Lately I've been brushing up on the federal rules of evidence. Husband (who is working much harder on them because he has a final in three weeks) can't stand them. I kind of like them. Every piece of information you want to enter into evidence is like a little puzzle, and you have to navigate the rules of the puzzle to get it in there. Sometimes I wish I could use them to direct my daily life. Here are a few examples:
Someone is telling me a long, boring story. Objection: Witness is giving an unnecessary narrative.
Family member is sharing an embarrassing anecdote about my childhood. Objection: The probative value of this information is outweighed by its prejudicial effect. (If the damage of the anecdote has already come out, you can ask that it be stricken from the record).
Customer service representative is telling me that my feelings of aggravation have no bearing on the question of whether or not the telephone company needs to return my money. Response: The emotional distress suffered by the witness goes directly to the question of damages.
Pompous honors undergrad does not want me to question his expertise: Response: I need to conduct a voir dire concerning this witness's qualifications to give his opinion on the subject of Everything.
See? Kind of cool. Sort of replaces social rules with legal ones. At least these ones are written down.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Cars
Baby loves them. They have been his favorite toys his whole short life. One of his first words was "car." He spends hours pushing them around on the couch cushions or rolling them down ramps. He takes baths with his cars. He sleeps with a toy car clutched in each little fist.
I thought all of this was kind of cute until it moved beyond generic toy cars to specific toy cars. His favorite movie is (duh) "Cars." While he still loves all of his cars, lately he's begun to show preference to the "Cars" cars: Lightening McQueen, Doc Hudson, Ramone, etc. (Would you like me to name them all? I can. Would you like me to quote the entire movie? I can do that too.). A couple of weeks ago he realized that one of his sets of pajamas had pictures of Lightening McQueen all over them. He spent one blissful evening watching "Cars," holding his Doc Hudson car, wearing his Lightening McQueen jammies. Every so often he's look the picture of Lightening McQueen on his tummy and gently poke it, sighing blissfully. Yesterday, he found his car pajama pants on the floor of his bedroom, and he followed me around the house saying "uuh?" until I took off his pants and put him in his pajama pants.
I never thought I'd be a mom who supported this type of behavior. I pictured myself explaining to my child that, no, we did not need to buy the Batman action figure just because he was on TV. Then I would direct my child's attention to his educational flashcards. This whole cars things really snuck up on me.
I thought all of this was kind of cute until it moved beyond generic toy cars to specific toy cars. His favorite movie is (duh) "Cars." While he still loves all of his cars, lately he's begun to show preference to the "Cars" cars: Lightening McQueen, Doc Hudson, Ramone, etc. (Would you like me to name them all? I can. Would you like me to quote the entire movie? I can do that too.). A couple of weeks ago he realized that one of his sets of pajamas had pictures of Lightening McQueen all over them. He spent one blissful evening watching "Cars," holding his Doc Hudson car, wearing his Lightening McQueen jammies. Every so often he's look the picture of Lightening McQueen on his tummy and gently poke it, sighing blissfully. Yesterday, he found his car pajama pants on the floor of his bedroom, and he followed me around the house saying "uuh?" until I took off his pants and put him in his pajama pants.
I never thought I'd be a mom who supported this type of behavior. I pictured myself explaining to my child that, no, we did not need to buy the Batman action figure just because he was on TV. Then I would direct my child's attention to his educational flashcards. This whole cars things really snuck up on me.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
In Case You Were Interested . . .
No matter how I place Baby in his crib for the night, he always manages to fall asleep in the same position: on his back with his feet on his pillow. He also snores like a lawn mower.
I am desperately in love with him.
I am desperately in love with him.
Audiobooks
All law students are required to buy and use a laptop computer. After three years in a constant feed of information and entertainment, I found I had developed a sort of attention deficit disorder where I couldn't do just one thing at a time, especially if that one thing was kind of boring. I began making lists and writing letters during talks at church. My laundry stayed in the basket until I had a movie I could watch while I folded. Nursing my baby every two hours was particularly trying: I would find myself tapping my feet, mentally reviewing the elements of common law negligence or the difference between direct and derivative shareholder suits while I sat waiting for Baby to finish up or fall asleep.
Stay-home motherhood is definitely a hands-on, eyes-on job, and this makes it hard to do two things at once if they both require either your hands or your eyes. My beloved laptop friend of three years, alas, required both. My ears and my brain, however, were almost always available and bored. I quickly grew to understand how my mother developed her addiction to talk radio. I might have done the same, but my (also law school-compounded ADD) husband convinced me to take up audiobooks.
I'm hooked. I listen to audiobooks while I'm playing with Baby in the park, getting groceries, doing housework, driving in the car. I listen to newspapers, novels, radio programs, podcasts -- I'm even taking Spanish lessons when I'm feeling pious about continuing my education.
One of the tricky things about audiobooks is that they are, in many ways, far more engrossing than printed material. Since I already had a habit of getting distracted by novels, this can be a problem. For example, right now I am listening to "The Beautiful and Damned" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is about a bunch of wealthy, lazy, selfish people who I intensely dislike. I don't know how it ends yet (so don't tell me), but I'm really looking forward to the part where they all get damned. I would actually like to see one of them repent and reform, but since good old F. Scott never reformed, I can only hope for a satisfying damnation.
Today, I had a lot of errands to run, so I had several hours of listening to the beautiful and damned Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert sneering, whining, and drinking highballs. I felt like I've been hanging out with them all day. I think I was kind of rude to the clerk at Target, just because I wanted to push Gloria into a lake. I need to take a break and listen to something with characters I actually like. Unfortunately, all I have right now is the Wall Street Journal or NPR's "Justice Talking." Decisions, decisions. I think "Justice Talking" is more likely to keep me motivated while I wash the dishes and less likely to contain beautiful and damned characters.
Stay-home motherhood is definitely a hands-on, eyes-on job, and this makes it hard to do two things at once if they both require either your hands or your eyes. My beloved laptop friend of three years, alas, required both. My ears and my brain, however, were almost always available and bored. I quickly grew to understand how my mother developed her addiction to talk radio. I might have done the same, but my (also law school-compounded ADD) husband convinced me to take up audiobooks.
I'm hooked. I listen to audiobooks while I'm playing with Baby in the park, getting groceries, doing housework, driving in the car. I listen to newspapers, novels, radio programs, podcasts -- I'm even taking Spanish lessons when I'm feeling pious about continuing my education.
One of the tricky things about audiobooks is that they are, in many ways, far more engrossing than printed material. Since I already had a habit of getting distracted by novels, this can be a problem. For example, right now I am listening to "The Beautiful and Damned" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is about a bunch of wealthy, lazy, selfish people who I intensely dislike. I don't know how it ends yet (so don't tell me), but I'm really looking forward to the part where they all get damned. I would actually like to see one of them repent and reform, but since good old F. Scott never reformed, I can only hope for a satisfying damnation.
