I am madly in love with Facebook. Not because I look at it all the time (although there are days . . .), but because it brings out the best in society. For those of you who only know of Facebook from the things you read about it or the news stories about controversy surrounding it, you might be skeptical. But it really is a beacon of light to me and highlights all the good things about people. Sure, there are things about it that aren't that great (the random quizzes get a bit tedious sometimes, but I mostly avoid them, which solves that problem), but its plusses are so worth the minuses that I recommend it to everyone I know.
Facebook is basically sunshine and friendship. People can tell the world a tiny bit about themselves in a moment, which brings us close together in the otherwise mundane aspects of life and makes us feel less alone. It reminds us that we are all pretty much dealing with the same stuff (kids, work, marriage; you know, life), and that we are all doing ok. It provides a place to vent frustration or self-doubt. But the best thing is that if you do feel a little beat up by life and post that on your status, the outpouring of support is unbelievable.
I am delighted by reading other people's status posts on Facebook because they are often hilarious (another good thing about Facebook, it shows off how damn funny people can be), and because if someone lets us know they're having a bad day, the outpouring of pick-me-up messages is awesome. People are so nice to each other on Facebook. People write things to each other like, "you are so cute!" or "that's hilarious!" or "I miss you." In public! Who ever says things like that to a friend or loved one? It's rare in personal interaction, but not on Facebook. Happens all the time.
One of the best additions to Facebood is the "I like this" feature, which gives people a thumbs up when they post something other people like. It's utilized constantly, and honestly, it never gets old. I think it's so understated and happy that I could kiss the person who invented that feature. But, of course, Facebook makes me so damn happy that I could kiss the world after a few minutes checking in on my friends there. It might just give Disney World a run for its "Happiest Place on Earth" money (it's about time, I might add).
Obviously, connecting with long-lost friends and catching up with family is always a good thing. But being able to do it in such a happy, gentle place makes the reunions so easy. I love seeing married couples sending each other virtual sweets and "getting married" in Facebook land. I love seeing someone post yet another cranky status update and getting encouraging messages in return, no matter how futile the attempt to cheer might be. I love that it's a diverse place, with members young and old, male and female, people of different races, ethnicities, religions.
I may look back at this post years from now, barf at how sappy I was (as you may be doing now), and laugh at my naive self for loving something that eventually went wrong. But right now, in my estimation, there's nothing wrong with Facebook. And if loving Facebook is wrong, I don't wanna be right.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Sleep, or lack thereof
I wish I was one of those people who doesn't need a lot of sleep. I love sleep, but more importantly, I hate being tired. I spend a lot of time thinking about sleep, looking forward to bedtime, trying to plan the perfect nap. I have become so obsessed with sleep that I have turned the corner and it is now a guilty pleasure, which means that I associate it with selfishness, which means that I can't nap any more. Having two small children, as you might imagine, doesn't help.
When my son was born, more than four years ago, I had a long labor, an emergency c-section, and a difficult recovery. My son weighed almost eleven pounds at birth, and must have had his heart set on body building early in life, because he insisted on eating every hour or so to pack on more pounds. Neither of us had blood sugar problems, he was, and is, huge. He's mostly just tall now, but he's never been below the 95% in height or weight for his age. Point being, he needed to eat a lot to get as big as he is, so he made eating, not sleeping, his main newborn goal.
As a result, there was not a lot of sleeping going on in my house for several months. The trouble I had delivering him exhausted me more than I can describe, and then my husband and I had to take him home and get up every couple of hours to feed him. I know, I know, it is what it is; babies don't sleep through the night and no matter how wrecked you are after delivery, you just have to deal with it. But it just seems empirically unfair that, after major surgery, which, in any other circumstance would result in lots of pampering and sleeping all day and night to recover, is followed by a violent reduction in sleep. Every night. For months and months.
