My Big Girl Goes to Kindergarten

Today was Marcie's first day of kindergarten.

She carefully picked out a new outfit, which I washed and set out for her to wear, with a new pair of shoes she also selected. Last night, I stayed up late organizing our classroom supply donations for each child, labeling their backpacks and lunchboxes, and pre-making as much of their lunches as I could.

This morning, Marcie decided she didn't want to wear her new clothes. Or shoes. And I thought we were going to be in big trouble. But then, she told me if I'd wear my exercise shoes (which totally clashed with my outfit), she'd agree to wear hers. So I did.

We walked to school and I helped Casey scout out his new line-up location.


When one of his teachers picked up the class, I wandered back over to the kindergarten playground, just as Marcie's teacher arrived. Her teacher gave me a huge hug and said hello to Marcie, calling her by name (it doesn't hurt that this was Marcie's teacher last year and that her two sons have been responsible, in part for Casey and Marcie's summer care).

We helped Marcie hang up her backpack, watched her sign her name and cut a line, and caught up with one of her summer friends at the I Spy poster to locate some items. Then Marcie and I sat and read while we waited for class to begin. Mrs. F read The Kissing Hand to the kids and then invited us to kiss our kids good-bye.

For a brief moment, I thought Marcie might cry-- and I knew if she did, I would, too. One little girl started crying, then a little boy -- and I thought for sure it was going to set of a chain reaction of little tears. But it did not. Thankfully.

When I returned 3 1/2 hours later to collect Marcie, she found me right away,

pointed me out to her teacher,

and gave Mrs. F a high-five good-bye.

She proudly told me that she'd learned to read. That she'd sung two songs. That I forgot to pack her a spoon in her lunch, but not to worry because she went ahead and just bought one ("and they didn't even charge [her]!").

I'm one proud mama.

DELINDAWATCH 2008

This week I am sponsoring DELINDAWATCH 2008: The February California Bar Exam.

It's simple, really. It's named for a good friend of mine whose name is, if you can imagine, Delinda. You can read about her (and her bar exam plight) at Life After Law School, which is a blog favorite of mine.

You see, Delinda is a good friend of mine who did not pass the July 2007 bar exam, through no fault of her own, I might add. Because she studied like a fiend, I tell you. And I know. Because I was there. And her bar results shocked and stunned me. Not as much as they did to her, but stunning I was nonetheless.

But Delinda is a fighter. And she knew that she'd be able to rock the exam if she took it again. And so began her studying. Which she did while working full time. And part time. Yup. Two jobs. And that doesn't count babysitting gigs, which she did on the side. After all, sans license to practice, the earnings aren't so good. Even with a law degree and a master's degree in tax law.

But like I said, Delinda's a real fighter. I've been having dinner with her every other week. I consider my meals my meager contribution to staving off the starvation-induced studying that often accompanies preparing for the bar exam. I could make sure she had at least one real meal every other week. Not much. But something.

And Delinda's been in good spirits. That's not to say she's not bitter. I don't know how anyone could barely not pass and not be bitter. But she's used her anger and turned it on those bar examiners. Because she's a fighter.

So this week is the February Bar Exam. And Delinda is prepared. Dare I say more prepared than we were this summer. She knows her stuff. And she knows she knows it. But I think some people are worried that contacting her to check in and seeing how she's doing and how the exam is going will stress her out. So I am hosting DELINDAWATCH as the liaison to the outside world from the inside world of the February bar.

This morning was the first day of essays. There were three. I am not indicating the topics here in case there are bar-takers who are on an accommodation of kind and haven't finished all three essays yet. When I saw Delinda for lunch, as I will each day of the bar exam, she sounded good. Like she knew she rocked the exam. Because I'm sure she did. She didn't eat much of her salad, though I did chide her into some Pringles (pizza flavored) and a coupla thin mint cookies (compliments of a co-worker who left them for us all to share). And she looked a little tired. But none of that matters. Because she was in good spirits.

I haven't checked back in with her this evening, but I will on my drive home from work. And I expect a glowing report of how easy the performance test portion of the exam was this afternoon. And a promise of a good night's rest before the six hours of multiple choice questions tomorrow.

If you believe in prayer, say a little one for Delinda tonight. Not that she kicks butt on the test. I think she will anyway. But that she has the grace to handle whatever the exam might throw her way. . .

Esquire

No, not the magazine. Me. I'm official. I was sworn in yesterday morning, and I'm finally an attorney.

This is me taking one of my oaths (I was sworn into California and also the United States Southern District, which allows me to appear in federal court):

And this is me with Jason after the ceremony:

There were a lot of people, and it was a much bigger deal than I thought it'd be. People brought their whole families with them! I didn't even think to bring my kids. I felt a little guilty about that, but really-- bringing them would have been kind of selfish. They would have been antsy and bored and they wouldn't have understood what was going on. So I would have been bringing them just to show off what beautiful children I have. And I went right back to work after-- so pulling them out of school for an hour round-trip drive in the rain would have been a logistical pain, too. Anyway, they have no idea that anything has changed. But it has. I can add another title to the end of my name -- esquire. Oh, and of course, I can dispense legal advice now, too. I guess that's a pretty big deal. (But don't ask me to here, because I won't-- it's against firm policy and a total professional responsibility/malpractice nightmare to do that!

California Bar Exam Results

I wish I could report entirely good news. You see, I'm one of those team players. Although I went into law school with an I-don't-need-any-new-friends attitude, truth be told I never would have survived without my study group, Paul and Delinda. We studied together at least once a week for three years. Honestly, I couldn't have done it without them.

So we had a plan. When results came out, we'd text each other. No matter what. And here's how it all happened:

Around 4:30pm, a bunch of people from the firm took the three of us awaiting our bar results to Karl Strauss for snacks and drinks. We called this the pre-bar-results Novocaine. I had planned to check my results online in the office because of afternoon traffic. But in the end, I didn't. I decided instead to drive home and check them. I figured the website would be all jammed up for the first 15 minutes or so anyway.

On my drive, the first text came in at about 6:04pm. It was Paul. He passed. Then, as I was dialing his number to congratulate him, a second text arrived, from Delinda. It said, "I'm not on the list." When you check your bar results, you get a notification that either says, "This name appears on the list of people passing the July 2007 bar exam" or "No record found" (or something like that).