Today, I had a lot of errands to run, so I had several hours of listening to the beautiful and damned Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert sneering, whining, and drinking highballs. I felt like I've been hanging out with them all day. I think I was kind of rude to the clerk at Target, just because I wanted to push Gloria into a lake. I need to take a break and listen to something with characters I actually like. Unfortunately, all I have right now is the Wall Street Journal or NPR's "Justice Talking." Decisions, decisions. I think "Justice Talking" is more likely to keep me motivated while I wash the dishes and less likely to contain beautiful and damned characters.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Munchies
It's starting. I really need a treat right now. Something fried. A donut maybe. Or a fast food empanada. Mmm...
I've been here before. If my munchy craving isn't satisfied in the next couple of hours, I may call a neighbor to come over and babysit while I make a frenzied run to Krispy Kreme. She understands. If she can't make it, I just might spend an entire hour in the kitchen in the middle of the night making cookies. It's that bad.
Or maybe I can convince Husband to interrupt his studies to make a munchy run for me. I think he secretly loves doing that kind of thing.
I knew this girl in high school who had cravings for popular music the way I have cravings for food. She'd seriously run home during lunch hour because she had a craving to listen to Counting Crows. I never really understood that. If I have a song in my head, I might think "hmm, I like this song a lot," and if I happened to be near my computer, I might pull it up and listen to it, but it's not a driving compulsion for me. I haven't kept in touch with that girl since high school (she was kind of weird), but I bet she's really happy in the iTunes age. Immediate satifaction for all her music addictions for a dollar a song (or for free if you're not bothered by those pesky copyright regulations).
I guess the Internet is getting close to satisfying my munchy cravings. If I were craving pizza, say, I could go to Papa John's website and order something to be delivered. But I'm never craving pizza, and if I were, I wouldn't want a whole pizza. I want a single donut. I want to open iTunes, click a button, charge my credit card 49 cents, and have a warm glazed donus appear on this napkin I have ready right by the computer.
Could you work on that Man O' Steel?
I've been here before. If my munchy craving isn't satisfied in the next couple of hours, I may call a neighbor to come over and babysit while I make a frenzied run to Krispy Kreme. She understands. If she can't make it, I just might spend an entire hour in the kitchen in the middle of the night making cookies. It's that bad.
Or maybe I can convince Husband to interrupt his studies to make a munchy run for me. I think he secretly loves doing that kind of thing.
I knew this girl in high school who had cravings for popular music the way I have cravings for food. She'd seriously run home during lunch hour because she had a craving to listen to Counting Crows. I never really understood that. If I have a song in my head, I might think "hmm, I like this song a lot," and if I happened to be near my computer, I might pull it up and listen to it, but it's not a driving compulsion for me. I haven't kept in touch with that girl since high school (she was kind of weird), but I bet she's really happy in the iTunes age. Immediate satifaction for all her music addictions for a dollar a song (or for free if you're not bothered by those pesky copyright regulations).
I guess the Internet is getting close to satisfying my munchy cravings. If I were craving pizza, say, I could go to Papa John's website and order something to be delivered. But I'm never craving pizza, and if I were, I wouldn't want a whole pizza. I want a single donut. I want to open iTunes, click a button, charge my credit card 49 cents, and have a warm glazed donus appear on this napkin I have ready right by the computer.
Could you work on that Man O' Steel?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Student Loans
This summer I am going to take the New York bar. Don't let me change my mind. Everyone tells me that I should be afraid, very afraid, of the New York bar. I heard a rumor that they systematically fail the bottom ten-percent of the students who sit for it, although I'm pretty sure that's a myth. Just between us, that's the least of my worries. I'll pass. I always pass. I'll study, and I'll pass. If New York systematically fails the bottom ten-percent, well, there's going to be one student who fails because this stay-home mom rocked it.
No, the thing I'm stressed about, the thing I've always been stressed about, is money. My little family has been living on student loans for our entire marriage. We sleep in a student loan bed; we eat student loan Spaghetti Os, we dress Baby in student loan diapers. After five years of this, we have a pile of student loans. Last month, I was so happy to cash our last student loan check. We were in the bottom of the Grand Canyon: still a ways to go, but it was all upward from here.
My joy was premature. See, we have to stay alive for four more months after our student loans run out but before Husband's new job starts churning out a salary. During those four months, we will be earning less and spending more than we have during any school semester: full-time bar study, child care, and private short-term health insurance on top of our usual expenses, without the extra pennies we bring in with our part-time jobs. And then there's thousands of dollars of fees to fly to New York, sit for the actual exam, and pay our bar memberships. And then there's the obscene pile of cash we'll have to scrape together for our apartment deposit in New York City . . .
I feel ill. Bottom of the Grand Canyon, yes, but now we have to ditch the donkeys, build a raft, cross the Colorado River, and then start back up.
So, more loans. A lot more loans. You could buy a really nice car with this four-month hunk of loans. If you were single and childless, you could put your bad self through law school. We will be paying these loans until we die. Actually, even if I die, the loans survive. Uh huh.
Going to take the bar. Still taking that bar.
Years from now, when pre-law Jane meets my two-attorney New York family, will she imagine that I strongly considered working through hair school this summer instead of taking the New York bar? Probaby not. She will admire my cool legal library, my collection of letters from all of the deserving poor I have helped, and my hugely intelligent children. And she'll take out loans to go to law school and become a lawyer. I want her to become a lawyer. It will make her happy. Eventually.
No, the thing I'm stressed about, the thing I've always been stressed about, is money. My little family has been living on student loans for our entire marriage. We sleep in a student loan bed; we eat student loan Spaghetti Os, we dress Baby in student loan diapers. After five years of this, we have a pile of student loans. Last month, I was so happy to cash our last student loan check. We were in the bottom of the Grand Canyon: still a ways to go, but it was all upward from here.
My joy was premature. See, we have to stay alive for four more months after our student loans run out but before Husband's new job starts churning out a salary. During those four months, we will be earning less and spending more than we have during any school semester: full-time bar study, child care, and private short-term health insurance on top of our usual expenses, without the extra pennies we bring in with our part-time jobs. And then there's thousands of dollars of fees to fly to New York, sit for the actual exam, and pay our bar memberships. And then there's the obscene pile of cash we'll have to scrape together for our apartment deposit in New York City . . .
I feel ill. Bottom of the Grand Canyon, yes, but now we have to ditch the donkeys, build a raft, cross the Colorado River, and then start back up.
So, more loans. A lot more loans. You could buy a really nice car with this four-month hunk of loans. If you were single and childless, you could put your bad self through law school. We will be paying these loans until we die. Actually, even if I die, the loans survive. Uh huh.
