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Welcome back, old self. It only took 16 months. That’s like low term in state prison.

Welcome back, old self. It only took 16 months. That’s like low term in state prison.

It’s been over a year since I’ve blogged.

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I’ve been meaning to blog, but with the birth of my second child, I just haven’t felt up to it. Blogging was constantly on my mind, but it was hard for me to do it. Honestly, going back to writing is about as awkward, unsettling, and weird as having sex for the first time after giving birth (if you don’t know what I mean, read Erin Donovan’s “Dead Vagina Walking” to get caught up to speed). Plus, there was just so much to write about I honestly didn’t know where to start.

Since blogging about all that I had wanted to write about in the past year would take forever, so I’ve just made a timeline. Here’s a year of my life, condensed:

12/2013: I give birth to #2! After laboring at home and giving up because my beloved husband FELL ASLEEP while I was dancing to speed things up, we end up at the hospital, 6cm dilated and me yelling for an epidural because 1) holy oxytocin, back labor and 2) I was so desperate for sleep.

Eight hours later, my husband would help deliver a sunny side up, 7 pound 3 ounce baby girl. Unlike with my first baby, the moment they put Juliette into my arms, I was in love. Unlike with my first, I was not overwhelmed with the knowledge that I was now responsible, legally, morally and otherwise, for a tiny human being whose survival depended on me. Instead, I felt proud and confident. The past nine months had been terrible, both physically and emotionally, but after giving birth I felt amazing.

dancegome

Of course, no way could I ACTUALLY do this immediately after giving birth.

1/2014: On New Year’s Day, we go to Disneyland with my son and my brand new baby girl. Being in the hospital had been terribly tough on Tiny Boss, and I wanted to do something special for him. Unfortunately, this turns out to be a horrible idea and I end up with a sick, feverish infant and several sleepless nights. Those sleepless nights haven’t disappeared, by the way.

2/2014: I am pumping so I can save milk for Tinier Boss because FFS, she is going on the bottle as soon as we get her two month shots. I am NOT making the same mistake I did with her older brother (who never took a bottle and therefore I never got a break).

3/2014: I have way too much milk because she’s not on the bottle. I’m going to start donating milk. Or maybe I should sell it. I found a website that puts you in touch with parents who need milk. This person is willing to pay $2/ounce for fresh, unfrozen milk. I’m pumping 6-12 ounces a day. I am literally a cash cow! Wait, not a cow. Poor choice of words.

Later in 3/2014: I make $20 selling breast milk! After emailing the buyer, who promises to be discreet (ok?), we meet at Starbucks.

You’re K.C.?”

whaaa

Fine. Maybe he’s a dad? But a few hours after we meet up, K.C. texts me, “Your milk is delicious.”

ewBut maybe I shouldn’t judge because thanks to Google, I’ve learned that some cancer patients drink breast milk (it is full of nutrients and extremely easy to digest). Also, some bodybuilders do it too, although based solely on appearance, this guy wasn’t a bodybuilder . . . I speculate that I have sold 10 ounces of my breastmilk to an adult baby (thanks Wikipedia!).

4/2014: I am still disappointed that I can’t make money with my boobs.

sad

What happens to a dream deferred?

8/2014: We travel to Mexico with both kids by plane.

Vacationing with tiny humans is awesome!

Vacationing with tiny humans is awesome!

The kids do awesome and I am proud. On the return flight we are stuck in a holding pattern for almost two hours due to bad weather and no one under the age of three in my row has a meltdown. On the other hand, our surrounding passengers must have been coming back from a convention for assholes. I regret not being a Tom Clancy fan; otherwise I could yell out spoilers at the man sitting next to me pretending to read but he can’t due to the amount of eye rolling going on. Bless his heart, he can’t seem to stop alternating between rolling his eyes and huffing like he’s trying to get to the head of the Hometown Buffet line. dwight

Next time I board a plane with kids, I’m printing out required reading (including this and this) to pass out. How’s that for goody bags?

booobitch9/2014: My son is potty trained! I’m forever grateful for the 3 Day Potty Training method.

At first, this is awesome, but then the realization that my schedule is now ruled by his bladder (or worse) quickly sets in. I learn the importance of always knowing the location of a bathroom or a good bush wherever I go and accumulate bad juju for the number of times we have peed on the seat or elsewhere (shudder). I spend good money on a Kalencom portable potette that is used and accepted by every American toddler except for ours.