I also remember, in addition to the total despair I felt when I climbed into bed at night, knowing that the process of doing so was mostly just a terrible tease and that there would be no sleep, that I was totally alone. Don't get me wrong, my husband is one of those rock star husbands who would literally walk around the bed to pick up my son and hand him to me to nurse from the bassinet that was next to my side of the bed, so he was almost as sleep deprived as I was. It had more to do with the people I would talk to who had children, but did not talk about their days with a newborn using the intense hyberbole I did. They didn't use words like "torture" or "despair" or "kill me now because I can't survive another moment this tired" when they discussed the first few months after their babies were born. I thought I was truly the only one.
But then it did get better. Holden started sleeping through the night, thanks be to sleep training, and I started to catch up a bit, and my memory faded, and we decided to have another baby. I was delighted to find out I was pregnant again, and then the hormones kicked in and I got tired. That bone aching tired that pregnancy hormones create, which brought back the memories of Holden's first months. Which made me start to panic. What had we done? I was just getting used to better sleep! How could I have signed up for this again?
My fear of the newborn months haunted me throughout the pregnancy, but I told myself it would be better this time. I knew what I was getting into, I wouldn't have a 30-hour labor before delivering this time (scheduled repeat c-section), and I could hold on for a few months. Truthfully, that was a healthy dose of denial and self-deception to ease the rising tide of terror about the coming exhaustion. The thought of being that tired again was far scarier than the major abdominal surgery I was about to undergo a second time, than the fear of birth defects, than the fear of adding a baby to a family I thought was already perfect. Can sleep really be that important to anyone?
It is to me. I was raised in the midwest, which taught me to immediately reject as whining any kind of complaining, so I tend to be very stoic. I don't mind needles, I don't complain about severe dental pain, if the elevator is out of order, I walk six flights while telling myself I need the exercise. I get that hearing someone complain about being tired is about as interesting as watching paint dry. I just couldn't stop myself from writing this post, and it's because exhaustion is so painful to me that it warrants a good whine.
But here's where the midwesterner in me rises up; things are so much better now. When Tessa was born (exactly 51 weeks ago today), I felt awesome. My scheduled c-section delivery was so easy that the happy hormones that kick in after the birth of a baby were noticeable and delightful. I nursed her successfully every two-three hours in the hospital and slept peacefully in between feedings. And when we got home from the hospital, she slept in her crib, every night, for the first ten weeks of her life, from 11:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.
I am still tired every day. I haven't slept past 6:00 a.m. in a year, and my husband is in the same boat (in fact, he says he's far more exhausted with Tessa than he was when Holden was a baby). But it's so much better. It's not the kind of tired that aches in your bones and makes you want to vomit. Like that soreness after you go to the gym is a good soreness, it's a good tired. If there ever was such a thing.
Next week, I'm going to a conference, away from the family for the first time since Tessa was born. And the week after that, Josh and I are going to San Francisco for his conference. I will blog about the importance of ditching the kids for a few days in another post another day, but suffice it to say, I plan on sleeping past 6:00 a.m. You heard me right. I might even make it to 6:30 once or twice. Heaven.
When my son was born, more than four years ago, I had a long labor, an emergency c-section, and a difficult recovery. My son weighed almost eleven pounds at birth, and must have had his heart set on body building early in life, because he insisted on eating every hour or so to pack on more pounds. Neither of us had blood sugar problems, he was, and is, huge. He's mostly just tall now, but he's never been below the 95% in height or weight for his age. Point being, he needed to eat a lot to get as big as he is, so he made eating, not sleeping, his main newborn goal.
As a result, there was not a lot of sleeping going on in my house for several months. The trouble I had delivering him exhausted me more than I can describe, and then my husband and I had to take him home and get up every couple of hours to feed him. I know, I know, it is what it is; babies don't sleep through the night and no matter how wrecked you are after delivery, you just have to deal with it. But it just seems empirically unfair that, after major surgery, which, in any other circumstance would result in lots of pampering and sleeping all day and night to recover, is followed by a violent reduction in sleep. Every night. For months and months.
I also remember, in addition to the total despair I felt when I climbed into bed at night, knowing that the process of doing so was mostly just a terrible tease and that there would be no sleep, that I was totally alone. Don't get me wrong, my husband is one of those rock star husbands who would literally walk around the bed to pick up my son and hand him to me to nurse from the bassinet that was next to my side of the bed, so he was almost as sleep deprived as I was. It had more to do with the people I would talk to who had children, but did not talk about their days with a newborn using the intense hyberbole I did. They didn't use words like "torture" or "despair" or "kill me now because I can't survive another moment this tired" when they discussed the first few months after their babies were born. I thought I was truly the only one.
