i just bought my books for my two classes this semester and nearly lost my breakfast when i saw the grand total: $200 for 3 books (one book only cost $4)!!! $200!!! we're not lawyers yet! just because we're in law school doesn't mean we magically start rolling in the bank. $200 is still a lot of money, especially when we're paying $1500 per credit hour. i mean, with $200 you can buy a lot of things:
7 boxes of 150-count pampers diapers
100 boxes of gerber rice cereal
10 copies of disney's beauty and the beast, platinum dvd version, of course!
20 copays for doctors' visits
200 boxes of green giant frozen vegetables
40 visits to culver's for concrete ice cream mixers
2 tri-monthly trips to the grocery store
8 haircuts, plus generous tip
7 months worth of membership fees at the local gym
so instead of spending that $200 on all these other worthwhile purchases, i plop all that cash down for a piddly 3 books that i will use for one semester, after which i will try desperately to sell those books at the campus bookstore for a measly $20 only to discover that a NEW version of the book came out and the one i have is now only good for fire kindling. how nice. so in the end, i spend $200 for fire kindling.
academic books are outrageous. i can understand why some books are expensive. take my hubby's dissertation for example: one day this stack of paper may end up getting published. and if hubby's predictions are correct, the book will be a surefire cure for insomnia, but it will likely fall a tad short of the new york times' best seller list. a book like this, in order to turn any profit or really just to break even, must be sold for approximately $50-$100 a copy. no joke. these tryptophan-containing texts are expensive because they never sell more than 10 or 20 copies and those 10 or 20 copies have to pay for themselves. so, while outrageous, it makes sense.
but law books don't really fall into this category. my first year law books ran me about $800 (for 4 classes). each of my classes had well over 100 students in them. someone out there is rolling in some major dough. once a law professor chooses a book, especially those teaching first-year courses, the author of said book is guaranteed 100+ sales of his book. and then the next month, when said author puts out another version of said book, he is guaranteed another 100+ sales. and this is from just one class. in michigan alone there are 6 law schools. illinois has 9 law schools. new york has 15. there are a ton of law schools all in need of these highly specific course texts. so why in the world are we paying upwards of $150 per book???
i'm not an economics guru, not even close. i can't even balance my own checkbook, let alone begin to understand the complexities of supply and demand and our capitalist economy. but i'm sure the reason for the high cost for these law texts is that publishers know we'll pay the steep prices. sure, some woman will likely complain about it on her blog, but that's really all she's going to do. it would take a nationwide boycott and that's just not going to happen, ever, because i would say a large majority of law students are fresh out of their mothers' wombs and, therefore, they have no concept of money and how much $200 is really worth (other than 200 cans of pabst blue ribbon's finest).
an thus ends my rant about law books, at least until i go to the bookstore to sell them back for pocket change.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
the sisterhood of the plaster pants: part i
another thing you must know about is that we are currently grappling with what we like to refer to as the plaster pants. at four months, our daughter was diagnosed with developmental dysplasia of the hip (meaning her hip is perpetually dislocated) and after doing the tango with umpteen different doctors (highlights of this dance to follow), after meeting with a pediatric specialist, we decided to put our baby in a spica cast.
to give you an idea of what this cast looks like, picture one of those russian dancers, you know the ones with the fur hats and black knee-high boots, arms crossed in front of chest and squatting nearly to the ground. baby's cast leaves her looking kind of like that, minus the fur hat and black boots. hubby is convinced she'll be a world famous contortionist after all is said and done. her legs are pushed all the way to the side (looks like she's doing the splits) and then her thighs are casted at a 90 degree perpendicular angle to her body and her knees are at a 90 degree angle to her thighs. (see picture below in case my description is just way too convoluted.) the doctor literally had to cut muscles to position her legs this way, all of which is necessary in order to properly set and hold her hip in place while the hip socket forms around the femural head.
it sounds awful and honestly, it is pretty bad, but it amazes me how well baby has adjusted to all of this. we put her down on her belly and she's like a little break dancer spinning 'round in that cast. before too long, she'll be dragging it around the house like a little snail. so, baby doesn't seem to mind it all that much.
