One Hour Of Perfection

Yesterday I wrapped up my old job (barely). Before I could leave I had to draft a motion for partial summary judgment. This was the stipulation for my final farewell. I finally finished it at 6:15pm! It's even pretty good, if I do say so myself. I even went to the effort of bate-stamping my exhibits so I could reference them by page number. Bate-stamped pages make me so happy.

As the evening dragged on, however, I lost steam in the final few minutes. The thought of taking the final effort of tying my arguments up nicely in a conclusion section seemed unbearable. So I kinda skipped it. I hope my boss appreciates this as he is reviewing my draft.

I'm the one that introduced him to the trending phrase "sorry for partying." So I'm sure he'll see it as a final souvenir of my employment with the firm...ha ha, RIGHT....

I also need to mention that on my last day at the firm, my boss sent out an email with the following subject (in all caps, of course): "WHOEVER JAMMED THE BIG STAPLER, PLEASE COME SEE ME!" The e-mail went on to explain the importance of having a jam-free stapler in case there is an "emergency." Ha.

HA HA HA HA!

Also, I totally had a nightmare that I filed a motion and used the word "hafta" instead of "have to" and my boss flipped out and I was totally horrified and filled with anxiety. I wonder if the litigation nightmares will stop sometime or if they will be ever present, much like those pesky high school test nightmares.

We are off to Canada tomorrow for the rest of the week/weekend. But today, I have absolutely no plans, obligations, or work-related stress. And it feels amazing! I kind of feel unemployed. It's the best feeling ever. Hmmm, I could get used to this.

This morning, I took the kids to the gym and ran 6 miles. Now the baby is sleeping, the big kid is "resting" on the couch. I'm sitting in my warm bed enjoying the post-run high and the awesome feeling of spent muscles while eating a much-deserved cookie dough Power bar (yes, there IS such as thing...and it is amazing!), listening to Macklemore's The Heist, and doing WHATEVER THE HECK I WANT. (Forgetting for a moment that my house it complete chaos.)

It may be really simple, but this is my idea of perfection. I am in a total state of bliss right now. Life is good!

Escape From Mommy-Hood

This week, in a rare showing of spontaneity (I'm usually the spontaneous one in the relationship), my husband booked an online deal for a hotel in the heart of winery country. And for no good reason at all, aside from the fact that we are long LONG overdue for a real date, we decided to redeem that deal this Saturday.

Our first destination (after saying our goodbyes and dropping off the kids), was to do a little winery hopping. We made it to three different wineries in 2.5 hours and sampled four to five different wines at each one.  The wineries ranged from a dinky warehouse that offered only five choices (but they had a chocolate fountain!) to a swanky, upscale winery that boasted 10 different rieslings alone! The whole event was fun but it also reminded me that I'm not much of a wine girl. I'll drink it anytime but there are so few wines that I actually love. Most days, I'd just prefer a Rainier beer!

It was so fun to spend time with my husband. Day in and out, I get to see my husband the "father," my husband the "employee," and my husband the "chore-doer." It's pretty rare that I get to see my husband the "best friend." It was so great to hang out with him in carefree, agenda-less environment. Lucky for him (Hah!), I got to let my hair down and bring out my usual crazy self. Thank god I found someone to marry who is not easily embarrassed!

"Bottoms UP"

I'm such a light weight.

After the wineries, we headed to our hotel which was a gorgeous establishment on Lake Washington. It was fabulous. It smelled just like a hotel should smell: bleached sheets, ginger soaps, and a hint of adventure. It was upscale but not snooty. I squeeled in delight when I saw the gigantor king-sized bed and immediately pressed my cheeks against the cool sheets and did a bed "snow" angel. Then I promptly consumed all the pillow chocolates and took a tour of the bathroom where I did a happy dance the moment I saw the fancy hand-held showerhead and luxurious bathrobe hanging on the towel rack.

We dropped off our stuff and went looking for dinner. The hotel restaurant was packed and their menu was less than impressive. So we headed to the restaurant across the street (La Grand in Kirkland, Washington) where we found immediate water-view seating. I'm so thankful that the hotel restaurant was packed that night because, at this unassuming place across the street we had what we both agreed was the BEST MEAL OF OUR ENTIRE LIFE (haricots verts, crab cakes atop carrot puree sauce, and steak with garlic butter).

After returning to our room, we luxuriously fell asleep BEFORE 9pm. And the next morning we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before picking up the kids. There's nothing quite like being away for 24 hours to make you truly appreciate your children. When we walked into my in-laws' house, the kids bounded up to the door beaming from ear to ear. We wrapped them in big hugs and reminded ourselves just how lucky we are to have wonderful children to come home to. Jacob talked nonstop on the way home while Ryan chimed in on the noise-making with his singing. We were in such high spirits when we got home and the sun was shining (rare for a wintry Washington weekend) that I mustered up the courage and energy to take both kids to the park on my own. My husband had to leave for a work event so I had the kids all to myself.

