The Menagerie

How not to interview for your dream job

1. Have very flushed complexion, because the stupid steroids give you hot flashes;
2. Cough up half a lung during the interview, because the residual bronchitis just will NOT give you a rest;
3. Have to ask for water during interview, because just can't stop coughing;
4. Get almost no sleep the night before; and
5. Forget 75% of the brilliant and insightful things you wanted to say.

Other than looking like Richard Nixon in the Nixon/Kennedy debate, I thought it went rather well.  It's very odd - I haven't interviewed for a job in 9 -- count 'em, 9 -- years.  However, after law school, trial court appearances, and oral arguments in the Oregon Court of Appeals -- and you know, growing up -- it wasn't nearly the terrifying experience I'd remembered. 

I do apologize for blog silence, but seriously, did you want to hear about the third antibiotic they're trying on me? 

In other, more interesting news, Peach hugged me.  I was on the phone, sitting on the floor in her room, and thought she was just trying to climb up me.  I absently supported her while she put one arm around my shoulder and the other arm around my neck -- and rested her head on my chest.  A few minutes later, I realized that no, she wasn't sleeping, she wasn't climbing, and she wasn't on her way somewhere else - she was just enjoying leaning against me and holding on.  It was awesome. 

No senate subcommittee necessary

After feeling almost normal yesterday (no naps, much accomplished), this morning I was back to feeling as though my left ear had filled with water.  So, back to the doctor I went (third time in a week), and emerged this time with a prescription for a steroid to reduce inflammation in my ear.

We'll see.  So far I'm just fidgety and irritated, but if I pitch a no-hitter or lie to Congress, I'll let you know.

It's a small thing, but when the young physician came in the room, shook my hand then immediately picked up my book with interest and asked "what's this about?", I was very gratified when I managed to pop out with, "A social history of England in the decades prior to Victoria.  Scenes of Hogarthian debauchery, that sort of thing."   The impressive bit isn't the words, but that I spit the words out just after his opening the door woke me up from a ten minute doze.  Normally I'm confused on my name after waking up.

I didn't mention that it annoyed me that the book's author looks much younger than I do (and is), and, for that matter, so did the physician.  I only call the young ones "Doogie" in the privacy of my  home.   (Slate's reviewer commented that the dust jacket photo makes Wilson look 14.  This actually kept me from reading the book for several months after I purchased it, but I'm glad I got over it.  It's really very, very good.)

Speaking of old British things, I did manage to get to the salon yesterday - and had my hair cut in the style of Victoria Beckham.

Uncle

So this morning I woke up feeling crappy.  Fearing I had the flu, I went to urgent care.  (And had, for once, great timing - only one person ahead of me.)  After an interminable wait in the exam room, the doctor came in, looked at my ears, and said, "You have a raging ear infection."  I blurted, "But I'm on amoxicillin!" (Remember the strep throat?)

Apparently I have an amoxicillin resistant infection raging in my ears.  More antibiotics later, and I am home.  I'm back to having extreme pain every time I swallow, but now it's in my ears instead of my throat. 

I give up.  Somebody wake me up when cold/flu season is over. 

Look at the noggin on that kid!

This was a long, whiny post about how I now have strep throat and feel really awful, but I deleted it.  Wah, poor pitiful me.  OK?  Done.

More interesting was the Peach's 9-month pediatrician visit: 19 pounds, 7 ounces, 26.6 inches, and I can't remember (and don't want to go downstairs to get) the measurement for her head, but her head is in the 95 percentile, while her body weight and height are 50th and proportional.  I've been telling everyone that she has a huge noggin, but yikes, it's a huge noggin.  And she is already bigger than I was at 12 months, according to my baby book. 

She also has a small ear infection, and is on amoxocillin.  I wasn't expecting her to get any, since neither Matthew nor I did as kids (I had my first ear infection in law school, during my very last set of finals -- good thing I didn't really care about grades at that point).  But now I'm wondering if it's a blessing in disguise - with her and Matthew on antibiotics now, I don't have to worry about them getting it.  I do know I'm looking forward to the river of greenish snot coming to an end. 

Giving amoxocillin liquid to ferrets was much easier than it is to give to a baby.  Unfortunately, babies don't have a scruff to hold onto.  On the positive side, she doesn't shake her head and get pink gunk all over my clothes, either. 

What I want for my birthday

I'd like to be just sick enough to justify staying in bed and having my every whim catered to, but not sick enough that I actually feel bad.  Is that so much to ask? 

Today's Helpful Tip

If you're pushing 35* and working on getting back into shape to run, maybe the 60 minute kickboxing workout isn't the best place to start, what with those poor old joints and all. 

