Just Run Faster Mommy

Last night was a typical evening in my house. Todd was working, so I fed the kids, picked up the kitchen, and then took the kids outside. We played on the driveway, until J suggested we take a walk. I loaded up L in the stroller, J mounted her bike, and H grabbed his Spiderman scooter.

We started to walk down our normal path. Normally, I walk behind J and H walking or riding. They start down, but constantly check to see how far back I am and then stop and wait.

Well, this peaceful routine took an unexpected turn tonight. We left the house and started down the sidewalk. H was in front and started to go fast on his scooter and pulled ahead of the “pack”.

“H, slow down”. I said calmly. No big deal. He does this all the time. He’ll turn around, see where we are and stop.

But, he didn’t. Instead of listening to me, he started to go faster…and faster...and faster yet. At the bottom of our hill is a very busy intersection so I was scared when H kept pushing faster.  I sealed my spot yet again as the neighborhood crazy as I started to yell louder for him to stop, while starting to run with the stroller.

“H, STOP!”. I yelled.

He got so far ahead of me I could hardly see him. I was terrified as I knew he was headed for the very busy intersection. My heart was racing (probably the fact that I was now sprinting behind my stroller wasn’t helping). I kept yelling to him to stop...and he kept ignoring.

Suddenly, he stopped at the end of the street. One upset, ignored, crazy-yelling mother finally caught up with the new found Dale Earnhardt of Scooter riding.

Now I’m not telling this story just because H disobeyed me, tested my patience, or ignored me…because honestly if I wrote about everytime one of these things happened well, let’s just say we’d have to change the name of the blog to something like “I have a 3 year old boy…please send help!” because I would write about that all the time! H is at the stage where he seeks his independence all the time. He pushes the boundaries, tests his father and I. Yes, we are smack dab in the middle of the “I can do it myself”, “No I don’t wanna” stage.

What happened later that evening, however, was something worth blogging about. After H came home, reluctantly turned over his scooter that I think he knew he’d be grounded from for awhile, angrily took his time out, took a bath, ate a snack, watched his beloved Monster Trucks it was time for bed. We did our standard routine… Potty, Brush Teeth, Story Book, Tuck in, Lullaby, Prayers, Hugs and kisses, Good-night…oh wait one more kiss. But instead of heading out of the room before he could ask for “one more story”, I sat by his bed for a minute.


“H, you scared me tonight. You need to listen to Mommy when I tell you to stop. You could have been hurt, could have been hit by a car. I couldn’t catch you and that really scared me”.


H looked at me with his sky blue eyes, almost puzzled in a way, clearly giving me a “Who me?? Couldn’t be” sort of look. I expected to hear his classic “I surrender” comment of “Okay Mommy”, but I didn’t. Instead, H looked me in the eyes, inched closer to me on the pillow and said…

“Just run faster Mommy.”

I looked at my little boy, growing up before my eyes, and chuckled a bit. I walked downstairs to start catching up with some scrapbooking. I couldn’t get his line out of my mind. I started to look back at some old baby pictures of H…I couldn’t believe how fast he has grown.

Now I’m part of the M.O.B. (mother of boy) so having a hard time with my sons growing up is par for the course for me. For those of you who have girls only, let me explain: Mothers have a harder time dealing with the fact their sons are growing up than their daughters. We get a realization, after years of watching our husbands and brothers, that our time with our sons is more “limited” than with our daughters. With girls you know they will always be with you forever, fighting with you…probably, but there none the less. Girls get married, start their lives, but always seem to stick close to their mothers regardless of who or what enter their lives. Boys are different. They grow, get married, and suddenly Mom takes a back seat to their wives, their lives, their adventures. The baby boy who idolized you now has to be reminded by his wife to send a Mother’s Day card. Don’t believe me? Come on even the Bible tells us that, a man shall leave his MOTHER but a woman just needs to leave her home (for as we all know her Mother will come with her)!

Before I know it H (and L for that matter) are going to get to the stage where riding down the end of the street without me will be the least of my concerns. My little baby that never left my side is now running fast away from me.

But, it’s amazing how much wisdom can lie in the mind of a child. H is right of course. As he grows, he won’t wait for me, he won’t stop growing, stop challenging me, stop seeking his independence. He’s exactly right, I can’t stop him from growing up. Whether I want to or not (and you know for me it’s NOT), I’m going to have to let him “run”. Yelling down the street, so-to-speak, isn’t going to stop him. Nope, he’s only going to get faster, only going to go farther, only going to turn his head to look to see if I am there less and less.