unlike baby, mami and papi are struggling a bit more with the cast, but this has more to do with the literal backache of lugging her now 20-and-a-half pound butt around and changing her gooey poopy diapers. the cast has a 4x10 hole left open for the diaper. this hole is just big enough to stuff a size 1 diaper into. thus far, knock on wood, we've avoided any leaks or major blowouts so after two weeks in this thing, baby still doesn't stink. (apparently, this is quite uncommon--most spica casts can clear a room after just one week.) the pee diaper changes are cake. it's the poo that requires a second set of arms. i need one hand to pull the diaper away, another two to hold wipes at the edge of the cast to prevent poo from oozing along the sides and another to wipe all her pieces-parts. but since i've only got two hands, this usually means poo ends up on the sides (taped expertly with water and poo proof tape), on my hands, on her feet and on the changing pad. it's a mess. and to top it all off, i've got the world's most sensitive gag reflex, so in addition poo oozing its way onto every available surface, there i stand hacking and gagging through the whole process. it's quite a show, i'm sure.
one benefit to all this, my arms have never been so toned. i would suggest carrying around a 20-pound weight to get an idea of what it's like, but that just wouldn't do our situation justice. maybe if the weight sprouted wiggly arms, a mewling head, and two little feet. we have to be sure we don't knock her feet into door frames when entering rooms and though her cast is as hard and rigid as cement, her torso isn't and she ends up wet noodling around a lot if we're not careful. it's unbelievable the muscles needed to just get her into a good position for nursing--for the first week, my whole body ached.
now, back to the tango that brought us here. this all started out as a "click" and then a "clank." doctors kept saying, "she has a click." or "i can feel a click." or "oh my! now it's a clank." hubby and i began to wonder if we should call on click and clack on car talk rather than these pediatricians and orthopedists. for the longest time, we only knew of this ailment as "the click." we had no idea what it meant or why we were being asked to get ultrasounds and to see specialists. it was maddening. for a while, we were seeing this general orthopedist who was a self-proclaimed idiot when it came to treating infants. my favorite visit with him was an especially brief visit when he provided his final diagnosis of baby. he walked into the room with his trusty caterpillar perched on his top lip, proceeded to jiggle the hip joint on an adult skeleton model and said, "this is what's wrong with her hip." he then exits stage right. okay, so he actually stuck around a minute more to tell us to get a "non-obtrusive-you'll-hardly-notice-it" harness thingy (the harness was actually quite obtrusive and we did notice it because it took 20 minutes to get her into it after each diaper change).
after several visits like this with the orthopedist, residents, and pediatrician, we eventually developed a perpetual stream of steam spouting from our ears and a permanent red hue in our cheeks. we finally insisted that we be referred to a pediatric orthopedist--don't ask why this wasn't done in the first place. but in order to get this referral we had to first face a gauntlet of questioning, first by the referral secretary and then by our pediatrician. (side note: we have since kicked our young, douche bag pediatrician to the curb and he will soon be receiving "fan mail" from us.) we had to actually explain our reasons for wanting a second opinion, as if it isn't a right we're automatically entitled to. and to top it all off, our schmucky pediatrician had the chutzpah to near berate us for not following his every instruction like a love-struck puppy, indicating that as a result of our decisions, baby's dysplasia was now a "2B case as opposed to a 2A case," whatever the hell that means. for four months, we were convinced our daughter was having car trouble based on the jargon we kept hearing; we had no idea what we were actually dealing with. we'd tell doctors and receptionists we were in their office to have a "click" looked at and we'd get looks like "what in the hell did you just smoke? a "click"? are you sure you didn't mean to turn into the car mechanic's next door?" (i make it sound like my nurse mother and doctor father-in-law didn't fill us in on what a "click" actually indicates. we knew all along what was going on and we were making informed decisions throughout the whole process; it's just irritating that we learned none of this from the doctors actually treating our daughter.)
we eventually got that second opinion with a wonderful pediatric orthopedist at one of the top hospitals in the nation. just our luck, she also specialized in infant hip disorders. much to our dismay, the treatment that had been prescribed by schmucky pediatrician and the caterpillar-lipped orthopedist was actually too little too late. the harness we'd been using for two weeks is traditionally used for much younger babies, so our baby, at five months, was too old for this thing. and what really burns my butt is that had we not gotten this second opinion, baby would still be in this harness for the next 3-4 months, which would do her no good and inevitably land us where we are now in the cast. i don't even want to think about the gross motor delays.
