LegalMama

Finished Harry Potter this weekend

I spent a pretty good part of the weekend reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I finished last evening.  I won't say too much about it here, because I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it yet.  I thoroughly enjoyed it, and thought it was a worthy end to a brilliant series.  Unlike most finales to long sagas, it was quite satisfying, tying up all the loose ends.  All the pieces fit together in the end.  I'm a bit sad that there will be no more Harry Potter, but there are still two more movies, although I think filming this one will be quite a challenge. 

I will admit that one of the reasons that I really didn't want to fail the bar exam in February is that I knew that Harry Potter was coming out just a few days before the July bar exam, and it would have been very hard to resist reading the book immediately as I have done, but I would have felt horribly guilty and panicky to take time away from studying to read a silly book.  So I got to read it with only a little guilt because I really did want to work this weekend, but I didn't absolutely have to.

I can't wait until Conor is old enough to start reading Harry Potter to him.  I think he'll really like them.  And just in the last few weeks, he really has started reading.  Something in his head finally just clicked, and he really can do it now.  It is very exciting to see.  I get such immense pleasure from reading, I hope that he will too, and that this is just the beginning.   

Ode to the Porch

Even though my description of this blog mentions renovating an old Victorian house, I don't talk about it much.  I always mean to do a post about the subject, but never quite get there, which of course is the story of my life. 

We bought our house for the porch.  I remember well the first time we saw our house.  It was autumn.  We had not seen many houses yet.  There were not many to see.  We learned only later that from the fall until the spring is the deadest time in the local housing market, and the time to look is during the "spring market" when everyone who is selling puts their house up for sale at the same time.  There is no such seasonal market in Manhattan, so it didn't occur to us to ask about it.  Not sure why our broker did not tell us about the spring market.  I suspect that he wanted to get us a house quick, rather than show us dozens, to minimize the work for him, so if we believed that houses of the type we were interested in were rarely for sale, we wouldn't be too picky.  He was sort of right. 

So, anyway, we'd seen a few houses, but they were smaller than what we had in mind, and just nothing special.  So our broker told us that he was going to take us to see a house that was out of our price range, but he wanted to show it to us anyway, just so we'd "get an idea."  No dummy, he.  He knew that the houses up just a notch in price were much nicer and bigger, and that we could probably manage the price.   

I'm sure he was also very calculating in the route he took to get to our house.  Our house is in a historic district, full of lovely, large old homes, built from the 1870s through the 1920s and 1930s.  He drove us past many of the loveliest of those homes, past the gracious park that borders the district, past the duck pond.  After seeing this neighborhood, it was the only one I wanted to live in. 

I had been in this neighborhood before, but didn't realize it.  I had been to the head of our NJ office's home once, and had loved it, and all the surrounding homes, but I didn't know the name of the district, or even that it was an official historic district.  In fact, when he asked me to move to NJ, I at first said "no way; I mean, if I could afford a house like yours, then I would consider it, but I'm sure I could never afford that."  He insisted to me that I could afford a house just like his, and told me that, in fact, there was a house right behind his currently on the market that he thought I could afford.  It was this house, the one we now live in.  But I didn't know it that day.

So we pulled up in front of the house.  In our town, in the autumn, the residents blow or rake all their leaves, unbagged, to the sidewalk, and the town picks them up.  There are many mature trees, so there are lots and lots and lots and lots of leaves.  So we were parked in leaves up to my knees.  When Conor jumped out of the car into the leaves, we almost lost him, the pile was so deep.  He thought it was very cool.  That will always be my first memory of my home.