 

We frolicked down to the park as if we were hamsters let free from their cages. We enjoyed our freedom, soaked up the sunshine, and Jacob and I giggled happily at Ryan who was making silly noises and desperately trying to escape from his stroller. He wants so badly to be like his big brother Jacob. He kept reaching desperately for Jacob's Thomas the Train bike and the look in his eyes was a mix between curiosity and envy.

The happy mood quickly turned sour a mere five minutes into our trip when Jacob decided he was suddenly and desperately cold and absolutely needed to have hot cocoa within five mintues or else parish an unthinkable death.

I refused to leave so soon after our long trek to the park. Plus, Ryan was having fun crawling back and forth through the tunnels of the big toy.

That is....until he went one crawl too many and fell face first onto the grated floors of the play structure.

He has a rhino horn!

On the way home, I had to haul both the stroller and Jacob's bike back uphill to the house while listenin to Jacob cry hysterically about how cold he was. Funmy how Ryan was the injured one and he was doing JUST FINE.

It was a losing battle for the rest of the evening as Jacob was sent to his room for (1) hitting Ryan, although he claimed he was just "drumming" on his head, (2) putting a large box over Ryan's body after being told not to, (3) back-talking, backtalking, and backtalking some more, and (4) coloring all over our furniture with markers. Jacob also refused to eat any dinner despite my begging and pleading. When he was sent to his room the fourth time and I noticed that he hadn't touch his dinner, I ate it myself to keep from being wastful. Of course the second he was out of his room he demanded to know where his dinner was and screamed at the top of his lungs because he was "SO STARVING that his tummy was going to melt!"

By 7:00 p.m., I had had enough of my return to Mommy-land. Even though it was 1.5 hours before their usual bedtime, I rushed both kids to bed in record time. Luckily, even Ryan went into his crib wide-eyed but without a single fuss. Then they both fell asleep without a single peep!

Is an overnight date worth paying the price of a thousand child tantrums? That would be a resounding "YES!"

Work, Mommy, Repeat

For the past couple weeks, I started to become mentally bogged down in the monotony of my daily routine. It's not so much what I do each day, actually I really enjoy the things I do. I love my job and my career. I absolutely love (duh...) the time I get to spend with my kids (even if it's mostly in the car or while making dinner). I'm also lucky enough to get a spin class in multiple times per week.

The problem is that the things I do and the order in which I do them almost never changes. Each day looks like an exact replica of the day before or after it. The days run together and are undistinguishable aside from the changing numbers on the calendar. My schedule is boring, tedious, and predictable.

What also bothers me is the fact that my days are so FULL. My schedule is crammed from 5:45am to 9:00p.m. when the kids go to bed. After that, I just might get in a chore or two before I crash/surf pinterest until way past my bedtime. That is assuming I don't have an urgent motion to write or respond to. There is barely any "flex" time or "floating" free time. If I'm not at work, I'm commuting to/from work, dressing myself or the kids, giving baths, making dinner, putting to bed... and all according to a repetitious, predictable schedule.

I'm not really trying to complain. I realize that I am amazingly lucky in so many ways. I just need to figure out how to escape the monotony of repetition so I don't get stuck in a rut. On good days, I'll stop for a moment to reflect on things. Sometimes, I'll rock my baby to sleep, admire his chubby face and his freakishly long lashes, without worrying about my to-do list. Other times, I'll play a card game with Jacob, enjoy his innocence, and just be present in the moment with him.

That is....when he's not acting like this:

And then today, I stepped back for a moment to appreciate the things in my life that usually go without notice-- my mom. I was raiding my mom's pantry this afternoon when I saw the markings on her wall showing our growth when we were younger. Right there beside my name and the names of my siblings, were the names and growth markings of my own children. In all honestly, she really is a second mom to them. And in having such a wonderful person play second mom, I really hit the jackpot.

It really struck me how fortunate (like 1/1,000 fortunate) I am to have a mom so devoted, to not just me, but to my own children. She loves them with as much strength, passion, and even more patience than I do. I sometimes write her off as eccentric and old school, but I also completely take for granted her capacity to love, her strength of character, and her constant service. She is an amazingly strong, positive, smiling influence on us all. We have no idea how good we got it. I just need to take more time each day to focus on these wonderful things in my life.

I guess the challenge, in the face of a repetitious routine, is to take a second to climb out of the deep pit that is my monotonous routine and get my bearings and focus on what is really going on. Maybe I also need to add a little something different to each day to make it stand out from the others. Perhaps all I need is to take a 10 minute time-out from my schedule each day to enjoy something unusual or spontaneous? The challenge is officially on!

Work Hard. Play Hard.

This weekend was a crazy mix of extremes. I rarely work on the weekends (thanks to my new non-conventional lawyer hours). I also rarely go out on the town and stay up until 2am. This weekend, I did both!

