Holy Clownfish

So Clownfish is still enjoying pretending the world is opposite.

He told me this morning that when he is big and I am a baby, he would hold me with one arm because he eats his vegetables so he will be so strong.

He also said I had to stop growing because I was big enough... there is more truth to that then he knows.

Anyway, tonight we were saying prayers.*

He decided that he was the mommy and I was the baby, so he should say the prayers by himself, instead of his usual follow-along way.

This is his version of the Hail Mary:

Hail Mary full of Grace
The Lord is with thee
Blest is the fruit and vegetables of your home and baby Jesus.
Holy Mary mother God
Pray and bock bock bock I am a chicken and now I say Amen.

* I was never a "say your prayers out-loud" kind of girl. I never really formally prayed, actually. But Bullshark was raised that way. So he started saying a short prayer at night with Clownfish when the little one was 10 months old. When Bullshark left for Iraq, it became very important for me to continue the tradition. So now I guess I do say my prayers out-loud.

Bye bye blogrolling

I finally abandoned the suckage that is Blogrolling. When it worked, it was great.

Of course, it rarely worked.

I am now playing with Bloglines. If your blog didn't make it back into the list its because either I screwed up or you have not enabled feeds on your blog. If its the former, or if I mis-categorized you, let me know via comment or email.

That is all.

Resume regularly scheduled blogging.

Contrary Clownfish

Clownfish: (pointing to red dinosaur) Look Mommy this is my *purple* dinosaur.

The purple was said with significant emphasis.

Clownfish: (pointing to purple dinosaur) And this is my *red* dinosaur.

Clownfish knows his colors well, so when he started misnaming colors, he was beginning an evening of saying totally contrary things and then laughing.

Clownfish proceeded to tell me:

Your name is Clownfish and MY name is Mommy.

And you are small and I am big.

And this (white liquid) is juice.

I do not like milk. (Its his favorite substance.)

I can have cookies for dinner because I am big.


Angry Pregnant Lawyer has also noticed this phenomenon.

Ok, you're so smart, you put up the lights

Annoyance. Irritant. A thing that grinds my gears.

Blinking lights on kids shoes.

I had to go buy the ever-growing Clownfish a new pair of sandles and a new pair of sneakers. Every blinking shoe was a damn blinking shoe!

I see toddlers wearing them walking into walls because they're so excited, staring at the little seizure-magnets.

And invariably the bulbs blow on one shoe before the other, resulting in whining that makes "no cookies before dinner" a welcome conversation.

Thomas... Sesame... Diego... they've all sold out to the blinking phenomenon. Bastards.

So plain brown sandles and generic car sneakers it is.

With me as a mother, Clownfish had better get used to being the un-cool kid.

*Now why the hell are they BLINKING??

**Double bonus points to the first to identify the source of the title.

Walls fall down

I have built some walls between my 'real' life and my 'bloggy' life. They weren't always there, especially in the early months of the blog. Of course, that made me vulnerable to ... well, exactly what happened.

I like blogging about balancing law school and family and ambition and confusion and happy toddler moments and randomness and joy and sadness and life. But I do so more guardedly than perhaps I would otherwise.

I am having one of those moments that has given me pause -- do I blog it? I have answered in the affirmative, but only because it bears on my perspective on the balancing act.

I dropped a hint on the blog a few weeks ago. I had planned to drop some more hints before I announced the big news. I was an excited, enthusiastic, happy pregnant person. Kind of made me surreally fuzzy-headed through exams, especially property. It gave me added insulation against the freak-out I should be having about my potentially sub-Law Review quality grades. Tuesday's post notwithstanding, I've been generally ok. The pregnancy was well-timed and while not planned, not not planned, you know?

Today, I had a miscarriage. It's my second in a row. The implications of that ... well, that's for next week ... doctors and tests and bloodwork oh my.

This time was in some ways easier than the last -- I wasn't in denial when it started. I knew it. I think I knew something wasn't right as early as Wednesday. I cried with the very kind ultrasound tech and held it together talking to the doctor. Blessedly there will be no additional procedures this time. So right now, I am blogging dry-eyed, kind of numb, and tired.

Fortunately, I have another two weeks before I start my summer job. Plenty of time for reading some trashy novels and some therapeutic shoe shopping -- ISO cute, business casual appropriate, closed-toe (boo!) recommendations.

Its healthy. No, really. It is!

Dear Diet Coke,

Do you really think that by adding vitamins to your product will make people think its a health drink? Malted battery acid + vitamins = good for you. Really?

