Sugar and Spice

As those of you who follow me on IG know, I've thrown the idea(l) of a work-life balance out the proverbial window. Those scales will never balance and there will be days and weeks they tip one way before dropping back the other. There are times I am baking and carpooling like some modern day Donna Reed with a Best Mom coffee mug and other times where I feel like the Queen of the Courtroom, only to find out my kid didn't have lunch at school or forgot her ballet shoes. As an example, it is a known fact around my office that when I am in a big trial someone in my house is going to have a major illness  - literally these have ranged from pneumonia to emergency appendectomy. Talk about mom guilt - not only am I not there to love on them, I can't even really give them any mental energy until I am out of the courtroom. All of that is to say that life, an parenting, and lawyering are all like that - you win some, you lose some. Chasing some pipe dream of balance and harmony only ...

 So many times I have started to come back here, yet for one reason (excuse) or another I haven't. The last time I was here in April 2020, the world had only just started to feel surreal. Fast forward 30-something months and it feels like we are just starting to improve. I guess I haven't felt inspired to write much because we were not living the best of days; yet still, as the song goes, they are the days we will never forget. Since we last met, a major hurricane ravaged our hometown in August 2020, leaving many literally homeless (including my parents). The girls and I lived communally with friends in Baton Rouge where they attended school until our electricity was restored. Our home was mostly spared. My parents lived with us for several months while they rebuilt. My work since that day has been almost exclusively on assisting homeowners with their claims. I brought to trial the first two hurricane cases in Calcasieu Parish and we won both.  Also since we were last here, Al...

Today is quarantine day something. We are past the one-month mark. I need not mention life is strange; though, we are fortunate for good health and good weather. We are fortunate for the ability to work from home and school from home. We made a fun-ish Spring Break with backyard camping and indoor baking and bird-watching at the beach. We have all learned that we really yearn for fresh air and to touch nature every day and to sweat and work to physical exhaustion when possible. It is almost beginning to sound trite to discuss the “good” to be found in all of this. First, I fear it sounds like I am discounting the gravity of the pandemic. Second, I think many are mentioning it for the “likes” and will quickly return to the breakneck life waiting just beyond our masks. I may be one of those people. I do not have anything new to add to the discussion. For the most part, I don’t even want to have discussions anymore. But I did want to write, for myself now and to look back on late...

Posting an old one I found in Drafts... School’s winding down and I think I may be more excited than the girls. It’s not that I do not love the monotonous routine of packing snacks and hard-lined bed times, but I need a break. I need to sleep into the 6-o’clock hour. I need to go for a run in the morning before it’s 100 degrees. I need to not have to ask 100 questions about whether homework’s done, clothes laid out, lunches chosen, etc. etc. I need a break. But I have to limit my complaints today because today, in itself, was a sort of break. I took the day off to chaperone field day and hang out with the girls after noon dismissal. I did all their chauffeuring myself today, which usually takes place while I’m at work. After allergy shots, orthodontist, gymnastics, and dance, I’m thoroughly beat (not to mention grateful for those in my life who help me raise these girls - it truly does take a village). However, in the midst of our running today we found ourselves with a few minut...

I started this blog on Tuesday but ran out of time to finish it (or so I thought). Seems like the ending was not written yet and so I had to wait. Over the weekend, the girls found a butterfly (moth?) with a wounded wing. They came peeling into the kitchen looking for plastic ware they could poke holes in for a habitat. They gently placed the broken butterfly in the dish, gave it a flower (to eat?) and a paper towel soaked in water (to drink). I’m not sure about the flag, but knowing them I’m sure it was for add some pizazz. Little sister checked on her patient faithfully each day and even wrote notes to the neighbor-girl and put them in her mailbox with updates (“are [sic] butterfly is doing good;” “gave her some water to drink”).  On Tuesday morning, as I was leaving for work I did a check for myself and came to realization that our patient had died. I took the photo you see and immediately started having a deep, internal philosophical debate about whether to tos...