Going to take the bar. Still taking that bar.
Years from now, when pre-law Jane meets my two-attorney New York family, will she imagine that I strongly considered working through hair school this summer instead of taking the New York bar? Probaby not. She will admire my cool legal library, my collection of letters from all of the deserving poor I have helped, and my hugely intelligent children. And she'll take out loans to go to law school and become a lawyer. I want her to become a lawyer. It will make her happy. Eventually.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
President's Day
My President's Day was pretty cool, I guess. Husband took Baby for most of the day, so that was nice. A great day off for every one.
But here is what I really want to write about: Most of the stay-home moms I know (I don't know many stay-home dads, sorry) had a disappointing President's Day. Not that they had high-flying expectations for President's Day, but I mean, they had bad days.
On this day, everyone is home when they're usually gone, and a ton of stuff is closed when it's usually open. While this may be fun for students, bankers, postal workers, etc., it's kind of a pain in the neck for a stay-home mom.
Let me explain it this way for all you non-stay-homers:
Suppose I decided to take my child and descend upon your place of work for the day. Baby and I have given ourselves a holiday from our normal activities, and instead we're going to take a break from our usual Monday activities and spend the day with you.
At first, you might think it will be fun: you'll be able to shoot the breeze with me, you can observe Baby toddling around, and maybe I'll even be able to help you out with whatever it is you do at your job. It doesn't take long, however, before I take over your computer (and the only chair in your office) to do some facebooking, and Baby is fascinated with your paper shredder. Then we start tracking cracker crumbs through the conference room, complaining loudly about the lack of a diaper station in the bathroom, wiping our noses on your sweater, etc., etc., etc.
Around lunch (which, of course, you will have to provide for us), you realize that you're not accomplishing any of the things that you needed to get done today. You think we're really cool, but we're kind of cramping your style today. But you can't make us go back home on the one day that we don't have to be there, right? And you can't send us outside to play because the weather is nasty, as it always is this time of year. So you bite your tongue and cowboy through it, hour after hour, knowing that tomorrow you will have tons of catching up to do, but secretly really looking forward to tomorrow if only because you'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming.
And then finally we leave, saying "Wow, you hardly do anything around here. We should come more often."
But here is what I really want to write about: Most of the stay-home moms I know (I don't know many stay-home dads, sorry) had a disappointing President's Day. Not that they had high-flying expectations for President's Day, but I mean, they had bad days.
On this day, everyone is home when they're usually gone, and a ton of stuff is closed when it's usually open. While this may be fun for students, bankers, postal workers, etc., it's kind of a pain in the neck for a stay-home mom.
Let me explain it this way for all you non-stay-homers:
Suppose I decided to take my child and descend upon your place of work for the day. Baby and I have given ourselves a holiday from our normal activities, and instead we're going to take a break from our usual Monday activities and spend the day with you.
At first, you might think it will be fun: you'll be able to shoot the breeze with me, you can observe Baby toddling around, and maybe I'll even be able to help you out with whatever it is you do at your job. It doesn't take long, however, before I take over your computer (and the only chair in your office) to do some facebooking, and Baby is fascinated with your paper shredder. Then we start tracking cracker crumbs through the conference room, complaining loudly about the lack of a diaper station in the bathroom, wiping our noses on your sweater, etc., etc., etc.
Around lunch (which, of course, you will have to provide for us), you realize that you're not accomplishing any of the things that you needed to get done today. You think we're really cool, but we're kind of cramping your style today. But you can't make us go back home on the one day that we don't have to be there, right? And you can't send us outside to play because the weather is nasty, as it always is this time of year. So you bite your tongue and cowboy through it, hour after hour, knowing that tomorrow you will have tons of catching up to do, but secretly really looking forward to tomorrow if only because you'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming.
And then finally we leave, saying "Wow, you hardly do anything around here. We should come more often."
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Happy Bald Eagle Day
The Great Salt Lake has too much carp, and once a year they suffocate them all to balance out the ecosystem. The upside to all this carp carnage is that it coincides with a bald eagle migration through Utah. Today we left Baby with Grandma and took a trip to Farmington Bay with my high school zoology teacher to look at the bald eagles. Bald eagles are so cool.
We probably saw, I don't know, maybe 70 eagles. There were a few roosting in the trees, or flying low, but mostly they were hanging out on the ice, digesting their carp. It's kind of hard to descibe how awesome it is to see these birds. They're huge for one thing, and their heads and legs are so white, and their beaks are so yellow. And they have these eyes . . .
Know what a bald eagle call sounds like? It's not a scream. It's a high-pitched peep-peep-peep. The best word this mommy can think of to describe it is "cute."
If you think you might want to get into birding, it's a pretty good idea to start with bald eagles. They are pretty easy to identify. If you're smart enough to bring your high school zoology teacher with you (and he happens to own a high-tech spotting scope), you might also be able to identify tundra swans, northern harriers, American kestrels, red-winged blackbirds, rough-legged hawks, pintail ducks, golden eye ducks, mallards, Canada geese, and common ravens.
And if your husband loves you, he will buy you a pair of binoculars and a good birding book so you can relearn how to identify the Utah birds you love before you move away.
We probably saw, I don't know, maybe 70 eagles. There were a few roosting in the trees, or flying low, but mostly they were hanging out on the ice, digesting their carp. It's kind of hard to descibe how awesome it is to see these birds. They're huge for one thing, and their heads and legs are so white, and their beaks are so yellow. And they have these eyes . . .
Know what a bald eagle call sounds like? It's not a scream. It's a high-pitched peep-peep-peep. The best word this mommy can think of to describe it is "cute."
If you think you might want to get into birding, it's a pretty good idea to start with bald eagles. They are pretty easy to identify. If you're smart enough to bring your high school zoology teacher with you (and he happens to own a high-tech spotting scope), you might also be able to identify tundra swans, northern harriers, American kestrels, red-winged blackbirds, rough-legged hawks, pintail ducks, golden eye ducks, mallards, Canada geese, and common ravens.