At the end of last week, a partner asked me to take a look at a motion and prepare a response. It's a motion involving attorney fees. Do you know what that means?! It involves....dun, dun, dun.... MATH! GROSS! Thankfully it also involved a good deal of legal research (my fave) to break up the math-monotony.

I love a lot of things about being a lawyer. But I mostly love the competition and creativity of motion briefing. One thing I have discovered is that there are a lot of lawyers who are lazy writers/legal researchers. It is not very fun to oppose a sloppy motion. When my opponent is crafty and creative and only border-line ethical, that's when the big guns come out.

There is nothing in the world better than pulling apart your opponent's arguments. Then when you find the MONEY case that supports your own argument, it's like pulling a tiny thread and unraveling an entire sweater. Even better than that is when case law on a subject is mixed and the judge could rule either way. The excitement of opening up the court order and reading the ruling while trying not to skip ahead to the outcome is even better than opening gifts on Christmas. Because you know that, if you win, it's the result of your own work, creatively crafted arguments, and excellent use of analogizing cases. It's called a litigator's high. It is better than sex. Yep.

So back to this weekend....I spent over 8 hours researching and writing a 12 page opposition brief. I broke this time out between the two days so that I didn't feel like I was neglecting my children. I wrote the brief at my kitchen table in my yoga pants in between tantrums, time-outs, meals, nap times, and simple cries for attention. It was frustrating to have to stop mid-argument to refill a water bottle or wipe someone's ass, but I managed somehow.

Then Saturday night, I met up with some friends for a night on the town. It was one of my friend's 30th birthday and we had high expectations for the night. I love taking friends from my city to Seattle. I am the honorary Seattle-ite since I work there and I get to show them around town. I also get to feel really important when people ask me simple things like "how do you catch a cab in Seattle," or "where is a good place to eat?" or "Is this neighborhood too sketchy to walk through this time of night?" I love playing tour guide because I love Seattle with a passion and I get to share my love and passion with others (whether they want me to or not!).

We started at one of my favorite bar, Bathtub Gin & Co. It's a tiny little bar and best-kept Seattle secret. The entrance is in an alleyway behind some office buildings. When you walk up to the entrance, an unassuming wooden door between homeless people and dumpsters, you have no idea if you are in the in the right place. One step inside the door and you feel like you've discovered a secret little world. The place is tiny and cramped but the dim lighting, the friendly people, and amazingly long list of cocktails make it the COOLEST place to get drunk in Seattle.

NOT Sketchy:

 

Our fancy custom-made receipt illustrated by our bartender.

 

We had a couple drinks, made friends with the bartender and other customers, had some interesting girl talk, then left to grab a bite to eat. We had our sights set on a romantic looking, upscale grill across the street. But as we left the bar at 8:45, one person in our group was already stumble-down drunk. So, we opted for nachos at the fast-food joint Taco Del-Mar where we were the only patrons and could enjoy the spanish game-show television, bright flourescent lights, and cartoon fish character decor all by ourselves.

My "I'm not drunk enough for fast-food nachos" face.

Me with the beautiful birthday girl

Luckily everyone sobered up in time for some dancing at a nearby club. Looking for a cool little pub? I'm your girl. Looking for a club? Forget it! But Google did not disppoint and we landed at Trinity Night Club with multiple dance floors and walls that vibrated from the mix of techno and pop songs. We drank, we dance, and OH BOY did we meet some of the creepiest men in the city. I don't remember men being so bold and shameless. I also don't remember men having no qualms about dancing like complete idiots. Men continued to want to girate on us even upon discovering we were married. We all took turns playing body guard though and it worked out pretty well.

At one point during the evening, this man (looking like an ugly Daniel Craig- trust me, it IS possible) bent over at a ninety degree angle, stuck his butt out, and danced with his rear jiggling and jiving up against me. WHAT? Since when do men dance like that? We all laughed at his expense and then quickly ditched him in the crowd.

I also had forgotten about the flocks of men that a group of women can attract. I haven't talked with so many people in my entire life! As much fun as I had, I couldn't help but feel a little detached from it all many times during the evening. I guess I'm just a lame-old mom. By 11:00, my knees were hurting from dancing and I just wanted to sit on my quiet couch and surf Pinterest (I realize how very sad I sound!). I was shocked to see men twice my age with more energy and interest in dancing. Can I blame my lame-ness on being a mom?

Can I go home now and drink tea?

 



We left the club a little after midnight, caught the 12:50 a.m. ferry and that got me home at 2 a.m. It was a very fun night! It wasn't so awesome, however, to be woken up at 6:30 by two hungry, energetic children and then have to spent 4 more hours finishing up my motion. But that is the life of a mommy lawyer!

P.S. Is it sad that the closest thing I could get to a clubbing outfit was an Ann Taylor Loft blouse?