(All I can say is that as much as it's aching tonight, tomorrow will be much, much worse.)

Ch-ch-changes

Sorry for the recent formatting changes.  I was having a hard time reading the past two templates on my laptop screen, and needed something easier.  Time to make a trip to the eye doctor, I'm sure!

Sunday, Sunday

I am:

• at the law library;
• working through a huge to-do list that must be done TODAY;
• annoyed that I spilled diet soda down my white t-shirt;
• fighting a migraine;
• without any migraine meds;
• needing to hit Costco before closing;
• not the only one in the library, which somehow annoys me; and
• cranky.

That's all. 

You! Back under the rock!

So remember Ms. Borderline?  She's baaaaack, this time threatening me with all sorts of unpleasantness (like reporting me to the bar) if I don't return her retainer. From 2006.   Never mind that I did the work and that she never paid me for the work I did subsequently, of course.

I know I shouldn't let this bother me, but I thought I was done with all of this chaos.  Add to my list of law school curriculum "fixes" a class on how to deal with crazy clients.

Thank God for Costco, or why I can't slice my own fruit

I am the person for whom pre-sliced and packaged fruit and veggies were invented.  It's humiliating to admit, but I am too lazy to clean and slice my own fruits and veggies.  If they aren't ready for me to pick up and eat, then I'll eat something less healthy but requiring no preparation.  If I buy fruits and veggies that require cleaning and slicing?  There's maybe -- maybe -- a 50% chance they'll be prepared, even for dinner.  If it weren't for organic, cleaned salad greens, we'd probably never have salad. 

This extends to water, too. Can you believe this?!  Despite having a number of Nalgene bottles and a fancy fridge with filtered ice and  water, I wondered if I would drink more water if it came in cheap plastic bottles. Go figure -- now I'm drinking close to the recommended amount of water. 

I can't even begin to calculate how much plastic is consumed just because I can't take Henckels to Pink Lady. 

In my own defense, I don't necessarily think it's sloth.  I don't use mixes for corn bread or pancakes or waffles (although I will for cakes) and I have to make my own vinaigrette for those salads made with pre-packaged greens.  I like to cook -- I just don't like to prep snacks. 

How not to spend a Saturday night from midnight 'til 4:45 am

In the ER with your daughter, who has a nasty, croupy cough.  Good times.  She's fine (although sick) and sleeping with the aid of a steroid shot, Motrin, Tylenol, and a humidifier (all purchased around 5 am this morning - thank you 24-hour Rite Aid) although Matthew and I are seriously wiped out. 

Off to dreamland here.  Ciao.

Punchline looking for a joke

A lawyer who can't talk.  How ironic.

(But other than the lost voice and the sinus problems, I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was on Sunday, when I was dealing with the after-effects of the stomach bug AND the cold.  And I'm feeling somewhat proud of myself for clearing off ancient shows from the bedroom's TiVo.) 

Wake me when it's over, please

Matthew and I have a quasi-serious rule about illness, and have since the begininng of our relationship.  Neither of us does sick well (he gets cranky and noncompliant and I get peevish and push myself too hard), so we say that only one of us can be sick at a time.  That leaves the other person to pick up the slack.  But two sick adults and one sick (if recovering) child?  Hellish.  We spent most of the day on different floors of the house. 

I skipped the client call and crawled in bed to watch TV all day -- and I never, ever do that. Peach and I watched My Family and Other Animals, various episodes of Scrubs, Tuck Everlasting (that one only until I got bored) and Cousin Bette.  I spent large parts of today fantasizing about checking into a hospital for IV fluids and antinausea drugs, which should tell you exactly how great I felt.   There were parts of the day when I literally did not have the strength to get the Peach out of her crib when she was fussing.  I'm sure one of us will be in therapy for that later.  I hate being this sick. 

Most of the day, I was limited to two or three soda crackers at a time, but now I can manage a bit of applesauce and rice, so I keep thinking things like, "I'm so glad I'm back to only having a cold!"  Peach went the whole day without throwing up (Wednesday and Thursday were puke-o-ramas around here), so that's a relief. She actually seems to handle being sick better than Matthew or I do. 

The jury's still out on Matthew, but hopefully he'll wake up feeling better.  I think we're going to have to institute some sort of post-day care decontamination process. 

Not another specialist!

It wasn't all that reassuring when, having made an appointment regarding an infection on my leg, I was given the phone number of the clinic. Because I was going to need to call them when I got close, so that they could let me in the back door.  (Suspicion of MRSA -- and good reason, as the current estimates in my county are that 30% of wild staph are MRSA.)  I sense cultures and infection control doctors in my future -- and right after I'd sworn off three specialists for good (perinatalogist, hematologist, nephrologist).