And if your husband loves you, he will buy you a pair of binoculars and a good birding book so you can relearn how to identify the Utah birds you love before you move away.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Ways I Keep in Touch with Legal Society
So, sometimes people ask me how I keep my law-trained mind active in the profession for which it is trained. Tonight, I decided to make a list of the stuff that I currently do as a full-time mom that also keeps me up-to-date with the legal community. I was actually kind of impressed with the length of my list. I didn't think that I did that much, but now that I really think about it, I don't think a day goes by where I don't do something related to my legal career. As legal careers go, mine is sort of resting right now while other aspects of my life take precedence, but it's definitely not dormant. Anyway, here's my list:
My part-time job as a legal research assistant
Library books on law or legal issues (currently reading Lawrence Lessig's fabulous "Code 2.0")
My even smaller part-time job as a bar review company representative
Small legal favors for friends and family (usually variations on the theme of "talk to a real lawyer," but sometimes they actually ask me to do things that I'm qualified to do)
E-mail from various members of my law school class
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's homework and exams
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's extra-curricular mock trial stuff
Networking cocktail parties and dinners with my law student and soon-to-be-lawyer husband
Mentally calculating arguments in my favor for hypothetical tort, property, family law, or contract claims against my landlord, my son's gymnastics company, Provo City, my divorced friends, my pediatrician, my insurance company, etc. (I know it sounds nasty, but after law school, you can't help it, ok?)
My J. Reuben Clark Society magazine
My "American Lawer" magazine
"Justice Talking" on NPR (and justicetalking.org)
Helping pre-law students with their admissions materials
My audio subscription to the Wall Street Journal
nytimes.com
discourse.org
abovethelaw.com
Worrying about taking/passing the New York bar this July
My part-time job as a legal research assistant
Library books on law or legal issues (currently reading Lawrence Lessig's fabulous "Code 2.0")
My even smaller part-time job as a bar review company representative
Small legal favors for friends and family (usually variations on the theme of "talk to a real lawyer," but sometimes they actually ask me to do things that I'm qualified to do)
E-mail from various members of my law school class
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's homework and exams
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's extra-curricular mock trial stuff
Networking cocktail parties and dinners with my law student and soon-to-be-lawyer husband
Mentally calculating arguments in my favor for hypothetical tort, property, family law, or contract claims against my landlord, my son's gymnastics company, Provo City, my divorced friends, my pediatrician, my insurance company, etc. (I know it sounds nasty, but after law school, you can't help it, ok?)
My J. Reuben Clark Society magazine
My "American Lawer" magazine
"Justice Talking" on NPR (and justicetalking.org)
Helping pre-law students with their admissions materials
My audio subscription to the Wall Street Journal
nytimes.com
discourse.org
abovethelaw.com
Worrying about taking/passing the New York bar this July
Sunday, February 03, 2008
MotherGuilt
I just finished a heartfelt, hilarious, profanity-riddled, and anti-conservative book on motherhood. I wouldn't describe myself as conservative, but 90% of the people I love do describe themselves that way, so the book made me think a lot about the author's issues with conservative American political and social life.
Her main beef seems to be that conservative, Christian, nuclear families thrive by teaching their mothers to be "obedient to everything except [their] own heart[s]." The result is that these mothers end up being so filled with guilt and suppressed rage that they go insane. Instead, she advocates that society teach mothers to be true to the goddess within themselves, meditate daily, buy organic, nurse in public, rage against the machine, and teach their children tolerance for everyone. Except abusive men and conservative, Christian, nuclear families, who should be whipped.
In spite of my Provo address and my religious affiliation, I'm down with the whole goddess-within, reflective, organic, nursing, revolutionary womanhood thing. Seriously. And I don't think mothers should wallow in guilt. But, I know for a fact that conservative Christians don't have the corner of the guilt market. Sure, I feel a pretty much constant pressure to keep my child morally safe, clean, and worthy. My heart will overflow with pride if/when I see him marrying and creating his own traditional nuclear family. And, yes, this pressure brings occasional twinges of what might be called guilt when he begin his Sunday mornings by watching "Cars" instead of "Special Witnesses of Christ." Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-can-think-of-better-things-he-could-be-doing-but-I-need-to-get-dressed-for-church-and-I-know-he'll-leave-me-alone-if-I-let-him-watch-Cars guilt.
I also feel a constant pressure to raise my baby to be a tolerant, peace-loving, freedom fighter. Baby's media choices will not include Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, or Anne Coulter as long as I have anything to do with it, but he's welcome to tune in to "Bowling for Columbine" or "An Inconvenient Truth" anytime he likes. I would love love love it if someday he marched on Washington for universal health care, livable minimum wages, gun control, environmentalism, feminism, affirmative action, etc. He can even borrow from my collection of leftist political buttons ("Well-behaved women rarely make history," perhaps?). I feel guilty that Baby loves trucks more than dolls, and he only seems to like books with characters that growl. Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-hope-my-liberal-friends-at-Ms.-magazine-never-see-the-inside-of-my-son's-boyblue-toy-box guilt.
See, like most moms, I'm trying to give my baby the best of everything, and when I realize that I could have done better, I feel bad. Sometimes I feel guilty about one thing, and sometimes I feel guilty about something else, but it's all based on the same instinct I have to give Baby the best life ever and to help him find pure and eternal happiness. I have enjoyed profound satifaction in the doctrines of my Christian church. I feel that my religious commitments to dietary restrictions, prayer, and scripture study have done me far more good than my political/social commitments to buy organic, engage in breathing exercises, and listen to NPR. Apparently, the author of the book I just read thought that the political/social stuff was the only stuff worth the guilt. That doesn't hurt my feelings; it's all good stuff. I just kind of prickle when she insinuates that the other stuff I'm trying hard to incorporate into Baby's life is not only a waste of energy, but it's bad for me and for Baby.
I think that we moms all feel the same amount of guilt because we all want be the same amount of perfect.
Her main beef seems to be that conservative, Christian, nuclear families thrive by teaching their mothers to be "obedient to everything except [their] own heart[s]." The result is that these mothers end up being so filled with guilt and suppressed rage that they go insane. Instead, she advocates that society teach mothers to be true to the goddess within themselves, meditate daily, buy organic, nurse in public, rage against the machine, and teach their children tolerance for everyone. Except abusive men and conservative, Christian, nuclear families, who should be whipped.
In spite of my Provo address and my religious affiliation, I'm down with the whole goddess-within, reflective, organic, nursing, revolutionary womanhood thing. Seriously. And I don't think mothers should wallow in guilt. But, I know for a fact that conservative Christians don't have the corner of the guilt market. Sure, I feel a pretty much constant pressure to keep my child morally safe, clean, and worthy. My heart will overflow with pride if/when I see him marrying and creating his own traditional nuclear family. And, yes, this pressure brings occasional twinges of what might be called guilt when he begin his Sunday mornings by watching "Cars" instead of "Special Witnesses of Christ." Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-can-think-of-better-things-he-could-be-doing-but-I-need-to-get-dressed-for-church-and-I-know-he'll-leave-me-alone-if-I-let-him-watch-Cars guilt.