You Spin Me Right Round

Just wait, I have so many more unfunny and unclever "spin" titles to attack the blogosphere with.

So, have I mentioned I love spin class? I absolutely love it. Who knew you could get the equivalent of a runner's high from cycling? That is, after you get over how hard it is, how freakishly much you sweat, having to stare at someone's (usually an old man) ass for an hour, and having to wear shorts with padding in the crotch.

As a semi-related side note that you don't want to know about: Sometimes when I'm cycling, I'll glimpse down without thinking and wonder, "why is my crotch puffy? Is there a man sitting on my lap?" Then I remember, "nope, I'm just wearing padded shorts." Oh yeah... I'm cool.

The best thing about cycling is that while it's hard, anyone can do it (unless maybe you have no legs). Beginners can adjust the gears on their bike to any level of resistance. No one can tell what gear their neighbor is in. So, on a rough day, while the rest of the class is doing an uphill climb on gear 20, I can be sailing along on gear 13 so long as I make sufficient grimacing faces to assure the instructor that I am working as hard as everyone else. And when I feel like I'm dying and the instructor yells "ADD A GEAR!" I can easily waive my hand over the gear level to make it LOOK like I'm adding a gear.

I'm so clever. I know all the tricks.

Because you can never judge, simply by sight, how well anyone else is doing, there is only one way to indicate your elite status as a spinner. Elite status is achieved when you work so hard that sweat continuously drips off your face and forms a nice puddle on the floor. Yes, your performance is judged by your sweat. I love being in an environment where it is totally acceptable to sweat. It makes my life so much better.

Oh and did I mention that in one hour of spinning, I can burn 600 calories?! It's totally amazing! That's like 1.75 donuts, 4 small scoops of vanilla ice cream, 7 oreo cookies, 600 carrots, or one Butterfinger Blizzard.

Best Sick Day Ever!

Sickness is here! I knew the sickness was inevitable as one by one my coworkers, friends, and family fell captive. So far, I'm the only one in the family who has been hit and it hasn't actually been that bad. Congestion, foggy head, and sore throat. I rarely ever get sick, so I guess I was long overdue. As long as I'm not puking, I'm a happy sick person.

Last night was day two of the sickness and I fought it off with a nice long spin class. I may be crazy, but it has always been my own personal philosophy that sweat and exercise is the best thing for your body when you get sick. When I ran competatively in college, this always seemed to be true and it has worked for me ever since.

After a full night of tossing and turning, plugging my nostrils with tissue paper, and trying to sooth my burning throat, I woke to my 5:25 a.m. alarm as I imagine a swamp person would arise from well...a swamp. I was groggy, my head felt like it was full of mud, and I looked pretty awful. I immediately hit snooze and didn't think twice about trying to make it to work. Since today was my husband's turn to wake, feed, dress the kids and drop them off at his sister's house, I fell right back to sleep for four glorious more hours.

I finally woke up at 10 a.m. and made the obligatory call in to work. I had a couple work projects on my plate and I got those out of the way first thing. After that, the day WAS MINE! First, I lounged on the couch with tea and caught up on Pinterest and Facebook and some of my favorite blogs. Then I tidied the house, but only just enough to feel accomplished.

Then I went to the craft store. Not because I needed to buy anything. I went to the store solely because I had the rare luxury of driving somewhere without having to pack a diaper bag, strap and unstrap two kids into their carseats, and drag three different bags around with me. Although my husband and I pretty much split kid duty right down the middle, when we both have chores or errands to run, it's always expected that I will have the kids with me. I don't really mind it-- in fact, sometimes I prefer it. But when I'm running to the gym, the grocery store, AND the bank, it would be nice if my husband would take at least ONE of them with him on his ten minute hardware store trip.

Anyway, my point is that it has been so long since the last time I went on an errand alone. In fact, I honestly cannot remember the last time. So today, being able to peruse casually and aimlessly down the aisles of the craftstore with no agenda or care in the world (aside from trying not to sneeze or cough on anyone), was so freaking amazing.

On the drive home, I got to listen to Dori Monson, my favorite news radio show host (did I just say that? I'm such a nerd). His show is during the middle of the day so I rarely get to listen to him. I used to have a major voice/brain crush on him. Then I spoiled everything by looking up his website and finding his headshot. A lot of people love NPR. I personally can't stand it. Luckily we have a local news radio station that is simply fantastic. The hosts each have different perspectives and political leanings and it's amazing how they can cover the same top five stories and present totally different news. I NEVER listen to music in the car anymore (unless T-Swift comes out with a new album). I'm a total news radio addict. I have no idea how I survived on a daily basis before "Ring My Bell" with Rachel Belle.