But....I'm still sure it's plain vanilla staph.  I don't have time for anything else. 

AWOL

Sorry -- I have been in a deep funk, feeling sorry for myself for being 34 and poor and in a quagmire of student loan (and other) debt.  Usually I can philosophize and remind myself that if the biggest problem in my life is a lack of money, then I lead a pretty good life.  Today though?  Not so much. 

Long Row to Hoe

There was a time when I hiked.  A lot.  At altitude.  (We lived in the Sierras -- that helped.)  I scoffed at lowlanders, at the way they huffed and puffed up trails, or even up and down hills in San Francisco.  (And they drink giardia-infested water on hikes -- gross!)  I even mocked how they drove in the snow.  (They can't.)  Needless to say, I was in awesome shape. 

You know what they say about pride. 

My baby weight may be gone, but not so the law school weight. Or the post-baby "jelly-belly."  Or the Norvasc water retention, for that matter.  And let's just say that cranking our treadmill's incline up to 12 makes my calves burn like nobody's business.  Getting back into shape is depressing in the extreme. 

But, as a neighbor says, everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  I have to remind myself that I'm in the beginning -- again-- and that I can get back into great shape.  It's just going to take a little time. 

Sigh. At least I can still drive in the snow. 

Playing Catch-Up, or the dullest blog post ever (unless spit-up, edema, and firing clients count as interesting)

I know it's typical for new moms to feel harried, so I hate to keep whining about how I'm scrambling to keep on top of  up with the day-to-day.  But...that's my life right now. 

The Peach is doing quite well.  She's gorgeous; her hair is growing and she's  smiling or laughing all the time (except when the camera is out).  She loves sitting up in her Bumbo chair or in our laps, and she can keep her head steady for a long time.  On the down side, she bores easily and watches the TV if we're watching something while we're feeding her -- which means no more "What Not to Wear" while feeding the baby.  Or House.  (I do let her watch costume dramas with me...they're so slowly paced, surely the American Pediatric Association can't think there's anything wrong with Mansfield Park, can they?)

Health-wise, I'm in Norvasc hell.  Did you know it causes water retention?  So annoying -- I mean, I thought I took blood pressure meds to AVOID pitting edema.  But I'm stuck with it until the hematologist and the nephrologist are done with me.  I see the hematologist Tuesday afternoon, and am hoping that I can talk him into talking to the nephrologist ahead of schedule - I would love to take off trouser socks and not have huge indentations in my calves. 

Work-wise -- well, it's not hell.  It's busy, though -- my to-do lists are insane, and I'm constantly cramming 4 times the work into 1/4 the time. Last week was the worst -- I only had GT for half a work day, instead of two or three days.  Aiee!  At least I kept up with phone messages. 

I've pretty much had to fire a client who was not taking my advice, was accusing me of being disloyal for talking to opposing about settling, sending me rambling email messages, not giving me information about potential witnesses, and then started directly faxing opposing counsel and others.  (And not copying me on those faxes.)  Yeah.  I'm a glutton for punishment, but not that much. 

The big weekend positives: I did a couple of crosswords.  I organized my work area.  (This is huge!  Our house is pretty much a series of rooms with furniture conducive to reading and working on laptops.  Unfortunately, this means that when one area is chaotic, it's easy to move to another.)  I organized my past research, even -- separate folders for "respondeat superior," ORCP 47, "spousal support" and so on.  I'd been meaning to do that for so long - and now my life is already a lot easier.   Which is to say -- yes, I did work, too!

Another positive?  We've managed to eat real meals for three days in a row.  No take out!  And tonight I made a lasagna (fire roasted tomato sauce, whole wheat pasta, six cheeses, low fat ricotta, pepper, salt, parsley, and garlic) that should keep us going a couple of days more.

There's so much more I want to do before I go to bed -- but looking at the time, I don't think it's a good idea to stay up.  The weekends are so heavenly for me, in terms of sleeping: Matthew takes any odd-hour feedings and I can sleep in as late as I want (usually 10 or 11).  Monday mornings - well, they're not all that fun. 

Week(s) in Review

The last couple of weeks have been a mad juggling act.  The time I spend with the Peach is precious and wonderful, but exhausting (just like working a desk job, I always wonder why it's so physically draining).

She's straining the feet in her 3 month sleepers, but the 6 month sleepers are still a bit too long.  Her head is massive -- none of the baby hats in the 3-9 month range fit her.  I managed to find a cute pseudo-trapper hat at New Seasons that should fit. Fortunately, we don't have to worry so much about the cold, just the wet.

In other news...

