Sunday, December 14, 2008

off the hook in a totally different way

This evening when I called home I was met by an unusually chatty father. Those familiar with good old Dr. Bill know that "chatty" is one of the last adjectives most anyone would use to describe my father. In fact, I have found he is at his most animated only when describing television shows. I particularly treasure the time he was telling me about an episode of Friends. He seriously hopped from side to side, changing the tone of his voice, acting out the dialogue. It was hilarious. (Hot cocktail party tip: Nowadays he's equally enthusiastic when relating plot lines from The Big Bang Theory...)

Anyway, I always find it a joy to catch my dad in a good mood. Tonight it was because he was working on the family Christmas letter. I know, I know, we were all looking forward to a good old humdinger this year. Though my Dad's efforts will be different than my own, I am happy to be fired. After Billy successfully lobbied to be treated with kid gloves, I found myself dragging my feet getting started. Having never taken well to restriction, even if it is humane and completely understandable, I was virtually uninspired. (I did, at least, pass along the few tidbits I had managed to come up with so far...)

Besides sharing with me his rough draft of the letter, my Dad encouraged me to Tivo a television show (surprised?) and then he passed me off to Mom like a hot potato. It was here that I met with my other chuckle of the evening. It seems that our beloved matriarch, Margaret, does not approve of my plans to attend law school in the fall. She thinks I should have babies instead.

Babies, don't get me wrong, are perfectly fine and wonderful. I know the majority of you have taken the time to have them. And I certainly like babies well enough. I particularly enjoy corrupting them as they get older - you know, teaching them fart jokes and such. But as for having my own, well, it's just not going to happen.

For one thing, I am a horrible mother. Just ask my cats. I send mixed signals all the time. I reward bad behavior. Sometimes I neglect to meet their basic needs, refusing to feed them as required (okay, maybe for just ten minutes or so, as I try to feign sleep - but ten minutes is like a lifetime in cat years...). And besides, becoming a mother would force me to be the grown up. I know, becoming a lawyer is relatively grown up, too, but I dare say it's not as demanding as motherhood.

Besides all that, my eggs are old. I just turned 37. Cooking up my ovum would just be asking for trouble. I don't even like eating chicken eggs when they are past the date on the box. I'm pretty sure my ovaries have a stamp somewhere saying "Best when used before 2001."

Even if I wanted to gamble on the quality of my genes, if I were to get pregnant these days I'd probly end up divorced because, well, it would mean I'd been cheating on my man. Yep, don't tell Margaret, but my hubby's been snipped.

So I guess it is off to law school I go. I am actually getting pretty excited by the reality of it since my recent acceptance by Berkeley. Now I don't have to live in the snow unless I want to. And if I want to it will be because I got in to one of my super fancy reach schools. If that happens, I imagine I won't even notice the snow during my first year because I will still be walking on air. As it is, I can barely wipe the Berkeley grin off my face long enough to tell my stupid stray cat how mad I am he peed on my bed. Doing better than Berkeley, I think I'd be delirious.

It's just too bad to know I haven't got Margaret praying up my Harvard hopes, she's so close with the big Guy and all... But this way I guess I will know I got in on my merits.

I'll keep you all posted...

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