Because I'm missing the piece of DNA that tells people to veg on the couch, I came home and finished a painting that I started six months ago (I painted over book pages. Sorry "Hundred Years of Solitude" you were way too boring to earn a permanent spot on my bookshelf):

Then I started and finished another painting. My camera didn't pick up the background colors very well. I really liked the background. I kind of think I ruined it by adding the branch silhouette. It's definitely NOT my favorite painting.

I always hate my own art and that is why most of my work lives at my parents' house where they, in typical parent fashion, display it prominently and without objectivity and for the entire world to see.  I nearly die each time I go to their house and see all my HORRIBLE middle school paintings hanging proudly in their living room and dining room. I made them promise to tell visitors that they found the paintings at Goodwill.

I also made this star:

It was so fun and so easy. Right now, as I type, I am planning a star take-over of all the walls in my house.

In between all my projects, I drank six cups of tea (current favorite is black chai tea with hazelnut creamer and three packs of splenda = death by sweetness). I had a gigantic bowl of chicken noodle soup. When the kids came home, we played, I gave them baths, we cuddled, and then I wisked them off to bed.

Finally, at 10:00 p.m. when I realized that all I had eaten all day was my bowl of soup (one good thing about being sick is total loss of appetite and then being able to make up all the missed calories the next day), I sat on the couch and had a nice big helping of my delicious "whatever is in the fridge" pasta. I made it two days ago when our pantry was bare and we were desperately waiting for payday. It turned out really well and is going to be my new go-to pasta dish. I'm thinking you can use whatever kind of cheese you happen to have on hand.

"Whatever" Pasta

2 cups milk
3 Tbs butter
3Tbs flour
1 tsp salt
Dash of nutmeg
1 tsp lemon juice
2 oz cream cheese
1/2 cup cheddar cheese

First I made bechemel saude by melting butter in a pan over medium heat. I added flour, stirring it in, and cooking it for another minute or two. I slowly added the milk and brough the mixute to a simmer. Then I melted the cheese into the mixture, and added salt, nutmeg, and lemon juice. At the very end, add in the chicken pieces. Serve over penne (or any) pasta.

I'm rounding out my fantastic sick day with a seventh cup of chai tea, and soaking in the peacefullness of a silent, sleepy house. I absolutely love being the last person to go to sleep.

Champagne Is Best At 175 Feet

I usually don't care much about New Year's Eve. We usually leave NYE celebrations feeling disappointed. I think it's because we WANT an excuse to go crazy and party big. But it never really happens. So for the past couple years, we've just stayed home, invited a couple friends over, and stayed up playing games and watching the Space Needle fireworks on TV.

This year, as NYE approached, we didn't even get THAT far. The night before NYE, I received a text from our friends asking if we had plans. Thus began the most impromptu New Year's Eve night on the town, double date in history. Because it was so last minute and low-key, our expectations were low. Anything beat staring at a TV screen, right?

The night turned out AWESOMELY. It was JUST what we needed!

After work, my boss invited me to join him and the other partner for happy hour. The three of us drank a pitcher of PBR at a dive bar and talked about various inappropriate topics including Catholic sex, pedophile jokes, three-ways with Joan Rivers and Kathie Lee Gifford, and ethnic stereotypes. (My bosses are pretty awesome.)

An hour later, I slipped away to meet my date and our friends at the ferry terminal in downtown Seattle. I planned to take them to a new bar that had opened up in the area but after 30 minutes of me leading them (by foot) in circles, we gave up on that idea and headed to our restaurant.

Since I had only begun my hunt for NYE reservations at 9:00pm the night prior, my favorite places were booked until super late in the evening. My only requirement for dinner was that our restaurant have tablecloths. Finally, I scored 7:45 reservations at Palomino. They had tablecloths. I was happy. And it went pretty well.

After a ginger peach martini, lemon drop, and the creme de mint-y goodness of an After Eight shot, we were feeling pretty good!

As we were paying for dinner we decided it would be a great idea to find some champagne and sneak it onto the ferris wheel ride of downtown Seattle. The ferris wheel is a brand new attraction to the downtown waterfront and, at 175 feet high, it is the largest observation wheel on the west coast. We managed to sneak into a local drugstore just 5 minutes before closing and walked out with our prized possession of $7 champagne!

I was so excited about the ferris wheel until the moment I stepped foot into the ferris wheel pod. I nervously sat down in my seat, clenching tightly to the edge, and demanded that no one MOVE A MUSCLE or rock the pod.

Scared

After a couple sips of bubbly (which we decided to call "burpee" for obvious reasons), I quickly overcame my initial trepidation about traveling nearly 200 feet in the air above the Puget Sound. Then I was back to my mischevious self.

Food and drinks are not allowed on the ferris wheel. This fact alone made our champagne taste 100x better. The riders in the neighboring pods cheered and laughed as the four of us popped the cork, took turns passing the champagne, and sipping right from the bottle. The views were excellent.

The company was even more excellent!

