collapsed, but victorious. sort of.

I'm writing this stretched out on our couch, laptop propped up on the Boppy, a cold Pacifico stuffed with fresh lime condensing next to me on the cardboard coasters that Nathaniel likes to pull off the table and chew. There were a few times this week that I wasn't sure I would make it to this point, but now that I'm here, I'm reveling in the momentary quiet.

The issue of the cover letter and my undergraduate transcript was unexpectedly if traumatically solved. Late last night, as I was writing my desultory two-sentence cover letters, I noticed that a firm I knew should have been on the list wasn't there. At first I thought it was sleep deprivation, not an unreasonable guess given that Nathaniel's eighth and final front tooth is pushing down, unwilling, I suppose, to not be part of the fun this week.

But no. It wasn't sleep deprivation. I finally figured it out: the career services website had me listed as a 3L. I couldn't bid on any 2L firms, or even see whether those firms wanted a cover letter, a resume, Nathaniel's birth certificate, my undergraduate transcript, or what have you. The positions I had bid for were 3L positions, not 2L positions.

I did not panic when I realized this. Oh no. If I was misclassified, and therefore unable to get the correct pieces of paper in order, it was not my fault. Somehow, even though the practical result was exactly the same as what I was worried about to begin with, that was okay. It was simply not meant to be. I sent off an urgent mail to the career office, and called it a night.

After a rocky night Nathaniel woke up at 5:40. My husband stumbled downstairs with our grotesquely energetic and cheerful morning child. I don't know what neck of the genetic woods that particular trait popped out of, but it sure as heck isn't mine. I, instead, did what one should properly do at that hour: I rolled over and slept until 6:40, oversleeping just enough to mean that the rest of the morning was spent rushing around in a panic. My husband brought me eggs and coffee while I printed out ten copies of my resume, ten copies of my transcript, and the cover letters for the 3L firms that wanted them.

I ran up to my classroom early, intending to read for my classes in the twenty minutes remaining before Patent Law. As I pulled out my Evidence book, my phone rang out in the empty room. It was the career services office representative, apologizing for the mistake and telling me that it was fixed.

"Thank you," I said, "but I only have until noon today to bid on firms, and since I didn't know about some of the firms, I don't have the correct materials."

"Just submit your transcript and your resume. That's fine."

Absolved, I hung up.

I had ten minutes remaining before class to decide whether to bid on the 2L firms I hadn't seen earlier. There was no time for thoughtful comparison. I looked for firms less than ten miles from my house, in interesting neighborhoods, with an intellectual property group, and which didn't report annual average associate billables over 2000 hours in the NALP directory. My methodology was not what you would call comprehensive. I picked one firm because their home page had a golden retriever on it.

During Patent Law and Evidence, I organized and ordered my bids online while simultaneously taking notes. While Prof. Evidence talked about a case in which a distinguished chemist persuaded doctors that his research vegetables conveniently needed extremely high doses of prescription narcotics, I submitted my bids.

I hurried up the stairs to Copyright after Evidence, because I'm still on the waiting list for that class and have to get a seat. Of course, today of all days, I was cold-called by the professor. I mentally prepared my excuses, only to hear her ask me whether I thought programs loaded into RAM could be considered fixed for the purposes of copyright infringement. It turns out that the case I was supposed to read featured a technical analysis of the transience of RAM. I cautiously answered as if I had read, silently thankful for my engineering background.

After classes were over, I went to the OCI resume drop. It was just disorganized enough for me to hope that the firms wouldn't pay too much attention to my missing papers. I slipped my skinny little packets into the boxes for each firm with a shrug.

When I finally got back home I found my sister valiantly trying to distract Nathaniel, who chewing on anything in an effort to quell the teeth pain. We played with him and extracted a few delighted laughs, but when he mouthed the nose of the startled dog, we gave up, gave him dinner and a bath, and put him to bed.

And then I collapsed.

Comments

[Suzanne]

Oh! What a day! I would definitely collapse if I were you, too. Congratulations on pulling it all together, despite the failings of others!

[Rayne of Terror]

I've been so envious that you are returning to school this week, but maybe I'll just rethink that and cherish my 5 more months at home.

[fran]

I've always wondered at the ability of people balancing working and/or going to school while raising children.
I applaud you for your energy and drive. I also applaud C. for being a true father. I have every confidence that you'll succeed at both school and home. And most importantly, Nathaniel will eventually get all his teeth.
love, fran

[DeAnna]

Eight teeth down, twelve to go! Ugh, T., what an amazingly crazy day -- I'm glad you survived! It's great you were able to answer the question in Copyright class. It reminded me of the time I had a history class where the professor gave two finals, each one based on the information from a different book. Fortunately, I got the final based on the book I HAD read.

[transmogriflaw]

DeAnna, you did well with 50-50 odds!

Thanks, everybody. I have mostly recovered by now.