I called Delinda. I asked her if she double-checked her numbers. If she'd had her husband type it in for her. I told her that it's not final-- the website. That I'd heard of two separate instances where there were glitches and upon checking results later the same evening, people who thought they'd failed really had passed. We talked about what might have gone wrong. I reminded her that this is a blip in her life. It won't matter in the end, even if it doesn't feel that way right now. I said everything I was thinking I'd want to hear if my name weren't on that list. And then we hung up.

On the remainder of the drive, I worried. If Delinda's name wasn't on that list, it was likely mine wasn't either. We studied for that test together. We quizzed each other. We wrote the essays together, took an extra course together. There is nothing I did that she didn't do. And vice versa. She was our team cheerleader. And of all of us, these results mattered-- really mattered to her because she has a job offer dependent on passing the bar exam. Which might explain why she was the most nervous of the three of us-- going into, during, and after the bar. We chatted very briefly following the last day of testing, and she and I seemed to say all the same things on our essays. So her missing name was very worrisome. Particularly because I didn't know my results yet.

When I got home, I didn't even say hello to Jason and the kids. I went straight to the computer. And wouldn't you know it, the Internet was down. I've been having trouble on my computer lately, but I wasn't expecting a glitch while checking bar results! Finally, we got Jason's computer up and running, and I checked my results there.

I passed. Alternately ecstatic and shocked for my friend Delinda, I began texting. By now, the kids were clamoring, and I was writing fast. I could only send the text to half my friends and then had to send a second text message to the other half. On the first half, apparently I wrote that I'd passed the car exam. And once I received a text back from a few people asking what the car exam was, I couldn't even send out a follow up correcting the mistake because I don't know which people I sent that message to and which people got the appropriately typed "bar" exam message. To those who replied to my car message, I responded that the good news was that cars everywhere would be able to receive great legal representation.

All of three of us first year associates at the firm passed. But all that success is slightly overshadowed by knowing Delinda will be taking the test again in February. I personally plan to offer to help her study again. Though I doubt she'll take me up on it since my presence during the summer obviously didn't help. Believe me, I feel such joy and relief that I passed the test. But I'd be much happier if Delinda did, too.

Anyway, I meant what I wrote yesterday-- about perspective. So if you're the praying type, and you feel like saying prayers for my friend, please do. Don't pray that she passes the test. Pray instead for her to have grace. Grace to accept what's happened and move forward. Grace to believe that this is just one test and doesn't define her academic abilities. Grace to focus as she begins studying again. And that she'll have grace during each day of the test. And if you've been praying for me to have grace during the wait-- thanks. I think it helped!

Keeping Things In Perspective

In many ways, the various factions of my life are separate. Like being an adoptive parent. While parenting is integral in every aspect of my life, the fact that we've built our family through adoption is not. The kids are with us now; that I didn't carry them in my uterus doesn't really matter much from one day to the next. But being an adoptive parent is very much a part of who I am. In a way, it's like being part of a club-- you don't really understand what it's like until you've lived it. And I feel connected to other adoptive parents in a way I don't think I otherwise would. But that connection isn't something I think about every moment of every day. So it's odd, in a sense, that being an adoptive parent is helping put the pending bar results in perspective for me.

Yes, today is the magic day the California State Bar results are released electronically to test-takers. The public can't access the information until Sunday or Monday (I'm not sure which). And I suppose it's possible that mis-information could be available online, which is why the Bar cautions all applicants not to rely on their online results and to wait for the mailed results instead. Whatever. No one believes they need to wait. And so, at around 6:00pm tonight I, along with the other nine thousand or so examinees will try to log in at exactly the same time to retrieve our results. I haven't been thinking much about it until the last 48 hours. And I think I'm more nervous now than I felt when I was actually taking the test. It's obviously out of my hands. The results have been compiled. But the not knowing is eating up my stomach. Literally. I slept only a couple hours last night, and I am operating on pure adrenaline.

So what if I don't pass the California bar? I mean, it's not like some giant hook will swoop in to the office and pull me out of my desk. The firm I'm at gives us a second chance-- we can re-take the exam in February. And I have my teaching career as an alternative, as well. I will be embarrassed by my failure. And I will beat myself up. And I will wonder, probably even after my scores arrive in the mail (because you only get your scores if you didn't pass the test), why me? The scariest thing about the potential of failing the bar exam is that I just don't know what more I could have done. I really did give it my best shot. And I know that the failure will eat away at whatever self-confidence I have.

That said, it's a test for crying out loud. Sure, only 78% of the first-time test-takers from my law school passed last July. And the statewide first-time taker pass rate was only 67%. But it's a test nonetheless. We're not talking life and death here. And in the big picture of life, this will-- long from now-- (hopefully) just be one small blip.

Helping me put all this in perspective is the touching story of Hannah, a child who will be returning home from China shortly. Hannah's parents met her for the first time some time in the past few weeks, after traveling to China from Lansing, Michigan. Part way through their trip, after China had finalized the adoption, Hannah's dad, who is diabetic, suffered complications from diabetes and passed away. I can only imagine the shock and grief of meeting my child for the first time, then losing my spouse almost in that same breath. But that's exactly what happened to Hannah's mom, Sandi. And then it go worse. Because the U.S. Consulate initially refused to issue Sandi a visa to return to the United States with Hannah, explaining that her family circumstances had changed and she would need to re-do the paperwork. Yup. Bureaucracy at its finest. Our government was essentially telling Sandi to leave China alone-- no husband, no child.

It didn't end that way, thankfully. Sandi's congressperson was contacted (by over a thousand people who heard about their story through adoption boards and word of mouth), and he sprang into action. It took some string-pulling and wrangling and the involvement of some very important higher-ups, but it looks like Sandi will be able to return home to Michigan with her daughter. Still a family of two instead of three. But a family all the same.

And this got me to thinking about the bar results. It may feel like everything in the world to me in this moment of time. But it's not. I can imagine my world without me being a lawyer. I've been doing it all my adult life. There are so many other, more important parts of my life that define me-- like my family and my friends. In the end, it won't matter how many hours I billed. Or if I passed the bar exam on the first try. Or even if I end up practicing law at all. At the end of my life, what will matter is the relationships I have, the friendships I share, the love of my family.

Now, if I can just keep that in perspective for the next eight hours (and maybe even beyond), I'll be in good shape . . .

Run Off the Road

I've been pretty good about working out on my lunch hour, but today it didn't happen. I tried to run on the treadmill while Casey was at swim class, but Marcie saw me and she wasn't going to leave me in the "wellness" room. So after only five minutes, I stopped. Later after we got home and got the kids settled in eating dinner, I decided to go for a run through the neighborhood.

