The Data Plan and The Family Plan

Have you ever been in a conversation with someone who continually pulls out his or her phone to check emails while you are still talking to them? Believe me, the experience still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. So when I got the job offer at a law firm--a really good law firm, meaning relationship-centered--I thought I could go without a phone with a data plan. I continued under this delusion until two weeks into my job when I realized that in the days leading up to a deal I'm basically on call. Just prior to realizing that I need to succumb to this, the sour taste got a little more sour. I decided to sign-in to my work email from home and check-in throughout the night regarding a deal. There were emails going back and forth until about 9:30 pm. But they were emails that could have waited until the next day. I thought, "if a smart phone requires me to stay up and constantly check and answer these kinds of emails all night, I'm definitely not getting one." I realized that this wasn't entirely realistic. Senior lawyers want things off their plates quickly, so they send them off as they think of them. Not only that, why wouldn't a lawyer answer an email, even one that could wait, during a break in the action at home in the evenings if it meant he could make money doing so (assuming of course that it was related to a client file)? Although I stand by my position that people are too attached to their smart phones--more so than to real people standing in front of them, in some cases--I think I had a chip on my shoulder. This is a good career at a good firm with great people. Starting out at a firm is like a medical residency: it is intense and an important way to ear your spurs as a professional. It is also like starting a business. The other attorneys are my clients for now, until I get clients of my own. You can't beat the training. Also like a residency, sometimes I will be on call. So, what does this have to do with the family plan? Simply put, the family plan, as one partner described it, is that family comes first. Work comes second. Just make it a close second. The way I apply this statement is that an ounce of prevention prevents a pound of trouble. There is no need to work Saturdays or Sundays, as long as I put in extra time during the week. I start a few hours early every day, and planned with my wife to call-in no more than two late nights a week, if necessary, during a normal work week. As to the smart phone: don't let it be smarter than you. I will likely review and answer emails in the evenings or on the weekends, but there is no need to interrupt family dinner or other plans, or a conversation for that matter, to do so. There may be exceptions in certain situations, and we accept that. Our family has definitely had to adjust from life working in the federal government. I sleep less and work more. I miss about two family dinners a week. But, I'm not as much of a stickler about bed time and try to take my time reading to or talking with the kids before they go to bed. I wrestle or swim with them even when I don't have the energy. I help at home without complaining, unless it is after 9:30 pm. And I issue fewer commands. As time together becomes a little more scarce and a lot more valuable, I want my time at home to be as positive as possible. For example, my kids and I frequently discuss the intricacies of their Halloween costumes--a pirate for my son, and a princess for my older daughter (the youngest will be wearing the duck outfit her sister wore last year, but doesn't speak enough or care enough to share her opinion about it). We're still figuring our new life out, but we believe their is a way to achieve that balance. What is interesting is that we all seem happier now. My wife enjoys feeling more independence at home with kids and plans, since I can't be as involved anymore. And I think I am much more patient. The kids seem to be happier too. We are much more conscious of our time with them, and I think they appreciate it. I am also a Scout leader, which takes away another night each week. Maybe it is that our kids appreciate their time with me more than they used to, but they are excited about Scouts and other things that I am doing. They take much more interest in it. Lest anyone think that things are perfect, we just barely threw away our empty boxes after two weeks here. Although the other rooms are mostly set-up, our room is still filled with boxes. Our older daughter has decided she does not want to have to worry about when and where she goes potty, so she is back in pull-ups. She is also phasing out of naps, which raises emotions to whole new level. We are still figuring out what to do about our son's preschool, since people here charge and pay Harvard tuition to prepare their 4-year old kids for Kindergarten. We find at least one cockroach a day in our home. Last night it was on my bath towel, then on me, as I was drying off after a shower. And, we're still unsure about our landlord. Ultimately, the conclusions I've reached over the past few days are the result of a lot of introspection over several difficult weeks of transition. Well, we're only two weeks into actual work (four weeks into life here). They have been tiring weeks, but we are happy and still putting each other first--though work really is a close second right now.

