moosh in indy.

Ah, gosh. Thanksgiving. The biggest most forgotten holiday of our culture.

If I were a holiday I would want to be Thanksgiving.

Just think of the patience and love Thanksgiving has. As soon as we all come out of candy coma on November 1st the Christmas trees are out and the “FA LA LA LA LA-ing” is all up in Thanskgiving’s business. But Thanksgiving is still there.

Thanksgiving doesn’t even care that we take take take and fall asleep before it’s through.

Thanksgiving loves us. Even though we don’t give Thanksgiving all the credit it deserves.

So here’s to being more like Thanksgiving, patient, steadfast, constant, modest and not jealous of that whore Christmas. (Well if it is, it doesn’t show it, and that’s a quality I’d do well to learn.)

Want the cheesy list of cheese that I’m thankful for? I really need to for my own good since I’ve been a wallowing ball of misery because I miss my husband so badly.

Ooh, when I start thinking about it, there’s so many things I’m grateful for. Gosh, I do a fantastic job of making myself miserable with missing my husband because there are countless blessings in my life. I have a healthy, funny, wicked smart and adorable kid. I have a husband who is just the bee’s knees in so many ways. I have a family who thinks I’m awesome, I think they’re pretty awesome too. I have friends, REAL friends, not just those fair-weather kind. I’m healthy, I have one of those bright shiny futures, I have talents, I have good teeth.

And to any of you who are reading this-THANK YOU. This blog has pulled me out of dark caverns when I needed it most, and the fact that you’re still here, either out in the open or lurking has soothed my troubled heart on more than one occasion.  I started this blog as a way to keep my family and friends updated on the fruit of my loins while we were in the wasteland wonderland of Indiana and it’s turned into one of the greatest things I could have ever done for myself.

That you’re all here to share it with me makes me so thankful.

the moosh needs a tishme, the little toad went and got sick. OH, BUT I’M SO GRATEFUL THAT I HAVE THE MEANS AND ABILITY TO CARE FOR HER.

To think, I almost complained on Thanksgiving.

I wish all of you peace, love, happiness and gratitude.

And I wish my husband were here.

But I’m grateful he’s working his tail off back in Indiana.

You know, for us. Thankful, thankful, thankful.

 Welcome to the second meeting of LWA (Law Wives Anonymous). I’m your host, Casey. Today’s disgruntled wife comes to us from somewhere in the the frozen North (anonymity people) and is married to a man who just happens to be in his first year of law school. (Collective groan of understanding everyone.) She’s unable to vent her true frustrations over at her place due to a little problem known as her family. (Again, groan of understanding.)

This may just be a regular feature here on moosh in indy. So if you’re married to or dating a law student, a Med student, a dental student, an attorney,  a doctor,  a PhD student, a mechanic or even a plumber LET IT OUT. It’s safe here, I delete trolls. Email me, mooshinindy at gmail dot com and get some deliciously cheap therapy.

Without further adieu, I give you Lonely in Law, eh?.

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Have you ever had one of those days where you wish you could just play make believe like your little kiddo and everything would be perfect?…Well for me it’s been one of those MONTHS! I just have to get it off my chest. First of all my husband’s in law school. Enough said. He also is in Law Review (basically the deans list that decides which law articles get published) and competing in the Laskin Moot (pretend court case) and also a negotiation competition. Which you’re supposed to drop classes for the Law review and Laskin…but nooo he hasn’t. enough about that the real reason(s) why I need to rant. Okay soo, my van is dead. We got it last year as a used van… well it has a leaking head gasket, whatever that is, so randomly when I turn left corners it will stall in the middle of the intersection, and anyone on student loans knows we are broke and don’t have money for a new one. So we will be carless in a climate that last year went down to -48 Celsius… don’t know what that is F, you can figure it out Americans. And to boot My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for almost a year now…….. took a test today… and it was negative. So i am in a bad mood. I don’t understand how with our first one I was on the FRIGGEN PILL and I got prego but when we are actually trying I can not get prego for the life of me… it makes me mad, and feel like I am letting my husband and my self down. Oh and also I hate the city I am living in right now (I know you too Casey) but honestly I feel sooo flipping alone, I don’t feel like I fit in, I don’t feel like I have any friends, I can’t be myself, I just hate it. So all in all…. life sucks right now for me….. Good news is that I love my husband and Daughter no matter what happens I have them! And they love me for who I am.

Thanks Casey I needed to get that out and couldn’t on my blog. Now I am continue to be my happy self!

Ahem. This is my first meeting of “Spouses of Law Students Anonymous.” I’m supposed to introduce myself, right?

My name is Megan. I write at Velveteen Mind. Law school stinks.

And I hate to break it to Casey, but so does studying for the Bar exam, taking the Bar exam, trying to get a job at a good firm, trying to keep a job at a good firm… Good Lord, I want to take a nap.

But wait, I can’t take a nap because I am the Only. One. In Charge. Around. Here.

Being the wife of a young lawyer sucks.

It sucks when they are trying to get into law school, it sucks when they are in law school, and it sucks when they are out of law school.

Casey can’t say these things over here at moosh in indy and I can’t say these things over on Velveteen Mind. So, you see, this guest posting thing is working out quite nicely for me.