Now, when I run at night, I wear running shoes with reflectors, I wear a light colored shirt, and sometimes I wear my visor with reflectors or my lightweight running jacket with reflectors (tonight I wore the jacket). Then, I wear a reflector vest so that I'm easily visible.

Also, when I run, I don't run on sidewalks if I can help it. I run on the side of the road, just outside the gutter on the asphalt. I run facing traffic (not with it). And if I see a car headed toward me and there's a parked car in the road, I jump back on to the sidewalk so I don't freak out the driver.

The reason I run in the street is because it's a softer surface and better for my knees. Also, the up and down of the sidewalk with the driveways make it an uneven surface, more likely I'll lose my footing and also not so great for my knees. The reason I run facing/toward traffic is because I want to make sure drivers see me, and even if they don't I certainly see them, so I can get out of dodge if I have to.

I'm pretty careful and pretty respectful. I don't stay in the street on corners where I know cars take the corner tightly. I run in well-lit places. I run through the neighborhood and never on the main thoroughfare because it's better lit and feels safer. If I were to get injured, at least I could crawl to a nearby house or something. And even though I could run on the dirt track at the park at the end of the street, which is lit and closed to cars, there are a lot of bushes and it just doesn't feel self for a girl alone at night.

But tonight some asshole decided it'd be funny to run me off the run. Or to try to. And I don't know that it was a guy. I just have a hard time calling a woman an asshole-- seems like a term more appropriate for a man.

So I was running on a flat part of the neighborhood (there's only one flat section in my neighborhood, and it's less than half a mile stretch). There were two cars heading in my direction. I was just past a streetlight. There were no parked cars on the road. And as this Honda CRV passed me, it veered directly into me, and the driver leaned on the horn.

I was more startled by the horn than the swerve, and I turned to try to catch a glimpse of the license plate, but it wasn't in a lit frame, so I missed it. Plus, I knew there was another car headed my way.

It happened too quickly for me to get all the way up on the sidewalk. And to be honest, if I had made that leap, I would have landed literally into a set of mailboxes. I muttered a couple of choice words that I won't put in writing here. But they sure wouldn't make my mom proud, and I kept on running. I ran through the scenarios-- what if the car came back for me? Where would I go? Would I be confrontational? Would I run like hell in the opposite direction of the car? Should I try to find where the car went so I could report it?

In the end, I just ran. And ran. And felt super paranoid for the remaining 20 minutes of the run. I never saw the CRV again. And I didn't change the way I ran. So if the asshole was trying to "teach me a lesson," all I learned was to pay closer attention to license plate numbers when running in the dark. I mean, really. Was it supposed to be funny? Was I supposed to scream? Was he trying to teach me a lesson? There's no city ordinance against running in the street. Runners and pedestrians in generally don't have to follow the typical road rules followed by cyclists and drivers.

If I'd gotten the license plate number, I really do think I'd file a report. Who wants an asshole like that speeding through their neighborhood? There are much better ways to express yourself than attempting to scare the heck out of someone. Someone trying to keep stress down and weight off, no less. Someone trying to lead a healthy life.

Come to think of it, isn't there a tort I could sue for? I just had a flash back to Bar Review-- and studying assault. In criminal law it has two meanings: attempted battery or intentionally causing anxiety or fear. In tort it's just the latter. . . Hmm. Well, nothing I can do about it now, except keeping my eyes open for the white- CRV-driving asshole in my neighborhood. Yeah. Good times.

Whew. Glad that's over.

At least for now. I survived the July 2007 California Bar Exam. My computer didn't crash. There were no earthquakes. My mind did not go utterly blank, so I had plenty to say on the essays. I finished all the tasks in the "performance test" portion of the test. There were no earthquakes and the power functioned properly the entire time. No one sitting near me freaked out or had a break-down. People were relatively friendly and polite. The proctors were pleasant enough.

So the bottom line is that if I didn't pass this test, it's not because of the environment. And we all know it's not because I didn't study enough. I did every single assignment BarBri gave me. Plus some. And then some more. I did not slack. I did everything "right," and if I didn't pass this test, it will truly be because of my performance. And yeah, I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse, but since I won't be getting any results until November, I am willing myself not to worry about it.

I stayed at a hotel downtown for the past three nights, and although I don't think I actually I slept any better, but it sure was luxurious in the mornings to only worry about getting myself up and out the door. . .

So there you have it. Sort of anti-climactic, I suppose. On the one hand, I feel like celebrating just for making it through. On the other hand, I don't feel like I deserve to celebrate unless I actually passed. And then there is that sense of . . . I don't know . . . loss, maybe? I mean, I have spent the past four years and 10 weeks doing this, and now my life is going to be very different again. Just knowing that feels strange . . . Don't get me wrong; I'm looking forward to the next phase. But change is always hard, especially for those of us who are creatures of routine.

In the meantime, I'm going to be keeping plenty busy. Casey and I are going to Seaworld today. We have a bridal shower tomorrow (kids invited!), and Sunday my sister comes into town just for a few days. Then we are off to Ohio to visit with Casey's birth family, and on to North Carolina to visit with my parents and my childhood best friend.

And in the immediate future, I hear Harry Potter calling my name. I'm re-reading Half Blood Prince before I start Deathly Hallows-- and I must say, keeping away from all media and potential spoilers regarding this last book in the series has been a bit tricky. Even in the midst of the bar exam. But somehow, I've managed. So don't spoil it for me!

And Life Goes On

Even in the midst of the dreaded Bar Exam studying, my life has had its moments of complete normalcy. On the first day of the bar review course, they make a point to those of us with kids that we should essentially ignore them, let whomever is watching them know not to contact us unless they are bleeding. I don't know. Perhaps I'll regret not heeding this advice, particularly if I don't pass the test, but I just couldn't bring myself to ignore them. I've certainly neglected them to some degree, but I've tried to maintain the tiniest amount of, well, normalcy, too.

Here is some evidence:

Um, guess who found my lipstick?

Last night at Red Robin with Joey, helping celebrate his third birthday (which is today):

Giant Vat of Pepto Bismal

When I was in high school, competing in speech & debate, I used to carry around those chewable Pepto Bismal tablets at tournaments and pop them every four hours or so. They turned my tongue black, but they kept my stomach in check.

When I was in college, if I procrastinated on a paper or assignment, a couple days before it was due, I'd break out in hives, or the palms of my hand and my eyes would swell up. It didn't take me long to figure out the cause-- and the solution. Get things done efficiently and in advance. Interestingly, I no longer needed Pepto Bismal for the speech & debate tournaments.