Billing Your Time at Home

I never thought I'd see it, at least not in a four-year old. Unpacking, a new home, a new life, etc., all mean one thing: more rules. There are more things you can't touch. There are more things you must do or not do to make a good impression on our new friends and neighbors or to give your exhausted parents a break. You are forced to go to a new school, a new congregation, a new bedroom (or to share it with your two emotional sisters while your parents paint yours). In short, you are not allowed to be a four-year old until we're ready. You must keep that energy bottled up. But when he got excited, he threw a piece of food. I took the rest and excused him from the table. Then, the look. Brow furrowed, chin down, eyes up and narrowly focused in on me. It didn't scare me, but it shocked me. I immediately began to miss the little boy he was prior to our move. I wondered if he'd ever come back or if the rebellious stage so famously attributed to teenage years really started this young and continued until the kids left home. All day long I thought about it. I really couldn't think about anything else. What had gone so wrong that our little boy could cast such a glance at me? My wife and I talked and decided we'd resent us too if someone had imposed so many rules on us, so many that it was just impossible to be ourselves. It was a good reminder to chill out and make the most of my precious time at home. My wife warned me recently, "Don't bill your time at home." I know that she meant I needed to drop my natural habit to stick to a schedule and a routine and enforce them strictly. But billing time has actually helped me recognize the value of my time. I can't waste a minute at work, yet there have been so many evenings where I chose to relax instead of wrestle, or sulk instead of swim. My greater awareness has prompted me to try and make more time by being less strict about bedtime. In other words, we use the same bed time, but we adjust to the needs of the kids. If they are still restless, we wrestle a little or play a little and maybe skip bath. If they seem like their crying for attention and acting a bit rambunctious or rebellious, we read more, talk more, sing more, and take our time. We let our daughter get out of bed to go potty three or four times, until she's to tired to pretend anymore. I think the necessity of billing so much time at work has actually made us better and improving our time together. It's shorter, but more meaningful. It's tougher, but we are more understanding and less critical. It's later and we're tired, but we have a stronger desire to be together. It's less time to talk, but we make greater efforts to build our relationships (nothing beats relaxing in a back float with your son or playing Motor Boat with the girls in the pool after dinner). It seems that just as sacrifice makes us closer (see previous post), so does the effort to make the most of our precious time. In reality, I do bill time at home, but not in the way my wife thought. If every six minutes is precious at work, they become even more so at home. I need to find a way to use every single one to serve my most important clients, my wife and kids. My bill? Well, it's a closer family. If I do my work right, the clients pay immediately.

Adjusting the Dream

To be honest, I came into this expecting a simple conflict of time: How do I balance demands at work with responsibilities at home? But it took me under 4 days at a law firm to realize it's more complicated than that. During orientation my head was spinning. Not only was there a ton of paperwork to fill out for taxes, parking, insurance, retirement, etc., but there was a parade of pro-work presentations. The message was simple: life at the firm is challenging, fulfilling, and fun, if you put in the time and effort. This included not only billable hours, but firm involvement, business development, community involvement, and pro bono work. Not only that, being new, we know nothing. If I don't spend much of my own time getting myself up to speed on the law I'm practicing, I'm no good. Ultimately, we rely on other attorneys to give us work, and they stop giving work to those who say "no." So, though I met get over subscribed, I need to get over it. I need to be willing to put in the time. During one of the final presentations, my head was spinning, so I finally asked, "How do we do all this and still have time for our families?" The partner, a member of the executive committee and someone for whom I have great respect, responded, "Your family always comes first. Work comes second. But make it a close second. I have two daughters. I never missed an important event in their lives. I wouldn't." I still didn't quite see how it was possible, but I knew he'd been through it too. So, dreams of family dinner every night, time to play every night, Saturdays and Sundays off, buying a home, etc., well, they need to be adjusted. What's really driven the point home was the fact that if I don't grow in this business, my student loan payments, 401(k), preschool tuition (which is ridiculous), etc., will eat away my discretionary income. I need to move up. I need to do what the partners want. But I'm finding there is a way. I won't make it to all family dinners, but I can make it to some or most. I can go in early, a great time to focus and buckle down, and leave around dinner time, then go back if necessary. My wife and I discussed my designating two late nights a week, to be used when the partners needed. We realize Saturdays may get used up. But these sacrifices will preserve our Sundays. We can move the dinner time, playtime, and bedtime schedules back slightly to give me a longer day. We can rent an apartment that is closer to work. It may be smaller, but it has a pool, which the kids love, and the commute is great. Throughout this orientation week, I actually do feel better oriented. Though some dreams may be adjusted, there is one that remains constant and fulfilled daily. We are becoming closer as we make sacrifices for each other. I wake up much earlier in order to work longer without missing the evenings with my family. My family waits a little longer for me to get home. We live closer to work, but in a smaller home. We find a cheaper preschool. Somehow, we love each other more, our commitment to each other grows, our kids learn valuable lessons. Who would have thought that those who have to sacrifice for each other are closer and happier?