anyway, hubby and i made the tough decision to go ahead with the spica cast in hopes that her hip dysplasia would be corrected by the time she's ready to start crawling, standing, walking, etc. we figured the sooner we get this done, the better for our baby. it would be devastating to put her in the cast after she'd already learned to crawl and walk; at least now she doesn't know what she's missing. and like i said, after two weeks in it, baby is still hitting all the usual 5 and 6 month milestones (and she's actually not quite 6 months yet--not until august 11), so we feel quite confident we've made the right decision. there are days, like today, where my heart breaks into a thousand pieces when i clutch my sobbing little girl to my chest while she works through a muscle spasm. but when i think of the pain she would inevitably encounter years down the road without this treatment, it doesn't make her present pain any better, but i at least can rationalize in my head that this is for the best.
to give you an idea of what this cast looks like, picture one of those russian dancers, you know the ones with the fur hats and black knee-high boots, arms crossed in front of chest and squatting nearly to the ground. baby's cast leaves her looking kind of like that, minus the fur hat and black boots. hubby is convinced she'll be a world famous contortionist after all is said and done. her legs are pushed all the way to the side (looks like she's doing the splits) and then her thighs are casted at a 90 degree perpendicular angle to her body and her knees are at a 90 degree angle to her thighs. (see picture below in case my description is just way too convoluted.) the doctor literally had to cut muscles to position her legs this way, all of which is necessary in order to properly set and hold her hip in place while the hip socket forms around the femural head.
it sounds awful and honestly, it is pretty bad, but it amazes me how well baby has adjusted to all of this. we put her down on her belly and she's like a little break dancer spinning 'round in that cast. before too long, she'll be dragging it around the house like a little snail. so, baby doesn't seem to mind it all that much.
unlike baby, mami and papi are struggling a bit more with the cast, but this has more to do with the literal backache of lugging her now 20-and-a-half pound butt around and changing her gooey poopy diapers. the cast has a 4x10 hole left open for the diaper. this hole is just big enough to stuff a size 1 diaper into. thus far, knock on wood, we've avoided any leaks or major blowouts so after two weeks in this thing, baby still doesn't stink. (apparently, this is quite uncommon--most spica casts can clear a room after just one week.) the pee diaper changes are cake. it's the poo that requires a second set of arms. i need one hand to pull the diaper away, another two to hold wipes at the edge of the cast to prevent poo from oozing along the sides and another to wipe all her pieces-parts. but since i've only got two hands, this usually means poo ends up on the sides (taped expertly with water and poo proof tape), on my hands, on her feet and on the changing pad. it's a mess. and to top it all off, i've got the world's most sensitive gag reflex, so in addition poo oozing its way onto every available surface, there i stand hacking and gagging through the whole process. it's quite a show, i'm sure.
one benefit to all this, my arms have never been so toned. i would suggest carrying around a 20-pound weight to get an idea of what it's like, but that just wouldn't do our situation justice. maybe if the weight sprouted wiggly arms, a mewling head, and two little feet. we have to be sure we don't knock her feet into door frames when entering rooms and though her cast is as hard and rigid as cement, her torso isn't and she ends up wet noodling around a lot if we're not careful. it's unbelievable the muscles needed to just get her into a good position for nursing--for the first week, my whole body ached.
now, back to the tango that brought us here. this all started out as a "click" and then a "clank." doctors kept saying, "she has a click." or "i can feel a click." or "oh my! now it's a clank." hubby and i began to wonder if we should call on click and clack on car talk rather than these pediatricians and orthopedists. for the longest time, we only knew of this ailment as "the click." we had no idea what it meant or why we were being asked to get ultrasounds and to see specialists. it was maddening. for a while, we were seeing this general orthopedist who was a self-proclaimed idiot when it came to treating infants. my favorite visit with him was an especially brief visit when he provided his final diagnosis of baby. he walked into the room with his trusty caterpillar perched on his top lip, proceeded to jiggle the hip joint on an adult skeleton model and said, "this is what's wrong with her hip." he then exits stage right. okay, so he actually stuck around a minute more to tell us to get a "non-obtrusive-you'll-hardly-notice-it" harness thingy (the harness was actually quite obtrusive and we did notice it because it took 20 minutes to get her into it after each diaper change).