After the ferris wheel, we slunk into a nearby bar where we enjoyed one last round of drinks before midnight. Three minutes to midnight, we paid our tab and ran three blocks to the ferry terminal where we expected to see Space Needle fireworks in all their glory. Turns out, the Space Needle is farther from the ferry than I remembered. And there were just a FEW buildings in the way.... (see the ferris wheel to the left?! so gigantic!)

Despite the very tiny firework show, we rang in the New Year all smiles and laughter and in the company of our good friends who we do not see nearly enough. Then, my husband and I promptly boarded the 12:15 ferry back to my parent's house where we passed out in my old bedroom, our two kids peacefully sleeping in the room next door.

Even with our last minute double date, low expectations, and wandering Seattle without any real plans, NYE was a huge success.

Happy New Year!

I was not planning on making any New Year's resolutions. I never do. But this whole evening has convinced me that I need more spontaneity in my life. Here's hoping 2013 brings more impromptu adventure with friends and family.

I Finally Get It Right

The first thing that crosses my mind when someone invites me to a party is, "Oh shit. I have to figure out what to wear!" When it comes to clothing, I have two modes:

Professional:

And this:

(my husband snapped this picture of me while I was pregnant and passed out on the couch after work. Isn't he kind? Also....the socks win.)

When it comes to dates, parties, and girls nights out, I'm a mess. I have no idea how to dress. Seriously. No clue. I have work blouses, cardigan sweaters, and collared shirts galore. I have pencil skirts, pearls, and suit jackets. On the other side of my closet, I have unwashed-for-8-days yoga pants, hooded sweatshirts, kitten pjs, and track jackets.

This is why I hyperventilate upon receiving any social invitation.

But honestly, I should stop worrying. Because as soon as the last drop of my first glass of wine glides down my throat, I'm a total disaster regardless of what I'm wearing.

BUT tonight. For the first time EVER. I felt totally fabulous at a party. Tonight, when I dressed for my husband's work party, it all snapped into place. I wore my favorite grey, shiny skirt and tucked in a glittery tank I purchased the day prior (at Nordys the other day, I decided that I wasn't going to let the world end before I owned a champagne-colored sequin shirt). I paired it with a black cropped cardi and I felt like a party rockstar. Aside from this photo with my unfortunate duck lips pose, I did not get a decent picture of my fabulousness.

Go away Duck Lips! No one likes you!

The party was very nice as well. My husband works with some great people. We even brought the kids. For most of the night, Jacob was running around the room in his christmas socks while Ryan crawled all over the floor sans shoes (my husband dressed him). Ryan ate two whole dinner rolls (it kept him busy so I could shovel food down my duck-lipped mouth). At one point he dropped one of his rolls only to rediscovered it again when I put him on the floor to crawl (#extraprotein, #10minuterule, #secondchildsyndrome). He also snuck under the table and played footsies with coworkers.

Later in the evening, Jacob discovered the art of paper airplanes. And Ryan met a girl who is one year older than he is. She was fascinated by him and wanted to repeatedly touch all over his face and head. Ryan was not a fan. She chased him around the room as he was frantically trying to army crawl away from her. The spectacle was so interesting that a group of adults circled around to watch the entertainment.

Best part of the night? For once, someone was rolling around on the floor grabbing people and it wasn't me.

Also...my husband is growing a beard.

I keep telling him...between his eyebrows and his beard, his face should never be cold!

How To Take A Professional Headshot

The key is to simply, be yourself.

 

Portrait of a working mom:

 

Playful.

 



Driven to the brink of insanity.

 



And occassionally, yes, even professional.

 



Sexy Underwear

On Saturday, my husband and I were getting ready for a date night. I'd been looking forward to it all week. By Wednesday I had already planned my date night outfit. I looked amazing, well, in my head. Probably because my imaginary self has a Barbie-like waist. Oh and C-cups.

As the afternoon crept by, I excitedly hopped into the shower. I even shaved me legs....ABOVE MY KNEES! I hadn't done that in probably...a year? I have blonde hair, don't judge. Ok, you can judge, just not to my face.

I toweled off, put on some sexy tights, and slipped my casual black dress over my head.

Damn, I looked....human! I was quite proud, even minus the C-cups. I wasn't even going to let the little muffin top above my tights waistband get me down. And...I even put on SEXY UNDERWEAR!

You know, the kind that's black. With lace. That doesn't go up to one's bellybutton.

As fate would have it, right as I was admiring myself in the mirror, I heard the sound of puking coming from Jacob's room. He had been taking a nap, which was pretty unusual.

And, like the wonderful mother I am, my first and only thought was, "SH*T! Not on date night." Maybe he ate something bad? Maybe it was a fluke? I rushed into his room to find him tangled miserably in his sheets. I gave him a tiny bit of 7-up to see if that would settle his tummy. 2 minutes later a heavy stream of projectile 7-up shot across the room, missing my patent leather shoes by mere milimeters.