But then it did get better. Holden started sleeping through the night, thanks be to sleep training, and I started to catch up a bit, and my memory faded, and we decided to have another baby. I was delighted to find out I was pregnant again, and then the hormones kicked in and I got tired. That bone aching tired that pregnancy hormones create, which brought back the memories of Holden's first months. Which made me start to panic. What had we done? I was just getting used to better sleep! How could I have signed up for this again?
My fear of the newborn months haunted me throughout the pregnancy, but I told myself it would be better this time. I knew what I was getting into, I wouldn't have a 30-hour labor before delivering this time (scheduled repeat c-section), and I could hold on for a few months. Truthfully, that was a healthy dose of denial and self-deception to ease the rising tide of terror about the coming exhaustion. The thought of being that tired again was far scarier than the major abdominal surgery I was about to undergo a second time, than the fear of birth defects, than the fear of adding a baby to a family I thought was already perfect. Can sleep really be that important to anyone?
It is to me. I was raised in the midwest, which taught me to immediately reject as whining any kind of complaining, so I tend to be very stoic. I don't mind needles, I don't complain about severe dental pain, if the elevator is out of order, I walk six flights while telling myself I need the exercise. I get that hearing someone complain about being tired is about as interesting as watching paint dry. I just couldn't stop myself from writing this post, and it's because exhaustion is so painful to me that it warrants a good whine.
But here's where the midwesterner in me rises up; things are so much better now. When Tessa was born (exactly 51 weeks ago today), I felt awesome. My scheduled c-section delivery was so easy that the happy hormones that kick in after the birth of a baby were noticeable and delightful. I nursed her successfully every two-three hours in the hospital and slept peacefully in between feedings. And when we got home from the hospital, she slept in her crib, every night, for the first ten weeks of her life, from 11:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.
I am still tired every day. I haven't slept past 6:00 a.m. in a year, and my husband is in the same boat (in fact, he says he's far more exhausted with Tessa than he was when Holden was a baby). But it's so much better. It's not the kind of tired that aches in your bones and makes you want to vomit. Like that soreness after you go to the gym is a good soreness, it's a good tired. If there ever was such a thing.
Next week, I'm going to a conference, away from the family for the first time since Tessa was born. And the week after that, Josh and I are going to San Francisco for his conference. I will blog about the importance of ditching the kids for a few days in another post another day, but suffice it to say, I plan on sleeping past 6:00 a.m. You heard me right. I might even make it to 6:30 once or twice. Heaven.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Apostrophes
The title of this blog entry is not gripping to everyone, I know, but it is something I think about way more than I should, so it seems like an obvious blog post to me. This is one of those moments where I admit that I do something I don't normally like to do, which is cast blame on a younger generation. I really try hard not to fall into the "kids these days" trap; assuming that the generation behind mine is terrible about (enter topic here) and that my generation was far superior about that particular topic. There are many reasons to avoid this kind of thinking, so I do my darndest, but when it comes to apostrophes, I can't help myself. Apostrophes make me so crazy that I'm ready to abandon my principles to try and intervene before it's too late.
First, let me explain why thinking the generation behind yours in worse than you were when you were a kid is wrong and bad. It's wrong because they are not worse than we were. Every generation is annoyed by younger people, with their energy, their exuberance, their attitudes that they are invincible and will never get old like us. That makes sense, because youthful naivete and enthusiasm is annoying. But this generation of kids is not more annoying in its youthiness than we were (thank you, Stephen Colbert, for giving us "truthiness," the inspiration for my new word), it is simply a different kind of youthiness, which comes across as more annoying to us older folks.
