankfully, KJ didn't cry on the ice for too long. A high school kid who was assisting the learn to skate program took pity on KJ and helped him calm down. He also held KJ close whenever the scary mascot skated by. He was kind to KJ. Kind in a way that he didn't have to be. Kind in a way that makes a mother grateful. By the time KJ got off the ice, he was - once again - all smiles.
Happy hockey didn't last long, however. The very next week KJ cried that he didn't want to go on the ice again. And the third week, KJ cried when he found out that his special high school friend wasn't there. Each week I'd talk to KJ, tell him that he had to finish out this session, but then he never had to play hockey again, and then I'd put him on the ice crying. And each week, I'd feel like all of the other parents were looking at me, judging. Each week, I felt like a bad mom.
Somewhere around the 4th week the crying stopped. KJ did his lesson and had a good time. And with the exception of weeks were there's a mascot on the ice or when KJ gets run over by an 8 year old, there's no more crying. But it wasn't until this last week that I knew for sure that I'd done the right thing sending KJ out on the ice all of those weeks. Last Saturday, after a learn to skate with a horse mascot that even I found disconcerting, KJ's coach told me KJ passed learn to skate entirely, and was ready to begin real hockey. With sticks and pucks.
I will never forget KJ's face when I told him the news. It was like Christmas had come early, and everything Santa brought had Bauer written on it. To say KJ was excited was an understatement. KJ wanted to skate with sticks and pucks right that very second. He was so proud of himself. And so excited to get back on the ice. It was as if those weeks of crying had never happened. My little guy was happy. He had done it.
Tomorrow, we start "real" hockey with sticks and pucks. This afternoon, we are going to the store to get his suspenders and his first real stick. I had planned on asking Santa to bring KJ a stick for Christmas, but I'm happy to be buying one for him now. KJ has truly earned this stick.
Karen
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Challenges
It seems like so many of my friends and family have been faced with challenges lately. Thankfully, none of the challenges that come to mind are life threatening or truly devestating, they are just obstacles that must be overcome or difficult times through which they must persevere. Because I am blessed with amazing friends and family, I know that each one will triumph over their stuggles. And someday, they will look back at this time and instead of remembering how difficult things were, they will appreciate this time as a time for growth or opportunity.
But in the meantime, as all of us struggle to get past whatever the obstacle is that we are personally facing, I'm trying to focus not only on my challenges, but also the many, many blessings I have in my life. For the things I take for granted that people close to me have to worry about daily. For small things, like having food in my refrigerator, to big things like my children's health. For my family and friends. For my "needs" really being "wants." Sometimes I get so wrapped up in myself and my little world that I forget how lucky I really am. The picture is always so much bigger than I imagine it. I'm grateful I have only the stuggles I have, and not anything more serious. I'm grateful my family is healthy and that we are together. If there is a silver lining to times like these, it's that we notice the things we so often take for granted, and we feel blessed all over again.
Karen
But in the meantime, as all of us struggle to get past whatever the obstacle is that we are personally facing, I'm trying to focus not only on my challenges, but also the many, many blessings I have in my life. For the things I take for granted that people close to me have to worry about daily. For small things, like having food in my refrigerator, to big things like my children's health. For my family and friends. For my "needs" really being "wants." Sometimes I get so wrapped up in myself and my little world that I forget how lucky I really am. The picture is always so much bigger than I imagine it. I'm grateful I have only the stuggles I have, and not anything more serious. I'm grateful my family is healthy and that we are together. If there is a silver lining to times like these, it's that we notice the things we so often take for granted, and we feel blessed all over again.
Karen
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
What's Worse Than an 80 Hour Work Week?
If you ask a lawyer "how are you?", the answer you are most likely to get is "busy." Because for most lawyers, "busy" means "good". In the legal world, "busy" is good because lawyers are paid in six minute increments. It takes a lot of work to fill up an eight-hour day's worth of six minute increments. And most lawyers have a billable hour requirement. In my neck of the woods, that requirement is usually somewhere right around 2000 hours - or eight hours every working day for 50 weeks out of the year. So, if you are a lawyer here and you aren't busy, you are pretty much screwed.
Of course, work ebbs and flows. Often, work is piling up so fast and so high that I could work 24 hours a day and be able to bill most of it. Of course, I never want to do that. I would much rather put in an eight hour day and then go home and spend some time with my kids. But sometimes I have to work those crazy hours to offset times like now - the dreaded slow down.
It's no secret I worked more than I wanted to last month. My firm had a crazy busy month with two of our largest sets of cases going to mediation, negotiations being held with regualtors on several matters and a major closing. All on top of our regular case loads. All of the lawyers in my office worked a lot last month. Many of the partners put in more time than I did. It was a busy, busy month. And it was a good one. We settled a bunch of stuff. We negotiated deals with regualtors. And, the bank deal closed. It was a good September.
But now, thanks to Settlement September, we're into Idle October. There is not much to do at work right now. Of course, we all have a few smaller cases floating around that need attention. And there's always marketing to do. But every morning I wake up and think of what I have to do today. . . and wonder how I'm going to fill the other 4 hours of my day. It is not a good feeling.
I've taken advantage of my down time, going home early some days to enjoy the Indian summer with the kids. And I've started my Christmas shopping on-line. Today, I'm grading briefs for a local law school moot court competition. And while a little break is welcomed, I can't help worrying about when the next big case is going to come in. Or how I'm going to get a bunch of little cases to make my billable hour requirement. Or how my time could be better used cleaning out closests or updating our pictures at home. I'm grateful for the little break, but I hope that the break stays small. Because the only thing that's worse than working 80 hours a week is billing less than 6 hours a day.