Today my stomach is killing me. I know it's not something I've eaten. I know it's nerves. I know the pending Bar Exam is the cause. It's in three days. Three. Days. That's a long time to have a tummy ache. I finally left the library and came home to study-- I'm hoping being away from all the tension in the air will help my stomach feel better. But I know the truth. It'll only feel better after the exam is over on Thursday. A part of me is irritated by this new development. I have enough to worry about without needing Pepto Bismal on top of it all. And a part of me thinks this is a good thing. It means there is a level of anxiety in me-- a sort of adrenaline, so to speak. And I think if I didn't feel the anxiety, I'd be in big trouble. This is, after all the test. The one that is the key to the profession.

It won't be the end of the world if I don't pass it. But what a waste of a summer. And I know I'll feel embarrassed. I don't know which is more motivating. . .

I don't feel ready, if you're wondering. But another two weeks of studying wouldn't change that. I'm not going to be able to retain any additional information in my brain. Some moments I feel like I'm actually getting stupider-- I realize something new only to forget something I'd already learned. I just have to trust that I know a sufficient amount to get me through, and that's got to be good enough. How zen of me, don't you think?

So that's where I am. Still studying. Still worried. And ever more grateful it's almost over. At least for now.

Dear Wedding Guests

No, I'm not getting married again. But I have several friends (and a sister) who are. And watching them go through it brings it all back . . . quite vividly. My wedding planning actually pretty smoothly. My parents (bless their hearts) insisted on hiring a wedding coordinator to help me because they lived on the other side of the country. And so from Nina I learned everything I needed to know about proper wedding etiquette.

Unfortunately, I am apparently in the minority on that. And I really don't get it. I mean, if you've ever hosted a wedding or been involved in planning one (or a friend to someone who is), how could you not know how to properly read a wedding invitation? Is that snobbery on my part? Perhaps. So here is my letter to those of you who may be invited to a wedding in the near future:

Dear Wedding Guests,

If you have recently been invited to the wedding, please follow these simple rules to aid the Bride and Groom and having a happy wedding day:

1. Please RSVP to the wedding on time. Thousands of dollars and months (or even years) have gone into planning this event. Your response is necessary for determining seating arrangements, expenses, and just so the bride and groom don't go crazy. If you can't go, let them know. If you plan to go, let them know. The key: let them know.
2. If do RSVP that you plan to attend the event, and then something happens which is preventing you from attending, please contact the bride or groom. It doesn't matter that it's the night before. Or the morning of the wedding. Leave a message if no one answers. Even though it's common for a certain percentage of people who have RSVPd to not attend the wedding in the end, it's just polite to let the bride or groom know you won't be there. Life happens. They will understand, but they still care that you aren't there even on the day of their wedding. They invited you after all.
3. Please don't RSVP to bring more people than listed on the invitation. What am I talking about? Check the envelope and see who it's addressed to. If it's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. S, please don't RSVP for Mr. & Mrs. S and your three kids and your kids' friends. Often time space (and budgets) are limited, and those invitations are carefully crafted. If "and family" is not on the invitation, your kids are not invited. Similarly, if you're single and your invitation does not include the phrase and guest it's because the bride and groom are expecting you there solo.
4. If you don't like that your invitation is just to you and your spouse (and not your kids) or just to you (and not your boyfriend or girlfriend), don't bother the bride or groom. It was not accidental. Nothing about wedding invitations are accidental. If you're pissed, don't go. But don't harass the bride or groom into letting you bring a date (didn't we learn this from How I Met Your Mother?).
5. If the invitation or response card actually specifies that children are not included, do not call the bride or the groom (or their parents) and ask if you can bring your kids because they are so well behaved. Or breast-feeding. Or because your babysitter is out of town. It's rude. Your kids are still kids. They aren't invited. If you're in doubt about whether or not your kids are invited, they probably are not.

Oh. One more thing. If you found out that someone you know just got engaged, please don't assume you'll be invited to the wedding. Weddings are expensive affairs, and funds are limited-- this means that if you aren't invited, it's not that the bride and groom don't like you. They just don't like you enough. Just kidding. Seriously, though, don't take it personally-- I like to think of it as an honor when I'm invited, but I'm still happy for friends and colleagues and classmates when they get married and I'm not there to help them celebrate!

Love,

Karen

P.S. All this wedding invitation etiquette talk was prompted by my friend, I'll call her Bride. She is getting married in September and currently studying for the Bar. She's finally turned off her cell phone because she keeps getting calls about the wedding invitations, sent out a week or two ago. This is a rough rendition of the initial exchange between Mother of the Bride (MOB) and Woman (W) after W received Bride's invitation,which says on the response card that children are not permitted at the wedding venue (in this case, it' s liability issue):

W: Hi MOB, I just got Bride's invitation, and I noticed it says children are not included.

MOB: Yes.

W: I don’t understand what this means. My girls are 12 and 13.

MOB: Mmm. Hmm. What don’t you understand?

W: Well, the invitation says no children, but we don't really consider them children.

MOB: Hmm. Well, Bride and Groom haven't included any children under the age of 15 because the venue liability insurance won't permit it.

W: Well, okay.

Now, let's flash forward three days. W calls my friend, Bride. And repeats the exchange. All the while, my friend Bride is thinking: What do you mean you don't consider them children? What are they? Can they vote? Do you let them drive? Can they enter a contract legally? Do you let them gamble? Smoke? Drink? Last time I checked, 12 and 13 year olds were children!

Over-reaction? Maybe. She is studying for the bar. But there's a lesson in here-- don't keep harassing people until you get the answer you want. Seriously. Just be happy you were invited!

A Life More Enriched

This morning Casey was a real pain. I didn't tell him I thought he was being a pain (though I'm sure he sensed my irritation in my tone)-- because lately when I tell him he's being a pain he says, "I not pain. You a pain, Mommy." And that makes me laugh. Which is not the proper response to your child when he's being a pain.

This morning he was being a pain because he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. The one we bought yesterday at Target. The one that's so big, it hangs down to his knees because the smallest size they had was a boys' small. The one he wore all day yesterday. And sweated in. And rolled around in the dirt in. That one. I told him he couldn't wear it because it was dirty and stinky. And I promised he could wear it tomorrow-- that I'd wash it tonight. But he wasn't having it-- he wanted to wear that shirt. So he told me, "I not talking to you, Mommy. I going to ask Daddy." Now, Daddy was still asleep-- with an hour of sleep to go still remaining on our typical schedule. But far be it from me to keep a boy away from his dad, so off Casey stomped to talk to Jason.