Creative Punishment

My two-year old daughter is one of the most stubborn children I have ever met, ever. I tried to put her down for a nap on our bed this afternoon (we do that so she and her sister nap in separate rooms), but she wouldn't have it. So I put her in the room with her sleeping sister because it is darker and the door is harder to open. Then I heard her trying to wake her sister up. I told her not to wake her sister up and she replied, "But I want to wake her up." No matter what I said, she kept repeating her reply. I just gave up and put her back on our bed. Miraculously she fell asleep. On top of all this, there is a baby jumping thing that she keeps getting in. We keep telling her to stay out of it because she is too big and could break it. Oh, and one more thing. She refuses to sit and eat dinner, so we have to excuse her and make her go hungry to bed. But it's no use. She does what she wants, when she wants, especially if it gets us worked up. She takes delight in that. So, I told my wife that I had an idea. What if we put her in a corner if she disobeys and threatened her that she would get a marshmallow each time she got up from her punishment. My wife looked puzzled. My theory was simple. She would likely get up so many times that the marshmallows would make her sick. Then the punishment would serve the dual purpose of getting her to obey and to dislike sugary treats. Or, disobedience might merit sitting the kids on the couch all day with unhealthy snacks and television. If they get up they have to eat more snacks and watch more television. The problem with this second idea is that you'd have to punish them for three or four hours at a minimum, depending on how much television and snacks they normally consume each day (I've heard the total average in American homes for television viewing by children is 6 hours per day! These people will obviously have to make this punishment a weekend event). Luckily (from my wife's perspective) we did not have to put any of these brilliantly visionary punishments into effect. As I said, our daughter fell asleep for nap. Then after dinner, we heard her voice in the other room yelling, "Help! I'm stuck! Please get me out!" She was stuck in the baby bouncing contraption. With the same sick delight with which she punishes us, we smiled and replied, "Not right now, we're eating dinner!" I'm not sure it taught her anything, but it felt so good to say.

The Domestic Dad

My last day of the clerkship in DC was August 11. My first day of work at the law firm is September 12. After two weeks on the road and another living with relatives and looking for an apartment, I can safely say that I am going stir crazy. I have never had such a long vacation and I don't think I like it. Don't get me wrong. I love the time with kids. I love seeing everything that I would otherwise miss at work, especially our girls greeting my son with hugs when he gets home from school. I get a little jealous of him actually. The kids used to do that for me when I came home from work. But I can't complain. They still give me lots of hugs. I've already written of my judge's theory that you need to build a fire to keep you warm when you can. I think that is what I am doing. I take advantage of every opportunity I can to be with and play with the kids. I am fortunate though. Many fathers are out of work right now, even in the law profession. But I am a little jealous of them too. I read that many of them are working hard at home landscaping, making repairs, upgrading, and performing the work that they might otherwise pay someone else to do while they were at work. But there are three big differences between me and them. First, this is not my house. Second, it is over 100 degrees outside and a record-breaking hot summer. Third, I have zero handyman skills. I have helped my father-in-law build a fence--one of my proudest moments was redesigning the gate with the pieces he'd mistakenly cut the wrong size. One the other hand, when my parents built an apartment in the basement for me and my wife when we were newly weds, he and my brother did all the work. Anyhow, I have attempted to keep myself feeling accomplished by honing my skills as a dishwasher, toy picker upper, and a child bather. I still stink at shopping and hold not even an ounce of confidence with my wife in that regard--I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing since she never asks me to go shopping. Instead of the corporate dad, I have been strictly a domestic dad. But, there are many lessons to be learned there as well, such as never discount the work and feelings of the stay-at-home parent. Not only do I understand my wife better, but I am a stay-at-home parent right now.