Karen
Of course, work ebbs and flows. Often, work is piling up so fast and so high that I could work 24 hours a day and be able to bill most of it. Of course, I never want to do that. I would much rather put in an eight hour day and then go home and spend some time with my kids. But sometimes I have to work those crazy hours to offset times like now - the dreaded slow down.
It's no secret I worked more than I wanted to last month. My firm had a crazy busy month with two of our largest sets of cases going to mediation, negotiations being held with regualtors on several matters and a major closing. All on top of our regular case loads. All of the lawyers in my office worked a lot last month. Many of the partners put in more time than I did. It was a busy, busy month. And it was a good one. We settled a bunch of stuff. We negotiated deals with regualtors. And, the bank deal closed. It was a good September.
But now, thanks to Settlement September, we're into Idle October. There is not much to do at work right now. Of course, we all have a few smaller cases floating around that need attention. And there's always marketing to do. But every morning I wake up and think of what I have to do today. . . and wonder how I'm going to fill the other 4 hours of my day. It is not a good feeling.
I've taken advantage of my down time, going home early some days to enjoy the Indian summer with the kids. And I've started my Christmas shopping on-line. Today, I'm grading briefs for a local law school moot court competition. And while a little break is welcomed, I can't help worrying about when the next big case is going to come in. Or how I'm going to get a bunch of little cases to make my billable hour requirement. Or how my time could be better used cleaning out closests or updating our pictures at home. I'm grateful for the little break, but I hope that the break stays small. Because the only thing that's worse than working 80 hours a week is billing less than 6 hours a day.
Karen
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Home Improvement
Husband and I have spent a lot of the summer doing home improvement projects. I've come to believe that home improvement projects will always take double the time you anticipate they'll take. There's always some unforeseen wiring issue or patching project that pops up in the middle of whatever you are doing that requires yet another run to Home Depot and at least a one day delay.
For us, that means almost all home improvement projects take about three times longer than they would take a normal family. First of all, it is hard to get Husband motivated. I don't really blame him on this one because more often than not he does most of the project. It is understandable that after a week of work he wouldn't be looking forward to planting or painting or whatever. But it is also hard because we only can work on home projects on weekends. Because of our long commutes, we almost never have time to do any home improvement project during the week. Seriously. It takes a mountain of planning and perfect execution just for us to get home in time to cut the grass on a weekday during the summer. There's no way we're going to be able to tackle anything larger.
As a result, projects move rather slowly around our house. But despite our snail's pace, I'm proud of all we've accomplished this summer. We transformed our side yard from a hodge podge of random plants and wild flowers to a landscaped bed.
We edged and mulched all of our flower beds ourselves. We replaced and stained the sections of our fence that were blown away in this spring's strong storms. We finished the great window replacement project of 2007 (yay!). We fixed damage incurred from a leaking skylight. We transitioned Sweet Pea from a baby room to a big girl room, which required buying furniture for and redecorating two bedrooms.
And we replaced our wall-mounted microwave (which doesn't sound like a big deal until you learn that we only replaced it because our original one broke - and it took four - yes, four - returns to get a new microwave that worked properly). And we did all that, on top of working, kid activities, a vacation and just regular house maintenance. I'm proud of us.
Of course, home improvement projects are never done. As I type this, we're one coat of primer into repainting our master bedroom.
And early next week, we're scheduled to get our skylights replaced. And I've got big plans for our bathrooms once non-leaky skylights are installed. Poor Husband. There's no end in sight for him!
Karen
For us, that means almost all home improvement projects take about three times longer than they would take a normal family. First of all, it is hard to get Husband motivated. I don't really blame him on this one because more often than not he does most of the project. It is understandable that after a week of work he wouldn't be looking forward to planting or painting or whatever. But it is also hard because we only can work on home projects on weekends. Because of our long commutes, we almost never have time to do any home improvement project during the week. Seriously. It takes a mountain of planning and perfect execution just for us to get home in time to cut the grass on a weekday during the summer. There's no way we're going to be able to tackle anything larger.
As a result, projects move rather slowly around our house. But despite our snail's pace, I'm proud of all we've accomplished this summer. We transformed our side yard from a hodge podge of random plants and wild flowers to a landscaped bed.
We edged and mulched all of our flower beds ourselves. We replaced and stained the sections of our fence that were blown away in this spring's strong storms. We finished the great window replacement project of 2007 (yay!). We fixed damage incurred from a leaking skylight. We transitioned Sweet Pea from a baby room to a big girl room, which required buying furniture for and redecorating two bedrooms.
Of course, home improvement projects are never done. As I type this, we're one coat of primer into repainting our master bedroom.
 |
| Bye bye green |
Karen
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Tuesday: The New Friday
One of my biggest frustrations as a working parent is kid activities. Kid activities are disproportionately scheduled during weekday working hours. Few classes are offered in evenings, and those that are usually begin right at 5. For someone like me, there is no possible way I can get my kids to a ballet class or hockey lesson by 5 pm. To be anywhere by 5 I'd have to leave work at 3:30. That simply is not happening. So every season, I'm challenged with finding and scheduling all lessons/sports/classes for Saturdays, or my kids miss out.
I hate the idea of my kids having to miss out on something they'd really like to do because I work. I'm all for setting boundaries and having a child choose one or two activities to pursue, but in many cases, the scheduling of classes makes it so my child can't even try something he or she is interested in. Ever. If my kid never gets to try a sport or musical instrument or whatever, how is he going to know if he likes it, let alone commit to it? I at least want to give my kids a chance to try whatever it is they think they are interested in. But lately, my efforts have been coming up short.