That's when we made the dreaded call. The deflating, saddening call to cancel our babysitter (husband's mom). I guess in the end, it was the right decision. Because within an hour and for the next 17 hours after that, I was puking my guts out too.

See?! That's what I get for putting on sexy underwear!

As I lay dying and febrile in bed, the wedgy-giving powers of my sexy underwear were constantly there. As if reminding me of the irony. As if laughing at my pain. As if warning me to never tempt fate again.

Even if it's the only good to come from my miserable weekend, take that as a lesson for you all. Skip the sexy underwear.

Happiness Is

Happiness is: fun tights on a chilly fall day!

I love these:

This is a bad picture (thanks crappy non i-phone). Possibly too much grey here. I think I was wearing a black button-up blouse.

My all-time favorite.

I'm pretty sure this legwear would be inappropriate in many law offices. But I work for a small, slightly more casual firm. We do insurance defense and rarely meet clients. I definitely would not wear these on a day when I had a stuffy, important meeting. Not that I ever have those. I'm not that important yet.

But aren't they so fun?!

Tights are my new thing. On the days I wear crazy tights, I'm sure to tone down the rest of my outfit so that I'm not emiting symptoms of headaches, dizzines, and blurred vision. I am now on a quest to find MORE fun tights. Checking-account, beware!

Today at Target I bought...get this....

DRUMROLL....

Reversible tights! When I saw them, they blew my mind! They are grey on one side and black on the other. I can't wait to try them on. By the way, I refuse to spell grey with an "a." It looks much more eloquent with an "e." In fact, I'm on a personal quest to change the dictionary spelling of the word. If you are interested in joining any of my country-wide public demonstrations, just shoot me an email.

It's 12:05am and I should go to bed. I HATE going to bed. Don't get me wrong, I love to sleep. I just hate going to bed. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I absolutely dread brushing me teeth. So I put it off as long as possibe. This is why I'm sitting here on the couch at midnight constructing a blog post about the spelling of the word "grey." Yeah, I'm a little bit strange.

But at least I have cool tights!

Me 1 And Me 2

Today, I arranged for the service of a complaint. Technically, it was a third-party complaint contained in a responsive pleading. This was the first time I had to serve someone with a lawsuit and, the whole thing made me uncomfortable. We're months from the statute of limitations but, for some reason, I was so paranoid about making a mistake. I checked (and re-checked and checked again) the service of process statutes and civil rules to make sure I was complying with everything. What should have taken me ten minutes turned into an arduous affair.

As much as I love being an attorney, there are so many times that practicing law makes me uncomfortable. "Really? Someone's putting ME in charge of their case? Don't they know that I can't even make my bed in the mornings, that I wear bright berry-colored rainboots, and occassionally fantasize about being a Ninja Turtle?"

By the way, what would you say if you caught your attorney wearing these:

Target was out of black and I needed a way to stay dry during my walk-heavy commute. Confession: I've actually grown to like them!

Sometimes I'm amazed at the extreme differences in my two lives: professional and personal. I can responsibly manage cases worth thousand (or more) of dollars. But I can barely manage my own stuff. I can (for the most part) follow procedures, create litigation checklists, and keep files organized at work. But at home, my crap is everywhere and it's a scary thing each time I cook a meal. I dress on the more conservative side at work (hose, black tights, tucked-in shirts, more skirts than pants) but at home, I'm super relaxed (flannel! yoga pants!). I simple exercise the "smell" test before putting something on. Clearly, this is evidence that I am two different people.

One reason, I couldn't practice law in a small town: I'd be constantly afraid of running into clients at the grocery store while rocking dirty yoga pants, a ratty sweatshirt, and bird's nest hair.

Home Again

Vegas.

Wow.

Just, Wow.

I decided that, in describing the trip, less is more. So, I'll just give some brief, highlights. By the way, this was a ladies only trip ;)

• Dancing and closing down the Toby Keith bar
• Old lady boobs, up close and personal
• Getting into a very heated political debate with an Australian man dressed in a yellow M&M costume (he's an M&M, what does he know?!)
• Vodka for dinner (three times)
• Thunder Down Under
• Sticker-shock: the only thing that got between me and my very first tattoo
• Sleeping until 11am, just because
• More dancing at the Toby Keith bar
• Smoking cigars at the Roulette table
• Betting a grand total of $11
• Losing a net total of $9 of that amount
• Turning into a pumpkin at 12am every night (yes, even in Vegas, I'm still a mom)

As far as photos go, this is the only one that is innocent enough for the internet:

I can definitely see why people tell you not to stay longer than three nights in Vegas. It's totally overwhelming. If it weren't for the great company I was with, I probably would have been ready to go home after 24 hours.

The best part of the trip?

Returning home to a sparkling clean house, laundry put away, dishes done, car vacuumed (my husband is totally amazing) and to this:

Buh-Bye Baby Weight

Another reason why my job is awesome...it is a baby-weight killer!