The house did not wow us from the outside.  It is a brick Victorian.  Rather plain for a Victorian, and the woodwork is painted white, which is rather dull.  The brick could use a cleaning,the windows could use shutters.  Then we walked up the front steps, to the front door, and it was all over for me.  The porch, the porch, oh, the porch.  The house has a wrap-around porch.  A deep, deep porch that goes across the entire front of the house, on both sides of the front door, and wraps around the side of the house, about half-way around.  It wraps in a circle, not a square, if that makes sense, because there is a turret on the corner of the house, so it curves around, instead of making a sharp angle.  At the back end of the porch, there are steps down to a patio, and narrow french doors into the house.  The parlor is in the turret, and it has floor-to-ceiling windows, five of them (or is it four?), which of course are on the porch.  On the other side of the front door from the parlor is the room that the prior residents called the Music Room, so we do too, although I think it is probably more properly called a drawing room.  That has a bay window, which also is on the porch.  It was wonderful.  And although from a distance the house is not so special looking, it is quite lovely when standing on the porch, all curves and angles and big windows and deep red brick. 

We stepped inside, and I had an immediate emotional reaction to the house.  I loved it.  I could see it needed a lot of work, but it was beautiful.  It had several fireplaces, and lots of little interesting rooms, and bay windows, and beautiful old wooden floors, and a beautiful staircase from which you could look down into the large "living hall" as the entry/living room is apparently called.*  The stairs seemed to go up and up and up, and around and around there were so many rooms.  And the house just seemed full of life.  The couple that lived there had raised six daughters in that house, and their pictures, and pictures of their many grandchildren were all around.  Lots of red hair, and Celtic crosses.  My mother, when she first saw the house, called it the "Irish house." 

I really didn't consider buying the house after that first day.  I thought we couldn't afford it.  I tried to interest a friend who was thinking of moving to the area, but I found myself resenting the thought of him having it instead of me.  We now compared every house we saw, or considered seeing, to this house.  And it always came back to the porch.  We looked at a few more houses, but I wasn't interested in any house that did not have a porch.  Even those that had a porch did not measure up to my porch, as I was starting to think of it.  So it was all over.  We had to have it, and we stretched our budget a little further, and braced ourselves for all the work the house would take, and we bought it.  The first thing I did after signing the contract was to buy porch furniture.  And then last year, I bought some more.  And I'd really like to buy some more, but I'm holding off.  It is a really big porch.

I was thinking a lot yesterday of how we fell in love at first sight with our house because of the porch.  After coming back from a neighborhood birthday party in the afternoon, I snuck out to the porch with my book, and enjoyed a blissful half hour reading, and dozing a bit.  Feeling guilty for not cleaning, or shopping, or working, or spending time with the kids, but still glorious.  Then Conor wandered over, and I offered to work on the paint-by-numbers project we had bought him that morning when we had picked up a last-minute (what other kind is there) birthday gift.  Even though I really just wanted to read.  And I am not a very artsy-craftsy mother.  Even if I had no job, and stayed at home, I know I'd only reluctantly spend a lot of time with paints and papers and glue.  It is just not my thing.  But against my instincts, I got some newspapers, spread them on the porch coffee table, read the instructions, got some extra paintbrushes, and we started painting.  It was slow and messy-going, but we very bonding.  Then Clare came over and wanted to paint, too.  We couldn't let her mess up our paint-by-numbers, so we got her her own paints and brushes, and put a smock on her, and she painted beside us on the coffee table.  Then my husband came out, and took over painting from me. 

Fiona then wandered out, and I offered to work with her on the new puzzle we'd also bought that morning.  Clare joined us, and we moved to the other end of the porch, and the other coffee table, and started working on the new puzzle.  I'm not a big puzzle mom, either.  But I'd heard from my husband that Fiona was really good at puzzles, so I thought I should see for myself.  The three of us worked on it together, taking turns fitting the pieces in place.  So, the boys were painting on one end of the porch, the girls were doing puzzles on the other.  On a beautiful July day.  I thought about the fact that this porch has been standing 113 years, and thought about how many beautiful summer afternoons had been passed in a similar way, and wished I could thank the original owner who had thought to build the best porch in town.        

