Where the Home Is.

I was preparing for trial three weeks ago. Here's how it went. Baby and I were sick the week prior. Finally got over the flu the week of. Daddy had design review and had to work late the entire week of. The weekend of, our friend flew in to stay with us for the coming two months. Daddy and friend hung out the entire weekend while I had to hire a baby sitter to watch baby for 10 hours. The night prior, baby was screaming at me, banging at the door, while I tried to frantically wrap things up with my trial notebook in the bedroom. Finished at 10 p.m. Grabbed baby and calmed her down with a bottle. Baby falls asleep at 11:30 p.m. Meanwhile, daddy is watching t.v. outside. 11:30 pm, I iron my clothes for the next day. Next morning, trial. No breakfast. Too much coffee. I don't know how I got through it.

Sometimes I wonder if the situation is one which truly fosters and support my aspirations. There are times in which it feels like I'm fighting my way out of a box. Clay keeps telling me I should use the coupons for the housekeeper he purchased as a gift for me several months ago. The coupons are good for maybe 6 or 7 visits. Who's going to take care of the house the rest of the days out of the year? I'm burnt out just keeping up with the weekly cooking, dishes, laundry, sweeping, baby sitting, dog sitting, etc. together with work, which amazingly has been bleeding into my weekends. I'm not even working full time.

Once in a while, I'll run into the more successful female attorneys in town who are themselves mothers of young children. In nearly half the cases, the father is the stay at home spouse/parent. He never seems too happy to me either about the current state of his profession. Sometimes I think, deep down inside, all Clay wants is a stay at home wife who will bear his children, cook him dinner, let him alone to enjoy his life, keep his house clean, and be smart enough to have entertaining conversation with. That seems to be the case already now. Lately, I've found myself running up against a wall. On all six sides. I find myself asking again the question of where I'd have the energy and time to do more than I am now. We both want a second child. But I can't foresee the amount of support necessary for me to pursue both my career and a family.

Most of the spouses in this town are stay at home mothers. When I tell Clay about the difficulties of being an out of town Kohler-spouse trying to acheive balance between work and family, he refers me to his female coworkers with infants who are able to work full time and take the kids to swim lessons every week. I don't know what he thinks their lives are like? I don't think he'd be happy with overcooked lasagna or reheated meat loaf every night. What does he think it takes to get him what he's getting when he comes home each night?

I worry. I worry about my future in this town. Clay tells me that I don't realize how easy I have it here. Cost of living being so much greater in the metropolitan areas, not including the commute and the fierce competition (I highly doubt as far as my field of practice goes in this fish bowl of pirranahs I've been practicing in) I'd be lucky if I could even find a job that would accomodate my current schedule. I don't know what my expectations are with a bigger city. I miss the color and energy. I miss being around my own peers. I miss the different options for entertainment. It would be lovely to escape on a pms day like today into a museum with Kaolin for an hour before lunch and find inspiration through some real fantastic art and history. Maybe my career and life options in a larger city wouldn't be much different from what it is here. But I'd feel more connected there. This year marks the fifth year we've lived in this town. Beyond the birth of my daughter having taken place in this town, I still haven't found one real constant thing which connects me...which makes me feel at home. It's sad and I'm desperately trying to find it. The hope is that it is just around the corner and I simply need to work hard enough to get to it.

Going in for the dunk.

I am so tired of life on the cusp. Time finally feels like it's on my side and I'm one step away from controlling my own destiny. How many more questions needs to be answered before I can cash in on some holy points? It's difficult but I have several things juggling which must be aimed flawlessly before the end of this year. I must accomplish them all. There is no room for failure. I pray to God and all my ancestors to help me through. However, the feeling is, this one's on me entirely. This is my final examination. The prize is something even bigger on the other side. Note to self, there's no room for bullshit.

The letter! The letter!

The USPTO's letter finally arrived last Friday. My window period for the exam is going to be between September 9th through December 5th. Today is the 7th and next week I hope to close my first case. As one door closes, the other door reopens. A lot is coming together at the same time. I believe things happen in a certain order for certain reasons. The fact that my application for the exam has been sitting unnoticed on someone's desk for two months has been a blessing in disguised. In that time, I've had the opportunity to manage my first case and accept a part time job teaching legal writing to paralegals. Everything has occurred backwards according to my plans, but the list is still being checked off within the originally planned time frame. Maybe in another year, I'll understand the reason why things happenned in the order that it has.