after several visits like this with the orthopedist, residents, and pediatrician, we eventually developed a perpetual stream of steam spouting from our ears and a permanent red hue in our cheeks. we finally insisted that we be referred to a pediatric orthopedist--don't ask why this wasn't done in the first place. but in order to get this referral we had to first face a gauntlet of questioning, first by the referral secretary and then by our pediatrician. (side note: we have since kicked our young, douche bag pediatrician to the curb and he will soon be receiving "fan mail" from us.) we had to actually explain our reasons for wanting a second opinion, as if it isn't a right we're automatically entitled to. and to top it all off, our schmucky pediatrician had the chutzpah to near berate us for not following his every instruction like a love-struck puppy, indicating that as a result of our decisions, baby's dysplasia was now a "2B case as opposed to a 2A case," whatever the hell that means. for four months, we were convinced our daughter was having car trouble based on the jargon we kept hearing; we had no idea what we were actually dealing with. we'd tell doctors and receptionists we were in their office to have a "click" looked at and we'd get looks like "what in the hell did you just smoke? a "click"? are you sure you didn't mean to turn into the car mechanic's next door?" (i make it sound like my nurse mother and doctor father-in-law didn't fill us in on what a "click" actually indicates. we knew all along what was going on and we were making informed decisions throughout the whole process; it's just irritating that we learned none of this from the doctors actually treating our daughter.)
we eventually got that second opinion with a wonderful pediatric orthopedist at one of the top hospitals in the nation. just our luck, she also specialized in infant hip disorders. much to our dismay, the treatment that had been prescribed by schmucky pediatrician and the caterpillar-lipped orthopedist was actually too little too late. the harness we'd been using for two weeks is traditionally used for much younger babies, so our baby, at five months, was too old for this thing. and what really burns my butt is that had we not gotten this second opinion, baby would still be in this harness for the next 3-4 months, which would do her no good and inevitably land us where we are now in the cast. i don't even want to think about the gross motor delays.
anyway, hubby and i made the tough decision to go ahead with the spica cast in hopes that her hip dysplasia would be corrected by the time she's ready to start crawling, standing, walking, etc. we figured the sooner we get this done, the better for our baby. it would be devastating to put her in the cast after she'd already learned to crawl and walk; at least now she doesn't know what she's missing. and like i said, after two weeks in it, baby is still hitting all the usual 5 and 6 month milestones (and she's actually not quite 6 months yet--not until august 11), so we feel quite confident we've made the right decision. there are days, like today, where my heart breaks into a thousand pieces when i clutch my sobbing little girl to my chest while she works through a muscle spasm. but when i think of the pain she would inevitably encounter years down the road without this treatment, it doesn't make her present pain any better, but i at least can rationalize in my head that this is for the best.
 |
| artwork courtesy of me--white plaster is just so drab |
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
history, briefly, or as brief as one can be when summarizing her life
i'm sure lots of people say this when they first begin blogging, but i'm going to say it anyway: i never EVER in a thousand years would have thought i would jump on the blogging train. i imagined bloggers as frizzy haired, bespectacled folks holed up in a room with a cat in their lap typing madly away about dust collecting on the coffee table. i guess in a way i sort of fit that profile, except, instead of a cat, i have a six-month-old squirming in my lap and in place of the coffee table, i have a mountain of toys and plush animals littering my floor. oh, and i don't have frizzy hair and i'm one of those people that should wear corrective lenses but because slimy fingers constantly paw them off my face those lenses remain tucked away in a drawer. as a result, little two-year-old boys in church turn around and squint funny-like at me because that's exactly what i'm doing in order to read even 10% of the song lyrics written on the projector screen. so, that's me: squinty-eyed, not-frizzy haired new blogger lady with young baby wiggling in my lap. at the request of a few friends that enjoyed reading weekly email rants from me about my week in review, i succumbed to this blogging fad.
so, what next... oh, right. i'm also a law student and wife to a history phd candidate. both of us are entering our third year of studies. you might be wondering how in the world we are able to manage the fiscal burdens of raising of child on a student's whopping income of zilch, zero, nada and that, i am proud to say, is all thanks to my husband's high iq. the school took one look at him and said "this smart man is so smart we're going to pay him to go to school here." and that's pretty much how it works: the school pays him to stay here and do his research and i get to ride along, taking out small loans (altogether accumulating into very large, coronary failure-inducing loans) to fund my own law school education. we also do cloth diapering exclusively (or we did--more to that story, which i'll tell later), breast feed (because it's free and breast is best!, or so they say), make our own baby food, and rely on the benevolence of one very generous mother-in-law.