11/2014: Flu season has set in. You know what’s worse than being sick with one kid? You guessed it.

12/2014: Baby girl is one year old. I can’t believe a year went by.

And that’s what I’ve been up to since I last blogged.

IMG_9513Actually, it wasn’t that bad getting back into writing. Stay tuned for my next post, which will be about transitioning from one to two kids, and the number of new gray hairs that have coincidentally sprouted at the same time.

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Advice to (New) Mom-ttorneys

congrats

Recently a friend-of-a-friend asked me for some advice since she had just both passed the bar to become an attorney as well as found out she was pregnant.

I wanted to say “congratulations” to the baby and “oh, I’m sorry to hear” to the bar passage – but instead, I came up with this list, which I hope will find its way to her somehow. I usually don’t do advice in my blog, because the only topics I’m really qualified to opine upon are either irrelevant (“don’t try to wax your boyfriend’s face”) or scientifically unsound (“you’ll get severe stomach cramps if you sleep in a crop top”). But because this woman is about to have a baby and become a work from home attorney – she wants to start up her own family law practice – I feel like I need to warn her pass on some words of encouragement.

Top 10 Advice for New Work-at-Home-Moms:

10. Flexible work arrangement = baby first, work second, and mom third. This is bad.

I’ve talked to a lot of WAHMs, moms with a flexible work schedule, moms who telecommute, and moms who own their own businesses, and they all agree – you end up working 24/7 when you work from home. Work begins to bleed and consume all of your waking moments that aren’t occupied by your offspring. Document review and phone calls are scheduled around nap times. Briefs are written late into the night, and police reports are read in bed, in the dark, so as not to awaken the ticking time bomb that is your child.

But you’ll burn out that way. What they say in parenting books about “setting boundaries” or “creating routines” needs to be applied to your work. Try something like “no work emails after 10pm” or, at least, “no squinting at client emails/texts at 2am in the dark while nursing.”

9. Expect your views on your career to change.

Assistant Branch Manager looks pretty good too.

It’s only a title.

I never expected to give up my practice, but I’ve pretty much all but done just that – and I’m much happier now than I have ever been.

Also – I never thought I would consider going back to work as a government attorney, but the temptation of great coworkers, a steady paycheck, and top benefits are extremely alluring once you have a family. Stability and good companionship are underrated when you’re a mom.

8. Also underrated when you’re a mom? Sanity.

bad day

Your attorney/mom friends will be much more sympathetic than this.

Solo practice can be very lonely, and at the same time, so can motherhood. Although I often think “ain’t nobody got time for dat,” I find myself infinitely recharged after spending time with my friends, especially attorney friends who can relate to my complaints about judges or clients or baby DAs.

Also, I used to think mom groups were dumb. I don’t know why I thought that; I just did. I now love spending time with a select group of mom friends because, again, they know exactly what I’m going through. As a new mom/new attorney, you’ll need that support from people who’ve been there, done that.

7. Be selfish.

Which brings me to being “selfish” enough to take some time for yourself. Otherwise you’ll seriously go batsh*t crazy. Right now I’m blogging this from the parking lot in front of a Skate Depot because after a day where I took Tiny Boss to gymnastics and the children’s museum and was rewarded with only a 20-minute-nap all day, I could not spend one extra second with him anymore. As soon as his dad came home, I was out the door.

I did this even though I know my son prefers I stay home with him and not his dad. It’s a developmental age thing, I’m told.

I did this even though I know that if Tiny Boss wakes up, which he is wont to do, he’ll cry incessantly for me until, well, he stops and accepts the fact that Dad is the one who’s going to give him milk and lull him back to sleep to the sounds of the Imperial March hummed in baritone.

And do I feel a little guilty for not giving my son “the best,” or at least, what he wants? Yeah, I do feel a little bad. But mind over matter, I know he is fine, and so here I am, blogging to you fine folks in my car, using stolen wifi.

6. Write down all your ultimatums – and thrown them away.

hundredpercentYes, this includes things like breastfeeding, cosleeping, baby food-making, sleep training, and anything else that has to do with parenthood.

The number one lesson I’ve learned from being a mother – never say never. Your own flexibility and open-mindedness will surprise you. Have I thought about trying the cry-it-out method with my second, still unborn child? Yes, even though a year ago I was convinced Ferberizing a kid would turn her into a psychopath, or worse, Donald Trump. Will I do it to my second, still unborn child? Probably not. But still – never say never.