I am 17-days away from doing one of the craziest, grab-life-by-the-horns, may-be-having-a-midlife-crisis, I'll be 40 in two and a half months things I've ever done. I'm traveling all the way to the Southern California desert by myself to meet 7 other women whom I have never met and with whom I will be sharing a tent for two-nights while we take turns running through the day and night through the trails in the Los Coyotes Reservation. What was I thinking? (Reference back to the upcoming anniversary of my birth 4-decades ago). I'm terrified. My training has not been what I wanted. I've seriously considered dropping out. There is a very nice alternate who I am sure would be happy to take my place. I've got a list of reasons a mile long why I should NOT go and do this thing. The list does not even include the half-joking reasons some of my friends have offered (this second list includes, among other things, coyotes, mountain lions, and human trafficking rings ...

Mother's Day 2019 was perfectly boring. It was an overcast, eat too much after church, take a nap, and go to the library kind of afternoon and I could not have asked for anything more. Mother's Day always brings with it bittersweet memories of the two little loves that allow me to celebrate this occasion. As kids do, they are getting big. I did not get one Mother's Day gift that had a hand print on it. It was a tinge sad. Like Mother's Day, the nearing end of school also makes me wax nostalgic. How could they be so old? Am I doing all the things to make them healthy, successful and most of all happy? I have been reading and thinking a lot about Grace lately. In the context of mothering, I need a lot of it; yet, until lately I'm not sure I had a real understanding of it (or as much of an understanding as one can have of something like Grace). Anyone who really knows me knows that I am a doer, a pleaser, an achiever, and a ball of anxious worry hidden behind...

The last parade had rolled. Bleary eyed we sat in the pew waiting for ashes and forgiveness. She sat next to me coloring in her own little world; a world where sin is sneaking a cookie before dinner. We listen to the Word: “Be not like the hypocrites…” thoughts of dinner and laundry interrupting the well worn verses. She whispers loudly in the way that only a child can “who are the hypocrites?” I shush her; in the way that only a mother can. She whispers even louder urgently even, “BUT WHO ARE THE HYPOCRITES” She is not just listening like the rest of us. She is hearing The Word of God. She needs to know who they are, so she can be sure she is not like them, Tears flood my eyes. My throat closes,  chest tight. I kiss the top of her head, but I cannot answer. I cannot even whisper it softly, because the answer is I am them, baby. All of us are. But not you, Not yet. Be not like them, my love. Keep listen...

"Repentance breaks our hearts a little." I'm not sure whether it is an exact quote or just a very close paraphrase from the sermon I heard Sunday. That sermon - that church - that moment was one of those times I knew I was right where I was supposed to be and that hearing someone saying something God needed me to hear. Repentance is not for those who fancy themselves a mighty fortress. Repentance is also not for the weak - which is what I have been despite my best efforts otherwise. Repentance is for the brave and faithful. Because repentance will break us - it has to break us - because only when we break does Christ have a way to enter. And that is what Advent is about - Christ entering our lives. He has already entered once, thousands of years ago, on Christmas morning. He IS risen - meaning He wants to enter our lives each and every day and just awaits the opening we prepare. And He is going to come again to call all of his creation back to Him. This is the thril...

There has been a lot of talk lately about winning and the costs of winning. It is apparent from any news source that the battles lines have been clearly drawn and politics is no longer (was it ever?) about doing good or right. It is about winning. Winning at any cost and at all costs. I have to admit I find it hard to watch the news since I've become a mother and even more so lately, as a mother of girls. What do I tell them about society? How do I convince them (myself?) that there is good? Better question, is there good? How do I explain the proclamation of victory made by people who have hurt others, whose "win" has cost someone their dignity, their rights, their safety? How can I insure that same price is never paid at the expense of my daughters? I have to remind myself that the real battle has already been won, though it has not been completed. Though it is not near, we know the end. It is done. Jesus was and is victorious and he will come again to claim that vi...