I mean, I know its worked for "water," which is dyed and flavored and sweetened in such a way that calling it "water" is tantamount to fraud. Or maybe not -- your product is also mostly water... plus a dozen other ingredients. Maybe you should call your beverage "Calorie Free Fizzy Water -- Now With Vitamins." Sure, it only comes in one color -- brown -- unlike the other water rainbows. But so long as you stick with tinted cans, I think you can totally take their market share.

And while we're at it, what's with all of these flavor combinations? Raspberry lime vanilla wheat germ? Cherry lemon coffee grounds? Have you finally realized you make awful *awful* products? Because these weird flavors appear and disappear with the regularity of Robert Downey Jr.'s sobriety.

A combination of great marketing and some secret addicting formula has garnered you minions, diet-coke zealots who consume your product in massive quantities. Such people may be happy to try your vitamin beverage to alleviate their guilt for mass-consuming a substance that dissolves teeth and cleans toilets. You know, until you pull the product in 16 weeks.

Please, stop the insanity.

Sincerely,
Me

P.S.: Wikipedia actually has an entry, friendly, making me suspect its a Coke Co. plant.
P.P.S: filed under "pop" culture.

I have issues, can you spot them?

I am suffering from post-exam regret. I am an issue-spotting demon... after the fact.

I find myself feeling like I totally blew the first question of my property exam -- a policy question that I really only discussed about half-way through, if that. I could totally rock it NOW. I just didn't then. It was not my finest bit of exam writing *by far* and thinking about it now makes me feel a little sick, knowing its my first impression on the overall test. I'd be inclined to grade me down based on that inanity. Shit. Property was the one subject I felt good about going in.

I am wondering about the interpleader question on Civ Pro -- there was some ambiguity about one party. Maybe I was supposed to do a Rule 24 discussion too? Shit, I was just happy I recognized interpleader. And don't talk to me about the Erie question -- I get Erie, I was prepared for Erie, but what the hell was that? Fortunately, everyone reacted that way to the Erie question, so my somewhat-disorganized-desperation-in-the-last-moments-of-the-exam answer will hopefully save me from sliding off the end of the curve. Or not.

I don't find myself thinking much about what I didn't write in Con Law, just maybe wishing I had written some of it better. Which is even scarier, because if you always miss something on an exam, and I don't even know what I missed...

Contracts has me slightly out of my mind whenever I allow myself to think about it. 6 credits, you know? 12 mini-fact patterns. 15 minutes each. I knew I screwed up one question during the exam itself -- I just couldn't remember the third part of the rule of the case the fact pattern was based on. Got the other two parts cold, so maybe not so bad.

I didn't want to talk about Contracts when it ended. I was planning to run, not walk, to the exit. I didn't want to know if I missed anything else.

But after the exams were turned in, and I was packing up the laptop, someone called out "Hey, number 8, was that just a strange way of asking about impracticability?" After the general murmur of assent, my reaction was F*CK! I didn't discuss that at all. I knew it cold, I just didn't recognize it as an issue -- I discussed material breach on #8. F*ckity f*ck f*ck f*ck!

Its a psychotic system -- where a year's work comes down to a three hour series of fact patterns. I knew it when I signed on. But its nuts, you know? Just nucking futs.

Getting drunk is not a good enough solution to this ... this nagging feeling of failure, of being less than I knew I could be ...

I just want my damn grades so I can come to the final stage of grief, acceptance.

Could be a great day...

No reading.

No outlining.

No studying, memorizing, or panicking.

No more 1L.

No summer classes.

The sun is shining and it is beautiful out. A great day for the beach or lounging in the yard.

And I have an ear infection.

*sigh*

I don't want to talk about it

I don't want to talk about exams . . .
. . . or the enormous conflict between head and heart I faced this week
. . . or the challenges that lie ahead this summer
. . . yet.

So I am going to write about happy things, like toddlers and sunshine.

Clownfish has been displaying an enormous amount of personality and imagination lately. An example:

In his bed, he has a stuffed brown bear, named Bear. A stuffed green turtle, named Turtle. A very small stuffed cow, named Cow.

And next to his bed is a giant stuffed white tiger, named Ian.

Ian?

"Ian" is the name of the baby brother of one of his classmates. He loves to play with the baby. "I so gentle mommy. I touch Ian's feet. He smile at me." He has named several other stuffed animals "Ian," including the stuffed killer whale he likes to keep in the car -- he likes company on long car trips. So, that's "Ian the whale."

I think Clownfish might be trying to tell me something.

Anyway, in the morning, we ususally have a little stuffed animal play time before he gets out of bed. Sometimes he turns on music and makes the animals dance. Sometimes the animals re-enact a rescue he saw on Wonderpets. Sometimes he gives them each hugs and kisses, and has me do the same, and tucks them in the blanket. "I see you later guys."