This fall, KJ wanted to do soccer and hockey. Two sports, sounds totally do-able. Except, Saturday hockey is at the exact same time as Saturday soccer. We could change hockey rinks, but I had found a program at a new rink that introduced sticks and pucks (you know, the reason kids like hockey) much sooner than the other rink we had been using. I didn't really want to change out of that program to accommodate soccer. Plus, we had done park district soccer in the spring and it was mostly a melee of kids running after a ball. Not a lot of focus on skills or the actual game. So, I set out to find a different, more time-friendly soccer program. And I did. I found a private program that offered (what sounded like) a solid program for pre-k on Friday mornings. I already had most Fridays off, and I had already signed Sweet Pea up for dance on Fridays. Perfect.
Except, it's not perfect. Because everything I signed my kids up for on Fridays was cancelled for low enrollment. Apparently, the local pre-school program runs Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Therefore, there aren't a lot of kids around on those days and the Friday programs get cancelled. Both the private soccer club and the park district dance programs left messages at our house, offering to enroll my kids in their Tuesday (at 10 am or 1:45 pm) classes instead. Thanks.
There's no way I can be out of the office on Tuesdays. While I think it is now pretty acceptable to be out of the office on Fridays (or even Mondays), clients generally expect to be able to find you at any given time on a Tuesday. And now it's too late to change hockey rinks or find another dance class for Sweet Pea. Most classes have already started, and if they haven't, aren't offered at a time we can make anyway.
I'm frustrated at how unfriendly the world of kid activities is to working parents. I work so that we can afford things like dance lessons and soccer practice. But my kids can't go to dance lessons or soccer practice because they aren't offered at a time that accounts for two working parents. What a ridiculous situation. There's an entire market of parents with disposable income looking for programs for their kids that start at 6:30 pm. Why in the world hasn't anyone capitalized on it?
Karen
I hate the idea of my kids having to miss out on something they'd really like to do because I work. I'm all for setting boundaries and having a child choose one or two activities to pursue, but in many cases, the scheduling of classes makes it so my child can't even try something he or she is interested in. Ever. If my kid never gets to try a sport or musical instrument or whatever, how is he going to know if he likes it, let alone commit to it? I at least want to give my kids a chance to try whatever it is they think they are interested in. But lately, my efforts have been coming up short.
This fall, KJ wanted to do soccer and hockey. Two sports, sounds totally do-able. Except, Saturday hockey is at the exact same time as Saturday soccer. We could change hockey rinks, but I had found a program at a new rink that introduced sticks and pucks (you know, the reason kids like hockey) much sooner than the other rink we had been using. I didn't really want to change out of that program to accommodate soccer. Plus, we had done park district soccer in the spring and it was mostly a melee of kids running after a ball. Not a lot of focus on skills or the actual game. So, I set out to find a different, more time-friendly soccer program. And I did. I found a private program that offered (what sounded like) a solid program for pre-k on Friday mornings. I already had most Fridays off, and I had already signed Sweet Pea up for dance on Fridays. Perfect.
Except, it's not perfect. Because everything I signed my kids up for on Fridays was cancelled for low enrollment. Apparently, the local pre-school program runs Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Therefore, there aren't a lot of kids around on those days and the Friday programs get cancelled. Both the private soccer club and the park district dance programs left messages at our house, offering to enroll my kids in their Tuesday (at 10 am or 1:45 pm) classes instead. Thanks.
There's no way I can be out of the office on Tuesdays. While I think it is now pretty acceptable to be out of the office on Fridays (or even Mondays), clients generally expect to be able to find you at any given time on a Tuesday. And now it's too late to change hockey rinks or find another dance class for Sweet Pea. Most classes have already started, and if they haven't, aren't offered at a time we can make anyway.
I'm frustrated at how unfriendly the world of kid activities is to working parents. I work so that we can afford things like dance lessons and soccer practice. But my kids can't go to dance lessons or soccer practice because they aren't offered at a time that accounts for two working parents. What a ridiculous situation. There's an entire market of parents with disposable income looking for programs for their kids that start at 6:30 pm. Why in the world hasn't anyone capitalized on it?
Karen
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Teammates
My kids have been talking about things they want for Christmas lately. It's true that I like to start my Christmas shopping early, but September is a little early even for me (although I do have a few gifts already purchased even as I write this). It started because KJ started hockey lessons again this week. And all these weeks later, he still wants a stick.
KJ has always wanted a hockey stick. The boy loves equipment. The more equipment, the more he likes a sport. Hockey was perfect for that. Pounds and pounds of equipment, for all parts of one's body. But he's never had a stick. Learn-to-skate doesn't incorporate sticks until the kids have the basics down, and I just generally didn't think it was a good idea to give a three-year-old a three foot stick. So we told KJ he couldn't have a stick until he learned to skate. KJ did pass the first level of learn to skate this spring, so when he started lessons again this fall, the question inevitably came up: "can I please may have a hockey stick?" (I don't know why he always incorporates the "can" and "may" in questions but he does and it's cute). I responded, "Maybe Santa will bring you a hockey stick." (because really, he needs more practice before incorporating a stick). And the Santa door was opened.
As it turns out, my kids have lots of ideas already of what they would like Santa to bring. Sweet Pea wants "two babies" and "two pink ones." (Which, I think, means two pink babies.) KJ wants the aforementioned hockey stick, a police car and a Blackhawks jersey. And then, KJ asked for something that took me by surprise:
"I want Santa Clause to bring [Sweet Pea] a Bears jersey and helmet and pants like mine." KJ said.
"Why do you want Santa to bring that to [Sweet Pea]?" I asked him.
"Because" KJ answered, "then [Sweet Pea] could be on my team."
As many of you know, KJ and Sweet Pea are eighteen months apart. To the day. It wasn't something we planned, it was just something we were blessed with. But I've often wondered if my children would be disadvantaged being so close in age. Whether they'd feel like they always had to compete with each other to get our attention, or to feel special. Especially now, when they are older. The developmental differences between a weeks-old baby and an eighteen month old baby are significant. The developmental differences between a 4 year old and a 2 and a half year old are much less. They like the same toys, the same stories and just generally the same things. I worry that they feel like they are always competing with one another for the same things, including our attention.