Today is the first official day of summer break for the girls. We all got to sleep in a little and still had time for crafts and smoothie-making before I had to leave for work. It is always hard to leave, but this morning was something more. I felt almost paralyzed as I went to kiss them goodbye. I had to fight back tears and try not to squeeze them too tight or too long, which would give away my heart-gripping fear of letting them go at all. After the events of the weekend, the last few weeks, the last few years, I have finally had to come to terms with the fact that I am raising my beautiful girls in a world where they are not safe. They are not safe at school, not safe at sleepovers, just simply not safe. I have always counted myself so fortunate to have been born, merely by chance, in this country. But now, now my heart aches much like I imagine mothers' hearts in third world nations have ached for years. I have to acknowledge that my country allows children to be killed a...

It's been a while... Seems I always start that way. But now it's Lent and part of what I am doing is slowing down, writing, being. It's hard. The being part. Just being. Not worrying about where else I should be or who wants me doing what. Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at never stopping. It's become a source of pride almost - look at all that I can do! Throw in something else if you dare! I can do it all. So far I've been able to do just that, but at what cost? More importantly, why? Why must I do it all? Have I allowed the fear of disappointing someone with a "no" or "not me" take priority over savoring the moments of nothingness, stillness? Or have I grown afraid of the stillness, the quiet? One of the devotionals I try to read regularly challenged readers to summarize their spiritual journeys in a sentence. Without much thought, the words to Amazing Grace popped in my head. Yet, this time the words did not really ...

On the drive to school this morning this song came on and I told the girls it reminded me of my Mee Maw, after whom Pumpkin was named. It wasn't that she particularly loved this song or ever sang it - those memories are saved exclusively for Patsy and Conway and the likes. Bug asked why this reminded me of her and I explained that it was because she was with Jesus and the song is about what someone would do if they saw Jesus. So we started talking. Pumpkin quickly and reverently exclaimed that she would bow to Him. I have no doubt. I'm certain that if it were a couple thousand years ago, like Mary, Pumpkin would hang on every word and anoint His feet with the finest oil. They asked me and I said (with tears already welling up) that I would probably cry. Bug didn't miss a beat when she said excitedly, "I would hug Him and then we would go swimming in my pool." From the mouths of babes. She didn't even consider NOT inviting Him to her home, to do her favor...

This post may end up sounding cliche, but I just can't help myself this time. See, we bought a butterfly hatching kit and so, needless to say, I've had the life cycle of a butterfly on my mind. I've always known the story of the butterfly - ugly caterpillar, transformation, beauty, yadda, yadda,  yadda, but I've never actually seen it all first hand. So we got a jar of dirt and caterpillars. You all know I'm not the biggest fan of creepy crawlies, but fortunately they are delivered in such a way that you don't have to touch them until they are safely in their chrysalises (which, in my day, was called a cocoon, but times change I suppose). The whole caterpillar-to-chrysalis part of the project was quick and a little dirty. They trudge around in the dirt and get fat. Within a week there was slimy silk all over the jar and about 1/4 of the fuzzy caterpillar bodies all over the ground (parts they do not need apparently). Then we waited. And waited. Anoth...

Pumpkin asked me the other day, as I reminded her of the time for the fifth time that morning, why “grownups always lie about the time.” I stopped dead in my nagging tracks. “What do you mean?” “Well,” she started slowly explaining, “you said it was already 7:15 and it’s only 7:11. And you always do that. It’s like when you told me I had to start doing things for myself because I was 7 before I even turned 7.” Talk about an early morning gut-check. Why do grownups do that? Why do I do that? She, of course, in her complete innocence, didn’t realize the profound questions she was making me ask myself. Billy Joel’s “Vienna” starts playing in my head – a song that I often here in my states of over-stressed melancholy - reminding me to "slow down, you crazy child." Here I am still reeling from the fact that she did actually turn 7 just two weeks ago and I spend so much time and energy hurrying her – hurrying them both – worried about the next appointment, the next eve...