Yesterday, he was playing and I was sitting on the bed, my mind on adhesion contracts or breakfast or something else totally irrelevant to the scene before me. But apparently the animals were playing a game of some kind, and Clownfish used Turtle to hit Bear.

CF: No Bear. Not your turn. It Turtle's turn.

Me: Clownfish, did Turtle just hit Bear?

CF: It Turtle turn to play. Bear won't let him.

Me: But when you're upset, are you supposed to hit?

CF: Ok Mommy. Turtle, you no hit Bear. You use your words. Say "I'm sorry" (moving Turtle: "I'm sorry.") Ok, you guys hug. All better. Its ok Mommy, they all better now. Give kisses, its time for them to go night night.

Next task: see if I can get Turtle and Bear to model eating rice with a utensil.

Color me important

you are mediumspringgreen

Your dominant hues are cyan and green. Although you definately strive to be logical you care about people and know there's a time and place for thinking emotionally. Your head rules most things but your heart rules others, and getting them to meet in the middle takes a lot of your energy some days. Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

A little out of character

The trees are blooming near my school... from a distance they look lovely, tall and straight with small white flowers. Makes for some lovely recruitment posters.

But from them emanates an stench -- the word rancid doesn't cover it.

The rest of the post, I plan to use some descriptive language that is a bit out of character for the blog, but it best describes the foulness that is these trees. If you're easily offended, well, too bad.

Note: I am using st*rs in some of the words to minimize the blog hits for searchers of p*rn, not because of any prudish sensibilities on my part.



1LGirl#1: I'm going out for a smoke by the sk*nky v*gina trees. Its like a bad day at the gynocologist office out there.

Later, 1LGirl#2, not privy to that comment: Has anyone noticed those trees outside smell like semen?

#1Girl#1: What the hell kind of guys you been with?
1LGuy#1: I always thought they smelled like rotting fish.
Girl#1: I thought they smelled like sk*nky v*g.
Girl#2: No, much more like used condom.
Girl#1: Well, you would know.
Girl#2: And I guess that means you know all about sk*nky v*g?
Girl#1: Totally. I spent a lot of time in girls locker rooms.

So what kind of trees are they? Having to agree with the accuracy of #1's description, I found out by googling "trees with white flowers smell like v*gina."

Turns out, all three were right: Urban Dictionary, "semen tree":

Another name for the Bradford Pear, and ornamental pear tree. Characterized by greenish-white flowers which smell like a cross between old semen, dirty v*gina, and rotting fried shrimp. Common throughout the South, these trees are pleasantly located near eateries and other fine establishments.

What I learned from this:

1) when studying civil procedure at 11:00 p.m., I get punchy... especially when trying to read aloud from the urban dictionary.

2) Google can find anything.

Timing

Words for the day: think positive.

Happy Blogiversary

(ok, belated)

Part of my first post 4/27/06, and my response a year later:

April 2006, the spring before I begin my career as a law student. Why begin another blawg, as they seem to be called? There are dozens of 1Ls and beyond all bemoaning evil con law profs and the like. How could this be any different?I haven't read all the blawgs, so I don't know for sure.

But I'll bet I'm the only one writing from this perspective: I am a mommy to a fabulous 20 month old boy. And today, my husband arrived in Iraq for his involuntary recall to active duty. I think his call home tonight, a one minute "hey, I'm safe, take care..." was the impetus for starting this blog, which has been in my head for a few weeks now.

I am not sure I can articulate why just yet ... maybe because the law school "thing" has been keeping me sane through the separation so far (he's been gone since January, just finally got overseas).

...

Oh, yeah, I'll probably eventually bitch about evil con law profs too.

Well, turns out my Con Law prof was a bit evil. And I did bitch about her, quite a bit. And I discovered I was not the only blogging mommy/law student or lawyer -- there are other women like me, who strike the balance between toddler vomit and the rule against perpetuities. (Neither of those sound too attractive right now...) But mommy or not, blogging law students are have been a source of inspiration and laughter and a feeling that I am not alone on this venture.

In this year, my husband got home safely, and my wonderful son is now 2 and 3/4 and thriving. This blog has been through one address change and two mini-crises that caused me to re-think blogging. There are other big changes coming, including my first legal summer job.

Thanks for taking the ride with me thus far. I hope it has been at least mildly entertaining, occasionally.

Where I am now: I have just finished my first Spring semester exam. I can officially stop making groan-inducing property jokes. I am moving on to the nightmare of civil procedure, and hope to emerge unscathed some point Friday afternoon.

Overheard on my way to the lawbrary:

1L female classmate (sarcastically): How did you enjoy that property exam?

1L male classmate: Well, I don't usually enjoy prostate exams... and this was no exception.