My commute keeps me on my toes, literally. It's 2+ hours of car, ferry, bus, and walk travel (one way). This week, I started skipping the bus on my way home and instead have been walking to the ferry after work. This means, depending on the day (if it's not my turn to drop the kids off, I walk almost a mile from my house to the ferry), I can get up to 2-4 miles of walking in each day.

And just like that, I solved my lack-of-energy-to-go-to-the-gym-at-8pm problem!

I've struggled so hard with these last 5 pounds of babyweight. After Jacob was born, all the weight melted off within a month with NO extra effort. This time around, I shed a bunch of weight in the first month after Ryan's birth, but then my progress stagnated. I started running and then threw out my back. I started running again which only made me super hungry. I cut way back on my chocolate intake (notice I said "cut-back" instead of "cut-out" - I'm not INSANE). I continued drinking a gallon of water each day. Nothing worked.

Four months of no progress made me really depressed. I was in a pit of despair. I tried to just accept my new body and move on. I tried SO hard. But just those 5 extra pounds made me feel so horrible. It make me neurotic. It became a mind game. Those 5 stubborn pounds (located all in one place) were taunting me. No matter how hard I worked, they clung to me (damn parasites). This was war. I HAD to defeat them! I just HAD to.

It didn't help that my favorite clothes no longer fit right (I paid good money for those!). I mean how many more times can I really get away with wearing stretchy-waited yoga pants and oversided sweathshirts to run errands? I think I more than exceeded my new-mommy quota. In fact, I'm pretty sure I owe libations to the fashion gods for my fashions sins these past 5 months.

But things are FINALLY turning around! After just 1.5 weeks at my new job, I've already lost half of my remaining baby weight. Not only does the commute add 2-4 miles of walking to my daily routine, but being super busy with exciting lawyer tasks keeps me from snacking on junk. I'm far too busy drafting motions to think about buying candy bars.

I've already lost nearly half of my remaining baby weight! Only 2.5 pounds to go!

Unfortunately, I may have just sabotaged all this progress. This morning, I made (from scratch- with real yeast and sh*t!), pizza bagels! Cause really, what else am I supposed to do when my kids wake me up at 6 a.m. But, you can't just make pizza bagels and not taste one. Or two. Or three.  They had to pass my quality control of course. And to QC test a product, you need a decent-sized sample.

Good thing there's plenty more walking in my future.

Up High

We had a busy weekend of chores and fun the past couple days. Why is it I can spend every second of the weekend doing house stuff and yet all I've managed to do is just barely stay above water on the chores? Lately the chores come at me much more quickly than I can handle them. Maybe it has something to do with an extra person in the house?

But this weekend wasn't ALL chores....On Saturday we went to the state fair. Jacob had four hours of fully concentrated fun and we enjoyed re-living our childhoods through him.

Before we left for the fair, Jacob called out to me from across the house: "Mommy, where are you?"

"I'm trying to find something to wear." I called back to him.

"It's ok Mommy. Just wear what you are wearing. It only makes you look a little bit fat." He said sweetly, thinking he was paying a really nice compliment.

Gee, thanks kid!

I managed to STILL take him to the fair even after that comment. But man, I'm not sure if fairs are worth the trouble. I absolutely hate crowds. I easily get claustrophobic (at my old work, some guys were painting the exterior of the building and covered my office windows with protective tarp, that alone was enough for my phobia to creep in). I hate feeling like I can't quickly escape or get out of wherever I am at any given moment. When you're surrounded by a tons of fair-goers it takes 10 minutes just to walk 10 feet to the line for the bathroom! Speaking of lines. I hate lines! I'm the least patient person on the planet! It doesn't help that I don't even really LIKE fair rides. What's the point in waiting in line to do something I don't even like?

But....(highlight of MY day at the fair) at least I got some (kinda) nice family pictures to frame for my office:

I even took my baby on the ferris wheel! Ryan was totally unphased by it as he gazed down at the tiny specks of people below. My stomach was in my throat nearly the entire time and I kept firmly reminding Jacob NOT to rock the seats. Plus, I hate when they stop the ferris wheel when I'm at the top. All I can do when that happens is bite my nails and repeat fervently to myself, "What was I thinking?!" Obviously, I'm NOT an adrenaline junky.

Oh and Jacob had so much fun that he begged me to let him go again, by HIMSELF! I nearly freaked out as I let him load into a ferris wheel seat all alone and watched as the uncertain structure carried him up in the air and far away from me.

 

Thank goodness I've never read any caselaw about carnival ride accidents because my imaginaton was already doing a good job of helping me imagine the worst!  Oh, but I DID trip on an unsecure electrical cord while holding Ryan.  Luckily I did not fall to the ground but I quickly ran through the premises liability issues and determined that if I had fallen, I'd have had a pretty good liability case :)