Jason dutifully climbed out of bed-- albeit groggily-- and followed Casey back to Casey's room. Casey explained (as best he could) that he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. And I added, "the dirty one," for more complete explanation. Jason told him he couldn't wear it, but that we'd wash it and he could wear it tomorrow-- to pick out something different. Casey seemed to accept this. He grabbed the dirty shirt off the floor and race out the door and into the laundry room. We heard the dryer open and close (I didn't even know he knew how to open it). And he came back and announced it was all ready to be washed. Then he opened his shirt drawer and without further complaint selected a (different) Cars shirt and put it on.

Jason and I later chuckled in the kitchen about how funny it was that Casey really thought one of us would undermine the other.

But then, on my drive to school this morning, I started thinking about how difficult Casey had been when he first awoke-- and that led me to thinking about how well-behaved he was yesterday-- and how much fun we had.

Now, I'm the first to admit that kids can sometimes be, well, for lack of a better term, burdensome. They are whiny. They are needy. They are expensive-- and I'm not talking about the cost of adoption, here. So why bother having kids at all? I mean, especially people like us-- people who have gone really far out of the way to have kids. No accidents here. Our family has definitely been planned. The answer is really simple. Kids really do enrich our lives.

And even when I'm irritated by Casey's insistence in not doing what I've asked, I'm equally impressed by his stick-to-it-ness. I'm impressed by his attempt at problem-solving by asking his dad for help. I'm impressed at him having and expressing opinions-- however much I may not like them.

But that's not all-- I remember how much pure joy Casey and Marcie bring to my small corner of the world. In an otherwise kind of dreary summer (as much as I love school, studying for the Bar really has been no picnic), yesterday was this bright ray of sunshine. . .

It started really quite normally. We left home around 8am with the stroller-- Casey racing ahead of us on the sidewalk, and Marcie strapped in. The sun was already out, sunscreen was appropriately applied, and it was starting to heat up as we made our way to the local Starbucks. We chit-chatted along the way, Casey mostly pointing out the crows-- though Marcie helping with her "caw caw" noises, too.

At Starbucks, we each enjoyed a beverage-- and we took our time. Marcie apparently knows both the words "Starbucks" and the word "coffee" (thanks, Mom), despite the fact that we frequent neither with any real sense of routine. Marcie had been carrying our miniature flag, and Casey wanted a turn, so we decided to stop into Target on the way home to see if they had any (they didn't). Outside the Target, Casey asked Jason what the flag was for. Thinking out loud (trying to come up with a response), Jason's said, "What is the flag for . . ." and before he could finish, Casey cried out, "In de pants!" Jason and I looked at each other in surprise. "What a great answer," Jason commented, and I of course agreed-- Independence!-- much better than what I could have come up with! And heck-- I didn't even know Casey knew any four syllable words!

Even though they didn't have a flag, it didn't stop us from contributing to the economy; we splurged on some pajamas for Marcie and a couple t-shirts-- this is where Casey picked out his new, favorite shirt. Marcie insisted on a shirt just like Casey's, so we got her one, too. And we trekked on home. By then, it was much hotter, and Casey was tired, so we took turns pushing the stroller and carrying Casey on our shoulders (even though it's a double stroller, he sometimes refuses to ride in it).

At home, we played a bit with the kids. Casey called his birth family and got to talk to his brother and his sister and his cousin. He was absolutely gleeful during the conversation. He is so excited that he has a big brother and big sister. Around 11am, Casey got lunch started for the kids. We told them I was going to study, I kissed them good-bye, and I disappeared into the study, in hopes they wouldn't look there for me (they didn't). I studied while they napped.

And after nap time, the real fun began. We played a little in the backyard-- mainly because Marcie discovered the water table full of water and began splashing about. Then we went to our local Fourth of July celebration. In our city, we have a 100 year old steam engine, and on 4th of July, when you ride it, there is an Old Fashioned, staged shoot-out. Casey was terrified of the gunfire. He lept out of my arms and into Jason's. Marcie, on the other hand, couldn't crane her neck far enough to enjoy the show. (Hmm. One daredevil. One not so much. Wonder which one will be riding the roller coasters with me . . .)

When we got home, some friends of ours were there waiting, with their 2 year old. A bit later another couple and their 13 month old arrived (now walking!). And the kids played. And played. Well, with the help of the dads. They got filthy. Filthy! Now this is totally my fault. Our backyard is just a dirt yard at the moment. The trampoline really needs to be washed down. So between kicking the soccer ball, sliding down the slide onto the hard, dirt ground, and rolling around during baseball playing, Casey (and Marcie) got a little grimy. And so did their friend Lucas.

Not to worry, though. After dinner, we tossed the boys into the bathtub, where they dumped water on each others heads and eliminated the grime. They were so dirty, it actually left a ring of dirt in the tub. While Marcie was getting her bath, we let Kate (the 1 year old) chase the naked boys around the living room and play area until they put on their pajamas. Then, once the kids were in their pajamas, we danced to Lollipop and Rockin Robin. Boy, their friend Lucas sure does know some cool dance moves. Three bed time stories later, it was time to say good bye to our friends and put Casey and Marcie down for the night. We had initially planned to go see fireworks, but we were just too tired.

I don't think I've laughed and smiled so much since I started studying for this test. Every once in a while, I wonder what it must be like to be preparing for this exam without a supportive spouse or partner and without children-- to just live alone, to be experiencing it alone. On the one hand, I guess it might be nice to have nothing and no one else to worry about. To not have to try and figure out which days you'll make it home in time for bedtime kisses or (gasp) even a family meal. To not be awoken multiple times throughout the night because someone is scared or thirsty or has to go potty. To not have to make four breakfasts and two lunches each morning before you can leave. To not have six loads of laundry each week (at least!). You know, to just worry about yourself.

But then, on the other hand, I cannot imagine my life without my fabulous children (and Jason, of course-- that goes without saying, really). Especially right now. Because as much as I know I need to spend time studying, I know that it's my family that helps provide me balance. I may have totally disengaged with friends and extended family during the past six weeks or so while I've been intensely focused on the preparing for this exam, but I haven't disengaged from my kids. Not emotionally. And not mentally. They really are such a bright spot in my otherwise kind of drab world-- I am so very lucky to have a family, to have my family-- my kids really have given me a life more enriched.