we never imagined having our first child under such circumstances. in our dreams, we envisioned a two story blue farmhouse, complete with wrap-around porch, white rocking chairs, porch swing, and a sweaty pitcher of lemonade as the place where we would start a family. also in this dream, birds land on our fingers and bunnies collect at our feet while we sing lovely Disney melodies. the reality is we live in a two bedroom apartment (recently acquired; we were in a one-bedroom for the last 2 years), tucked away in a town no one has heard of because it barely occupies a one-mile radius of land. we have a porch, but it's just big enough to fit my schwinn cruiser and a couple of potted plants. we have birds that frequent our feeders, but they head for the hills every time our baby burps too loud. instead of bunnies we have malicious pot-breaking squirrels. and even if we did have happy little bunnies, we have a 60-pound mutt that, like most red-blooded dogs, chases anything not of the canine species. though this apartment isn't our dream house, we keep it looking nice and find we are very comfortable, though i could do with a sweaty pitcher of lemonade on this 90 degree day...
can't complain too much about the heat here, though. prior to michigan, we lived and florida and, boy howdy!, was it hot and humid. you couldn't tell the difference between the air and a puddle of water. i walked around for two years looking like a wet dog and i probably smelled like one, too. but it was beautiful. we lived in the tampa bay area, right on the water and i have no complaints there. for real, dolphin would breach under our feet while we sat at the seawall and white egrets would putz around in our front yard eating bugs. sounds idyllic, right? it was great. i love florida and some days i wonder what on god's green earth possessed us to pick up and move to michigan, but then i remember weirdo waldo and weirdo crime and then it all makes sense. weirdo waldo was the creepster maintenance man that "maintained" (i use this term totally in jest because he left things more broke than when he started) our craphole rented house that would have caught fire at the smallest spark or blown over should someone have sneezed too close to it. the dude was insane. he never knocked, just walked in. thankfully, our dog, o'malley, lumped him in with non-canine animals and attacked promptly upon uninvited entry. he stole our tools, checked out my behind nearly every visit and once even splayed out on our bed, uninvited, of course. florida had a lot of creepers. hubby worked for a newspaper and the stories that came through on the crime beat were things of nightmares. step sons chopping step mothers up into pieces and tossing them into retention ponds. kids beating grandparents to death with lead pipes. crawling babies getting run over by the ice cream truck. i'm not kidding about any of this. sometimes i thought we lived in some sort of sick alternate universe. we also hated our jobs (i was a special ed teacher at a school under the administration of a bunch of certified idiots and hubby worked second shift hours at a rapidly collapsing newspaper) and always had aspirations of higher education, so we left.
and that's how we ended up here. it was an adjustment, for sure. we went from being the youngest people amongst a sea of blue haired retirees to the oldest amongst a sea of half drunk post-pubescent frat and sorority kids. i was part of a small minority of married law students, which put me at a distinct disadvantage because none of the frat boys wanted anything to do with an old married chick so i couldn't tap into their incredibly insightful notes about pamela's totally sweet bod or gettin' with barbie the night before. and having a kid in law school, well, that just threw me into a uber minority category. i also felt like i had been thrown into the main ring of the big top circus show--walking the halls of the law school, kids stared at me like they'd never before seen a women with child. one girl actually asked me NOT to go into labor during the crim law final exam. no joke. my favorite reaction by far was when i was standing in line at the café, this guy turned around and took one look at me and starts stuttering, "whoa! whoawhoawhoawhoa!" i mean, seriously, what do you say to that?
so the baby. she wasn't planned. i mean we knew we always wanted kids, and after 4 years of marriage my womb was starting to call to me, but we weren't really in the market for progeny yet. we had hoped to finish our educations and settle down somewhere first. but then hubby was awarded a summer scholarship to do pre-dissertation research in mexico for two months and voila! two weeks after he leaves, i video skype the momentous pee-on-stick event. nine months later, we're parents to the world's cutest baby girl with eyes as big as saucers and a smile that sends that tingly feeling down to your toes.
that pretty much brings us up to date. i mean, there are stories in between that i will share eventually, but the purpose of today's blog was to provide an introductory rundown of events thus far. and with that, i must bid you all goodbye before dear baby girl assaults me with her plastic keys for neglecting her too long.
so, what next... oh, right. i'm also a law student and wife to a history phd candidate. both of us are entering our third year of studies. you might be wondering how in the world we are able to manage the fiscal burdens of raising of child on a student's whopping income of zilch, zero, nada and that, i am proud to say, is all thanks to my husband's high iq. the school took one look at him and said "this smart man is so smart we're going to pay him to go to school here." and that's pretty much how it works: the school pays him to stay here and do his research and i get to ride along, taking out small loans (altogether accumulating into very large, coronary failure-inducing loans) to fund my own law school education. we also do cloth diapering exclusively (or we did--more to that story, which i'll tell later), breast feed (because it's free and breast is best!, or so they say), make our own baby food, and rely on the benevolence of one very generous mother-in-law.
