Monday, March 2, 2015

A Treatise On Babies, Trials, And Crotches

After a ten hour work day involving eight full hours in court, I came home to this guy's happy smiling face:

There is seriously no better way to end a day of trial (except with a defense verdict).

I also came home to this elaborate set of train tracks, courtesy of Jacob and Ryan.

When Jon's happy coos began to turn into tired whines, I gathered him into my lap, collapsed into my favorite rocking chair, and rocked him to sleep over a game of Zingo with Jacob and Ryan. I was home, I was surrounded by all my babies. They were either sleeping or laughing. I was so, so happy.

In preparation for trial day one, I spent a good portion of my Sunday rewriting and reviewing witness outlines and doing this:

I swear Jon knows whenever I'm about to have a big day. He is usually a great sleeper but the three times I've had to get up early for court this month, he's only let me have a couple hours of sleep. Last night he woke up at midnight, then Ryan woke up at 1, then Jon woke up again at 2, then Jon woke up again at 4 and again at 5. When my alarm woke me up at 6, it felt like I'd barely slept a wink. But when I looked over at the little stinker in my bed, his face broke into its usual gigantic grin, and I just couldn't stay mad. He hung out with me in the bathroom while I showered and sat next to me while I got dressed for court, all the while lavishing me with huge open-mouthed grins every time we made eye contact.

I love babies.

For trial day 1, I got to voir dire the prospective jurors. It's always nerve wracking to have to chat up complete strangers about whom you will be making instant and stereotypical judgments. And I was younger than every single potential juror. I'm still waiting for the day that I walk into a courthouse or an important meeting and am NOT the youngest person in the room. But hey, could be worse. I could be the oldest person in the room?

After the jury was selected and sworn in, I argued one of our motions in limine. The federal court judge ruled against me but paid me the highest honor by saying that it was "a really excellent brief." I'm going to bask in the glory of that compliment for quit a while! You think judges read so many briefs that they are just mind-numb to them all. Maybe not.

Tomorrow I'm going to wear my brand new pants suit (the phrase "pants suit" makes me cringe and mentally vomit- I don't know why) while I cross examine some witnesses. It's also my only suit with pants (successfully avoided The Phrase). I've been searching for FIVE YEAR for a decent pair of work pants that don't give me constant wedgie. Is my butt just big? No, my butt is exceptionally flat (not in a good way). So is my crotch just long? That could be my native name: Long Crotch. Ha ha, ew. That's worse than The Phrase.

The wedgie problem is why I exclusively wear skirts and dresses at the office. But the other weekend I ACTUALLY found a pair of pants that worked. It was no small miracle. It also just happen to come with a suit jacket that ALSO fit me. And the entire suit made me feel like Alicia Florrick so, you know, I had to buy it. And now I'm not sure what I'm excited most about tomorrow: my new suit or my cross examination.

Either way, I'll be ready!

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