Stealing Moments

I never imagined I could feel busier than I did while working, helping raise two children, and attending law school at night. But I do. I spent hours upon hours listening to lectures, then in the library. Then I come home to a quiet house and try to study some more. I find myself looking forward (!) to being startled out of a deep sleep somewhere between 5:45am and 6:15am because it's my special (and most days of late) only time with them.

I was really looking forward to this morning because it's been a full week since I've had more than 2 hours in a row to play with them. . .

This morning, while we were outside adjusting the bubble machine, I noticed a lizard on the back fence. "Casey," I whispered loudly. "Look at that lizard." I pointed to it just as the lizard rose up on what I imagine to be its tippy toes, and scurried a bit.

"Come on, Mommy," he whispered loudly back. But I didn't have my shoes on, and I feared if I went inside to find some (wherever Marcie had hidden them), I wouldn't make it back in time to get an up-close view of our lizard friend.

"No, Casey. You go. Before it runs away."

He hesitated. Then looked back and forth between me and the lizard, and finally he grabbed Marcie's hand and whispered loudly to her, "Come on, Marcie. Let's go see the wizard." She held his hand tightly as they slowly stepped across the dead patches of what used to be grass in our backyard. And they came to a stop about a foot and a half from the fence. I could still hear Casey, though, as he whispered to Marcie, "We have to be very quiet and very slow so we don't scare the wizard." (yeah, sometimes his Ls are a lot like his Ws)

I actually got choked up. I'm sure that has nothing to do with being over-tired. But seriously, how cute is that! To see my 4 year old taking such good care of my 18-month-old. To see him behave in such a gentle way. To see him teach her something he'd learned.

I am so grateful I got to steal that moment with the kids. . .

Coming Apart at the Seams

I've been staring at books and computers too long. I actually changed the spelling of seams in the title of this post three times before I settled on using an a in it instead of an e. Yes, I realize they have completely different (and unrelated) meanings. That should tell you something about the fog my brain is currently covered in.

It's me. I'm the one coming apart at the seams. My week-long wait between posts has not been because I have nothing to say (that's a rarity few people have experienced!). I've just been swamped. This studying for the bar stuff--- let's just say I feel like I fell into the deep end of the pool, and although I know how to tread water and I used to know how to swim, I still don't have the confidence to just start swimming. . . I still leave my house between 7:15am and 7:30am, and I still roll home some time around 10pm most nights. But now I spend all those intervening hours cramming 12-15 legal subjects (depending on how you divide it up) into my tiny brain. It's exhausting.

But that's not what's done me in. What's done me in is . . .

Ta Da!

STREP THROAT. AGAIN.

So in the month of May, I had the joy of strep throat, a few days of health, followed by a bad head cold, and then another bout of strep throat. Good times. I must say, I am seriously wonder if Casey and Marcie are carriers who just keep giving it back to me. I mean, I have to be contracting it from somewhere. And strep throat, untreated, can lead to rheumatic fever. Which can damage your heart. So if the kids do have it and are demonstrating absolutely no symptoms (as is the case here), what is a parent to do? Yes, I called the pediatrician. They told us not to bother if there are not symptoms. Despite the fact that a month ago when they had no symptoms, they both had strep throat.

Anyway, I'm feeling better today-- I started antibiotics on Friday. Spent the weekend in the library (shocking). And I'm in the library now. Taking a very short break in between completing practice essay outlines on Evidence and starting to compile my Criminal Law outline.

Noteworthy, I think, is the new vocabulary that has crept into our home:
CASEY now says things like, "Mommy go to library to study?" And understands (at least seems to) that I have "big test" coming up. He's also figured out that "Mommy goes to school" even when "school is closed." I like to think I'm just setting him up for a future life of academia-- right? I mean, if Mommy always studies, that must be what people do. . . Yep. I'm role-modeling.

He's also taken up baseball, and darned if he isn't actually good at it! He loves swinging the bat (right-handed-- even though he's mainly a lefty). And he is pretty on-target with hitting the ball off the tee, too. Turns out you have to be 5 to play Little League around here-- so I hope his interest lasts!

MARCIE doesn't understand that I'm studying. She has developed quite an affinity for Jason in the mornings, though. This morning, she crept into our bedroom while I was putting on shoes, put her pointer finger over her mouth and said, "SHHH!" while she pointed to Jason, asleep. She has also added the word "train" and "Thomas" and even "Peep! Peep!" to her list of words and phrases.

That's all that's really been going on. Thanks for all your congratulatory thoughts-- especially Ruth if you're reading this. I was shocked that, with all you have going on, you popped in to see my little old blog. Shocked isn't the right word. Touched is. And if you don't know about Ruth, and you're interested, you can check out her blog. She's a fighter!

Drumroll please . . .

So I've been away from blogging for an entire week. And, very uncharacteristically, I've also been away from reading other blogs for most of the week. I'm starting to go through withdrawal!
When I left off, I was anxiously awaiting the results of my final exams to see where I'd pan out in class rank at the end of it all. I was also coming down with a pretty nasty cold. As for the cold, I'm doing much better -- no thanks to my bar review schedule, though. Monday I studied for about 4 hours after our Barbri class, and I landed in bed completely dizzy and wiped out. I felt better Tuesday, but after 5 hours of a Barbri torts lecture and another 3 hours of studying, I went to another three hour lecture. Wednesday I took it easy because my parents were in town, and we celebrated my mom's 33rd birthday. Obviously, it isn't really my mom's 33rd birthday-- and my mom's not the kind of lady who's hung up on age at all. It's just that I forgot to buy candles, and since Jason and I both celebrated our 33rd birthdays this past November, we had two #3 candles lying around, which we used. We had delicious carrot bundt cake and cheesecake, too.

Thursday was grueling. The Barbri lecture (by one of my all-time favorite legal scholars-- Erwin Chemerinsky!) was from 9-5. I immediately went to another torts lecture following that-- finishing my day around 10pm. Then Friday I took it easy. After Barbri, Jason and I ran some errands and headed out with my parents to the law school awards ceremony.

There's no way I'll be able to keep this pace and survive all the way until the end of July-- but this is graduation week, so I've sucked it up for now, and I'm hoping to settle in to a normal routine this coming week.

Here's the basic run-down on the graduation stuff.

Friday night was the awards ceremony. I think it was pretty close, but in the end, I did end up getting the Legal Scholar Award. This was given to me because I earned the highest GPA in the evening division of law school. There aren't a lot of us in the evening division-- which basically just means among those who attended school part-time over 4 years instead of full-time for 3 years. But I worked hard to keep this standing, and I really wanted this award. It came with a very generous cash gift. We went to Spaghetti Factory for dinner because that's what I really wanted. We never go there (even though it's a great price) because the kids don't eat pasta. So it was a treat for me.