But KJ's comment made me see that I was looking at their closeness in age all wrong. My kids don't see themselves as competing with one another, they see themselves as teammates. And they act like teammates. Just last week KJ helped Sweet Pea climb all those bouncy things at a birthday party and saved her a seat - with cake - at the lunch table. When he was scared at hockey, he came off the ice crying, saying that he wished Sweet Pea was there. And Sweet Pea helps KJ. When he fell last week and hit his head, she brought him his bunny and laid with her head on the rocking chair, rubbed his back and asked him again and again if he was okay. Sure, my kids fight from time to time. But their actions demonstrate that they already know - at the ages of 2 and 4 - that when they need someone to help them, or comfort them when they are down or face a fear, they have someone they can rely on: each other.
I'm so proud of my kids, for so many reasons. But especially for how they treat one another. I hope that this Christmas Santa brings me a Bears helmet and jersey and pants, just like KJ's. Because I definitely want to be on their team.
KJ has always wanted a hockey stick. The boy loves equipment. The more equipment, the more he likes a sport. Hockey was perfect for that. Pounds and pounds of equipment, for all parts of one's body. But he's never had a stick. Learn-to-skate doesn't incorporate sticks until the kids have the basics down, and I just generally didn't think it was a good idea to give a three-year-old a three foot stick. So we told KJ he couldn't have a stick until he learned to skate. KJ did pass the first level of learn to skate this spring, so when he started lessons again this fall, the question inevitably came up: "can I please may have a hockey stick?" (I don't know why he always incorporates the "can" and "may" in questions but he does and it's cute). I responded, "Maybe Santa will bring you a hockey stick." (because really, he needs more practice before incorporating a stick). And the Santa door was opened.
As it turns out, my kids have lots of ideas already of what they would like Santa to bring. Sweet Pea wants "two babies" and "two pink ones." (Which, I think, means two pink babies.) KJ wants the aforementioned hockey stick, a police car and a Blackhawks jersey. And then, KJ asked for something that took me by surprise:
"I want Santa Clause to bring [Sweet Pea] a Bears jersey and helmet and pants like mine." KJ said.
"Why do you want Santa to bring that to [Sweet Pea]?" I asked him.
"Because" KJ answered, "then [Sweet Pea] could be on my team."
As many of you know, KJ and Sweet Pea are eighteen months apart. To the day. It wasn't something we planned, it was just something we were blessed with. But I've often wondered if my children would be disadvantaged being so close in age. Whether they'd feel like they always had to compete with each other to get our attention, or to feel special. Especially now, when they are older. The developmental differences between a weeks-old baby and an eighteen month old baby are significant. The developmental differences between a 4 year old and a 2 and a half year old are much less. They like the same toys, the same stories and just generally the same things. I worry that they feel like they are always competing with one another for the same things, including our attention.
But KJ's comment made me see that I was looking at their closeness in age all wrong. My kids don't see themselves as competing with one another, they see themselves as teammates. And they act like teammates. Just last week KJ helped Sweet Pea climb all those bouncy things at a birthday party and saved her a seat - with cake - at the lunch table. When he was scared at hockey, he came off the ice crying, saying that he wished Sweet Pea was there. And Sweet Pea helps KJ. When he fell last week and hit his head, she brought him his bunny and laid with her head on the rocking chair, rubbed his back and asked him again and again if he was okay. Sure, my kids fight from time to time. But their actions demonstrate that they already know - at the ages of 2 and 4 - that when they need someone to help them, or comfort them when they are down or face a fear, they have someone they can rely on: each other.
I'm so proud of my kids, for so many reasons. But especially for how they treat one another. I hope that this Christmas Santa brings me a Bears helmet and jersey and pants, just like KJ's. Because I definitely want to be on their team.
Friday, September 9, 2011
It's My (Pity) Party
I can't remember if this is my Friday to blog or not, and it is so late at night that I can't really call or text anyone to ask, so I'm just going to write it. My apologies to the other JD Moms if I've just hijacked the blog for the day: I promise to trade one of my days for this one. Because I just have to let out some steam.
It's 10:48 p.m. on Thursday night and I am still sitting at my desk. I haven't been home. I haven't seen my kids. I haven't even left my office - including to use the bathroom - since I grabbed a salad at lunch time (which, by the way, I ate at my desk). All of these things would be okay if I had a big trial or mediation coming up. Or if I had an important brief due. Or even if I had screwed around all day and now had to put in my eight hours at night. But none of that happened. I started out today with a court appearance on my schedule and needing to finish a pre-trial brief for a matter that starts on Monday. No big deal. I was in good shape.
Until 3:45 when a partner stopped by my office and dropped off a stack of UCC liens and litigation that needed to be reviewed for his closing on Monday. If you haven't done due diligence before you haven't lived. My job was to review all of the litigation the company is engaged in (thankfully, someone else did the UCC liens) and summarize it - what's happened, what's going to happen, where it is now - and estimate the exposure so that the buyer or lender knows what it's getting into before it closes. It's an important job, but very time intensive, and time was not on my side.
I was an hour-and-a-half away from being gone for the weekend, and I got a much-longer-than-an-hour-and-a-half project dumped on me. Not to mention, I still had to finish my brief and get ready to prep my client for a Monday deposition for which I received notice today (how does that even happen, by the way?). And I hadn't planned to be in on Friday. How was I going to do it all?
Of course, I stayed late. That's what I needed to do, so that's what I did. But staying late didn't get me anywhere. A mediation was going on in my office and around 9:17 it settled. The partner handling the mediation popped by my office and asked me to draft up a "quick" settlement agreement for the parties to sign before they left for the night. Riiigghhttt. Because I was sitting here at 9:15 p.m. waiting for someone to stop by with a project. There were two other partners roaming around the office talking strategy. He could have asked either of them to pull it together. But he didn't. He asked me. The person tethered to her computer and sweating out every minute. Also, the only woman.