So, H reminded me that its time I start to realize that I better become a marathon runner (figuratively of course, let’s not get crazy here). Yelling for him to stop is pointless, instead I need to “Just run faster Mommy”.  Well, I guess I should look on the bright side of things... I have two boys,  so I should be super skinny after this journey!

Mandi

Just Try a Bite

Picky, picky, picky. Those words are very accurate descriptions of my daughters. From shoes and games, to books and dresses, A & B are very particular in their choices. Their “picky-ness,” however, shines at the dinner table.

Full disclosure here, I am also a very picky eater. I know as my aunt and cousin are reading this post, they are laughing and nodding their heads in agreement. Growing up, I ate a lot of bread and butter, PB&J and pasta. If I didn’t like what my mom was making, I always had a second choice of PB&J or cereal. In fact, I was so picky, I would only eat the lasagna my aunt made and mac n’ cheese at my Grandma Fields (it was just Kraft). To this day, I don’t like salad or cottage cheese, and I despise mayo.

So when A & B were old enough to start trying new foods, I was prepared. One night I sat at the dinner table in an attempt to make B try a veggie of some sort. After 15 minutes, my hubby was ready to toss in the towel, but I just sat there as calm as can be. (I remember a similar situation when I was growing up: I was left in my Grandma’s kitchen for over an hour over 3 green beans. And I was victorious). After 30 minutes with B, she took 3 bites! Woo-hoo!

So hubby and I have continued to try this method. But, honestly, we don’t have time every night to spend 30 minutes on 3 bites. They need to eat something, otherwise, at 9 PM, they will be hungry again. Sadly (or positively), at preschool, they eat pretty much everything (well, except peas.)

I read the articles on childhood obesity and healthy kids. I limit the amount of candy (well, except for Grandpa’s spoiling), chips, and other junk. Plus, the girls are active in swimming, dance, and soon soccer and tee ball. So, I am not too worried. But I would really like them to eat more fruits and veggies.

So does anyone have any tips or tricks to get their kids to try new foods? Or any methods that did not work? Or has heredity already kicked in?

Thanks!

Jean Anne

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

Last night and this morning, I was thinking of ideas for my post today. Should I write about new activities for the girls? What about voicing my disdain for fire drills at work? Or maybe I should just admit to lack of technology skills and ask for help?
Well, readers, this time the blog topic hit me straight in the face about 8 AM this morning while we dropped the girls off at daycare.

Ms. Kristina: “Are you putting the girls in kindergarten in the Fall?”

Hubby and I (with actual confidence in our voices): “Yes.”

Ms Kristina: “Really? They just seem so small.”

And in that instance, my confidence crumbled.

I have had this discussion with my hubby, family and friends several times. And each time I end up coming to the same conclusion – A & B are headed to kindergarten in the fall 2011. We have discussed pros and cons, financial implications, social implications, schedules and my basic fears about my babies going to school. But each time, we end up with the same conclusion – kindergarten.

You should know that A & B were born in July and will be 5 years old when then start kindergarten in August. They will not be the youngest in their class, but definitely will not be the oldest. And yes, they are twins, but are not small for their age, as both are tall and healthy. To add flavor to some of our discussions, my hubby’s birthday is in late September and he was one of the oldest kids in his class. On the other side of the coin, Grandpa’s birthday is in early September and he was the youngest in his class. Both agree that the girls are ready for kindergarten.

For some reason, I always thought that there was not a choice to hold your child back an additional year. I thought the deadline/cut-off date from the school board made that choice for parents. Did I miss the boat along the way? When did this become optional? And what reasons for holding a child back?

I am trying to be a realistic parent (not a “my children are the next Doogie Howser M.D” parent), but I believe my girls are smart enough to belong in kindergarten and am unsure of how another year of pre-school would benefit them. And yes, I do think long term (i.e. Notre Dame for college), so I do wonder if being the oldest in their class would be helpful academically?

Some of you I imagine are in the same boat as me and I would appreciate your thoughts. Am I missing something important as I make this decision? Am I just being a worry wart?

Thanks!