Setting aside the notorious and extremely rare occassions like Columbine (which are also probably not indicative of a more violent youth today, but actually more reflective of a larger population and more extensive media coverage that makes these events seem more likely), there is little difference between how kids act generation to generation. Kids are not louder or more disrespectful than they were when we were kids, we were just kids and didn't realize how loud and disrespectful we were. Kids aren't more violent today than they were when we were kids; every generation of kids since the beginning of time has delighted in beating the crap out of each other with sticks. Kids aren't lazier than they were when we were kids, they just have better ways to entertain themselves while sitting on their rear ends than we did and have far superior hand-eye coordination to my generation (thanks be to Super Mario, or whatever newfangled video game the kids are playing today). Kids are still just kids, with a different set of toys than we had.
The good news is that kids really haven't changed over the years. The bad news is that grown ups haven't either, with their wishing for things to be the way they were when we were kids. This "kids these days" attitude has been around for a very long time. In 79 A.D., Mt. Vesuvius covered Pompeii in volcanic ash, freezing the city in time for archeologists to discover many years later. Those archeologists found a lot of vulgar graffiti, along with at least one complaint (in the form of graffiti) about the amount of graffiti on the walls in Pompeii. While that complaint could have come from a young person, I'm betting even money it was someone who was annoyed by those pesky Pompeiian kids.
I admit I have little to no proof that I'm right about my "kids are kids" theory, but I think it's true, and it's my blog, so I get to say it like I mean it. Except that I have found myself slipping into the vortex recently, and I am here to confess my sins and vent about my frustration. My one solace is that my concern for the younger generation does not condemn their character, ethics, or values, it has more to do with their use of apostrophes. You read it right, apostrophes. Kids today (or more accurately, people today, because the affliction appears to be terribly contagious and is spreading into more mature generations) have an affection for apostrophes that knows no bounds, and they sprinkle them into their writing with reckless abandon.
I don't really know why apostrophes are so abused. It might be the more relaxed grammatical standards in e-mail or texting, it might be that grade school teachers have decided that the battle is too daunting to teach students about appropritate apostrophe usage, or it might be that there is some sort of apostrophe aphrodisiac in the water supply that I have not yet tasted that makes people slaves to the apostrophe. Whatever the culprit, the result is that people use apostrophes totally incorrectly with a gleeful abandon that boggles the mind. It seems that some think that every s needs an apostrophe, because I've read sentences like "the tree's are beautiful when in bloom" and "my hand's are killing me!" I just don't think this sort of thing happened as much when I was a kid.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's been happening all along and I just never noticed. Maybe that graffiti in Pompeii was riddled with inappropriate apostrophes, but I do feel strongly that it's gotten worse. And it makes me so crazy I could scream. It just looks so . . . wrong.
And so begins my "love the apostrophe less" campaign. Please use them responsibly (to indicate possessives, such as "Annie's ball," "the Davis' front door," or "the tree's bark is rough," or a conjunctive, like shortening "it is" to "it's") or not at all. A lack of an apostrophe looks much better than an apostrophe out of place. And please let a restaurant manager know when you see an error on a menu, because you will. Whatever you do, though, please respect the proper use of the apostrophe and set an example for the "kids these days," because things really are getting worse, and it's annoying.
First, let me explain why thinking the generation behind yours in worse than you were when you were a kid is wrong and bad. It's wrong because they are not worse than we were. Every generation is annoyed by younger people, with their energy, their exuberance, their attitudes that they are invincible and will never get old like us. That makes sense, because youthful naivete and enthusiasm is annoying. But this generation of kids is not more annoying in its youthiness than we were (thank you, Stephen Colbert, for giving us "truthiness," the inspiration for my new word), it is simply a different kind of youthiness, which comes across as more annoying to us older folks.
Setting aside the notorious and extremely rare occassions like Columbine (which are also probably not indicative of a more violent youth today, but actually more reflective of a larger population and more extensive media coverage that makes these events seem more likely), there is little difference between how kids act generation to generation. Kids are not louder or more disrespectful than they were when we were kids, we were just kids and didn't realize how loud and disrespectful we were. Kids aren't more violent today than they were when we were kids; every generation of kids since the beginning of time has delighted in beating the crap out of each other with sticks. Kids aren't lazier than they were when we were kids, they just have better ways to entertain themselves while sitting on their rear ends than we did and have far superior hand-eye coordination to my generation (thanks be to Super Mario, or whatever newfangled video game the kids are playing today). Kids are still just kids, with a different set of toys than we had.