* Our house is actually in a coffee table book about Queen Anne Victorian houses, by Janet Foster.  She describes the main area of our first floor as a living hall.  Modeled after the entry halls of medieval homes.  Cool.  I'm pretty sure she chose our house for her book because of the porch. 

What could be better is to hang out with them more

I wrote this post almost two weeks ago, and got too busy to post it because I hadn't thought of a title.  So here it is, two weeks late.  No more teeth have been lost, but I still haven't taken a really good photo of the gaping hole that is Conor's mouth.  Must do that.  Yesterday, we watched a video on YouTube of this six year old girl who apparently came in second in Britain, You've Got Talent, one of Simon Cowell's many smash hit television shows.  This little girl has a killer voice, and at the time she was competing, had a giant gaping hole in her mouth, just like Conor.  He really enjoyed seeing it. 

I have no business taking even 30 seconds to post here, but I have to take a quick break.  Conor lost another tooth -- one of his two front teeth.  So he is missing one on the bottom and one on the top.  He has pretty big spaces between his teeth as it is, so there are two quite large gaps.   He is so proud of his gaping smile.  He really looks like a hockey player who got hit in the face with a puck.  If he were 10, he would look awful, but because he is not-quite-six, it is so adorable. 

I cannot believe how quickly my kids are growing up.  And how much of it I miss.  And how quickly my life is flying by.  But honestly I think I appreciate more how fleeting and sweet it all is because I am so busy, and understand deeply that every minute is so precious.  Believe me, I'd live with more take-it-for-granted if it meant I had a more sane life.  In a heartbeat.  But until that happens, I am trying to savor every precious minute with them.  I think my kids are at their absolute peak combined cuteness.  Proud five-going-on-six-year-old boy and two three-and-a-half year old twin girls, all intent on growing up and becoming independent.  What could be better? 

Happy summer

Just a quickie.  The girls started "camp" this week, which is really just a more summery version of nursery school, with more outside time, less structure.  They've never been to school before.  They have an awkward birthday for that.  December 30.  I know lots of people start their kids to school at 2, but I think 3 is soon enough, so last September they were only 2.5, and I felt it was a bit soon.  So yesterday was almost like their first day of school.

They loved it so much.  They were a bit nervous on their way to school. I told them they would meet new friends, and have lots of fun.  Clare told me that she was happy with her old friends, Molly and Emma, and didn't need new friends.  Fiona chastised her and said "Clare, we have friends at school, we just don't know their names yet."  They both clung to  my legs a bit when we first arrived, but as soon as I showed them around the classroom they were off and running.  They found the play kitchen, and the dress-up boxes, and Clare started setting the table with plastic plates, and Fiona started trying on dresses.  Clare looked up at me and waved, and said "bye, mommy!" 

On Conor's first day of pre-school, I got all teary, and Colin and I both brought him and took pictures.  There was no such fanfare for the girls.  Partly because it is "camp," and not officially "school."  And partly because they are not the first child, so they get gypped.  And partly because I am just so damn busy, I was ready to run out the door to go to work.  In keeping with my negligent, overworked working mom persona I of course thought they were only there until 11:30, and didn't bring lunch.  We also signed them up so late that we never got any kind of information packet in the mail, so I didn't know that they were supposed to be wearing their bathing suit under their clothes.  So of course, my au pair had to run back to the school with lunch and a bathing suit.  But it wouldn't be me if it didn't get all screwed up.

This morning, they came bounding into my room at 8, dressed and ready to go to camp.  They were manic they were so excited to go back.  I told them they had to wait until 9:30 when camp started, but they could barely contain their excitement.  One of the teachers told me today that she couldn't believe they'd never been to school before, they just fit right in, never cried, had a great time.  Fiona made a big point of telling me how some of the kids cried, with great disdain.  The teacher also told me that Fiona went on and on to her about her glasses, and Dr. Steel (the love of her life) and her eyes, and how she has to take care of her glasses, etc.  The teacher said that it was as if they'd known each other all their lives.  Last summer, Fiona cried and refused to participate in a drop-off dance class, and was very shy.  I'm glad we waited the extra year. 