5. You can’t have it all.

Nope, you can’t have it all – there will be some things that you’ll give up, even if you think now that you’ll never do it. For me, it was working out regularly – as well as regular hair highlights and manicures. Nothing like pushing a human being out of your crotch in front of a room of strangers to rid you of most of your vanity!

4. Set realistic goals and expectations.

tumblr_inline_mpa7m7vTV51qz4rgp#5 and #4 kind of go together. In all honesty, the learning curve is steep for both lawyering and parenting. You’ll have self-doubts about your abilities at both. But you’ll be fine when it comes to the mom thing, at least.

3. Get help where you can. 

In the beginning, let others take care of you. I once read that lawyers have a hard time taking physical cues from their bodies because we become extraordinarily talented at making counterarguments – especially with ourselves – and also focusing on analyzing and interpreting facts rather than listening to how we feel. For new attorney moms, my advice is to make sure to say yes to the people who want to help – whether it’s to bring you food, or wash your dishes, or to watch the kid for a couple of hours so you can take a nap. Which brings me to . . .

2. Don’t be a control freak.

perfectionist

You don’t have the luxury of being a perfectionist in your work anymore when you’re a WAHM. I can’t stress this enough.

1. Ignore everything I just said. 

For one thing, everything I’ve just written about is much easier said than done. Also, everyone will give you advice, but you’ll mostly pave your own way by finding out what works for you.

awesome

Yes, mom-ttorney, you are awesome.

And lastly, and most importantly, you will be fine at being a mom, and somehow the lawyer part will work itself out. And trust me – at the end of each day, when you look at your baby for one more time before you go to bed and wake up in two hours to make sure she’s still alive/to feed her, you’ll know without a doubt that yes, it was all worth it.

It’s official: I am a crunchy mama.

 I’ve always been on the earthy, crunchy side of things, or at least I tried reasonably hard to be. I EBF’d (no pacifiers or bottles to date, a decision I semi-regret), proudly wore my baby whenever practicable, and pureed some pretty epic baby food. I probably should have cloth-diapered.

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Wearing my favorite carrier at the time, a Didytai.

But today, I made up for it. By rubbing someone else’s breast milk all over my body, in the name of cleanliness.

If this is making you want to throw up your Plum organics a bit, you’re not alone. When my friend gave me soap she had hired someone to make from her own breastmilk, I pretty much said the following (in my head):

  1. OMG
  2. hahahahaha
  3. Ew . . .

Unfortunately today I ran out of shower gel. While showering is still an almost luxury these days, I still hold onto my anti-Unilever stance when it comes to soap, due to the environmental destruction caused by unsustainable farming of palm oil – a key ingredient in soaps in brands like Dove.

My husband couldn’t care less about ecofriendly soaps, so we have our share of Dial, Tone and Dove under our sink. Thus, my choices were between ecologically destructive soaps, Axe “Thai Massage” douchebag shower gel, which I have no idea how that made its way into my bathroom, and the breast milk soap my friend gifted me.

I opted for the breast milk soap. Even though I kind of hate other people’s bodily fluids. I may have a phobia; I don’t know. I still remember being in trial once with my hep-C positive client, and realizing, in the middle of something stupid really, really important that the judge was pontificating upon, that my client’s styrofoam cup of water was perilously close to mine. What if he was drinking my water? What if he had been drinking my water this entire time we’ve been in trial?

And I like to think I’m not the only one who kind of gets grossed out by breast milk in the wrong circumstances. Most of my female friends kind of view it the same way I do – it’s good for the baby, and the baby only. When she told us about how her dad, not trusting her assertion that freshly pumped breast milk can be left unrefrigerated for several hours, tasted the milk before giving it to her daughter, we all shrieked, “Ewww!”

But today, faced with the dilemma of killing some rainforests, smelling like a douchebag, or rubbing Kendra’s breast milk into my asscrack, I opted for the third option.

breastmilk soap1

It’s (unsurprisingly) creamy.

The scent was fantastic. By that, I mean it smelled like fragrant flowers, and not like breast milk or dairy or bodily fluids. A closer examination of the ingredients list was a nice surprise – it contained a nice blend of hydrating herbs and oils. I started feeling guilty for being unappreciative of Kendra’s gift. She probably had a limited supply and was generous enough to give it to me.