The good news is that kids really haven't changed over the years. The bad news is that grown ups haven't either, with their wishing for things to be the way they were when we were kids. This "kids these days" attitude has been around for a very long time. In 79 A.D., Mt. Vesuvius covered Pompeii in volcanic ash, freezing the city in time for archeologists to discover many years later. Those archeologists found a lot of vulgar graffiti, along with at least one complaint (in the form of graffiti) about the amount of graffiti on the walls in Pompeii. While that complaint could have come from a young person, I'm betting even money it was someone who was annoyed by those pesky Pompeiian kids.
I admit I have little to no proof that I'm right about my "kids are kids" theory, but I think it's true, and it's my blog, so I get to say it like I mean it. Except that I have found myself slipping into the vortex recently, and I am here to confess my sins and vent about my frustration. My one solace is that my concern for the younger generation does not condemn their character, ethics, or values, it has more to do with their use of apostrophes. You read it right, apostrophes. Kids today (or more accurately, people today, because the affliction appears to be terribly contagious and is spreading into more mature generations) have an affection for apostrophes that knows no bounds, and they sprinkle them into their writing with reckless abandon.
I don't really know why apostrophes are so abused. It might be the more relaxed grammatical standards in e-mail or texting, it might be that grade school teachers have decided that the battle is too daunting to teach students about appropritate apostrophe usage, or it might be that there is some sort of apostrophe aphrodisiac in the water supply that I have not yet tasted that makes people slaves to the apostrophe. Whatever the culprit, the result is that people use apostrophes totally incorrectly with a gleeful abandon that boggles the mind. It seems that some think that every s needs an apostrophe, because I've read sentences like "the tree's are beautiful when in bloom" and "my hand's are killing me!" I just don't think this sort of thing happened as much when I was a kid.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's been happening all along and I just never noticed. Maybe that graffiti in Pompeii was riddled with inappropriate apostrophes, but I do feel strongly that it's gotten worse. And it makes me so crazy I could scream. It just looks so . . . wrong.
And so begins my "love the apostrophe less" campaign. Please use them responsibly (to indicate possessives, such as "Annie's ball," "the Davis' front door," or "the tree's bark is rough," or a conjunctive, like shortening "it is" to "it's") or not at all. A lack of an apostrophe looks much better than an apostrophe out of place. And please let a restaurant manager know when you see an error on a menu, because you will. Whatever you do, though, please respect the proper use of the apostrophe and set an example for the "kids these days," because things really are getting worse, and it's annoying.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Day 2
I have all sorts of ideas about which to blog, which has actually made it hard to choose one. I think I'll go with an observation I made a few days ago that marries the two things I probably think about most; the law and my kids. Don't worry, my kids didn't get busted; my thought actually has more to do with how lawyers rely on the law to represent their clients and how kids think. Turns out, there's a ton of overlap, which is one reason why I think non-lawyers start to hate lawyers so much. Confused? Me, too. Here's the story:
I was talking with the little boy who lives next door, who is six years old and a very sweet, very high-energy youngster. He has a younger brother, who is four, which is the same age as my son, and the three little boys play together frequently. I was standing on my side of the fence that encloses the neighbors' yard, chatting with the six-year-old, who had climbed up the six-foot-high fence to see into our yard. I suggested that he shouldn't be on the fence, because his mom had told him not to climb it the other day (within earshot of me, unfortunately for him), and he said, "oh, I thought she just meant the fence over there." With that, he pointed a few feet away, to a part of the same fence upon which he was standing.
Well, I know that she meant the whole fence, and he does, too. The part of the fence that runs north-south along their property line is as off-limits to climbing as the part of the fence that runs east-west along the property line. But in his kid's mind, this is a legitimate defense to his clear (to me, and certainly his mother, if she'd witnessed it) violation of the rule. He acknowledged the rule, accepted its validity, and claimed to not be in violation of it. In essence, he was challenging my and his mother's definition of the word "fence."