To make matters worse, I figured out that my due diligence project will require me to come in tomorrow. I have to physically pull some files from the courthouse and review them. And no one can do it for me. Not because it is hard or takes any special knowledge, but because the partner who dumped the project on me is taking the day off. Because his day off is more important than mine.
I won't lie - this situation makes me angry. Not just because it means I'll have to break promises to my kids (again) or because we'll miss mom-tot hockey. Not even because I bargained for this day off and should be able to take it. I'm mad because the only reason this fire drill project even exists is because some partner was too lazy to do his due diligence more than two days before his closing. Because he had no problem leaving me in the lurch to try to find a babysitter at 11 pm, and if I left him in that same lurch I'd be fired. But no one is going to say anything to him.
Life isn't fair, that's true. And sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to do. But I'm tired of feeling like no matter how hard I work it will never be enough. I'm tired of letting down my kids. I'm really just tired of all of it.
Karen
It's 10:48 p.m. on Thursday night and I am still sitting at my desk. I haven't been home. I haven't seen my kids. I haven't even left my office - including to use the bathroom - since I grabbed a salad at lunch time (which, by the way, I ate at my desk). All of these things would be okay if I had a big trial or mediation coming up. Or if I had an important brief due. Or even if I had screwed around all day and now had to put in my eight hours at night. But none of that happened. I started out today with a court appearance on my schedule and needing to finish a pre-trial brief for a matter that starts on Monday. No big deal. I was in good shape.
Until 3:45 when a partner stopped by my office and dropped off a stack of UCC liens and litigation that needed to be reviewed for his closing on Monday. If you haven't done due diligence before you haven't lived. My job was to review all of the litigation the company is engaged in (thankfully, someone else did the UCC liens) and summarize it - what's happened, what's going to happen, where it is now - and estimate the exposure so that the buyer or lender knows what it's getting into before it closes. It's an important job, but very time intensive, and time was not on my side.
I was an hour-and-a-half away from being gone for the weekend, and I got a much-longer-than-an-hour-and-a-half project dumped on me. Not to mention, I still had to finish my brief and get ready to prep my client for a Monday deposition for which I received notice today (how does that even happen, by the way?). And I hadn't planned to be in on Friday. How was I going to do it all?
Of course, I stayed late. That's what I needed to do, so that's what I did. But staying late didn't get me anywhere. A mediation was going on in my office and around 9:17 it settled. The partner handling the mediation popped by my office and asked me to draft up a "quick" settlement agreement for the parties to sign before they left for the night. Riiigghhttt. Because I was sitting here at 9:15 p.m. waiting for someone to stop by with a project. There were two other partners roaming around the office talking strategy. He could have asked either of them to pull it together. But he didn't. He asked me. The person tethered to her computer and sweating out every minute. Also, the only woman.
To make matters worse, I figured out that my due diligence project will require me to come in tomorrow. I have to physically pull some files from the courthouse and review them. And no one can do it for me. Not because it is hard or takes any special knowledge, but because the partner who dumped the project on me is taking the day off. Because his day off is more important than mine.
I won't lie - this situation makes me angry. Not just because it means I'll have to break promises to my kids (again) or because we'll miss mom-tot hockey. Not even because I bargained for this day off and should be able to take it. I'm mad because the only reason this fire drill project even exists is because some partner was too lazy to do his due diligence more than two days before his closing. Because he had no problem leaving me in the lurch to try to find a babysitter at 11 pm, and if I left him in that same lurch I'd be fired. But no one is going to say anything to him.
Life isn't fair, that's true. And sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to do. But I'm tired of feeling like no matter how hard I work it will never be enough. I'm tired of letting down my kids. I'm really just tired of all of it.
Karen
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Big Wheel in the Big City
There are a lot of interesting-looking people in Chicago. People with piercings everywhere you can imagine. Hair every color of the rainbow. And don't even get me started on the variety of clothing choices that litter the Loop each day. But generally, no matter how one is dressed or what their hair looks like, the city is welcoming. Everyone goes about their own business, without anyone approaching them or making comments on their appearances.
Unless, apparently, you are carrying this:
Last week, in my pencil skirt and three- inch heels, I carried a 16 inch, pink, purple and lime green big wheel across the Loop. And everybody - EVERYBODY - had something to say about it. From, " I see you drove into work today" to "At least you're prepared for another train delay," everyone had a comment about the big wheel. It was especially popular at work, as partners would come into my office and stumble upon the trike. It was a true test of each partner's wit as they came to face to face with the big wheel and were challenged to channel their thoughts from discovery deadlines to funny one-liners.
But most surprising were the comments I received after I left my office and carted the big wheel across the Loop to the train station. Honest to God, for most of my walk I walked directly next to a guy with hot pink spiked hair, wearing red pants so ripped I don't know how they stayed on him who was completely covered in blue body glitter. And yet, at least ten people came up to me to comment on the big wheel. Yes, people. I was the odd one.
Of course this post begs the question of why there was a big wheel in my office. The answer is simple: price. Big wheels are expensive. More expensive than you might imagine. I'll give you a second to Google it. Go ahead. Google "original 16 inch big wheel". With shipping, most big wheels are about $100. $100 for a big wheel. Insane.
Back in 2008, when KJ got his big wheel, they were available new at Target for about $30. And in my opinion, that's the perfect price for them. KJ loves his big wheel, rides it every day, and refers to it as his motorcycle. But a big wheel isn't a bike. It's a bunch of plastic formed into a super cool toy. It is not worth $100. But Sweet Pea was in desperate need of a riding toy. Despite how much she has grown, Sweet Pea still cannot reach the pedals of a ten-inch bike. And she is too big for a traditional tricycle. The big wheel is the perfect solution. Except the aforementioned price.