Then, this morning, at graduation, they asked me to put a doily on my mortar board. Being a traditionalist and not wanting anything on my cap, initially I refused. "No thanks," I said. "I'm kind of a traditionalist."

"It's for Order of the Coif," they explained. Order of the Coif is a national honor society-- not every school is able to initiate members into this society. And the students admitted must be in the top 10 % of their graduating class. My school inducted 33 members. I was one of them. They did a special induction during the awards ceremony during which we were recognized. It was cool.

During the graduation ceremony, there were two main speakers. A prestigious keynote-- one of the Supreme Court of Minnesota justices (whose name escapes me at the moment). He spoke about legal ethics and the importance of being ethical in practice. I missed most of the speech because I was reviewing intentional torts and defamation elements in my mind (still trying to memorize). The other speaker was our class valedictorian-- who gave an entertaining and engaging speech dispelling three myths of law school graduation. She also touched a bit on ethics-- she explained that a friend of hers received a reference request for her moral character application. The request read: Does this applicant hold herself up to the standard you expect of an attorney in the legal profession? He wanted to to know if it was a joke-- would it be more helpful to answer that question in the positive or the negative, given the reputation of the legal profession today . . .

Anyway, when they read names, they also indicated the honors the individual received. So students learned as they were walking across stage whether they were in the top 5% or the top 15% (or if they were in either). I knew I was in the top 10% from receiving Order of the Coif, but I was delighted to learn I graduated magna cum laude, which means I was in the top 5% of the graduating class!

So there you go. Law school is officially over. I am officially a graduate. I worked my butt off. My husband worked his tail off holding the family together. My in-laws were our safety net, watching the kids whenever we needed their help, always encouraging me. My siblings and siblings-in-law stepped up time and again when I needed someone to watch the kids or help me out with something. My parents listened to me gripe about the test or grades or whatever. My friends reminded me that I need to strive for balance in my life-- that life is not just about law school. And my kids . . . . well, they're a major part of the reason I went to school in the first place. I loved teaching, but being an attorney means they get a stay-at-home parent (hopefully in the next two years). So while everyone congratulated me and celebrated me today because I was the one who read the books and outlined the material and wrote the exams-- I know this accomplishment isn't just about me. It's about all those people who pushed me along the way.

And I'll just mention one other thing. I didn't get into law school. I was rejected from every school to which I applied, and only wait-listed at the University of San Diego School of Law. I'm not sure why-- I actually had the numbers for any of the schools. I guess I didn't show well on paper. Regardless, a mere three days before the start of orientation, USD offered me a spot off the wait-list, and I accepted it-- with a lot of prodding from my parents and Jason. I find great satisfaction in being the kid who didn't even get accepted-- but still earned the highest GPA in my unit and graduated among the top 16 people in the school. It just goes to show you that you can't always judge a person by what they look like on paper.


Photo credits: My mom and Casey at her birthday party, me and Marcie before I left for graduation (Casey refused to take a photo with me, while I shouted after him, "You'll regret that decision in 10 years when you want to know where your picture with me is!"- he didn't seem to care), Jason and me, Jim and me and Yee (me with my in-laws) , me with my parents, my study group (Paul & Delinda)-- who are going to help me prepare for and pass the California bar!

Yep. It's Over. Sort of.

Today was my last law school exam. So I'm finished. Unless I failed one of the exams. Which is unlikely. I mean, I know I didn't bomb either of them. Besides, the rumor is that if you do fail a final exam, they have you either write a paper on the topic or retake the test until you pass it. Of course, that all has to happen in the next 9 days or so because graduation is a week from Saturday.

I felt really prepared for both exams. I honestly don't think additional studying would have helped me perform on either of them. Yet I do not feel like I nailed either of them. And in law school, it's never just about you you do-- it's about how you do in comparison to everyone else.

Why do I care? As has been pointed out to me-- I have a job lined up for the fall. My grades don't really matter. I'm not going to be class valedictorian or anything. And even if I did earn Ds in these last two courses, I would still graduate in the top 10% of my class. . .

Well, the answer to that is fear. Pure and simple. I have been number one in my section (not the school, mind you-- just my puny section of students who began law school in the fall of 2003 and will graduate in 2007) since the fall of 2004. That's a long time. And a lot of pressure. Especially since there's no award for being first in the Evening section. Except that there is. An award. For being number 1. And I happen to know that number 2 is less than .05 behind me. So my performance this week will actually determine if I am awarded an honor for being first in my section. It's not the end of the world if I don't get it. I'm still graduating. With honors. But it'd be a bummer to work this hard for this long and then not get that darned award. Of course, I'm sure the #2 person feels similarly!

So even though law school is over and the bar is still a couple months off, I have managed to find something to be obsessed and high-strung about. What a shock.

In the meantime, to help calm my nerves while waiting for the actual awards and graduation ceremonies, I am . . .

Studying.

My first bar review course started Monday (the day before yesterday). I skipped (gasp!) the first two classes because they conflicted with my final exams, and I'll make up the bar review classes next week.

Geesh. Talk about giving a girl a little bit '0 stress. Have her finish her last final and begin studying for the bar exam before she even gets to celebrate the graduation part!

Oh well. I guess I'd better get used to not having any real vacations if I'm going to be an attorney!

Sporadics

My posting over the next week or so will likely be sporadic. Really, hasn't it always been? But I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed these days-- treading water, mostly. I have to wrap up work and prepare for finals and begin studying for the bar all in the next two weeks. Less time than that, really. And I'm having trouble holding everything in my head. I mean, holding it in there in consistent spurts of time to write it down to hand over to someone else to take care of, anyway.

The kids continue to amuse me, though. They are my shelter from the storm of wrapping up school and final exams. Sometimes I find myself so filled with frustration with them (like when they sweetly refuse to brush their teeth, or put on clothes, or whatever it is I'm asking) I want to explode. And then one of them will do something that just knocks me off my feet and sends my spiraling into tizzies of laughter.

I know I'll never get these years of their lives (or mine) back. So I'm really trying to appreciate the small moments with them. Casey has begun telling me, "You be James, Mommy," when we play with the Thomas tracks. And asking me to set them up to run in a particular pattern. We like to pretend one of our trains gets stuck, and the other one is going to be really useful and a good friend and come help out the stuck train. Even Marcie likes to push the trains on the track, and Casey has gotten much better about sharing them with her and allowing her to play.