This is exactly what lawyers do every day. They expose ambiguities in the law and seek to clarify it in a way that protects their clients. Don't get me wrong, I don't disagree with this tactic, in fact, I teach my students to embrace and exalt it. In fact, I don't even think it's right to characterize attacking legal ambiguity as a "tactic," it is a lawyer's duty and ethical responsibility to point out where the law is unclear and help courts make it clearer by deciding whether their client violated the law (or deserves a damages award, or whatever). But it's this idea of challenging what "fence" means that gets people angry with lawyers, probably because they've heard their kids try the same thing with maddening frequency and perhaps disingenuous intent, and they don't want to accept it when an adult does the same thing.
Therein lies the rub. What kids do when they try to defend themselves by pushing the definition of what "fence" means is ask for the adult to whom they are speaking to take a leap of logic (as in, we can all agree that each 36 inch section of the fence is a different fence, right?) with which we cannot, in good conscience, agree. But lawyers (well, good ones who take cases responsibly and refrain from pushing the law past its logical limits (and I would argue most lawyers are responsible in this respect)) generally know better than to ask a court to take giant logical leaps; instead, they seek clarity from the court. Clarity in the law is a good thing; it's what the founders of our legal system wanted to achieve when they chose to craft an adversarial, common law system that would encourage lawyers to represent their clients zealously and reach a just result. In case you're like me and need something concrete to give this discussion context, read on, dear reader.
Here's an example: A local school zone in my town has some fancy speed limit signs that pop open when the school zone rules are in effect (speed limit drops to 15 m.p.h.), and close when they are not. The posted speed limit is 30 m.p.h., which is the speed you are driving when the school zone rules take effect and the sign pops open above your car, instantly dropping the speed limit to 15 m.p.h. At that same moment, a police officer pulls out behind you and clocks you as you begin to decelerate, but it's too late, you've just been nabbed for speeding in a school zone (ouch - expensive ticket and insurance premium). It's not fair, you'd cry, and you'd be right. But to some, a lawyer defending you is defending someone who speeds in school zones, not someone who is helping clarify how many seconds drivers have to adjust their speed when a new speed limit takes effect.
I guess my point here is that while lawyers and kids often employ the same arguments to protect their (or their client's) interests, it's not fair to assume that lawyers are engaging in juvenile tactics to make their case. The similarity comes from the universality and legitimacy of a defense that points out that the rule was too murky to put anyone on notice that he or she might violate it with certain behavior. So the little boy next door's attempted defense was doomed to fail because his mother did a very nice job of constructing a rule that could not be attacked as ambiguous (don't climb the fence). He just needs a few years and some law school classes to help him figure out the better angle ("I forgot" often works better in kid world, although it doesn't work for the court). So don't be mad at lawyers for engaging in juvenile arguments, be impressed by your kids and their clever legal arguments (but punish them all the same, otherwise they'll just keep climbing fences and break their faces).
I was talking with the little boy who lives next door, who is six years old and a very sweet, very high-energy youngster. He has a younger brother, who is four, which is the same age as my son, and the three little boys play together frequently. I was standing on my side of the fence that encloses the neighbors' yard, chatting with the six-year-old, who had climbed up the six-foot-high fence to see into our yard. I suggested that he shouldn't be on the fence, because his mom had told him not to climb it the other day (within earshot of me, unfortunately for him), and he said, "oh, I thought she just meant the fence over there." With that, he pointed a few feet away, to a part of the same fence upon which he was standing.
Well, I know that she meant the whole fence, and he does, too. The part of the fence that runs north-south along their property line is as off-limits to climbing as the part of the fence that runs east-west along the property line. But in his kid's mind, this is a legitimate defense to his clear (to me, and certainly his mother, if she'd witnessed it) violation of the rule. He acknowledged the rule, accepted its validity, and claimed to not be in violation of it. In essence, he was challenging my and his mother's definition of the word "fence."