Consider me a convert. I’ll probably still head to Sprouts tomorrow and pick up some Kiss My Face, but I’ll keep using Kendra’s soap. It smells great and so far, no ill effects detected.

So if any of you are in Southern California, and you are not squeamish about these things, go ahead and give it a try. But consider keeping the resulting stash to yourself. You can always give a gift card, or even fruit cake.

Yes, I know there is palm oil in here. I know that now. I'll just say that at least it was locally crafted and maybe, just maybe, the palm oil was sustainably sourced.

Yes, I know there is palm oil in here. I know that now. I’ll just say that at least it was locally crafted and maybe, just maybe, the palm oil was sustainably sourced. So this was not all for nothing.

Silver Linings, and Lessons From Poison Control

God bless the California Poison Control center, or in my case, the California Center for Reassuring Nervous Moms.

It’s been a rough week. What was supposed to be a restful week off from court (more on that later) turned into caring for a sick toddler, and then myself, after I found out I had thrush from breastfeeding.

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A week off? Silly me.

Tiny Boss came down with a fever a couple days ago. No other symptoms, so all I could do was bring the fever down, keep him comfortable and snuggle with him as much as he wanted.

Unfortunately, as luck would have it, I contracted thrush, which means that not only does breastfeeding feel akin to sticking your nipples into a lamprey’s mouth (other mothers describe it as shards of glass in the breast), but Tiny Boss was also unable to comfortably breastfeed. So he’s been miserable. I’m telling myself there’s a silver lining. Perhaps he’ll finally wean?

Insert nipple here to find out what it feels like to breastfeed with thrush. Source: http://www.fws.gov/midwest/marquette/

Not breastfeeding friendly.
Source: http://www.fws.gov/midwest/marquette/

Last night, on day two of fever with no other symptoms other than some ear pulling, I decided to give Tiny Boss some of his leftover ear drops from his last ear infection. A couple hours later – coincidence or not – his fever was gone and he was back to his usual way of wearing me out – running around, grabbing stuff, spilling stuff, throwing stuff and just in general doing all sorts of stuff he’s not supposed to do.

Based on last night’s success, I elicit my husband’s help this morning in giving Tiny Boss another round of ear drops. Four drops, left ear only, easy enough, right?

WRONG.

In my defense, it was early, it was dark, and my contacts were sticking to my eyelids.

“IT’S SPILLING OUT OF HIS EARS!” My husband started yelling.

Apparently the drops were coming out of the dispenser but I just couldn’t see them, so I had been steadily squeezing a stream of antibiotics into his ear. How many drops did I give him?

“Like, maybe 10?”

“He’ll be fine,” I said, sounding much more confident than I felt.

That confidence quickly wore off, however, because Tiny Boss began to cry. Loudly. With tears and everything. What could be wrong? Did his ear hurt from the sudden, unexpected flood of liquid? Did some of it trickle down to his throat? DID I JUST POISON MY BABY?

The offending drops

The offending drops

I had no idea, so I did what every health practitioner hates (I only assume this because I hate it when my clients do their own legal research) – I turned to Google.

Unfortunately, “put too many ear drops” only turned up with two relevant hits.

The first one was from Yaboo! answers by some poor sap who used too many ear drops in one ear and now couldn’t hear. The second was a fact sheet from the New Zealand government for Cilodex, which sounds close enough to our prescribed brand of ear drops, Ciprodex.

For Cilodex, you’re supposed to rinse the ear(s) with warm water immediately and call a pharmacist or doctor “if you use too much (overdose).”

Wait, so you can overdose on ear drops? As far as the ear rinsing, I wasn’t even going to go there. It was too early to call the pharmacy, and I didn’t want to hear any lectures about not finishing the ear drops last time or using the drops this time without being prescribed.

The poison control center would be my best bet. 24 hours a day, staffed by MDs, RNs and pharmacists.

“My name is Steve. What can I help you with?”

“Um, I accidentally gave my son too many ear drops.”

“Sure. What’s your son’s name?”

“Raynor.”

“Full name please.”

And then he wanted my full name, and by this time I was pretty sure it was to call CPS or the cops if necessary, or at least to add me to the state roster of bad moms.

“How many drops is he supposed to have?”

“Four.”

“And how many did you give him?”

“Uh, maybe 10?”

“Oh boy.” Seriously. The man said that. But then he said these magical, beautiful words, words that were rang sweeter than Susan Boyle’s voice and brought more relief than Rolaids.