Um, I mean, I’m sure Casey would never say these things. She is nothing but a supportive spouse to her brilliant husband who should have no problem securing a job because he is a real find. (hint hint, prospective employers out there, who really shouldn’t be reading Casey’s husband’s wife’s blog, anyway)

But seriously, I’m sick of this supportive spouse crap. Yeah, I said it. Sick of it! I’m sick of following my husband around wherever his career takes him. I’m sick of deferring to his needs because he’s the one with the real job. Because he’s the one supporting this family. I’m sick of telling myself that bending over backwards to make his life comfortable and convenient and stress-free for the sake of what he’s doing for us is all worth it.

I’m sick of my life being about him.

Good grief, I hope he hasn’t followed the link from my blog over to this guest post. Hey, Maguire! Just kidding. Heh heh.

Now, I have to admit that I’m not entirely familiar with the commenters here at the moosh. I try to read Casey’s comments on her hilarious blog posts, but she usually gets a spajillion of them and I have to stop reading at about number four or else I won’t leave a comment myself. The problem with that is that I would therefore be unaware of any smack-talkers she may have in her comments section…

Before any of you say, “Waaaah, waaaah, you poor baby. Wife and stay-at-home mom of a lawyer. Cry me a river. Why don’t you wipe up your tears with your money?” or some other understandably sympathetic statements, let me tell you that we will have paid for any success we build with serious blood, sweat, and tears. We will have earned every single damn penny of his professional income. And I’m only hoping it will have been worth it.

I did say “we.” Because this has been a joint venture. No way in hell he could have pulled this off without me.

Here’s where I reveal a secret to you… Maguire failed the Bar exam. Three times. He finally passed on the fourth try and was recently sworn in as a member of the Mississippi Bar. Praise Jebus! For the record, he is freakin’ brilliant, all across the board, but he can’t take a standardized test to save his life. Quite literally. I think he’s allergic to whatever they put in #2 pencils. His brain just shuts down.

Here’s how it played out, in one long run-on paragraph, because that’s how it felt:

Maguire is in law school. I decide this would be a great time to get pregnant. We get pregnant. Maguire gets fired from his cushy legal internship due to restructuring of the program. I’m still pregnant. I have the baby. Maguire graduates. We move to Mississippi, where Maguire has landed a hard-won job at a solid law firm. Maguire takes the Bar exam. Our house washes away in a bitchy hurricane. Maguire fails the Bar exam. We get pregnant again. Because I’m all about sweet timing. Maguire takes the Bar exam again. Maguire fails the Bar exam again. Maguire gets fired from his cushy law job. I’m still pregnant. I have the baby. Maguire leaves me in the hospital to take the Bar exam. Maguire fails the Bar exam. I’m at home with two little boys and no money. And by home, I mean my parents’ guest house, because our prospects washed away with our home. Maguire takes the Bar exam a fourth time. I pray to Mary that she’ll put a good word in with her kid because I’m sick of trusting Him at this point. Maguire passes the Bar exam.

Now give me the money.

All I have done in this story is support Maguire and make babies. Or at least that’s how it feels sometimes. I have a very fierce voice inside me that has a tendency to mutter, “What about me?” occasionally. I’m letting it out over here. It appears to be screaming.

But wait, apparently they don’t just cut you a check for passing the Bar. No, apparently they expect you to work for it. After all of this? Now you want him to work all the time? When do I get him?

It is exhausting, ya’ll. It is exhausting being the rock. Being the patient one. Being so damn understanding. I don’t care what the job is, I don’t care how bad your story is, this crap is exhausting.

…………………….

Deep breath.

Exhale.

Whew. That felt good.

Thanks, Casey. I needed that.

Now back to being the support system for this family. Back to fortifying our foundation with what really matters, with what will make all of his professional success pale in comparison to what I have built for us at the end of the day.

And he appreciates every single thing I do. Every single thing. So I keep on.

Because I love this job of mine. I love this man. I believe in him. And I love our family. I love our life.

Listen, people, I get that I have the most important job, that my husband is doing his best for our family, blah blah blah. I get it. Really, I do. And I am grateful and appreciative and loving.

But you better damn well believe that I am buying a sweet Volvo wagon for myself, an annual spa vacation, and hiring a housekeeper as soon as we can afford it. Because damn. This was exhausting.

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edited to add:

I wrote this last night, after another long day and evening alone with the kids. Then I woke up this morning to hear Maguire say this…

“When Pants crawled in bed with us last night, I woke up like it was nine in the morning. I just laid there and watched him sleep. I put my hand on his chest and couldn’t believe how much I love him. Our boys are amazing. We are so lucky. Things are going to turn around… And I’m getting that Volvo for you, even if it is an electrical nightmare! I just love our family.”

Casey! You didn’t tell me that you had a genie in your blog! Here goes nothing:

Dear Genie of moosh in indy,
I wish Mike Rowe would call the Queen of Shake-Shake.
I wish I had bigger boobs and smaller thighs.
I wish my boys would stay friends for their entire lives.
Thank you,
Megan from Velveteen Mind

…that’s right, I am simultaneously generous, shallow, and wise. Not a bad combination, actually.