I also feel a constant pressure to raise my baby to be a tolerant, peace-loving, freedom fighter. Baby's media choices will not include Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, or Anne Coulter as long as I have anything to do with it, but he's welcome to tune in to "Bowling for Columbine" or "An Inconvenient Truth" anytime he likes. I would love love love it if someday he marched on Washington for universal health care, livable minimum wages, gun control, environmentalism, feminism, affirmative action, etc. He can even borrow from my collection of leftist political buttons ("Well-behaved women rarely make history," perhaps?). I feel guilty that Baby loves trucks more than dolls, and he only seems to like books with characters that growl. Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-hope-my-liberal-friends-at-Ms.-magazine-never-see-the-inside-of-my-son's-boyblue-toy-box guilt.
See, like most moms, I'm trying to give my baby the best of everything, and when I realize that I could have done better, I feel bad. Sometimes I feel guilty about one thing, and sometimes I feel guilty about something else, but it's all based on the same instinct I have to give Baby the best life ever and to help him find pure and eternal happiness. I have enjoyed profound satifaction in the doctrines of my Christian church. I feel that my religious commitments to dietary restrictions, prayer, and scripture study have done me far more good than my political/social commitments to buy organic, engage in breathing exercises, and listen to NPR. Apparently, the author of the book I just read thought that the political/social stuff was the only stuff worth the guilt. That doesn't hurt my feelings; it's all good stuff. I just kind of prickle when she insinuates that the other stuff I'm trying hard to incorporate into Baby's life is not only a waste of energy, but it's bad for me and for Baby.
I think that we moms all feel the same amount of guilt because we all want be the same amount of perfect.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Provo Library vs. Netflix
The Provo Public Library has a wonderful service where you, the patron, put in your e-mail address and fill out a questionnaire about what kind of books you like to read. Then you submit it and it is reviewed by one of the library's fine librarians. Within 14 days, you will receive an e-mail with three to five personal recommendations. If you've already read these books, I guess you e-mail back and ask for more recommendations until the librarian gives you something you haven't read or tells you that there are no more books that fit your criteria.
Now, don't get me wrong--this was a great idea, and I think it is sweet as pie that somewhere, a librarian is lovingly trying to find me recommendations. (In case you're interested, here is the information I submitted:
Authors I like: Richard Russo, Anne Tyler, Lois McMasters Bujold, and Susanna Clarke
Books I don't care for: The Twilight series
Genre (choose one): General Fiction
Sub-genre (choose one): no preference (my choices were as specific as "science fiction books about time travel and vampires")
Plots (choose one): Character driven
Pace (multiple choices): Slow or fast
Main character: no preference (I could choose the gender, age, and ethnicity of my main character)
Setting: no preference (I could choose the country and I also had an urban/rural checkbox)
Tone (multiple choices): Inspirational, upbeat, quirky, deep, insightful, and I don't remember what else (I assume they won't find me a book that meets all of these tone requirements, but if they do, cool)
Turn-offs: Books that contain drawn-out descriptions of physical or sexual abuse
)
After I got my answers back in a confirmation e-mail, I realized that I probably wasn't the type of person who was supposed to use this service. I just want to read good books. If I could have chosen "no preference" for every category, I probably would have: fiction, nonfiction; slow-paced, fast-paced; vampires, no vampires; what do I care? I just want to like it.
I think this system was designed for someone who only wanted to read a fast-paced, depressing yet upbeat science fiction book about a 57-year-old time-traveling vampire who only visited rural locations in Vietnam. Written in the style of Charles Dickens, but not the style of Jane Austen. I must admit, it was tempting to put in just such a request, but I felt bad for the loving librarian who would be spending his time and my library fines, trying to take care of my specific but fake biblioneeds. Actually, if the librarian could find just such a book, I would read it (hello? wouldn't you?)
Netflix has a similar service that is about one hundred times smarter, faster, and more reliable. You rate tons and tons of movies, and they compare your ratings against their other ten billion subscribers. Then they instantly give you recommendations of tons more movies. If you've already seen these movies, you rate them, and they give you more recommendations until eventually you have tons of useful recommendations. So, for example, because I enjoyed "The Office: Season 3" and "Raise the Red Lantern," Netflix thinks I will also enjoy "Planet Earth." And they're right, I do. These movies have almost nothing to do with each other except that people who like one usually like the others.
The Netflix system isn't perfect (it gave me a lot of weird/creepy-looking recommendations based on my 5-star rating of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"), but it's a lot closer to what I'm actually looking for when I want a recommendation. The result is that I'm seeing a lot of wonderful movies that I haven't seen before. I would love it if someone had the money in their pocket or love in their heart to put together something similar for books. I guess Amazon does something sort of like that, but it's not as slick as Netflix's. If someone will make a Netflix for books, I will pay them to use their service, and I will be happy.
Now, don't get me wrong--this was a great idea, and I think it is sweet as pie that somewhere, a librarian is lovingly trying to find me recommendations. (In case you're interested, here is the information I submitted:
Authors I like: Richard Russo, Anne Tyler, Lois McMasters Bujold, and Susanna Clarke
Books I don't care for: The Twilight series
Genre (choose one): General Fiction
Sub-genre (choose one): no preference (my choices were as specific as "science fiction books about time travel and vampires")
Plots (choose one): Character driven
Pace (multiple choices): Slow or fast
Main character: no preference (I could choose the gender, age, and ethnicity of my main character)
Setting: no preference (I could choose the country and I also had an urban/rural checkbox)
Tone (multiple choices): Inspirational, upbeat, quirky, deep, insightful, and I don't remember what else (I assume they won't find me a book that meets all of these tone requirements, but if they do, cool)
Turn-offs: Books that contain drawn-out descriptions of physical or sexual abuse
)
After I got my answers back in a confirmation e-mail, I realized that I probably wasn't the type of person who was supposed to use this service. I just want to read good books. If I could have chosen "no preference" for every category, I probably would have: fiction, nonfiction; slow-paced, fast-paced; vampires, no vampires; what do I care? I just want to like it.
I think this system was designed for someone who only wanted to read a fast-paced, depressing yet upbeat science fiction book about a 57-year-old time-traveling vampire who only visited rural locations in Vietnam. Written in the style of Charles Dickens, but not the style of Jane Austen. I must admit, it was tempting to put in just such a request, but I felt bad for the loving librarian who would be spending his time and my library fines, trying to take care of my specific but fake biblioneeds. Actually, if the librarian could find just such a book, I would read it (hello? wouldn't you?)
Netflix has a similar service that is about one hundred times smarter, faster, and more reliable. You rate tons and tons of movies, and they compare your ratings against their other ten billion subscribers. Then they instantly give you recommendations of tons more movies. If you've already seen these movies, you rate them, and they give you more recommendations until eventually you have tons of useful recommendations. So, for example, because I enjoyed "The Office: Season 3" and "Raise the Red Lantern," Netflix thinks I will also enjoy "Planet Earth." And they're right, I do. These movies have almost nothing to do with each other except that people who like one usually like the others.