“He’ll be fine.”

Apparently you can’t really overdose on antibiotics, and since he didn’t ingest them, he probably won’t even get the stomachache, vomiting and diarrhea that is usually associated with taking too much of an antibiotic. Tiny Boss had used these ear drops many times before, so an allergic reaction wouldn’t be a concern, either.

Silver lining: I learned about antibiotics overdose and after today you’ll never find a more precise ear drop administrator this side of the Mississippi.

After that, everything indeed was fine, that is, until Tiny Boss managed to simultaneously spill a smoothie and tea on the coffee table and the dog ate my fried rice.

Silver lining? My coffee table hasn’t been looked this clean in months. Fried rice is unhealthy, anyways.

Shortly thereafter, I realized I did not have the day off and I did, in fact, have to go to court today.

To quote Liz Lemon: blerg.

Silver lining, anyone?

Bad Behavior and an Unrelated Apology Letter

 

Last week I posted about new words I learned that I found hilarious. I now have another one or three to add to the list, thanks to the girl (formerly) on the executive board of delta gamma who wrote an obscenity-ridden email to her Greek sisters berating them for being goddamn boners and stupid cocks, or more specifically, “a little asswipe that stands in the corners at night or . . . a weird shit that does weird shit during the day.”

The email, which has appeared on Fox News, Gawker, and HuffPost, as well as captured the attention of both Jon Stewart and actor Michael Shannon, was both awful and awfully funny.

I mean, on one hand, the author is a bit of a bully, and has probably been pushing her sorority sisters around for a while now. Probably. On the other hand, she has a flair for words, and could probably get a job writing comedy. I mean, thanks to her, the phrase “cunt punt” is now in the vocabulary of millions of Americans between the ages of 25-34.

If the author of the email decides to issue some sort of public apologies, I suggest she take notes from this six-year-old boy whose letter showed up on my Facebook feed.

So the lessons to be learned from today’s post are: 1) always remember that you write for an audience, and your audience depends on how and where you’ve published your piece, and 2) a dollar will make you whole. That’s the lawyer in me talking.

It’s 3am and I’m up again, a decision I’ll probably somewhat regret tomorrow. Tiny Boss is over a year old, still breastfeeding, and wakes me up at night. I actually don’t mind  because it gives me a chance to write, and I love writing (I say this now – ask me again tomorrow in the afternoon when I’m dying to get a second cup of coffee).

Too bad when I get the writing bug, all too often I’m drawing a blank. Like I want to write, but I don’t know what to write about. Kind of like those people you know who just talk for the sake of talking.

shutup

But then I found this.

No seriously, I found this. Well, my friend sent it to me. It’s seven writing tips from Hemingway.

Most of these tips are applicable to all writers, not just those writing fiction, as well as other creatives – concept artists, copywriters, designers of all varieties.

So I’ll take the first prompt: “To get started, write one true sentence.”

I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.

This quote kind of sums it up for me – “If you want to make God laugh, tell him all your plans.”

Things were so much more black and white, cut and dry, when I was in college. I could literally list the things I was into, and do them. Environmentalist? Don’t eat meat. Believe in fair labor? Get arrested with 53 other students at the University of Wisconsin-Madison in an “anti-sweatshop protest” (the mission was a bit more specific than this, but that’s another post, another time.)

Ironically, the first police report I ever read was my own.

Ironically, the first police report I ever read was my own.

I went straight into law school after college. I don’t know what exactly I was thinking, but it was something like, “if I go to law school, I’ll have the power to start really changing things up.”

It wasn’t a very well thought out plan though. Skip ahead 10 years later, after three years of law school, the bar exam, and changing jobs every two years.

That’s when Tiny Boss came, and life hasn’t been the same since. In some ways, nothing else matters. But now he’s a toddler, and time is speeding up, and I’m feeling that pressure to do something with my life. And I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore.

Being a lawyer (mostly) sucks.

I’m not alone here. Lawyers aren’t the happiest bunch when it comes to job satisfaction, according to the American Bar Association, and me, and Forbes magazine, which lists “associate attorney” as the number one most unhappiest job. There’s even a book, The Happy Lawyer: Making a Good Life in the Law, that explores why so many attorneys are unhappy.

Maybe it’s because, according to the American Bar Association, “only 16 percent of lawyers found that their jobs afforded them the ability to contribute to the public good as much as they expected when they entered the profession.” Maybe.