So I went to Craig's List. There are a number of big wheel knock-offs on Craig's List. I don't care how any poster describes it, those tiny little Fisher Price toys are not big wheels. Big wheels are trikes, with the big front wheels and adjustable seats. Some even have hand brakes. I wanted Sweet Pea to have that kind of a big wheel: something that she could use now, but that would also last for a while. The 16 inch big wheel (same size as KJ's) seemed perfect.
But apparently, 16 inch big wheels are few and far between. I looked and I looked and I looked until I found one - in a south suburb super far from my house. But luck was with me, and a colleague of mine (a single, 20-something male colleague, for the record), lived near said big wheel and agreed to pick it up for me and bring it to work. And so, I came to have a big wheel in the big city.
Bringing the big wheel home was entertaining. Overall, people were friendly about it and it made for some good conversation. (Ahem, except for that incident with Metra where I was kicked off for having a "bike" on the train). As amused as most people where, I think most understood my predicament. We parents would do anything for our kids. And I had a little girl at home with her heart set on a pink and purple big wheel.
Due to my Metra incident, it was late when I finally made it home with the big wheel. But Sweet Pea's reaction made everything worthwhile. She was so happy to get her own "motorcycle" and she was SO happy it was pink. She rode that thing in the dark in front of our house until we made her go inside. And she's ridden it every day since. I made her just as happy with a $10 big wheel as I could have with the $100 one. But if I had just bought the $100 big wheel, I would have missed out on a pretty great memory as a parent. Enjoy your big wheel, Sweet Pea. I'll cherish the memory of bringing it to you.
Karen
Unless, apparently, you are carrying this:
But most surprising were the comments I received after I left my office and carted the big wheel across the Loop to the train station. Honest to God, for most of my walk I walked directly next to a guy with hot pink spiked hair, wearing red pants so ripped I don't know how they stayed on him who was completely covered in blue body glitter. And yet, at least ten people came up to me to comment on the big wheel. Yes, people. I was the odd one.
Of course this post begs the question of why there was a big wheel in my office. The answer is simple: price. Big wheels are expensive. More expensive than you might imagine. I'll give you a second to Google it. Go ahead. Google "original 16 inch big wheel". With shipping, most big wheels are about $100. $100 for a big wheel. Insane.
Back in 2008, when KJ got his big wheel, they were available new at Target for about $30. And in my opinion, that's the perfect price for them. KJ loves his big wheel, rides it every day, and refers to it as his motorcycle. But a big wheel isn't a bike. It's a bunch of plastic formed into a super cool toy. It is not worth $100. But Sweet Pea was in desperate need of a riding toy. Despite how much she has grown, Sweet Pea still cannot reach the pedals of a ten-inch bike. And she is too big for a traditional tricycle. The big wheel is the perfect solution. Except the aforementioned price.
So I went to Craig's List. There are a number of big wheel knock-offs on Craig's List. I don't care how any poster describes it, those tiny little Fisher Price toys are not big wheels. Big wheels are trikes, with the big front wheels and adjustable seats. Some even have hand brakes. I wanted Sweet Pea to have that kind of a big wheel: something that she could use now, but that would also last for a while. The 16 inch big wheel (same size as KJ's) seemed perfect.
But apparently, 16 inch big wheels are few and far between. I looked and I looked and I looked until I found one - in a south suburb super far from my house. But luck was with me, and a colleague of mine (a single, 20-something male colleague, for the record), lived near said big wheel and agreed to pick it up for me and bring it to work. And so, I came to have a big wheel in the big city.
Bringing the big wheel home was entertaining. Overall, people were friendly about it and it made for some good conversation. (Ahem, except for that incident with Metra where I was kicked off for having a "bike" on the train). As amused as most people where, I think most understood my predicament. We parents would do anything for our kids. And I had a little girl at home with her heart set on a pink and purple big wheel.
Due to my Metra incident, it was late when I finally made it home with the big wheel. But Sweet Pea's reaction made everything worthwhile. She was so happy to get her own "motorcycle" and she was SO happy it was pink. She rode that thing in the dark in front of our house until we made her go inside. And she's ridden it every day since. I made her just as happy with a $10 big wheel as I could have with the $100 one. But if I had just bought the $100 big wheel, I would have missed out on a pretty great memory as a parent. Enjoy your big wheel, Sweet Pea. I'll cherish the memory of bringing it to you.
Karen
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Lost Toy
LOST
Lost: Silver fabric toy sword that accessorizes Groovy Girls Knight Keanan. Rare, in that it Keanan is sold only in specialty toy stores. Last seen Friday, August 26, 2010 in KJ's bedroom. Sentimental value. Reward offered. Please email with information. PLEASE!!!!
For the last two days, I have been driven stark raving mad over a lost purple-and-silver fabric sword that goes with the special knight that KJ's special friend picked out especially for him for his birthday. The cutest part of the toy is the sword, and since it was unattached, I was aware of the possibility of it getting lost.
For weeks, KJ has had the knight at school. But this week, KJ was transitioning from preschool to pre-k, so I had him bring the knight home, so that nothing would get lost. (Yes, I see the irony here)
And that's where it all went wrong. KJ slept with the knight for a night or two. And I remember laying him down for nap one day and hearing him play with it for a while. But that's the last I've seen of the sword. For a day or so, I thought it was caught up in his sheets and tens of stuffed animals. But last night I stripped the bed and no sword. Uh oh.
I searched everywhere for that sword. Under couch cushions, in the toy box, in his book bin, in his dresser drawers. I pulled out the clothes I had put into storage this weekend to see if the sword got stuck in there. I've looked everywhere. No sword.