The Netflix system isn't perfect (it gave me a lot of weird/creepy-looking recommendations based on my 5-star rating of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"), but it's a lot closer to what I'm actually looking for when I want a recommendation. The result is that I'm seeing a lot of wonderful movies that I haven't seen before. I would love it if someone had the money in their pocket or love in their heart to put together something similar for books. I guess Amazon does something sort of like that, but it's not as slick as Netflix's. If someone will make a Netflix for books, I will pay them to use their service, and I will be happy.
On My Job
So, I think I might have mentioned that I have a little part-time job. I work from home while Baby is asleep. It took a while to get used to working at night when all I wanted to do was lounge on the couch with a heaping TV-full of Netflix Surprise. Luckily, I like the work I'm doing. I'm working from a research grant for a law professor who is researching an writing state and federal anti-pornography legislation.
It's been really fun to dig into legal research again, especially about freedom of speech on the Internet (or suppression of harmful material on the Internet, depending on your point of view). As you might expect, I am pretty strongly against pornography, but I am also pretty strongly in favor of free speech. While it's uncomfortable sometimes to read the pro-porn arguments, it feels good to be more informed about the whole issue, and it feels really good to be able to skewer the pro-porn arguments.
I'm pretty sure that I'm happier with a job than I was without a job, but I'm not ready to categorically state that stay-home moms will be happier with jobs because I know for a fact that some of them won't. Here are the things about my job which make me happy:
1) It takes intellectual energy and skills that I know I have
2) It consistently rewards me with both money and/or headpats
3) It doesn't make Baby's life any worse, and it probaby makes it better
4) It helps people
Other non-job things might also meet these criteria. I just read a fabulous book about a stay-home mom who spent every evening entering jingle-writing contests. I read another book about a stay-home mom in Africa who ran a medical clinic out of her kitchen. I know a woman who writes for multiple popular blogs. Another woman I know writes tons and tons of letters to her congressperson. My Relief Society president is a stay-home mom.
Now that I think about it, the happiest stay-home moms I know are the ones who do something on top of their momming. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can say I don't know a single happy mom who only takes care of her house and her children. It's not that House and Baby couldn't use all of my waking hours, it's just that House and Baby don't take intellectual energy and don't reward me with money or headpats.
It's been really fun to dig into legal research again, especially about freedom of speech on the Internet (or suppression of harmful material on the Internet, depending on your point of view). As you might expect, I am pretty strongly against pornography, but I am also pretty strongly in favor of free speech. While it's uncomfortable sometimes to read the pro-porn arguments, it feels good to be more informed about the whole issue, and it feels really good to be able to skewer the pro-porn arguments.
I'm pretty sure that I'm happier with a job than I was without a job, but I'm not ready to categorically state that stay-home moms will be happier with jobs because I know for a fact that some of them won't. Here are the things about my job which make me happy:
1) It takes intellectual energy and skills that I know I have
2) It consistently rewards me with both money and/or headpats
3) It doesn't make Baby's life any worse, and it probaby makes it better
4) It helps people
Other non-job things might also meet these criteria. I just read a fabulous book about a stay-home mom who spent every evening entering jingle-writing contests. I read another book about a stay-home mom in Africa who ran a medical clinic out of her kitchen. I know a woman who writes for multiple popular blogs. Another woman I know writes tons and tons of letters to her congressperson. My Relief Society president is a stay-home mom.
Now that I think about it, the happiest stay-home moms I know are the ones who do something on top of their momming. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can say I don't know a single happy mom who only takes care of her house and her children. It's not that House and Baby couldn't use all of my waking hours, it's just that House and Baby don't take intellectual energy and don't reward me with money or headpats.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Lessons
Baby had his first parent-tot swimming lesson today. There's something about seeing a little boy splashing around and laughing that makes you just want to kiss him right up. He loved it, and I consider the experience a success in spite of the fact that he didn't manage to master the skill of the day (kicking). He came home and had the easiest going-down-for-a-nap time he's had in weeks.
Baby has also been going to parent-tot tumbling. Basically, a local tumbling place opens early once a week and lets kids, five and under, come play on the equipment for an hour with their parents. Baby is really good at running up and down the ramps (he has a thing for ramps, as I think I've mentioned before), and last week he mustered up the courage to jump into the pit of foam rubber blocks all my himself.
Why, you may ask, is this woman putting her child in extra-curriculars before the child is even old enough for the "curricular?" Am I a competitive, pushy mother who must see her child succeed prodigiously at something? Am I a free-thinking mother who wishes to maximize her son's options by allowing him to explore interests at a ridiculously early age? Am I a bored mother with too much time and money and a willing child to use it up?
No. I am a mother who is tired of having a cranky baby with nothing to do on these January days except watch "Curious George" and "Learning About Numbers" for the millionth time.
Baby has also been going to parent-tot tumbling. Basically, a local tumbling place opens early once a week and lets kids, five and under, come play on the equipment for an hour with their parents. Baby is really good at running up and down the ramps (he has a thing for ramps, as I think I've mentioned before), and last week he mustered up the courage to jump into the pit of foam rubber blocks all my himself.
Why, you may ask, is this woman putting her child in extra-curriculars before the child is even old enough for the "curricular?" Am I a competitive, pushy mother who must see her child succeed prodigiously at something? Am I a free-thinking mother who wishes to maximize her son's options by allowing him to explore interests at a ridiculously early age? Am I a bored mother with too much time and money and a willing child to use it up?
No. I am a mother who is tired of having a cranky baby with nothing to do on these January days except watch "Curious George" and "Learning About Numbers" for the millionth time.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Weddings
I just came home from a pre-wedding dinner for my cousin. Weddings are great. I wish my friends were still getting married all the time. The couple getting married is matchy-match perfect for each other. I'm pretty sure that no one thought that at my wedding, but everyone thought that at this one.
It's so cute. They will get married tomorrow, and then they'll get tons of presents including a set of plates with roosters on them which they will never take out of the box, and they'll set up their first little housey together, and then they'll fight like crazy about stupid things, but they'll realize how stupid they are and then they'll be even more in love with each other, and then one of them will go to law school and the other will help her study, and they'll go to Washington, DC for a summer internship where one will work for a public interest law firm specializing in legal services for disabled veterans and the other will work for a Latin American political publication, and then she'll get pregnant during her third year of law school, and she'll have to drastically change her career plans, and they'll have a baby who will change their lives forever . . .
I'm so excited for them. I love weddings.