They are growing up so darn fast.  It is just flying by. 

Hey, it is just a test

I have been getting a lot of hits on my blog from bar takers.  It is getting to be that time of year.  And based on the searches that have led some bar takers here, I would say people are starting to get nervous.  I remember when I was preparing for the bar, and I would do those late night searches for "failing the bar exam," or "percentage passed Micromash" and I would be led to blogs where people recounted the hundreds and hudreds of hours they had studied, and I would feel totally inadequate, and panic. 

Following one of the searches that led to my blog, I came across another blog where the person said they had studied for 630 hours.  Wow, that is a lot of studying.  I kept track of my hours for work, because the hours I "billed" to studying for the bar counted as "investment time" (which means counted not at all, really, but that is the subject of yet another imaginary post).  I billed about 200 hours to studying for the bar exam, including the days of the actual exam.  I think that is a lot.  I worked very hard.  But it is still only 1/3 of what that other guy did.  And I passed by a quite comfortable 23 points.  1 point, 23 points, they're both passing.  And I'd rather have had the extra 400 hours.  Some people need to study more, some need less, but I actually think if you study TOO hard you can undermine yourself, cause yourself too much stress and anxiety.  The test is a mental endurance test as much as anything, so you've got to keep at least a little fresh. 

So if you are freaking out about the bar exam, you are probably studying plenty, and you have LOTS of time left.  And keep it in perspective.  It is a test.  It is only a test.  It is not a measure of your worth, or your intelligence, or your abilities as a lawyer.  So relax a little.  Don't freak out.  Don't panic.  Just keep plowing ahead, you'll make it.  Don't focus on what you still have left to do, just keep moving forward at a steady pace.  As Dorry said in Finding Nemo "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."   

Just checking in

I keep wanting to add a new post, but I just never have time.   

My life is just work, work, work.  I've got to find a better way.

We did go to Las Vegas two weekends ago, our first weekend away as a couple without the kids since my son -- who is almost 6 -- was born.  It started out disastrously, with our flight delayed because of work (DH's not mine for a change) thus ruining our whole first evening, but ended up being fun, except for my broken toe, which still hurts.  I have started a separate post on that weekend, but never got a chance to finish it.  Maybe I'll get to it some day.

My son finished kindergarten this week.  Last week he had a little end-of-the-year show.  I was in the midst of an enormous crisis at work, and was working in our NYC office that day, but I managed to run back to NJ long enough to see his show.  I told the person running the case I am working on, who was absolutely freaking out about something that had been screwed up and that we were trying to fix, that despite the craziness, I was leaving for a few hours.  I said that, on my death bed, I would never regret not reviewing a few more documents, but I would regret not seeing my son's kindergarten graduation show for which he'd been rehearsing for weeks, so I was going, and I'd be back and stay all night if I had to.  To this guy's credit, despite his hysteria at the situation, he agreed I should go.  My husband was also in the middle of a crisis at work, and as we were sitting on the train to NJ in the middle of the day, we both wondered if we were idiots for doing this.  But when my son's class walked on to the stage, my son scanned the room nervously, looking for us, and he relaxed and smiled when he saw us there.  It was worth sleeping on someone's office couch that night to be there that afternoon. 

On Monday, the girls had a little ballet "recital" if you can call it that.  Basically, parents were invited to attend their last class, which was a demonstration for us, and then they did a 3 minute dance at the end.  Then there were cookies and juice.  We were told that they should wear pink leotards and tights, and a pink skirt if possible.  So I went out and got them the most adorable outfits.  None of the other little girls were even wearing pink.  It was the funniest thing.  Not one girl in the entire class did a single step in synch with any other little girl.  Not one, not once.  Fiona tried, but she was always a few steps behind the teacher.  They were so sweet, and looked beautiful.  But there was not a lot of dancing going on.  Again, it was so stressful to get there with all that is going on at work, but I'm glad I did it. 