we never imagined having our first child under such circumstances. in our dreams, we envisioned a two story blue farmhouse, complete with wrap-around porch, white rocking chairs, porch swing, and a sweaty pitcher of lemonade as the place where we would start a family. also in this dream, birds land on our fingers and bunnies collect at our feet while we sing lovely Disney melodies. the reality is we live in a two bedroom apartment (recently acquired; we were in a one-bedroom for the last 2 years), tucked away in a town no one has heard of because it barely occupies a one-mile radius of land. we have a porch, but it's just big enough to fit my schwinn cruiser and a couple of potted plants. we have birds that frequent our feeders, but they head for the hills every time our baby burps too loud. instead of bunnies we have malicious pot-breaking squirrels. and even if we did have happy little bunnies, we have a 60-pound mutt that, like most red-blooded dogs, chases anything not of the canine species. though this apartment isn't our dream house, we keep it looking nice and find we are very comfortable, though i could do with a sweaty pitcher of lemonade on this 90 degree day...
can't complain too much about the heat here, though. prior to michigan, we lived and florida and, boy howdy!, was it hot and humid. you couldn't tell the difference between the air and a puddle of water. i walked around for two years looking like a wet dog and i probably smelled like one, too. but it was beautiful. we lived in the tampa bay area, right on the water and i have no complaints there. for real, dolphin would breach under our feet while we sat at the seawall and white egrets would putz around in our front yard eating bugs. sounds idyllic, right? it was great. i love florida and some days i wonder what on god's green earth possessed us to pick up and move to michigan, but then i remember weirdo waldo and weirdo crime and then it all makes sense. weirdo waldo was the creepster maintenance man that "maintained" (i use this term totally in jest because he left things more broke than when he started) our craphole rented house that would have caught fire at the smallest spark or blown over should someone have sneezed too close to it. the dude was insane. he never knocked, just walked in. thankfully, our dog, o'malley, lumped him in with non-canine animals and attacked promptly upon uninvited entry. he stole our tools, checked out my behind nearly every visit and once even splayed out on our bed, uninvited, of course. florida had a lot of creepers. hubby worked for a newspaper and the stories that came through on the crime beat were things of nightmares. step sons chopping step mothers up into pieces and tossing them into retention ponds. kids beating grandparents to death with lead pipes. crawling babies getting run over by the ice cream truck. i'm not kidding about any of this. sometimes i thought we lived in some sort of sick alternate universe. we also hated our jobs (i was a special ed teacher at a school under the administration of a bunch of certified idiots and hubby worked second shift hours at a rapidly collapsing newspaper) and always had aspirations of higher education, so we left.
and that's how we ended up here. it was an adjustment, for sure. we went from being the youngest people amongst a sea of blue haired retirees to the oldest amongst a sea of half drunk post-pubescent frat and sorority kids. i was part of a small minority of married law students, which put me at a distinct disadvantage because none of the frat boys wanted anything to do with an old married chick so i couldn't tap into their incredibly insightful notes about pamela's totally sweet bod or gettin' with barbie the night before. and having a kid in law school, well, that just threw me into a uber minority category. i also felt like i had been thrown into the main ring of the big top circus show--walking the halls of the law school, kids stared at me like they'd never before seen a women with child. one girl actually asked me NOT to go into labor during the crim law final exam. no joke. my favorite reaction by far was when i was standing in line at the café, this guy turned around and took one look at me and starts stuttering, "whoa! whoawhoawhoawhoa!" i mean, seriously, what do you say to that?
so the baby. she wasn't planned. i mean we knew we always wanted kids, and after 4 years of marriage my womb was starting to call to me, but we weren't really in the market for progeny yet. we had hoped to finish our educations and settle down somewhere first. but then hubby was awarded a summer scholarship to do pre-dissertation research in mexico for two months and voila! two weeks after he leaves, i video skype the momentous pee-on-stick event. nine months later, we're parents to the world's cutest baby girl with eyes as big as saucers and a smile that sends that tingly feeling down to your toes.
that pretty much brings us up to date. i mean, there are stories in between that i will share eventually, but the purpose of today's blog was to provide an introductory rundown of events thus far. and with that, i must bid you all goodbye before dear baby girl assaults me with her plastic keys for neglecting her too long.
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