March Madness

It's remarkable how tempting it is to over-stuff the weekend when so many opportunities and priorities compete for the limited waking hours. There's so much life to cram in.

I had hoped to help register voters at the March today but I have A LOT of cleaning to do ahead of my kid's 8th birthday costume dance party tomorrow: my costume to layout, her costume to mend (thanks to Cocoa, our Rabbit with Bad Habits), baking, shopping, my first jog after three days of crud, cleaning and more cleaning still.

I wanted to march in remembrance. But as I ease into gear today, I'm going to try to exorcise my memories of pulling the van over on the way to my kid's preschool, on my Mom's birthday, to ugly cry at the news of Sandy Hook. I'm going to try to exorcise my memories of the gallows humor I began to develop in the early Nineties when "going postal" entered the national vocabulary and I had already attempted to bury memories of the shooting at my Mom's work a few years before, under layers of other drama (mostly involving Butthead, my stepfather, who thankfully never had a gun). 

As I bake Z's favorite sheet cake and scatter rainbow sprinkles over the buttercream frosting she loves, I will rehearse how to ask family and friends - without judgment, just due diligence - whether their kids know the combination to the family gun safe, or know where the concealed but unsecured guns are. I don't want to seem nosy or judgey - because finding and keeping Mommy Friends is hard, y'all. I'd just like my kid to keep living to see another play date. 

And as I whisk and rehearse, I will remember that one time she won at hide-and-seek when we visited some friends. They lived on an island where break-ins were common but no alarm service seemed to operate, and both violent crime and vicious wildlife were practically non-existent (well, except for that one cougar who had swam across the inlet and laid low, except for a couple chickens...unless that was the raccoons). After the other kids couldn't find her, I joined the search and found her in the parents' bedroom closet (Ugh! Kid!) - giggling quietly, one hand on her mouth, the other grasping the door jamb ready to spring from her hiding place. She was utterly unaware that her little hand was next to a shotgun -- barrel up.

I have since repeatedly reminded her about staying out of grown up spaces - for so many reasons. I don't know what to do about our new friend's gun safe in the family fun room where the computer and family pets live. Why is it so much easier to compare and align strategies for holding our kids accountable during play dates in our respective homes than it is to discuss the steps we each take to insure that our children are safe in each other's homes? How do we talk with friends and family who seem to be responsible gun owners and parents? We are all raising kids who also seem pretty good...until they're not. 

We are raising human beings who are learning everyday, how to be good people. And they often, heck, almost always learn by making mistakes. Don't touch the fireplace grate, it'll burn you. Check. Walk before you run, or you'll face-plant. Check. If you grab the cat by the tail, she might scratch you. Check. Don't eat the yellow snow. Ever. Ugh, check. Don't throw sticks or play shovels, someone could get hurt. Check, which is why my dear girl has a third dimple thanks to the teacher's kid who will forever be That Little Sh*t, to me. 

But at least he didn't have access to a gun with which to kill her as he overreacted to her hoarding of that swing. 

On the spectrum of bad choices when kids can access their parents' guns (not because they should or are allowed to but because they are physically capable of finding or stumbling across damned near everything we don't want them to find), we have: 

• the two year old boy who broke the rules, unzipped his mom's concealed carry purse, and accidentally killed her
• the six year old who shot a classmate, 
• the eight year old who played with a poorly concealed family weapon and accidentally killed himself - apparently one of three such kids in that weekend
• the twelve year-old girl whose show-and-tell gun shot two classmates - one in the head -when she accidentally dropped the backpack
• the sophomore at my high school in 1992, who shot himself in the head playing Russian Roulette in a car in the school parking lot (though, to be fair, I'm not sure where he got the gun); 
• the "love-sick" misogynist teenage boy just last week, who couldn't handle rejection, so he shot and killed the "Object" of his "Affection"; 
• and the list goes on and on and shamefully on. 

The gift of childhood as fought for and created and nurtured in America requires that we create environments for our children that foster Failing Forward into being better individuals, better citizens, better friends, better family... better people making better choices. That means minimizing their exposure to the dangers that are not age-appropriate. That means creating opportunities for learning - and failing - that can help the children we know and love without hindering or killing the children we don't know (or even the Little Sh*ts we don't like).