I have to find a new job.  I don't know exactly how, but I can't go on like this.  I'm exhausted, and frustrated, and sad. 

Big Step Accomplished

I just applied for a different job.  I doubt very much that I will even get called for an interview, and I'm not sure I'm at all qualified for the job.  In fact, the job scares me a little, but I guess that any worthwhile job should scare me a little.  The important thing is, I did it. 

And what a pain in the ass it was.  It is a government job, which has an online application process.  Sounds great, no?  Because it is a job with the federal government, you have to meet certain criteria to qualify.  So there would be a category of "ability to conduct complex legal research on novel issues," something like that.  Then they would provide four or five choices, and you would select the one for which you had the most experience.  But the categories were so similar, and I couldn't tell which ones were better or worse.  For instance, one would say something like "researched complex legal issue where little or no precedent, presented analysis," and another choice would say "utilized electronic databases to research legal issue for which there was little precedent, presented to head of operations."  Huh?? Then you could write an explanation of why you fit the criteria -- up to 4000 words! -- for each category, and there were several. I started out writing a novel, and then got fed up.  Because I also attached my resume. Which I also wrote tonight.  It sucks, but I wanted to get something done, and the deadline for this application is tomorrow, and I have a very busy day at work tomorrow, so I had to get it done.  The application was endless, and technically complicated, and I have no idea if I met their criteria, but at least I did it.

I'm going to start spending time every week searching the internet for lawyer jobs.  There will not be many for someone like me that pay enough money that are not just the same job, different firm.  I want a job that is not ruled by the billable hour, so simply going to another firm makes no sense.  I cannot live by the billable hour any longer.  It is sucking the life right out of me, because when I spend time with my kids, I sometimes feel guilty or worried that the time is not "billable."   There is something very wrong with that.

I have been putting this off for literally years.  But the longer I wait, the harder it gets.  So here I go.   

My son lost his first tooth, and I've got to write my resume

I am working on a long post about my job, and how it has become intolerable to me, after 15 years, but I am so busy at said job that I have not had time.  But this weekend, I am taking the first step in getting out of this place, and writing my resume.  I have not done that in a long time.  There is a specific job that I am interested in, a government job that I am probably not really qualified for, but that I might be able to get anyway.  I applied for a very similar job several years ago, and probably would have been offered the job if I had followed through, but it was shortly after I had gotten married, we were broke and the job would have involved a very significant pay cut, and we wanted to start trying to get pregnant.  I felt that if I started a new job, I would not feel comfortable getting pregnant for a while, and I didn't think I had the time to waste.  Turns out I was right, and getting pregnant required a lot of time off for doctor's appointments etc., so it was probably the right decision to stick to this job.  I was just as unqualified for that job as I am for this one, but they wanted me anyway.  They really were looking for litigation skills more than knowledge of the substance of this particular government agency.  I hope the same is true now.  Ironically, considering that I just passed the New Jersey bar exam, and just got sworn in today (no big deal, just by a guy in my office) the job is in New York, where I am already admitted.

Speaking of the bar exam, the results of the February 2007 California bar exam results come out today, at 6 p.m. California time.  I am pretty certain that California is the last state to release their results.  And they are so melodramatic about it -- there is a countdown on the website of the number of hours until they are released.  They certainly know how to build up the tension.  The NJ Board of Bar Examiners website just said that they try to release the results by May 15, but that was it, no countdown, no preannouncement of the release date.  I suppose some people probably knew that the results were about to come out the day they came out, a week or so early, but I didn't.  I just happened to check on the site, and the results were there.  So I didn't have the anxiety of anticipation.  My heart didn't start pounding until I started scrolling down the list of candidates. 