Jean Anne

Everything I know about being a lawyer...

Remember those cheesy posters that hung in every doctor’s office, waiting room, or teachers’ lounge… “Everything I know now I learned in Kindergarten”?? Sure you do. They were everywhere. And of course it didn’t take long for them to morph into such classics as “Everything I know now I learned from my Cat”.

As lawyers our children are often looked upon as liabilities. They hurt our ability to do our jobs…or so society says. If you have kids you can’t be a good lawyer. 

Well, I must respectfully disagree with society. I believe I am a better lawyer because I am a Mom. My children have taught me more about being a good lawyer than any of my professors in law school.

So, if I was to write a cheesy poster…mine would read:

Everything I know about being a good lawyer, I learned from my kids…

Short and sweet is always best. As a Mom I don’t have 30 minutes to explain to my three year old why we don’t put playing cards in the DVD player. The lawyer in me wants to delve into a lengthy discourse explaining why we do not do this. But my Mom side knows better…it knows that I have exactly 3.2 seconds to get my point across before my three year old loses interest. So I always put my best arguments first and keep it short and sweet. I treat my juries the same way…instead of taking 10 minutes to explain why my client should win, I remember my kids’ attention span and go short and sweet. And yes, I have found that most average citizens sitting on a jury (and judges) share the same attention span as my 3 year old.

Repeat Yourself…a lot. The great Bill Cosby said this the best in his old comedy routines. Children don’t hear something that you just say once. A child does not hear “Come here”…so you have to say “Come here, come here, come here, here, here, here!” I think because I do this on a daily basis, it has carried over into my professional life. If I have a strong argument, I make sure that I repeat it throughout my trial or brief. I want to make sure when the jury is deliberating they remember “Timing isn’t everything” or whatever it is I am arguing. It works. I’ve even noticed in rulings on my motions, I’ll catch the judges stating my catchphrase throughout the ruling.

Don’t be the biter. Any daycare Mom knows that at daycare there are the biters and the kids that are bitten. Sure the biters may appear to have the upper hand, I mean they may get the toy after they bit the holder of the same…but look at what happens? It doesn’t take long for everyone to find out who the biter is, even though the accident report only says the child was bitten by a “friend”. So is it really worth it to be the biter? Definitely not. As an attorney your reputation is more important than your knowledge, I guarantee it.

Why do 5 things when you can do 10?  Because I am a Mom I multi-task with the best of them. I mean come on, while I’m writing this blog I have a load of laundry in, I’m doing prep work for dinner tomorrow, and I’m watching my favorite show in the background on my DVR. After I became a Mom I became much more productive with my time. As a lawyer I have similar time constraints…I may only have 5 minutes to come up with a response to a last minute argument raised by opposing counsel. Because I am a Mom, I guarantee you I can get more done in that time frame than other attorneys. I mean have they ever had to cook dinner while helping a 4 year old with homework, stopping a three year old from eating dog food, and feeding a baby?

Yes, the good guys do sometimes win. As a defense lawyer, I am very cynical. I always have the uphill battle, I mean I am the one representing the person who is being sued. So it automatically doesn’t look good for me based solely on my position after the “v.” in the caption. So, after years of doing this job, you start to think that the “good guys” never win. But all the countless fairytales I read to my daughter remind me each day that yes, the good guys do and should win. So it helps to keep my cyncism at bay.

If it smells like poop…it is poop. Yes, I’ve changed enough diapers in my day to know this fact. When I’m preparing for a trial or writing a brief, I’ll get a bad feeling in my gut about an argument…it just seems weak. Often attorneys have this feeling about arguments or theories, yet they don’t trust themselves and they go with it. You know what, they lose because their “poopy” argument clouded their great one. So if an argument smells like poop to me, its gone, everytime.

Appearing busy = an exceptional lawyer. If you try to schedule depositions or trials with me you will find it quite challenging. Yes, I have a lot of files, but I also have a lot of barriers to my calendar because of my kids. My assistant or myself will tell the person that I have a “commitment” whether personal or not. I can’t tell you the number of times opposing counsel have said to me in depositions… “Wow you are a hard woman to track down, you must be a great lawyer to carry that load”. So yeah after they say that I don’t mention that I had to reschedule our deposition because of my daughter’s dance pictures.