I've asked KJ repeatedly where he thinks it might be, and every time I get a different answer. For a kid that can remember events going back to when he was 18 months old, the fact that he can't remember where he left his sword two days ago is maddening. He has to know where it is.
Husband has been no help in the sword-finding mission. Of course he gave a cursory look, but when the sword wasn't immediately visible, Husband wisely declared that KJ had hidden it somewhere where we can't find it. As if I didn't know that. He then sat down to watch tv.
Me? I'm plagued by the lost sword. Lost toys are my enemy. Every night, I clean up the kids' toys and I make sure that each and every piece is there. I know how many matchbox cars KJ has, where all the doll shoes are, and how many pieces of fruit should be in the play kitchen. Some nights, I even count the Legos. And when something is missing, I find it. I'll turn my house upside down to find a toy piece. Few pieces have evaded me: I can only think of two that have been missing for more than 48 hours, and only one of those remains at large. I'm starting to sweat that the sword will make number 3.
I really, really want to find the sword. It's a cool toy, and KJ will like it better with the sword. Plus, it was a special gift from his first crush. I want to be able to pull it out and show him that when he's older. But I'm getting worried that it got caught up in some clothes I returned or was put somewhere where we'll never find it. I guess I should be grateful that I'm the only one sweating it right now, but if any of you moms have stumbled upon some clever hiding spots I should check out, all suggestions are welcome. I'm just super grateful there's a three-day weekend coming up: more time to look for the sword.
Karen
Friday, August 19, 2011
Size Wise
So here we are heading into fall, and I have the same problem as last year: I have no fall clothes for my kids. I'm actually happy to have this problem as it means (1) the kids are growing and (2) I get to go shopping. Plus, last year KJ didn't need any new clothes so I'm super tired of his t-shirts and am ready to refresh his look. But as I look online and try to figure out how to make both my kids and my wallet happy, I'm faced with a problem: sizing.
With my schedule, I do almost all of my shopping online. I am almost never able to get to a store before 9 p.m. (when the stores close), and our weekends so are packed with kid activities and grocery shopping and laundry and all that other fun must-do stuff that we almost never make it to the mall. Online is the perfect remedy. Except, sizing for kid's clothes is just crazy.
KJ is exactly at the 50 percentile on the height and weight charts for his age, 4. One would think, therefore, that most size 4T items would fit him. Not so, my friend. In my experience, most Gymboree and Carters items run big. Anything purchased from Target runs small. And I haven't figured out any consistency at all with respect to Old Navy. Yes, all of these stores provide size charts. And most of them have weight and height recommendations on the label. But it still seems like every single item is a crap shoot. Maybe it'll fit and maybe it won't.
And KJ is the easy child. At least I can get in the right realm of sizes for him. Sweet Pea is a whole different ball game. After all of her early growing struggles, Sweet Pea seems to have come into her own. She's not big for her age or anything, but she seems less tiny. And that alone is something. Knock on wood, we haven't taken Sweet Pea to the doctor for months, so I have no idea what she actually weighs or how she compares to other two-and-a-half-year olds, but she's bigger than she was last year and that's all that really matters. But what size to buy her? Sweet Pea will turn three in January. I only want to buy one set of winter clothes for her, so whatever I buy now I want to last into spring. So the question becomes, how big will she get?
The other day when I was in Penny's getting KJ's (late) 4-year-old-pictures taken, I bought Sweet Pea a cute 2T top. When I brought it home, it was much too little for her. So I had to return it. Then, I bought Sweet Pea some dresses from Mini Boden. The 2Ts were a little large, but probably the best choice. And once, I picked up a single outfit from Carters. She's swimming in the 24 month size outfit I bought her. It seems like she wears a different size for each and every manufacturer.
As I write this, I have a virtual cart full of adorable things from Gymboree, just waiting for me to purchase. But I'm so worried about how in the world I'll return all that stuff if it's the wrong size that I can't just seem to click the "buy" button. Maybe KJ's tired t-shirts aren't so bad after all . . .
Karen
With my schedule, I do almost all of my shopping online. I am almost never able to get to a store before 9 p.m. (when the stores close), and our weekends so are packed with kid activities and grocery shopping and laundry and all that other fun must-do stuff that we almost never make it to the mall. Online is the perfect remedy. Except, sizing for kid's clothes is just crazy.
KJ is exactly at the 50 percentile on the height and weight charts for his age, 4. One would think, therefore, that most size 4T items would fit him. Not so, my friend. In my experience, most Gymboree and Carters items run big. Anything purchased from Target runs small. And I haven't figured out any consistency at all with respect to Old Navy. Yes, all of these stores provide size charts. And most of them have weight and height recommendations on the label. But it still seems like every single item is a crap shoot. Maybe it'll fit and maybe it won't.
And KJ is the easy child. At least I can get in the right realm of sizes for him. Sweet Pea is a whole different ball game. After all of her early growing struggles, Sweet Pea seems to have come into her own. She's not big for her age or anything, but she seems less tiny. And that alone is something. Knock on wood, we haven't taken Sweet Pea to the doctor for months, so I have no idea what she actually weighs or how she compares to other two-and-a-half-year olds, but she's bigger than she was last year and that's all that really matters. But what size to buy her? Sweet Pea will turn three in January. I only want to buy one set of winter clothes for her, so whatever I buy now I want to last into spring. So the question becomes, how big will she get?
The other day when I was in Penny's getting KJ's (late) 4-year-old-pictures taken, I bought Sweet Pea a cute 2T top. When I brought it home, it was much too little for her. So I had to return it. Then, I bought Sweet Pea some dresses from Mini Boden. The 2Ts were a little large, but probably the best choice. And once, I picked up a single outfit from Carters. She's swimming in the 24 month size outfit I bought her. It seems like she wears a different size for each and every manufacturer.