During the last anxious weeks waiting for the results, I did a lot of blog surfing and found a lot of bar exam blogs.  Several bloggers have taken the California bar exam multiple times, so I'm really rooting for those re-takers as they wait those last few hours.  One person just took it for the sixth time, and actually thinks he might have passed this time.  I'm so nervous for him.  One more hour to go.  It is like waiting for results of a pregnancy test after the umpteenth IVF.  Although I would much have preferred being able to look up those results on a website than to have to actually interact with a human being on the phone, and to try and act like it is okay when the results are negative.

Okay, off that topic.  So Conor lost his first tooth this morning.  I can't believe my little baby boy has lost his first tooth already.  It looks so cute, this big gap right in the middle of the bottom row of teeth.  He was so proud and excited, he could not wait to show us, and he JUST NOW put his tooth under his pillow.  I remember so well when he GOT his first tooth, it may even have been the one he just lost, as a matter of fact.  Do they lose them in the same order they came in, I wonder?  My friend who was acting as our nanny the first few months I went back to work called me at the office to tell me that she'd discovered his first tooth that day.  One of many discoveries I heard about second hand.  It is amazing how quickly that cycle has gone, from first tooth in to first tooth out.  In the  blink of an eye. 

My office was having some electrical problems today, so there was no air conditioning.  Staff was given the day off, and most attorneys only came in for part of the day.  I stuck it out until about 3 pm, and then decided to leave to work at home.  Clare was so excited when I pulled up.  I had such a nice time sitting on the porch steps watching Clare play in the sprinkler with her friend from across the street.  Fiona was napping on the couch, and Conor soon came home from school.  God, I miss so much of their lives.  Even on nights where I don't work extra late, I still only get home for the chore part of the evening.  Pajamas, teeth-brushing, herding them off to bed, arguing over how many books they get.  And on the weekends, we always have so many errands to run and chores to do that we run, run, run.  Today I got to see them just living their little lives for a few hours.  I want more of that.  They are still so young, it is not too late.   

Dan Zanes rules!

We went to a Dan Zanes concert in our local performing arts center on Thursday night.  It was a milk and cookies pajama party.  The kids (and the band) all wore their pajamas, and the local Whole Foods provided milk and cookies (organic, naturally).  It was really fun.

We took our au pair with us -- you would think we were taking her to see the Beatles she was so excited, she loves Dan Zanes! -- and she had gotten the kids ready in their pj's before we got home.  They were running around in the driveway, so excited, when we pulled up.  Clare was wearing hot pink striped footy pajamas that are a little small on her, and a white headband, which looked so cute in her red curly hair.  She told me that she had picked out her own pajamas, I said "well, those are a little small on you,don't you think?" She said "I didn't want to wear bigger pajamas, because then I wouldn't look as cute."  She was right, the little form-fitting pajamas on her skinny little body looked adorable.  But boy am I in trouble.  At 3, she already thinks tight clothes look better. 

We all had fun at the concert.  It is a nice venue, brand new, with just several hundred seats, very nice, intimate space.  And they let the kids dance all up and down the aisles.  The joint was jumpin'!  Afterward, Dan and the band came out to the lobby to sign autographs (on cd's, books, t-shirts and posters available for purchase, of course).  My au pair was positively star-struck and had her picture taken with each band member.

I have been working so hard, staying late at work practically every night, so it was nice to have an evening with my kids.  I have started, sort of, looking for a new job.  It won't be easy, and I'm sure it will take a long time to find something appropriate, and I have no doubt I will take a big pay cut, but I can't go on the way I have been, working all the time, stressed all the time, bored all the time.   Of course, after the nightmare that was the NJ bar exam, I am looking at jobs in New York.  Wouldn't that be ironic?  I'm glad I did it, even if I end up in NY.  I do live in NJ, and it gives me more options. 