Marcie, too, amazes me daily. She hates having us feed her-- wants to do it herself. Casey would let you spoon feed him baby food until he was pretty much 3. We didn't, mind you, but he would have let us. Marcie, on the other hand, really wants to be independent. Last night, for instance, she refused to take a sippy cup of water handed to her. She pushed it away and said, "No." As soon as it was set down on the table, though, she picked it up and began sucking down the liquid. And she answers questions and follows directions. She's had the "no" down for a while now. But she also says, "yeah," which cracks me up.

So I have just two more days at work (until August, when I return for several weeks before moving on to the law firm). I have two more final exams. And two weeks until graduation. I have two weekends before my first Bar Review course begins. I have two children, too. Hmm. The number 2 seems to figuring prominently in my world these days. I'm cool with that.

Not with a bang, but a whimper

Thursday was supposed to signify the end of the substance of my law school career. No offense to my Negotiations professor, but that topic-- while quite practical-- isn't exactly substantive. Sure, it's nice to know the fancy names for strategies like good guy-bad guy (a.k.a. good cop, bad cop), splitting the difference, and the visceral opponent, but really, that class comes down to practice. So my last class of substance was to be this past Thursday. The culmination of four long years of law school in my Constitutional Law II course.

It happens that I really like the professor in that class. I find him entertaining. The material is quite relevant and timely (because it's all about civil rights), and it's a subject matter that will be tested on the Bar exam.

But I didn't attend class on Thursday. You see, my throat has really been bothering me, and at the gentle prodding of one of the administrative professionals in the office, I decided to take a trip to the doctor for a strep throat test. It came back positive. Along with a diagnosis of a double ear infection. And I found myself thrown back in time to my first year-- my first semester-- of law school.

Now, when you're a first year law student (or a 1L), you don't miss class. Because you're scared to. And your professors make a really big deal of it. There were two pregnant women in my first year property class. Neither one missed even a full week after giving birth to their children. Our professor wasn't what you might call understanding about these sorts of things. As someone who's been out in the work force for more than a decade now, I find it slightly appalling that no adjustments are made for women giving birth, but whatever. When we went to China to get Marcie in the fall, I missed two full weeks of class. I didn't exactly have an option. And I didn't give my professors one. ABA rules allow you to miss a certain percentage of class, and I knew as long as I didn't miss more than those two weeks, I'd be fine. And I was.

In fact, in the past four years, I've missed 11 classes. Total. That includes the two classes I missed the spring of my second year for work travel. And the one class I missed in the fall of my third year because I was in the semi-finals of a moot court competition which conflicted (I eventually won the competition). And the six classes I missed this past fall for our trip to China. And the class I missed to do my mock trial, which was my final exam for a class this spring. And then this past Thursday.

Eleven sounds like a lot. But it's not, considering I attended class four nights a week for something like 30 weeks a year. Some nights I had more than one class, even. In fact, I have taken twenty-two academic classes. Say an average of two classes per week, fifteen weeks each. So 22 (courses) x 2 (classes/week) = 44. Multiply that times 15 weeks, and you get 660 class meetings. Wow. Can that be right? If it is, and I've missed 11 of 660 classes, that's around .016 or 1.6% of course time total in four years. Not bad. Though, that depends on whether or not you think attending class is worthwhile. For me, law school is just far too expensive to justify blowing off a class.

Anyway, I was saying I have strep throat. So I didn't go to class on Thursday. Instead, I picked up Casey from preschool, grabbed Marcie from her grandmother's house, and took them to the pediatrician to be tested. Casey spent our time in the waiting room running back and forth across the area while I timed him with my stopwatch. When we got into the room to see the doctor, he drove the toy truck around, loudly providing sound effects. And after the doctor swabbed his throat to run the quick culture, he sat on the table and sang. Loudly. When she came back in to run the same tests on Marcie, she commented on his energy level. "Yeah," I quipped, "he doesn't seem sick. But if you think this is high-energy, you should see him healthy!"

The culture sat while she checked out Marcie. Who has two ear infections. Hmm. Sound familiar?

It turned out Casey was positive for strep. Marcie was not, though they agreed to run the longer culture and start her on antibiotics anyway for the ear infections. The kids and I spent Thursday afternoon eating ice cream and watching Ice Age together.

So I missed class. I left a long, rambling, apologetic voice mail message for the professor, and I followed up with an e-mail. . . . what a bummer of a way to end law school. Absent.

When I was a 1L, I attended my final property class of the semester. With strep throat. I told the professor I had it, and I asked if I could sit in a different seat because the woman next to me was pregnant. I was expecting him to tell me to go home, but he didn't. So I stayed through class. I grew progressively sicker over the days that followed, despite the antibiotics. I stopped eating. Couldn't drink. My throat was swelling larger and thicker. I was listless. I was dizzy. I couldn't drive. My mom flew in to help take care of me, forcing Popsicle after Popsicle into me to nurse me back to health. My doctor later confided that he was surprised I didn't end up hospitalized due to dehydration. I missed my first final exam. I called the school and asked if I would be able to lay down if I needed to during the test. They told me to reschedule it, and I did (I did need a doctor's note for that). I laugh when I think about my question now. It must have sounded very strange to them because in law school exams every minute matters. There would have been no time to lie down for a minute if I became dizzy.

It all sounds so crazy to me now. How frantic I felt. And even this time when I found out I had strep throat-- I called a friend of mine who sits next to me in class:

"Should I go and wear a mask?" I asked him.
"Don't be crazy," he said. "You should stay home and take care of yourself."
"But what if he talks about the final?"
"Then I'll tell you what he said."
"And what about the new material?" I worried.
"You took a class on the topic last semester." (He was right; I did.)
"Okay. Then I'll stay home. But please e-mail me the notes right after class."
"I promise. I will." And he did, too.

So even though I do have a Negotiations class on Monday evening, I feel like law school is kind of over. Except for finals, of course. I've been a student for half my married life. I was a mother for a mere 8 months without also being in school. Don't get me wrong-- I'm in for one heck of a summer of studying while I prepare for the Bar Exam. But my last class-- well, I guess it was rather anti-climactic. Since I wasn't even there.

It reminds me of the T.S. Eliot poem The Hollow Men, which ends like this:

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

His poem was about the Lost Generation, lost hope, and the emptiness of humanity. I don't think law school has been been hopeless or meaningless. But I sure didn't go out with a bang. Me with my strep throat and double ear infection. I think it's pretty fair to say I went out with a whimper. Or at least whimpering.