Meanwhile, Kaolin is turning two years old next Tuesday. I can't believe how proud I am of her. She's not yet two but can already speak in full sentences, has a mind of a precocious teenager, and has fully potty trained herself without anyone's help. Although it remains hard, trying to balance family and work, the fact that I own my schedule and my career entirely is liberating. I think my daughter senses it too. She still attends daycare full time, but that's probably not a bad thing. I see her flourishing socially. When she comes home, she is ready for the next thing and she has my full attention. No computers. No t.v. No cell phone calls. We cook together, eat together, play together, read and sing together, and fall asleep together. It's less time with me, but it's jammed packed full and extra condensed mommy time. Combine this with a full day of socializing, learning and playing, she's really getting double the stimulation most kids get when they're at home with a working parent. It's really impossible to be fair to either your job or your child when you put the two together. Not only are you putting your clients' case at a greater risk for error, your poor child spends the entire day feeling rejected due to your need to work. Talk about developing an inferiority complex and suffering from lack of stimulation. I know how that feels personally. There's no need to put her through it. Things are working out for us so far. I'm thankful.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a letter to Warren Brown, owner and proprietor of Cake Love. I'd just passed the Wisconsin bar, after a long ordeal of difficulties with the exam. Then came the job search. I must have been sending out ten resumes a week. Sitting before the television, with the food network on mute and the lap top buzzing away with clickity clicks of my key board, I was struggling. I remember the bright sunlight of the morning, the feeling that I had encountered an invisible wall of discrimination and in the background, foodnetwork's new show about cooks who had changed profession. Warren Brown was on, demonstrating his process for making german chocolate cake and strawberry shortcakes. Cake? My brain switched from lawyer to baker and I turned off the mute button. I heard Mr. Brown tell his story about his prior life as an attorney. I wondered how long he'd been practicing for. The cakes were delicious and he explained how he too had struggled to realize his passions in life. He seemed so happy and passionate about baking cake. This was the inspiration behind the name of his bakery, "Cake Love". The name continues to inspire me to find that kind of love in my career. The tears begin to fall uncontrollably from all the frustrations I had encountered since I'd moved to Wisconsin. I was moved to meet another person who had been where I was then, found his truth and changed his destiny. I was desperate to know what my destiny was but the timing was not ripe yet. So I wrote a long emotional letter to Warren Brown thanking him for sharing his inspirational story. A little over a year later, over New Years Eve, I received a letter from Mr. Brown of Cake Love. A really awesome warm and encouraging card reminding me where the light is. I hang it over my refridgerator, tangible proof of accomplishment and bravery.

tick-tock

I've been living the Howard Hughes life these past few months. Pure isolation. Just not worth getting out of the house and wasting time. It feels like I am waiting for something big to happen but time keeps on dragging. Each day I check the mail for a letter from the PTO with my registration information. But no mail in sight. So it's patent exam limbo land till whenever. Ugghh. Meanwhile, other things are going on that weighs on my heart and mind. My profession gives me a heavy heart and makes me wonder if it's even healthy for me. Compassion fatigue is the new classification for what many family lawyers go through. I just want to invent the next toothpick - floss, make a few million dollars and retire. Switch tracks. Clear the slate. I think that this will be the last case I'll have on my plate for a while. Right now, all I want to do is to go to quiet church and be anonymous with God. However, the blood sucking Lutheran churches in this town stress me out and they all have contact lists. Guess it'll just be the computer and more work and more waiting. Nothing worse than waiting. Why didn't I become a pharmacist?

The Past and Future

Summer is finally around us in Sheboygan and everyone is desperately accomplishing as much sun-filled activities as possible. This is Kaolin's first summer in which she can actually stretch her legs, run around and be a free soul. I'm so excited for her and am trying not to be too much of a hermit so that she can get her fill of sunny days. The winter here is too long and some years, too dark.

Two days ago, I had an epiphany. It was the most perfect day I'd experienced in a long long while. After pouring over my books for 6 gruelling hours, I went for a 2 mile jog. I felt so balanced. My mind, body and spirit were humming in harmonious connection that afternoon. Following the run, I decided to water the plants. And that lead me into a meditation...we live in a very nice simple place. Simple is a luxury so many people would pay anything for. I am living the Winslow Homer life. I don't know why I hadn't seen it before?

This morning I entered the restroom and was caught off-guard by a long forgotten familiar flowery scent. It was from a brand of body soap we hadn't purchased in a long time. I was instantly seized and transferred to another place, in the tiled bathroom of our old Dobbs Ferry apartment. It was my second year in law school, our best friend Nancy Casadone lived downstairs, autumn was long and brilliant, we'd walked to our favorite local diner on Sundays and spend lazy afternoons reading over coffee at the bookstore...we'd take monthly escapes to the city and meander for hours through the Metropolitan Museum. Those days seem like a golden haze that's so far away, like another carnation of myself in another dimension separated by a glass wall, by time. I miss the spicey scent of fall in New York. I miss those drives through the greenary of the Saw Mill parkway and exploring Connecticut's country side. Mostly, I lament the fact that I am growing old and that those memories are now lost to time, with no witness or souveniers. Only our memories.

Life, at a certain point, becomes measured by achievements and action rather than by ticking minutes. Two years can go by and if the goal is simply focused on just one matter, that goal being met, you are effectively on the right track. This November marks our fifth year in Sheboygan. What a whirlwind experience that's been slow in the making. These past five years ticked by with an eternity of seconds. Yet I don't know how I managed to squeeze everything in. Clay and I are now talking about the next phase in our lives. I wonder how it will unfold.

It's Friday and the last day of a gruelling 3 day training session. My mind is mash potato and my emotion is spaghetti. I sit with my computer to the corner of the conference room, relegated here by plug access. Not totally isolated since I'm sitting next to two other people. But these past 3 days has been a constant intellectual and emotional battle against myself, against the purpose of this course, and against the purpose for why these other lawyers are here as well. We are being trained in mediation. It's quickly occurring to me that divorce mediation is a business practice in counseling and lawyering by lawyers who aren't counselors and are forbidden to act as lawyers.