My new au pair is apparently quite homesick.  Laura, our au pair who has been here for nearly two years, told us that Rebbecca is crying every night when she talks to her parents.  I feel so bad.  We are so used to having au pairs now, and we've been so busy at work this week, that I think we haven't paid enough attention to her.   We took them all out to dinner on her first night here, and last Saturday, we took her with us to my son's spring fair at school, and to his T-Ball game.  But Sunday we were gone for the whole day to my mother's for mother's day.  Our au pairs practically have their own apartment.  She has already met other au pair friends in the neighborhood, and has been out three nights that she has been here.  So I just assumed she was okay, but I have to try and make plans with her this weekend.  She is younger than our previous au pairs, and I have to remember what a big deal this is, to go so far away from your parents for such a long time.   

Ew, kisses are beautiful

I want to do a long post about my mother's day, and how my crazy sister almost ruined it, but I do not have time to do that right now.  But I did want to jot down some of the cute things my kids did so I don't forget later. 

It is not obnoxious to talk about how cute my kids are, right?  If they were teenagers and I gushed about how smart and beautiful they were, that might seem a bit annoying, but it is just accepted that all three and five year olds are cute, right?  So it is okay?

Anyway, we have great fears that our daughter Fiona is going to be a lot of trouble with the boys when she grows up.  An example.  Yesterday, we were at my mother's place for Mother's Day, and the television was on in the background.  The television is always on at my Mother's Place.  My mother lives in a two-bedroom condo.  She has four televisions.  `Nuff said?  So some movie is on, and a man and woman kiss passionately.  My son, Conor, looks at the screen and says "ewwww."  (I can't believe he is already saying "ew" to that.)  Fiona hears him, and says, very indignantly, "No, Conor, kisses are beautiful!"  She seemed very upset that he did not appreciate the romance of the moment.  I don't know where in the world she got that from -- "kisses are beautiful"????  It was the funniest thing I heard all weekend.  So sweet.  My little romantic girl. 

Clare was wandering around my mother's place, and we honestly were not paying that much attention to what she was doing.  She kind of ran by us to go into one of the bedrooms, and my sister said "I think she had something on her face."  So my husband went into the room to see and as soon as she saw him she quickly put her hand in front of her mouth.  She had bright red lipstick all over her face.  My mother, who does not live with three year olds, had all her makeup in drawers that Clare could easily reach.  We tried to scold her, but it was so funny, we didn't do a very good job.  Later in the day, when her brother and sister had gone out for a walk, which she declined, she was seemed a little lonely, so my mother let her try some lipstick again.  She was so happy, and looked at all the various colors before deciding on a nice deep pink.  She wanted to put it on herself without any help.  We got her a mirror, and we tried to convince her that it only needed to go on her LIPS, not her entire face.  Then Grandma taught her how to blot.  She loved it, and kept looking at herself in the mirror.  I guess maybe I'm a bad mother, and should not let her play with makeup, and I will come to regret it when she draws all over my walls. 

Conor made me a very cute card, all by himself.  He wrote "yor the best mommy eva."  My pet peeve is the misuse of "your" and "you're" but I think "yor" is just fine.

My only gift for Mother's Day was from the kids, with the au pairs' help.  They took a bunch of really cute pictures of the kids, then had the kids paint a background on some cardboard.  They cut holes out of the cardboard for the pictures, and then put it in a frame, which they decorated with little beads and things that the kids helped glue on.  My favorite part of this adorable project is that they wrote across the top, in little glued-on letters:  "We love you mammy."  Now that misspelling comes from my au pairs, so it will always make me think of them.  When I came home from the bar exam, they made a sign that said "welcome home mummy."  They had apparently been fighting over how to spell mommy.  So they knew "mummy" wasn't exactly write, so they went with "mammy" this time.  I can't help but think of Al Jolson singing -- in black face -- about his "mammy," and it cracks me up. 

I'm so stressed at work, but I have to keep reminding myself of these little gems, both tangible and not, that fill my life.