As I write this, I have a virtual cart full of adorable things from Gymboree, just waiting for me to purchase. But I'm so worried about how in the world I'll return all that stuff if it's the wrong size that I can't just seem to click the "buy" button. Maybe KJ's tired t-shirts aren't so bad after all . . .
Karen
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
"I don't know"
As all of you readers know, kid birthdays always lead to the three p's: presents, parties and pediatrician visits. Jean, Mandi and I have all spent some time blogging about the first two p's, so today, I'll tackle the third: pediatrician visits.
I don't know if it is common to all working moms or just me, but I dread taking my kids to the pedi. I don't dread them for any obvious reason. Our pedis are nice, they are great with the kids and I think they are very thorough. I dread the visits because no matter our reason for being there, at some point the doctor will ask me a routine question about my child and I won't know the answer. I will have to say "I don't know." In my experience, the doctors have always accepted this answer and moved right on, as if it is completely normal that a mom won't know what her toddler ate for breakfast or when her preschooler first started feeling sick. They've never pressed me for an answer or worse, left that awkward moment of judgmental silence we working moms know so well. But to me, admitting I don't know how many ounces of milk KJ has in a day or how many hours he sleeps during nap time is like admitting I don't know my own child. That I've crammed my brain with useless things like the elements of adverse possession (SPACE HOG anyone?) over important things, like which day it was that KJ got his last breathing treatment. It makes me feel like an inadequate mom.
Of course, I'm not an inadequate mom because I don't know how long KJ naps every day. The truth of the matter is, he sleeps at school, while I'm at work. In my day-to-day life, it is much more important that I know SPACE HOG than I know the exact length of KJ's nap. (Well, that's not quite right in that adverse possession does not come up very often in securities law cases, but you get my point). I am serving my family better by focusing on what I need to know for my job so that I can provide for them. These other things, while important, are not of such overwhelming importance that I should be embarrassed that someone else - namely the daycare teacher - knows them better than I do.
But that objective knowledge doesn't help when you sit there in front of the pedi telling her you don't know things that are directly relevant your child's health. Most likely, you are sitting in front of that doctor knowing only that daycare called you 3 hours ago saying that you child had a fever and needed to be removed from the facility. You don't know if he was acting lethargic all day long. Or whether his appetite seemed suppressed. You know only that (1) he has a fever and (2) you need that fever to be gone for 24 hours before you can go back to work. Based on the center-wide emails, you might know that a kid in toddler 3 has pink eye or that someone in pre-k has hand, foot, mouth, but that's about all you got. And that has to be enough.
I'm sure my lack of knowledge is just as hard on the doctor as it is on me, the mom. The doctor is asking the questions because my responses (if I knew anything) would be helpful to her in making a diagnosis. She isn't trying to make me feel inadequate. I just do.
At our most recent visit (a healthy kid visit, thankfully), I had to say I didn't know at least three times. But I tried not to feel too badly about it. Because there were lots of things I did know about my guy, and they were all things about who he is as a person, as opposed to how many ounces of milk he drinks in a day. Next time, instead of counting " I don't know"s, I'm going to count my blessings. KJ is growing up into a healthy, happy guy. That's what really matters.
Karen
I don't know if it is common to all working moms or just me, but I dread taking my kids to the pedi. I don't dread them for any obvious reason. Our pedis are nice, they are great with the kids and I think they are very thorough. I dread the visits because no matter our reason for being there, at some point the doctor will ask me a routine question about my child and I won't know the answer. I will have to say "I don't know." In my experience, the doctors have always accepted this answer and moved right on, as if it is completely normal that a mom won't know what her toddler ate for breakfast or when her preschooler first started feeling sick. They've never pressed me for an answer or worse, left that awkward moment of judgmental silence we working moms know so well. But to me, admitting I don't know how many ounces of milk KJ has in a day or how many hours he sleeps during nap time is like admitting I don't know my own child. That I've crammed my brain with useless things like the elements of adverse possession (SPACE HOG anyone?) over important things, like which day it was that KJ got his last breathing treatment. It makes me feel like an inadequate mom.
Of course, I'm not an inadequate mom because I don't know how long KJ naps every day. The truth of the matter is, he sleeps at school, while I'm at work. In my day-to-day life, it is much more important that I know SPACE HOG than I know the exact length of KJ's nap. (Well, that's not quite right in that adverse possession does not come up very often in securities law cases, but you get my point). I am serving my family better by focusing on what I need to know for my job so that I can provide for them. These other things, while important, are not of such overwhelming importance that I should be embarrassed that someone else - namely the daycare teacher - knows them better than I do.
But that objective knowledge doesn't help when you sit there in front of the pedi telling her you don't know things that are directly relevant your child's health. Most likely, you are sitting in front of that doctor knowing only that daycare called you 3 hours ago saying that you child had a fever and needed to be removed from the facility. You don't know if he was acting lethargic all day long. Or whether his appetite seemed suppressed. You know only that (1) he has a fever and (2) you need that fever to be gone for 24 hours before you can go back to work. Based on the center-wide emails, you might know that a kid in toddler 3 has pink eye or that someone in pre-k has hand, foot, mouth, but that's about all you got. And that has to be enough.
I'm sure my lack of knowledge is just as hard on the doctor as it is on me, the mom. The doctor is asking the questions because my responses (if I knew anything) would be helpful to her in making a diagnosis. She isn't trying to make me feel inadequate. I just do.
At our most recent visit (a healthy kid visit, thankfully), I had to say I didn't know at least three times. But I tried not to feel too badly about it. Because there were lots of things I did know about my guy, and they were all things about who he is as a person, as opposed to how many ounces of milk he drinks in a day. Next time, instead of counting " I don't know"s, I'm going to count my blessings. KJ is growing up into a healthy, happy guy. That's what really matters.
Karen
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