Storytelling is a lost art...find it. Being a Mom has taught me to never underestimate the power of storytelling. It’s not enough to tell a story…you have to be good at it. My kids would quickly lose interest if I read their bedtime stories in a monotone voice with no feeling. Same is true for a juror…if you can’t tell a good story and at least try and appear like the fantasically interesting Hollywood versions of attorneys they watch nightly on NBC, then you’ll lose their interest and often your case . Okay so no I don’t pull out my “Big bad wolf” voice during my closing arguments, but I can guarantee you I’m much more interesting to listen to in trial because I am constantly practicing my storytelling.

Make time for Manners. As a Mom I am constantly telling my kids, “say please”, “say excuse me”, and “always say thank you”. As adults we forget that. But Moms don’t forget it, because the moment we do we hear little voices piping up “Mom, you forgot to say PLEASE”. This constant attention to manners has paid off for me big time. A clerk at the Courthouse once told me that she was going to help me expedite a last minute "oh crap I forgot it" motion up to the judge because I was always so friendly and polite when I talked to her. See, like I tell my 4 year old…manners matter.

Learn to spot the Wolf. Every children’s story or movie always has the bad guy in disguise. “Grandmother what big EYES you have”. I have learned through my children how to spot the wolves of the world. I know what attorneys to trust and which ones to watch out for. I know what witnesses to dig deeper into. I have honed my judgment skills. Who knew Little Red Riding Hood would be so helpful?

Move on. Children don’t dwell. If they do something wrong, they apologize and then quickly move on. No harm, no foul. When I started my career everytime I made a mistake I would take it to heart. My children have taught me that mistakes happen…apologize for them and move on.

Don’t wait for the confession…it won’t come. Ever notice how when something breaks in the presence of two children, conveniently neither of them know what happened? I used to make the parenting mistake of waiting and waiting for the confession… “Okay, who did it?” I wasted so much time waiting for someone to confess. Then I realized that I didn’t need the confession, I could get the information I need by setting up a prima facie case of the crime… “Okay, so J did you use this beautiful purple paint in your picture today (in an excited tone)?” “Yes, Mommy I sure did”. “Oh I bet your brother didn’t even think to use that beautiful purple paint in his picture (in a “you are such a better artist than your brother” tone)”. “No, Mommy he didn’t even want to use purple”. And presto I found the culprit who decided our khaki walls would look better with big purple splashes of paint on them. I use the same principles in examining witnesses. I used to question witnesses over and over to get them to admit to something…and of course all this led to was “Asked and Answered” objections and no confessions. People don’t want to say they did something wrong…so set it up. I now build up the facts so that the jury can figure it out without seeing the writing (or Crayola Washable paint) on the wall.

Have fun. Children have fun in their lives. They truly enjoy their surroundings. Watching my kids has taught me to just have fun in my profession. I’m a better lawyer because I find the joy in litigating. If I really like a case, I find myself better at defending it. So I find the joy in my cases. Being a lawyer is fun…so enjoy it! I mean there aren’t many professions where you can yell at people to your heart's content and get paid for it, now are there?

So next time a young upstart associate tries to make you feel they are so much better than you because they are sans kids, or you feel like you are being Mommytracked, remember you gave birth to some of the greatest teachers of trial advocacy out there. So let them think that you learned all your excellent trial skills at Harvard or some fancy trial academy...you and your kids will know the secret.

Mandi

Blue & White: Love, Hope Light

Fifteen years ago, I was sitting in high school French class on a day not unlike today. It being first period (and French), I remember looking out the window a lot, and noticing an abundance of emergency vehicles passing by – all with their lights flashing but none with the sirens sounding.

As the period neared a close, someone knocked on the door and asked my teacher to step into the hallway. When she came back, my teacher was visibly shaken. “I’m not supposed to say anything yet,” she said. “But I can’t keep this to myself.” One of our school buses had been hit by a commuter train.

My high school was located in a small community. Case in point, the high school was actually conglomeration of kids from two small towns. Most of the kids had grown up together. We’d played on the same soccer teams and been in the same girl scout troops. It was one of those communities where everyone knew everyone else.

And we were also a community that was familiar with the train. The Metra runs right through both towns. Literally hundreds of people from those towns used it every day to commute to and from work. In fact, that same Metra line is the one I take to get to work today. So when we were told that the bus was hit by a train, we knew that the train had won.

