Although it is Friday night, and it’s only 11:00 pm, I should be sleeping. These days, I am usually sleeping at 11:00 pm. My baby is sleeping. My husband is sleeping. And the later I stay up, the less sleep I will get. Because although tomorrow is Saturday, and a year ago I would stay up until whenever and then sleep until eight hours later, I am a parent now. I don’t get to keep my own sleep schedule anymore, which has both up- and down-sides.
But today I also partook in the pleasure of napping with my baby. For the entire lengthy (2+hour) afternoon G-baby nap, I slept. Thus, it is 11:00 pm Friday night, I am not so tired, and I was just reading immigration law. But then I got distracted on facebook. So I read an old friend’s blog, and then it dawned on me that this was the perfect moment to return to my own blog.
So where am I at? I’m a well-adjusted 2L now, have been for some time. Last semester was all about adjusting to law school and motherhood, just in time to finish finals and realize, OMFG I’ll be an attorney in one year! (Gah!)
But I digress. I had G-baby on the 9th day of the 9th month of 2009, which is über-lucky in China, if nothing else. It happened like this:
I had some contractions during the evening of 9-7-09. I went to tax class in sweats the next day, preparing to maybe have to go to the hospital at some point. I was about a week late at this point, it was hot and humid, and I was ready to have the baby. I waddled up my school’s venerable hill to the non-law school classroom where tax class was being held thanks to its 200-person enrollment. The undergrads — as I quickly remembered, with a bit of nostalgia — they don’t have the air conditioning in their buildings, (at least not the 150-year old ones).
So I sweat, and started to contract, but it didn’t hurt too much. So I did what anyone would do, I listened to the crazy tax professor and surfed the web. I had another class that evening, and since it still didn’t hurt that much, I went to that one too. By the time it was over, it was hurting more. Pretty sure I was grimacing about every five minutes, and I had put some times in my notes to keep track of how far apart my contractions were:
And then I got a ride home, and the next morning I went to the hospital, and at 6:40 pm the next evening I had a brand-new 7 lb. 7 oz. G-baby. And yes, if I keep blogging, I plan to call him G-baby.
G-baby is really cute. And I’m not just saying that because I’m his mom. EVERYONE says it. People stop me on the street and smile at him, and these days he smiles back. They ask me his name and how old he is and say things like: “Like babies aren’t cute enough, and then you put them in suits with ears like little bears.” Yes, I dress my child in little brown, fuzzy suits that have bears ears (and feet!) You probably still think I am overstating the cuteness, but you are just going to have to trust me, because I’m pretty sure I’m not going to post photos of him on this blog.
To keep things mostly law school around here, I will share that when F went back to work in October, G-baby came to tax class with me two times per week, two hours each class for the rest of the semester. He was both comic relief and welcome cuteness in the otherwise drab world of Title 26 of the United States Code. When he occasionally woke up and cried in class, I would walk around and feel embarrassed to be an indirect source of noise and disruption. But then later a classmate would say, “It’s okay, I want to cry in tax too.” At least eight different people said that to me during the semester. What none of us knew was that when we took the final exam, we would all cry. Seriously. But let’s not revisit that terrible 24 hours.
These days, the baby law students, (as I will call those who think it’s amusing and fun to have a baby around – note: I was NOT one of those people before I got pregnant, so I’m not at all dissing the non-baby law students) say they miss seeing G-baby. He still makes some appearances, but he doesn’t have a regular class schedule this semester. Tax law was enough for him, at least for twenty or so years.