Something about Advent – decking the halls in preparation for Santa, slowing our spirits down in preparation for the Christ-child – brings me back to this Blog again. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written. There is no way in this post or a dozen more that I could capture everything I’ve missed, but yesterday while decorating the tree I realized what a hole I’ve left in our memories by letting this blog go. See, last year I was busy. Obviously, like anyone else with kids, jobs, lives, I could probably say that anytime. But last year I let busy-ness win. I hired out our Christmas decorating. I didn’t lift a finger and the kids didn’t hang a single ornament. First, let me say that my tree was department store gorgeous. There wasn’t a single personal memory on the tree. In fact, what I discovered yesterday while decorating the tree was that among those gorgeous ornaments were several small gold picture frame ornaments that had hung all last Christmas in my perfect tree. When...

Six years ago today, almost to the minute now, I became a mommy. Just typing those words makes the Earth stop spinning and my eyes well with tears. Six years ago. Pumpkin is not a baby anymore. She doesn't need me for every little thing. She doesn't need me for any little thing, really, although sometimes she still acts like she can't brush her own hair or tie her shoes. But the truth is: she doesn't need me for any little thing. She needs me now only for big, scary things. I look back through these blogs and remember freaking out trying to find the right sippy cup, make sure she walked and talked on time, and that her ear infections stopped. All noble mommy causes in their own right.  All nerve-wracking and consuming in their own time. How I wish any one of them were my biggest concern now. These days I lose sleep over much heavier mama burdens like which friends she will choose, what choices she will make when I'm not looking, how comfortable she ...

I love Lent. I know Lent is not supposed to be a season of joy but the solemnity of penitence and ashes on Ash Wednesday, the anxiety of the knowledge of his death, the wonder of what those in the moment must have felt, and the anticipation of the joy of his resurrection brings my heart such fullness. I always look forward to the opportunity to slow down and just be. I am entering this Lent with a new hope that I have not felt before and I am excited and anxious to see how He will work through me. Now, having espoused all of that great philosophy, let me get real for a minute. Flash back to that Ash Wednesday service barely 12-hours ago. I'm on my knees trying to get in my holy groove, confessing sins, yadda yadda yadda when no sooner had I invoked the "Most merciful Father" when I hear a slight chuckle behind me. I turn to my side and see Bug trying to take off her shirt in the middle of church. Luckily her belly was a road block and I was able to get her mostly cove...

A new year is always a good time for waxing nostalgic and this January 1st was no different.  Christmas came and went in a whirlwind. It was the first Christmas where both girls could anticipate the magic and in their anticipation, expectation, and eventual joy I found so much happiness. There was nothing earth-shattering about their gifts, nothing monumental about our festivities, but in their peaceful simplicity I was gifted this unbelievable, absolute and utter joy. I like to think it was something like the exhausted and overwhelming love Mary must have felt on that dirt stable floor looking at the perfection of her Christ child. I felt his perfect love in this Christmas like none other before. With the new year, I'm trying to hold on to that still, calm, joy. My heart is literally overflowing with the love I have for my sweet family. I have not made any formal 'resolutions' but I am sure trying my hardest to be present. That's it. Just present. In the momen...

I communicate for a living. All day, every day, I communicate. I don’t just communicate, I persuade, convince, and argue. I’ve taken classes, read books, and paid consultants to make me better at communicating. I know that the message isn’t just the message, but the way it’s conveyed. I know what you say isn’t half as important as how you look saying it. I am by all accounts a professional communicator. Yet, sometimes, like this morning, when I realize that my most important message to my important audience is falling flat, it is all for naught. This morning on the way to school after having a “which do we like better” music sampling amongst Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach (thank you Mrs. Burke’s kindergarten class composers of the month – she literally knows the difference), Pumpkin asked me matter-of-factly when I was going to quit work and be a babysitter mom. I explained to her that I enjoy my job and I work to make her proud and so we can do all the things she likes to do....