Guns are the third biggest killer of American children. And the majority of children killed by guns in the developed world, are Americans. While most of that death is intentional and caused by their own family and friends, or themselves, a non-negligible amount is accidental. And more than 80% of the accidental gun deaths occur in the home, with unsecured guns. There are nearly 2 million children living in homes with unsecured guns and I can guarantee that the vast majority of those kids go to and host play dates. 

I don't want any more children - but especially my child - to be exposed to that degree of risk. And yet it feels increasingly like too many of my gun-enthusiast friends and family prefer to protect their weapons more than our children. The tools they have embraced for protecting their children have become more precious than all of our children. As adults, he have failed backward and our children - all of them - are being dragged by the backdraft.

No wonder so many are marching. And crying. And screaming. And acting out. It's what our children do when they are hurting. And scared. 

I miss the days when my girl was only afraid of zombies because I may have prematurely shown her Michael Jackson's "Thriller". So far this year, she has brought home a flyer from school featuring the NRA's Eddie Eagle, and parents have received two incident messages THIS WEEK with allegations about creepy dudes and kids from her K-2 elementary school talking crap about guns. None of it was true but all of it caused anxiety.

No wonder my girl is desperate to be homeschooled. At least with homeschooling, she's unlikely to be normalized into accepting the risk that a kid, a parent, a neighbor, or a teacher might go rogue (with a gun or without) and kill her while she practices her cursive. 

But homeschooling does nothing about play date safety, which ever since she won hide-and-seek, has taken on deeper meaning for me.

And as a single parent, working for a nonprofit, I cannot afford to homeschool her or hire an old school tutor. So...I guess I'll just bake an effing cake, prep my Mommy Pirate costume, pregame my knees with ibuprofen to prepare for garage dancing to KidzBop with a dozen of my kid's friends and parent-friends, who will also hopefully be in costume. 

The life-and-death matters that should plague me today are how we are going to get through the pre-tween years without me having a heart attack, and whether the party will wrap before the late afternoon hangries create an elementary Battle Royale. Instead I remember the ones lost, the ones we could have lost, and the childhood innocence my eight year old is rapidly losing. I could march but instead I'll bake a cake and try, one more day to keep the anxiety of this worsening Normal at bay. 

I just can't - #TamirRice #AliveWhileBlack

On Monday, I binge-watched Netflix and finally watched The Butler. I found it to be a profoundly moving meditation on race, politics and family. The final scenes with Barack Obama's election captured the feelings of grief and release and hope that I fully admit I felt both on Election Night and when I went to DC for the inauguration. Grief for all of those who had to - truly had to - die to make it even possible for "someone like him" to ever be President of the United States. Release of the suspicion that maybe America would never fully become what it could be and should be because it was too beholden to the racist, sexist and brutal foundations of its own origins. Hope that We were finally, truly, on a path to healing, reconciliation and creation of an equitable, just and more perfect union.

The Butler ends with an elderly Mr. Gaines walking tall to meet President Obama. But it reminded me of a little boy I saw on Inauguration Monday.

1/22/09: I saw this kid several times during that afternoon: always playful, happy and radiating a sense of awe that was utterly contagious.

He's probably 12 or 13 years old by now, but back then he was just a little boy who stood a little extra-tall as he played. He was clearly awe-struck and though I never spoke to him, I remember observing that he seemed to play with purpose. He, even he, could be President some day. And as I turned off the credits for The Butler, I remembered that little boy and said a little prayer that he still believes he can grow up to be anything he wants to be.

And then I checked Facebook.

And I cried. No. I began crying because the fact is I have been crying for days now. Tamir Rice is not the little boy I observed in Washington, D.C. on January 22, 2009. But he could have been. They are ... or would be ... about the same age, after all. And I pray that the little boy has not been and never will be Tamir Rice. But he could be. 

He could be if he thinks that he can play with a friend's pellet gun in an open carry state.

Three boys playing Cops & Robbers in NY, 1948

He could be if the wrong scared, white cop sees him as a "demon" or as a grown man, instead of the adolescent boy he really is. The wages of the perpetual cruelty of vicious hate and cowardice are always paid by the most vulnerable.