This is exactly what lawyers do every day. They expose ambiguities in the law and seek to clarify it in a way that protects their clients. Don't get me wrong, I don't disagree with this tactic, in fact, I teach my students to embrace and exalt it. In fact, I don't even think it's right to characterize attacking legal ambiguity as a "tactic," it is a lawyer's duty and ethical responsibility to point out where the law is unclear and help courts make it clearer by deciding whether their client violated the law (or deserves a damages award, or whatever). But it's this idea of challenging what "fence" means that gets people angry with lawyers, probably because they've heard their kids try the same thing with maddening frequency and perhaps disingenuous intent, and they don't want to accept it when an adult does the same thing.
Therein lies the rub. What kids do when they try to defend themselves by pushing the definition of what "fence" means is ask for the adult to whom they are speaking to take a leap of logic (as in, we can all agree that each 36 inch section of the fence is a different fence, right?) with which we cannot, in good conscience, agree. But lawyers (well, good ones who take cases responsibly and refrain from pushing the law past its logical limits (and I would argue most lawyers are responsible in this respect)) generally know better than to ask a court to take giant logical leaps; instead, they seek clarity from the court. Clarity in the law is a good thing; it's what the founders of our legal system wanted to achieve when they chose to craft an adversarial, common law system that would encourage lawyers to represent their clients zealously and reach a just result. In case you're like me and need something concrete to give this discussion context, read on, dear reader.
Here's an example: A local school zone in my town has some fancy speed limit signs that pop open when the school zone rules are in effect (speed limit drops to 15 m.p.h.), and close when they are not. The posted speed limit is 30 m.p.h., which is the speed you are driving when the school zone rules take effect and the sign pops open above your car, instantly dropping the speed limit to 15 m.p.h. At that same moment, a police officer pulls out behind you and clocks you as you begin to decelerate, but it's too late, you've just been nabbed for speeding in a school zone (ouch - expensive ticket and insurance premium). It's not fair, you'd cry, and you'd be right. But to some, a lawyer defending you is defending someone who speeds in school zones, not someone who is helping clarify how many seconds drivers have to adjust their speed when a new speed limit takes effect.
I guess my point here is that while lawyers and kids often employ the same arguments to protect their (or their client's) interests, it's not fair to assume that lawyers are engaging in juvenile tactics to make their case. The similarity comes from the universality and legitimacy of a defense that points out that the rule was too murky to put anyone on notice that he or she might violate it with certain behavior. So the little boy next door's attempted defense was doomed to fail because his mother did a very nice job of constructing a rule that could not be attacked as ambiguous (don't climb the fence). He just needs a few years and some law school classes to help him figure out the better angle ("I forgot" often works better in kid world, although it doesn't work for the court). So don't be mad at lawyers for engaging in juvenile arguments, be impressed by your kids and their clever legal arguments (but punish them all the same, otherwise they'll just keep climbing fences and break their faces).
Monday, June 15, 2009
Getting Started
I was on my hands and knees on the kitchen floor, scraping up bits of detritus that have been accumulating for several months, when it hit me: "I should start a blog!" I know you think that is the most logical place to decide to start a blog, but in case it's not so clear to everyone, allow me to explain. First, it is mindless work, which always gets me thinking about random things that often result in more work for me or my husband. Second, the scraping of spot-welded bits of onion skin and sparkly things from my son's school craft projects made me reconsider whether the people I pay to clean my house every other week and who had just done a full cleaning less than four days ago are actually relieving us of our cleaning duties so we can do other "important" things, like work. Third, I was fully aware that scraping up the bits of crud really didn't need my attention, that they weren't such a pox on my house, and that I was really doing it to avoid writing, which is what I should be doing every day, for hours, over the summer.
The thing is this: I am a law professor. I profess the law for nine months a year, and when I'm not professing, I am supposed to be writing about interesting (to hopefully more people than just me) legal topics that are Timely and Important. Don't get me wrong, I do write, and I am pretty dedicated to doing it daily over the summer, but sometimes I get bored with my topic, or decide to goof off with my kids, or have an overwhelming need to scape up sticky bits from my kitchen floor, and I lose my focus. Remembering that I always focus on writing better when I start writing something, anything, it occurred to me that I should do some finger warm ups by starting a blog. And voila, c'est fini (my apologies to those of you who speak French for my mangling of such a beautiful language).