It's so cute. They will get married tomorrow, and then they'll get tons of presents including a set of plates with roosters on them which they will never take out of the box, and they'll set up their first little housey together, and then they'll fight like crazy about stupid things, but they'll realize how stupid they are and then they'll be even more in love with each other, and then one of them will go to law school and the other will help her study, and they'll go to Washington, DC for a summer internship where one will work for a public interest law firm specializing in legal services for disabled veterans and the other will work for a Latin American political publication, and then she'll get pregnant during her third year of law school, and she'll have to drastically change her career plans, and they'll have a baby who will change their lives forever . . .
I'm so excited for them. I love weddings.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
And so another phase begins
My baby is graduating from Mommy-and-Me type playing with other kids to My-Buddies-and-Me type playing, where I just watch and let him do his own thing with the other kids. It's weird to watch him playing at day-care or nursery without my constant commentary ("Look, Baby, this is Nora! Say hi to Nora! Can you share? Share your truck with Nora? Hooray for Baby! Baby shared his truck with Nora! You want your truck back from Nora? Can you say please? OK, Nora has decided to play with the truck for a little longer! Can you be patient? Can you wait for Nora to finish? OK, Nora's all done now! Now you can play with the truck again! Can you say thank you? Thank you, Nora!"). Instead I watch through a little window in the door and hope my commentary about sharing, patience, please, and thank you will prevent him and the other children from being bullied, ignored, or ostracized.
Last night at the Extended Family Christmas Party, Baby toddled into the basketball court where a bunch of kids were playing a variation on dodge ball that involved rolling a volleyball under the volleyball net.
I watched from the doorway as Baby shuffled back and forth through the middle of the game. He was already in his feetie-jammies, and he was by far the youngest kid there, so I was a little nervous about potential slippings or clonkings.
Even though rolling a ball more than about two feet is beyond his immediate ability, he laughed and clapped for all of the other kids who did it, which they appreciated. And then the other kids were classy enough to stop the game and let him try to throw the ball. When he gave it his best one-year-old effort, they all clapped for him. Baby happens to think that all humans between two and four feet are about the coolest ever, so he was deliriously happy when they clapped for him. When the game dissolved into some kind of running around in lines game, they were so sweet about not bumping into him, but also running close enough to him that he didn't feel deserted. He loved it! I loved it! What a great party!
Non-Mom playing? Bring it on.
Last night at the Extended Family Christmas Party, Baby toddled into the basketball court where a bunch of kids were playing a variation on dodge ball that involved rolling a volleyball under the volleyball net.
I watched from the doorway as Baby shuffled back and forth through the middle of the game. He was already in his feetie-jammies, and he was by far the youngest kid there, so I was a little nervous about potential slippings or clonkings.
Even though rolling a ball more than about two feet is beyond his immediate ability, he laughed and clapped for all of the other kids who did it, which they appreciated. And then the other kids were classy enough to stop the game and let him try to throw the ball. When he gave it his best one-year-old effort, they all clapped for him. Baby happens to think that all humans between two and four feet are about the coolest ever, so he was deliriously happy when they clapped for him. When the game dissolved into some kind of running around in lines game, they were so sweet about not bumping into him, but also running close enough to him that he didn't feel deserted. He loved it! I loved it! What a great party!
Non-Mom playing? Bring it on.
Sick Baby Christmas
I hope all ya'll had a Merry Christmas and that you're winding up the old year with panache.
Baby was sick on Christmas. It is sad to see an otherwise boisterous and energetic child drooping and flushed with a fever. Especially on Christmas when people actually want him to do cute funny things and they are finally free to pay attention to him. On the other hand, I have to admit that it was pretty blissful to sit in my big blue chair for an hour with a Baby's warm head on my shoulder and arms around my neck. While I read a book. This is something that could never happen if Baby weren't sick. Is it shameful to say that I secretly loved it?
Anyway, he's better now and back to his old boisterous self. All things considered, I would one-hundred times rather have a healthy boisterous baby than a sick snuggly baby. In fact, Husband called me this morning from Grandma's house to say "[Baby]'s being naughty again. It's awesome."
Baby was sick on Christmas. It is sad to see an otherwise boisterous and energetic child drooping and flushed with a fever. Especially on Christmas when people actually want him to do cute funny things and they are finally free to pay attention to him. On the other hand, I have to admit that it was pretty blissful to sit in my big blue chair for an hour with a Baby's warm head on my shoulder and arms around my neck. While I read a book. This is something that could never happen if Baby weren't sick. Is it shameful to say that I secretly loved it?
Anyway, he's better now and back to his old boisterous self. All things considered, I would one-hundred times rather have a healthy boisterous baby than a sick snuggly baby. In fact, Husband called me this morning from Grandma's house to say "[Baby]'s being naughty again. It's awesome."
Thursday, December 20, 2007
My Favorite Christmas Painting
This painting is on display at BYU's museum of art right now. It makes me ache.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Why I'm not a Homeowner
My really great landlord has spent far more money on my apartment than we've paid in rent the last few months. Since we've moved in, we've had our carpets cleaned, our windows replaced, our walls painted, our shower drains snaked, and our furnaces cleaned. On top of that, we have the apartment managers to take out the trash cans, mow the lawns, rake the leaves, even change the light bulbs. Then last week, the main sewage line for the house ruptured, dumping, you know, sewage into the unfinished basement. So we had more inspectors, a flood repair company, and plumbers come check it all out, clean it all up, and replace all of the plumbing.
Mind you, it hasn't been a picnic dealing with all of this home improvement, but it has made me really glad that we are renters and not owners. While I can appreciate the many wonderful things that homeowners enjoy, I am also experienced enough to also appreciate all of the nastiness associated with owning a little piece of paradise with faulty plumbing. And I've read enough property law cases to appreciate all of the really horrible things that could happen to an otherwise savvy buyer. And I don't have any money. So there you have it. No real property for me. Not yet anyway.
Every couple of years of my adult life, I graduate into another phase of adult development. First I would see all of my friends going through it, and then I would go through it (I'm a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to development). First all of my friends got married (and I became an expert on bridal shower gifts), and then I got married. All of my friends started having babies (baby shower gifts), and then I had a baby. Now all of my friends are buying houses (house warming gifts (if I get around to it, what with the husband and the baby)), and I'm getting nervous that I might catch the bug.
I think it's kind of weird for people to never want to get married, or once they are married to never want to have children. I can understand not wanting to get married immediately, and I also happen to think that anyone can have a happy life if they don't get married and/or have children. But isn't it a basic human impulse to want a committed relationship? And have children? When I hear about someone wanting to never come near these things, I can't help thinking they're being more than a little immature. Because I used to feel that way, but, like I said, I moved on to the next phase.
That's what worries me. I never want to own a house. No picket fence, no swingset, no vegetable garden. Is it a sign of arrested development to want to rent forever?
