I'm in my last week of work as a prisoners' rights attorney, and I have been going crazy trying to get a case filed against the federal government before I go. I won't get to see it through, but I want to get it in place for my client and co-counsel, because it's an important issue, and the client really needs medical treatment.
In discussion, we've been trying to decide whether to bring a certain claim as part of the complaint. We've been debating the legal theory and the risks/rewards - we've been agonizing over it. The details of the claim aren't important here, but what a lawyer in my office said to me about the discussion really is: "The central question isn't really whether we
can sue him individually, but really whether we
should sue him individually." Exactly.
I can't get this out of my head.
This is kind of always the central question, outside of legal analysis anyway. So much is not about whether you
can do something, but whether you should.
I'm leaving work because I don't get to spend enough time with my son. And I am too stressed out to truly enjoy my limited time with my husband. Could I keep working? Sure. I could. If there is anything that the past few weeks have shown me, it's that I can get tons done at work, make the house run, and make things run smoothly with my marriage. But is this break-neck pace what I really want? Do I really get to spend quality time with my family? Am I nurturing my relationship with my son and being the best parent I can be?
Recently, I heard a new mom talking about how she was in her "fat jeans" after six weeks, and was already back in her normal clothes eight weeks after her C-section. She's been going to the gym a lot. She's also "doing as much or more work on maternity leave as she does at the office." I hope all of that is working for her. Maybe it's my own six-months-pregnant hormones doing the emoting, but contemplating that made me unbelievably sad. It seems like yesterday that Henry was six weeks old, but actually, he turned two yesterday (happy birthday little love!). The time passes so fast, and it's pure magic. The thought of getting back into your life almost as if there is no change makes me wonder - should you do that? For me, it's clearly no. (Of course, I don't even know if I could do all that, but even for her - I wonder - she can, but should she?)
This notion of "should I" is central to my parenting style - how did I never know how to articulate it?! I am kind of a nut about making sure that we respect Henry's nap, food, and bed times. He can be a little flexible, but he thrives on routine. He has since he was six weeks old when he put himself on his own schedule. There are lots of things that we could do - events in the evening, lunches out on weekends, trips, etc. We could, but we shouldn't. It messes him up and makes him sad. I know other things work for other people, but I have to admit - I see babies being toted about at all hours, not allowed regular naps, and not allowed to thrive on being a kid, and I wonder - sure, that's fine, and parents can do whatever they want. But should they?
I sound judgmental - I am a little. But I also respect that people need to do what they feel, babies are different, and the
should varies by family. It's balanced between what is possible for a family and what a family wants - life gets cobbled together where these converge.
I think it's kind of amazing that in these last weeks, these last moments of my current career, an offhand comment about case strategy would make me feel like I have a parenting center - a strategy that I feel good about (even though the reality is it's not always perfect or easy, but it feels good to feel that center). Oh, and we've decided we both can and should sue the guy, which in this case feels good too.
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