Seven kids died in that school bus accident. Five died on scene. Two others died later from their injuries. Over twenty other kids were injured.

For fifteen years, I’ve looked at that accident through the eyes of a student. I’ve thought about how horrible it must have been for the kids on that bus. And I’ve known that because I wasn’t on that bus, I was lucky. But now, as a parent, I am more struck by the accident than I was even back then.

There was nothing the parents of the kids on the school bus could have done to shield their kids from the horror of that day. The parents of those kids did what they were supposed to: they got their kids on their way to school on time. They probably didn’t think twice about it. I know I don’t. Every day I get my kids ready for school, get them in the van with their dad, and then go get ready for work myself. Once the kids are in the van, I assume they are okay. But the accident is a reminder that I can’t really take my kids’ safety for granted.

It’s a fact of life that our ability to protect our kids is inversely related to the kids’ age: the older they get the less we can do to control their experiences. In some cases, this is a good thing. Our kids need to grow and experience life. They need to be able to solve their own problems and handle disappointment. But there are some things we as parents are always going to want to try to protect our children from. The anniversary of the bus accident is a reminder that we as parents, can only do the best we can. It is our job to love our kids, provide them with a good example and hope for the best. We must trust in God’s plan.

Fifteen years later, the community has not forgotten the bus accident. My church held a memorial blood drive this weekend, and the site was decorated with flowers today. And while there aren’t as many blue and white ribbons as there were fifteen years ago, there are still people who remember. And people who are praying for the people affected by that day. Fifteen years later, blue and white still means love, hope, light.

My Assistants

My assistant recently put in her notice (she's off to pursue her dream career).  After I found out, I came home and told Todd I was about to embark on the process I hate: interviewing and finding another perfect assistant. My practice is chaotic. I travel all the time, have a large caseload, and with my lifestyle I have to stay completely organized. So finding a perfect assistant who can help me manage everything is hard.

As Todd and I were talking, J came up to me and said “But Mommy, I’m your Assistant”. H soon piped in, “Me too Momma”. I looked over at L in his saucer who smiled back at me as if to mimic his brother and sister. I smiled and hugged them. They were right…they are truly my assistants. . .

J is my main assistant, the one you most often see if you visit my firm. J loves coming to visit me at work and is well known by my co-workers. She has even set up her own desk next to my assistant. If I have no choice but to work at night J will pull up a chair and “work” with me. She is also chief decorator of my office. She has littered my office with her works of art and discovered that Post-It notes provide needed color for my file cabinets. She loves “answering” my phone and has found our office’s supply closet so she loves to get legal pads and write me “Memos”. She is also my stylist and every morning when I leave for work will tell me what she thinks of my outfits. Most often she disapproves, telling me I need higher heels, sparkly shirts, and darker lipstick. And she still can’t understand why I don’t wear skirts everyday!

Then there is H, my “assistant behind the scenes”. You don’t see him working, but trust me he’s there. My sneaky assistant’s main job is to make sure my briefcase is “stocked” before I go to depositions or trials. This means I will pull out my file to find Thomas the Tank Engine stickers on top. My pens will all be missing from my briefcase and replaced with yellow crayons (a darker color would be too easy and H loves to keep me on my toes). I will pull out a legal pad at trial to find his scribbling on the top page. Occasionally he will place in my briefcase some “backup” to help me, usually Spiderman or his favorite Matchbox car. He also as you know from my previous post, enjoys calling another attorneys in the middle of the night on my Blackberry, so he is known to work late hours.

Now L is my newest assistant and at just 4 months old, I have yet to discover his true potential as my assistant. But as of now, he serves as my legal editor. When he is up during the night and I’m working, his bedtime stories back to sleep are usually my briefs and motions. He loves hearing my briefs! He’ll smile and kick his feet when I read to him such riveting subjects as the “Commerce Clause” or “Personal Jurisdiction”. And he’s actually a good editor. If I read it to him an argument and he stays awake that usually tells me I’m doing good…but if he falls asleep it always reminds me to check to see if I was being too wordy. And often surprisingly it is too wordy and I edit out that part!

I’d be lost without my three assistants, they each help in their own way to brighten my day and keep me on my toes! So, I guess in my interviews with potential new assistants I better warn them that they have some big shoes to fill…umm I mean SMALL shoes!

Mandi