In addition to teaching, I also have two kids and a husband. I hate the characterization of them as another "job," because I don't own the idea that I serve two masters (the law school and my family). It's not that having a family doesn't result in more responsibilities for me than I would have if I didn't have a family, it's just that I've always hated the characterization of "wife" and "mother" as some sort of job description that every woman must understand is her rightful position (with the attendant bad boss complaints and griping about terrible pay that many jobs create) the moment she marries or gives birth. I don't hear men talking about family responsibilities as a second full-time job, even if they are. I guess I've never really liked the idea of being defined by my status as a wife and mother, even though being each of those things has made me happier than any old job could ever hope to.
So, add up that I'm happily married (but am an ardent believer in women's rights and have lots of opinions about how women treat, and are treated in, their marriages), have two incredible kids (who are in daycare all day, despite my feelings that they would be better off with less time there and more time with me and my husband), teach in law school (and have tons of thoughts on the law, teaching, and the rampant abuse of apostrophes), and need an excuse to write fun stuff that gets in the writing mood and you've got a blog. Oh yeah, and I randomly get really cranked about political/legal/mommy/career issues, as you can see from the parentheticals in the preceding sentence, and feel like I need a place to vent, or just share, my thoughts, so there should be no shortage of stuff about which to write. I'm sure you, dear reader, are delighted. Of course, that's assuming that you, dear reader, exist, which is not at all a safe bet, but is an assumption I'll need to make to satisfy my ego and encourage me to press on in writing about Timely and Important political/legal/mommy/career issues. So, stay tuned, imaginary friend, if you care to know what I think about an array of things, but I won't blame you if you find something better to do, like scraping the crud off your kitchen floor.
The thing is this: I am a law professor. I profess the law for nine months a year, and when I'm not professing, I am supposed to be writing about interesting (to hopefully more people than just me) legal topics that are Timely and Important. Don't get me wrong, I do write, and I am pretty dedicated to doing it daily over the summer, but sometimes I get bored with my topic, or decide to goof off with my kids, or have an overwhelming need to scape up sticky bits from my kitchen floor, and I lose my focus. Remembering that I always focus on writing better when I start writing something, anything, it occurred to me that I should do some finger warm ups by starting a blog. And voila, c'est fini (my apologies to those of you who speak French for my mangling of such a beautiful language).
In addition to teaching, I also have two kids and a husband. I hate the characterization of them as another "job," because I don't own the idea that I serve two masters (the law school and my family). It's not that having a family doesn't result in more responsibilities for me than I would have if I didn't have a family, it's just that I've always hated the characterization of "wife" and "mother" as some sort of job description that every woman must understand is her rightful position (with the attendant bad boss complaints and griping about terrible pay that many jobs create) the moment she marries or gives birth. I don't hear men talking about family responsibilities as a second full-time job, even if they are. I guess I've never really liked the idea of being defined by my status as a wife and mother, even though being each of those things has made me happier than any old job could ever hope to.
So, add up that I'm happily married (but am an ardent believer in women's rights and have lots of opinions about how women treat, and are treated in, their marriages), have two incredible kids (who are in daycare all day, despite my feelings that they would be better off with less time there and more time with me and my husband), teach in law school (and have tons of thoughts on the law, teaching, and the rampant abuse of apostrophes), and need an excuse to write fun stuff that gets in the writing mood and you've got a blog. Oh yeah, and I randomly get really cranked about political/legal/mommy/career issues, as you can see from the parentheticals in the preceding sentence, and feel like I need a place to vent, or just share, my thoughts, so there should be no shortage of stuff about which to write. I'm sure you, dear reader, are delighted. Of course, that's assuming that you, dear reader, exist, which is not at all a safe bet, but is an assumption I'll need to make to satisfy my ego and encourage me to press on in writing about Timely and Important political/legal/mommy/career issues. So, stay tuned, imaginary friend, if you care to know what I think about an array of things, but I won't blame you if you find something better to do, like scraping the crud off your kitchen floor.
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