Mind you, it hasn't been a picnic dealing with all of this home improvement, but it has made me really glad that we are renters and not owners. While I can appreciate the many wonderful things that homeowners enjoy, I am also experienced enough to also appreciate all of the nastiness associated with owning a little piece of paradise with faulty plumbing. And I've read enough property law cases to appreciate all of the really horrible things that could happen to an otherwise savvy buyer. And I don't have any money. So there you have it. No real property for me. Not yet anyway.
Every couple of years of my adult life, I graduate into another phase of adult development. First I would see all of my friends going through it, and then I would go through it (I'm a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to development). First all of my friends got married (and I became an expert on bridal shower gifts), and then I got married. All of my friends started having babies (baby shower gifts), and then I had a baby. Now all of my friends are buying houses (house warming gifts (if I get around to it, what with the husband and the baby)), and I'm getting nervous that I might catch the bug.
I think it's kind of weird for people to never want to get married, or once they are married to never want to have children. I can understand not wanting to get married immediately, and I also happen to think that anyone can have a happy life if they don't get married and/or have children. But isn't it a basic human impulse to want a committed relationship? And have children? When I hear about someone wanting to never come near these things, I can't help thinking they're being more than a little immature. Because I used to feel that way, but, like I said, I moved on to the next phase.
That's what worries me. I never want to own a house. No picket fence, no swingset, no vegetable garden. Is it a sign of arrested development to want to rent forever?
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Earning His Keep
Baby is learning some chores. Here's what he's got so far:
1) Closing drawers, cupboards, and refridgerator doors
2) Putting his toys in his toy box (he also likes to put them in his crib)
3) Swishing the toilet brush around in the toilet bowl
4) Putting his feet in his shoes
5) Wiping a sponge around on the kitchen floor
6) Pushing the vacuum (with Mom's supervision)
7) Emptying the dishwasher (we're working on where the dishes actually go . . .)
8) Stirring mixing bowls
Isn't he cool? I think so too. No, I'm not interested in your questions about whether his doing these little jobs actually saves me time or effort. I'd also prefer not to consider whether his ability to obey and help with clean-up coincides with an increased ability to make messes. That's not the point, see? The point is that he is a happy, obedient, sweet-natured (if a bit over-inquisitive) little guy who makes his mother very proud.
1) Closing drawers, cupboards, and refridgerator doors
2) Putting his toys in his toy box (he also likes to put them in his crib)
3) Swishing the toilet brush around in the toilet bowl
4) Putting his feet in his shoes
5) Wiping a sponge around on the kitchen floor
6) Pushing the vacuum (with Mom's supervision)
7) Emptying the dishwasher (we're working on where the dishes actually go . . .)
8) Stirring mixing bowls
Isn't he cool? I think so too. No, I'm not interested in your questions about whether his doing these little jobs actually saves me time or effort. I'd also prefer not to consider whether his ability to obey and help with clean-up coincides with an increased ability to make messes. That's not the point, see? The point is that he is a happy, obedient, sweet-natured (if a bit over-inquisitive) little guy who makes his mother very proud.
Our Christmas Party
On Friday night I threw a church Christmas dinner party for 150 people. It was a success, but I'm still so tired. Some people get energized by throwing parties. I guess I do too, but only if certain elements are in place:
1) I have people helping me whom I trust to get things done
2) I feel like there's a really good reason for the party
3) I like all of the activities we're doing at the party
4) I have enough money to afford the party
5) I know and love all of the people who are invited to the party
So, for example, when I threw a surprise party for my husband's birthday, I loved every minute of it from the invitations to the food ordering to the quick cover-up when the babysitter wrecked the surprise at the last minute ("have fun at your surprise party!") Same thing when I threw parties and socials at the law school. By my third year, I'll tell you what, I had law school pizza parties down to a science, and I loved it, loved it.
None of the elements were in place for the party on Friday. This didn't mean the party was doomed to failure--it just meant that, instead of enjoying it, I stressed my guts out putting the party together. I didn't know the other people on my party-planning committee very well; I didn't feel like there was any particular reason to have the party exactly the way we did last year; I wasn't jazzed about a lot of the things we were doing; I was constantly worried that we were out of money; and I only knew the names of about 30% of the people there.
But like I said: it was a success. We found free decorations at the last minute, extra people came to help set up, we got a discount on the food, the other people on the committee turned out to be completely dependable, the numbers came out right for seating and food, and my parents had paid for eleven years of piano lessons so I could fill in for the background music when we forgot to bring a CD player (this also served to soothe my nerves while everyone arrived). Everyone left satisfied.
But it's all worth it for the one really cool thing that happened. I hadn't managed to get a Santa Claus to come to the party, which I was really sad about because I knew a lot of people wanted to have one (even though the traditional Santa's lap sitting is one of the things I think is unnecessary at a church Christmas party). Anyway, three minutes before the party started, Husband flew in with an S on his chest and found a Santa, a costume, candy canes for the kids, and a photographer. For free. While I was tinkling away at the piano. Did I mention that I'm married to him? And I love him wildly?
1) I have people helping me whom I trust to get things done
2) I feel like there's a really good reason for the party
3) I like all of the activities we're doing at the party
4) I have enough money to afford the party
5) I know and love all of the people who are invited to the party
So, for example, when I threw a surprise party for my husband's birthday, I loved every minute of it from the invitations to the food ordering to the quick cover-up when the babysitter wrecked the surprise at the last minute ("have fun at your surprise party!") Same thing when I threw parties and socials at the law school. By my third year, I'll tell you what, I had law school pizza parties down to a science, and I loved it, loved it.
None of the elements were in place for the party on Friday. This didn't mean the party was doomed to failure--it just meant that, instead of enjoying it, I stressed my guts out putting the party together. I didn't know the other people on my party-planning committee very well; I didn't feel like there was any particular reason to have the party exactly the way we did last year; I wasn't jazzed about a lot of the things we were doing; I was constantly worried that we were out of money; and I only knew the names of about 30% of the people there.
But like I said: it was a success. We found free decorations at the last minute, extra people came to help set up, we got a discount on the food, the other people on the committee turned out to be completely dependable, the numbers came out right for seating and food, and my parents had paid for eleven years of piano lessons so I could fill in for the background music when we forgot to bring a CD player (this also served to soothe my nerves while everyone arrived). Everyone left satisfied.
But it's all worth it for the one really cool thing that happened. I hadn't managed to get a Santa Claus to come to the party, which I was really sad about because I knew a lot of people wanted to have one (even though the traditional Santa's lap sitting is one of the things I think is unnecessary at a church Christmas party). Anyway, three minutes before the party started, Husband flew in with an S on his chest and found a Santa, a costume, candy canes for the kids, and a photographer. For free. While I was tinkling away at the piano. Did I mention that I'm married to him? And I love him wildly?
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