• High blood pressure and a headache do NOT a good jog make.
  • New blood pressure med is working splendidly, but the water retention associated with it?  Not so good. 
• I was given a thrombophilia panel by my perinatalogist a few weeks back.  Two of the results (of the 9 tests) came back showing I have two genetic mutations (one is heterozygous, meaning one bad copy and one good copy, and the other is homozygous, meaning two bad copies). A lot of people have one or the other, but usually not both, and most people with the second mutation usually only have one bad copy of the gene.  Bonus for me, right?!  Well, I guess it IS nice to know -- I get to go to a hematologist now for more tests and they'll be able to monitor me to make sure I don't throw a clot -- but doesn't explain the blood pressure problem.
  
  • So long, cheap life insurance...
• The Peach and I spent seven hours (!!) together yesterday (her 4 month birthday) going to (my) appointments and running errands.  She was such a trooper!
  
• A sex abuse case I drafted the trial memo and jury instructions for returned the highest damages EVER in the county I live in for a PI plaintiff.
• Lugging the Peach around (13 pounds) in her carseat (7 pounds) has strained and inflamed my right rotator cuff.  Normal people can take ibuprofen to reduce inflammation and help the pain....but I can't take anti-inflammatories. I took an Ultram (really for my migraines) but it still hurts.
  
  • Naturally this happens when I am starting to play the cello again. 
  • Also hurting: right knee, neck. 
  • Itching: spider bite on my stomach (!) -- it's getting cool and the spiders are sneaking inside.  And biting me.
• I have a client who is insisting on going to hearing on a guardianship matter even though I've advised her  against it, for various reasons.  Worse: the hearing is set for late next week and she isn't communicating with me now -- making it awfully hard to prepare.  Sigh. 
• The Peach has started reaching and grabbing relatively small objects in front of her.  It's been so fun watching her go from randomly batting her arms to grabbing things she accidentally touched to this movement with intent. 
• The Peach also likes to sit up.  When she's reclined (in a car seat, or Papasan, or swing) she tries to sit up, and she loves to be pulled into a sitting position. 
• I've decided that I don't want to travel to Nevada in December with a 6 month old.  I know it's doable, but I don't want to do it anywhere near the holidays.  Maybe in March.
• I realized this week that on December 30, Matthew and I will have been married 15 years.
• The Peach did her first massive projectile vomit yesterday afternoon -- about five ounces of formula all over her, me, the couch, and the floor.  Ugh. 

My Tuesday Pity Party

It would have been a Monday pity party, but it's taken me this long to get around to writing this post. If you're as time-strapped as I am, this post can be summed up as: Having a baby is hard. Working at home with said baby is hard. And my house is a mess because I'm working and taking care of a baby.

Now the long version:

The hardest bit about working from home with the baby is that I can't go long at all without interruption. Pretty much as soon as I hit a groove, the Peach need something and I have to drop whatever legal *thing* it is I'm doing. If it's something like a letter, it's not a big problem. But when I'm in the middle of researching or writing, interruption can really throw me off. And the busier I am, the more she seems to need attention.

Right now, I have help on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Matthew is generally in charge for a feeding or two in the evenings and on the weekends, but the rest of the time, it's all me. So...basically figure that for 16 hours each week, I'm absolutely guaranteed baby-free time -- but that I'm under pressure to work as hard as possible to pay for GT watching the peach and to pay back the blood suckers who put me through law school (damn you, Access Group!).

The rest of the time, I'm scrambling. Completely overwhelmed. The problem with solo and contract work is that, like law school, it can rapidly expand to fill all of your available time -- you're always aware of what still needs to be done. This means that even if I'm not working, I'm thinking about work. And there are all of the ordinary things that need to be done, which are done poorly if at all (there are a LOT of dishes in my sink and the laundry -- ach, the laundry). We're still converting the den to a nursery - and yes, it really is that big of a job -- and my garden is a disaster zone -- the Sweet Autumn clematis is climbing over the massive butterfly bush (because I never got around to pruning it last year -- oops) and making good progress on the lower limbs of the cherry tree. There are perennials in pots from the nursery, still waiting to be planted a good 6 weeks after their purchase.

The long and the short of this is that I'm tired. I haven't slept in my bed since Saturday night -- two nights ago, Eden really wanted to play (at 11 PM) but I kept falling asleep while holding her (yes, possible) and I finally gave up and put her in her swing so I could I sack out on the couch. Last night was pretty much a repeat -- she wouldn't settle down anywhere but the swing. Maybe when I was younger I could have managed this, but not now. Who knew 34 was old? Anyway, tonight I had better luck and managed to get her to go to sleep about an hour ago. And I am so tired that I just fell asleep after typing that last sentence. I am NOT exaggerating.

Time for bed. Tomorrow'll be very, very busy. Again.