Sunday, July 31, 2011

The Daycare Drama Starts

Here's the thing. I HAVE to go back to work after le bebe is here.

I know I've said I would want to do that for me, for interaction, to use my degree, for my sanity, blah blah blah.

I have to go back because I have a mountain of student debt from law school.

I rocked ungrad. I left with no debt. Between my parents' smart moves, my scholarship, and my athletic scholarship, all I had to do was pay $100 a semester towards my meal plan. And I paid that by myself, thank you very much.

Law school was a different story. I had always known I would be on my own for grad school. And in the end, I was--sort of. I took out all the federal loans I could that had no interests attached to them, and the rest... well, I borrowed from the Bank of Mom and Dad. Legit borrowed, with an interest rate and spread sheets and everything.

I have to pay it back. Because if I don't, my siblings will come break my legs. They are my parents' enforcers. Just kidding. Kind of.

So anyways, this debt to my parents makes me feel the need to pay it off faster and even more diligently than I would to Sallie Mae. But it is huge. HUGE. It is made even HUGER (it's a word now) because of the fact that my salary is small. I am not tapping Vor's salary for this, because (1) he has his own law school debt (2) we have a house (3) we have a new mini van (Did I mention that we bought a mini van? No? Well, while I do my walk of shame to the mini van, let me tell you how much I love it) (4) we have bills and (5) BECAUSE. It's my debt, and my problem.

We see the problem of course. We need my salary, however small. My loans must be paid. Le bebe is coming. I can take some time off, but I must go back. Because... well, start this paragraph over.

So, I did what any lawyer in the children's law area does--looks at Carefinder Indiana, the Indiana government website that tracks all licensed day care providers, complete with enrollment info, complaints, and inspection and enforcement information.

And then I did what any mother to be does--I completely freaked out reading some of the complaints, inspection discoveries, enforcement actions, etc. Even some of the best palces did incredibly stupid things. Poor Vor is working at his desk, and was listening to me sniffle and moan.

But what can I do? We need the money for the bills.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Dear Hershey

Dear Hershey,

We have arrived at 17 weeks. That means we are in the second trimester.



Your Mama.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Bliss picking up my mother from the airport and having her stay with us for a few days. working from home with the dog at my feet, occasionally thumping his tail. the squares of chocolate and roses Vor brought home for me. the sleepy Vor wandering over to me in the morning, giving me a kiss and patting the baby belly. apparently, my family.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Imma Cut Choo

First, I had a delightful hearing on Wednesday, full of domestic violence in front of the kids. It all revolved around beer, beer bottles, broken beer bottles, throwing the broken beer bottles, lacerations, stitches, protective orders, battery charges, and of course, failing to appear in court to testify against the perp because, well, it probably is pretty damn scary to face the guy again.

On the other hand, it makes my job harder, because he sits smugly on the stand and informs the judge that none of it was true, and look, it was dismissed, wasn't it? Well, yes, you asshole. It was dismissed, give me back my kids. Well, no, my dear, because I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.

What tricks, Grace, you say--we are waiting with bated breath (it IS bated breath, not baited breath--you are not a fish or worm--nor is it abated breath, because, really?).

Well, my dears, I play sweet. While he is looking at me, I twirl the hair (okay, not literally, but you get the idea). He then leers at me, calls me honey/sugar/sweetie. Then I get nasty, and starting reading down the list of everything he has been charged with and not letting him answer with anything other than yes or no. He gets pissed.

Then, I toss out an oh, BTW, you leave your kids with a child molester on a regular basis, right? Yes? Just checking. Thanks!

He is furious. When he gets off the stand, he walks by his former significant other and says loud enough for it to be on the record, Imma cut choo! Which, for those of you not following the red neck accent in my head, is I'm going to cut you. BRILLIANT! My work here is done.


In slightly less disturbing knife related news, my MIL is doing peachy keen--no sign of the cancer returning. Of course, after a double mastectomy, there is no medium left for it to return in... which leads me to the fact that her reconstructive surgery is coming up soon.

Everyone has been kind, gentle, loving, and supportive of the mastectomy and the reconstructive surgery. Vor asks his Mom if she wants to go up a cup size or two. Personally, I think she needed the laugh more than the kind gentle support.


In relaxing knife related news, I just cut up four slicing tomatoes, garlic from my garden, onions from garden, and cucumbers. Tossed it all into a massive zip lock bag with some home made marinade with basil and oregano from my garden (see the theme? I love my garden!) and olive oil and vinegar. Just a pity the tomatoes from my garden aren't ready yet. Swoon.

This will be my summer veggie salad contribution for the huge 4th of July neighborhood party that is actually happening tomorrow. Love my neighborhood.


In fun knife related news, I have scheduled a a cake cutting. Huh, you say?

It goes like this: I have an ultrasound scheduled for the end of August. We should/might/maybe/hopefully be able to tell if Hershey (did I not explain we call this kid Hershey? See paragraph below) is a boy or a girl. This happens the Monday before Vor's birthday, so on Saturday, his birthday, we shall have a cake that is pink or blue on the inside, and frosted in a neutral way on the outside. A double fun party! Actually, a triple fun party, since Vor is a twin.

We did not like saying it when referring to le bebe. So, for a while, it was he or she, which gets very cumbersome. Vor, who talks fast anyways, kept saying he or she so fast, it came out sounding like Hershey.

ALSO, in Richard Russo's Straight Man (HILARIOUS, especially for English majors, so go read it), there is a character who does not like to be defined by gender, so to make fun of him, the entire English department calls him HeorShe, which comes out sounding like "heeORRshee." My baby stressed bladder freaks out a little every time of think of it, because I start laughing.

So, hopefully armed with XX/XY knowledge of Hershey, I shall say to the cake on the fated Saturday in August--