The Price of Cool

My kids are cool. My two-year old daughter is a fashion designer. Who would have thought to use band-aids to turn a plain shirt into a striped shirt and use head bands to make a colorful neck-warmer? My four-year old son used his preschool hard-work bucks to get a pirate eye patch from the prize box, which he then wore to all of the apartment complexes we visited in the afternoon. He also rolled on the carpet of each apartment we viewed to test out its wrestle-ability. And of course, our baby girl is cool too. Whenever I lay on the floor she's sure to body slam me within minutes of doing so. They also wrestle with each other, and the girls run to hug their older brother when he gets home from school. That is cool. I'd like to take some credit for how cool they are. But being cool has its price. Being cool to little kids means fatigue. If I lift them or swing them in some fun way, it means I must do it over and over and over again in an attempt to quell the continuous, "Do it again Daddy! Again! Again!" For me, the quell is multiplied by three kids and includes a great deal of cutting in line and arguing over who's next. Unfortunately, I cannot quell the demand. It becomes infinitely more exciting each time it is repeated and trying to stop for dinner or bed results in the same kind of screaming you might hear during a medieval amputation procedure. I am hot and sweaty. If being cool doesn't result in fatigue, it results in a mess. We are staying with family while searching for an apartment, and in an attempt to encourage the kids from both families to eat their dinner, I told them that their brains grow bigger with each bite. So they began with little bites, asking me after each bite to look into their ears and see if their brains got bigger. It was fun at first, so I attempted to get them to take bigger bites by telling them that the brain grows only a little bit with little bites but a lot with big bites. Soon, spoonfuls of spaghetti were plopping onto the ground as little hands held their spoons high in the air in failed attempts to show me the big bites of dinner they were about to eat. I promptly apologized to my cousin for the mess and explained my good intentions. Alas, hot on the heels of the mess were little voices chanting, "Again! Again! Again!"

The Big Not So Big Event

I remember when my three-year old son ran triumphantly off the soccer pitch after blocking his first goal. What made it even cooler was that there are no goalies in three-year old soccer, but he insisted on playing the position after watching the World Cup with me. It was hot outside, but he also insisted on wearing a long-sleeve shirt. I have been fortunate to be present for almost every big even in my children's lives, from the first word spoken to the first word read. Now that we are getting settled into a permanent job and a permanent location, and now that our kids are getting bigger, we look forward to many more big events. More soccer. More karate. More ballet or gymnastics. When I was interviewing two years ago with my law firm I was impressed that the partners never missed their children's games, recitals, performances, etc. (Sometimes it gets competitive, like when my son comes home from school with a reading book based on his reading evaluation and I immediately ask how the other kids did. But that's another post.) But today I was reminded of another big event that we often miss simply because we might forget it is a big event. My son arrived home from preschool excited as ever to show me a pirate eye patch he'd earned from the prize box for good work, but I was on the phone. My wife tipped me off to how excited he was to show me with a disappointed scowl and silent head nod in his direction. Taking the queue, I ended the phone conversation and asked my son about his day. Later, he sat silently drawing a pirate treasure map and looking a bit frustrated. I asked what was wrong and he let me know that he wanted to show someone how to draw a pirate treasure map. I volunteered. He took great care teaching me exactly how I could draw the lines wherever I wanted and that the "X" goes where the treasure is buried, so that I know where it is and can dig it back up. I was impressed by how well he explained it to me and how well he communicates with others in general. I am not alone in my willingness to be present at the big events described above. They are clear representations of progress and accomplishment, often marked by honors or trophies or entries in a baby book. I don't know that I am always as willing to sit down for other less tangible big events like a simple conversation, where my son accomplished something extremely important for an adult, let alone a four-year old: he taught me something.