The book also purports to offer “more fulfilling paths to careers in the law.” Ha! We’ll see.

According to the American Bar Association, lawyers also have more pessimistic personalities than the general population

According to the American Bar Association, lawyers also have more pessimistic personalities than the general population

Mommyvision

I often say that I see the world through the lens of a mother – in a sense, every child is my child. When I see a skinny baby in the bathroom of a courthouse, I wonder if she’s sick or diagnosed with failure to thrive. When I struggle with the NPO guidelines that dictate fasting before surgery – not an easy task to refuse to feed your infant or toddler – my heart aches in a way it never did before when I think of the millions of mothers who watch their children slowly die of starvation and malnutrition.

Yes, every child is my child.

I watched a little girl crossing the street the other day with her mother. When she finished crossing, she ran back to the stoplight so she could press the walk buttons. Going both directions. I laughed, because as a mother, I appreciate the little things that make a kid happy.

A couple years ago, a good friend of mine told me once that she didn’t want to have kids because she didn’t want them to grow up in this world. At that time, I was puzzled, because I couldn’t grasp the thought of not having kids simply due to the state of affairs of the world. But I understand her now, because I worry a lot more about pollution, cancer, sustainability, abuse, and just humanity in general. Yet at the same time, I still believe my child will make this world better.

And me, now that I’m a mom, I know I should make this world better too. But how do I do it? Some days I barely have enough energy to get through the day. Not to mention the whole lawyer thing.

This is probably my longest post yet, and part of it is because I’ve been up for over three hours and I’m finally starting to feel it. So I leave you with this:

“As parents, it’s not our job to toughen up our children to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.” – L.R. Knost, author of Two Thousand Kisses a Day

Deux

Today is Day Two of my 30 day challenge, and one of the few times I’m publishing a visible blog. I’ve been doing some research on “how to be a writer.” (in quotes because it seems like one of those things that can’t be taught, although I’m sure I am wrong about this and a million writing coaches and instructors will be sending me hate mail, or at least spamming me with comments. Please?)

One of the tips was to attract an audience. Thus, a visible blog post.

I use words like “thus” and “heretofore,” or even “notwithstanding” a lot because I’m a lawyer. Ok, not really. But I figured I better work in my attorney background if I’m going to try to get some readers.

Being an attorney may have been a terrible career choice, but I can’t say I’m unhappy with my life. I have a three-year-old son and a loving husband, Vanilla (not his real name). I’ve got an awesome dog, PeeBee (her real name, and short for Peanut Butter/Paddington Britches) and one that is just so-so, Dexter.

PeeBee is perpetually downtrodden and mistreated, or so she would have you believe. Dexter is as loyal and affectionate as he is a little scoundrel. We’re a happy family. I just got a little nervous writing that because in my experience, life is not a constant but a series of waves, like the ocean, always changing yet always the same.

But I digress. Back to being a lawyer. It’s a difficult job with substantial stress. It’s even harder when your husband has an awesome job as an artist at one of the all-time top video game companies. He gets to shoot nerf guns at work and look at naked women for “reference.” I have to deal with clients who I can’t even tell you about because it’s protected by attorney-client privilege, but just the thought of them sometimes can make my chest tight.

I became a lawyer initially because I wanted to help people and I wanted to go into politics. This was in 2002, freshly ejected from the University of Wisconsin where I had lived in a co-op, been vegetarian including no Skittles (gelatin), wore only recycled clothing to avoid sweatshops, conducted and participated in sit-ins and die-ins, among all sorts of other wonderful student activism/nonsense. The school I went to, however, was not terribly progressive, and I basically drank my way through my three years. I became a public defender, which was what I decided in law school was what I had wanted to do, and kicked ass at it before getting burned out after only two years. Two more years at a private civil firm made me go a little crazy, as well as my participation in a LGAT slash cult.

But all that led me to where I am today, working from home as mostly an immigration attorney, a full-time mother, and an aspiring writer. A couple years ago I had made three wishes, written them down on a piece of paper, folded it in half and drawn the infinity symbol on the back. I carefully placed this paper into my wallet as instructed by Macncheese. She’s not a witch or anything, but she does get what she wants.

Now that I’ve accomplished two of those wishes, now’s a good a time as any to start on that dream. On time is late, as they say in the cult I used to be in.

Hello, Day Two.