Tamir was playing with his friend's pellet gun. He could have hurt someone, maybe even shot an eye out by accident. But it wasn't this potentiality that killed him. It was cowardice, cruelty and a latent racist hatred that killed him within two seconds of showing up on the scene. It is possible to empathize with the cop, not because his fears were reasonable (as the prosecutor suggests) but because those unreasonable fears have been so normalized. Racism does tend to show up more as fear than as pure hatred. As Morgan Guyton, has observed:

What we’re running up against is the inadequacy of the modern Western conception of justice. Because racism manifests itself as a collective sin that feels more like weakness than malevolence, even when a society’s racism commits murder through the “errors” of nervous individuals, it just doesn’t feel right to punish weakness and fear. So weakness and fear don’t get punished. 

Not only do they not get "punished," they get normalized by invocation of the objectively reasonable standard as judged from the perspective of a reasonable officer on the scene. 

It was reasonable for an officer who was found unfit for duty in his previous police gig to be hired without a thorough background check.

It was reasonable for the officer to jump out of a moving patrol car and shoot a 12 year old in the stomach from 4 - 9 feet away.

It was reasonable for the officer to claim on his police report that he gave numerous warnings, when the two seconds that transpired between his arrival and the shots make that impossible.

It was all reasonable because of fear. And we don't punish fear. No matter how unreasonable it is.

And yet, when I try to convey to my white friends, many of whom I love like family, that the only thing that scares me about moving to a beautiful small mountain town is my uncertainty about the white folks in it, they accuse me of being paranoid, or worse, a reverse racist. They don't understand ... and maybe don't want to understand ... that I am afraid of white fear. I am afraid for myself but more so I am afraid for my daughter, my nephews, my black friends and their children. 

I know what it looks and sounds like when people of color circle in and embrace each other as we grieve, yet again, for yet another unpunished murder of another one of our children who had the audacity to believe that s/he was free to be #AliveWhileBlack, in the presence of cops or white folks in general, without irony, subtext or shuffling. It sounds a lot like the silent wailing that chokes the throat and squeezes the heart until the ache, the ache, the ache just stops. It sounds like the gasp of disbelief, the not here, not now, not again, disbelief. It sounds ... exhausted ... weary ... hopeless ... trapped. How do I make a home for my child when the specter of that sound and soundless horror looms?

The last two nights, the last thing I saw on the bookshelf before I took off my glasses and turned off the light was Stephen Colbert's book, I am America (And So Can You!). It's a funny book. But the title reads like a taunt right now. 

Can I be America? Can my daughter or that little boy from the Inauguration? Tamir couldn't be. America didn't let him. White American fear didn't let him. We don't need to ride the tide of fear and demagoguery to make America "great" again (whatever the hell that means). We need America to become America because for too many of us, it never has been.

Single Parenting Through Law School: Some Thoughts on How to Make it "Work" - Part Two #lawschoolmom #MSULawSM

In my last post, I focused on two key aspects that have helped me survive and find my stride in law school, as a single parent to a preschooler:

1. Putting family first, and
2. Fully using the resources for student parents provided by my law school and the university community.

When I left off, I promised to address three more points:

1. Ask for what you need: Peer Community
2. Self-Care: Do It.
3. Set your child up for her own success
1. with her own emotions
2. school as co-parent

• Ask for what you need: Peer Community

But for the grace, patience and generosity of the friends I have made in law school, I would never have made it this far. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the image below would have become my perpetual appearance (rather than an occasional reality), with only the size of my child and bag changing over time:

 (Image Credit: Melissa Garden Streblow)

In spring 2012, I flew with my daughter to Preview Weekend (which was a reasonable decision despite the fact that she had just turned two years old) because a woman in the alumni office (who was good friends with a Washington state alumnus I had met) was willing to host a playdate between my daughter and her five year old daughter so that I could focus on deciding if I would attend MSU Law. That is not a run on sentence. It was, however, the beginning of a wonderful friendship and my orientation to asking near strangers for help. 

Since then, my peer network has expanded and is largely comprised of other parents (married and single), with whom I have frequently arranged playdate and sleepover exchanges, and family-friendly study dates (basically: we study for as long as the kids can play together nicely or without extended eerie silence). None of us are particularly gunnerish because we know all too well how hard it is to avoid embodying the above image without the added gunning madness. But we all respect the work that we do and our families who need us to get it done. 

My student parent network has been largely informal and ad hoc, but if you find that your law school has a critical mass of student parents, then you might consider working with the law school to create a student parent association (perhaps as part of the Diversity office). You might even decide to set up a formal child care co-op, like the good legal eaglet you are.

However, I would caution you against developing a peer network with only other student parents. Kid-friendly people who do not have children are helpful for your personal sanity and for helping your children learn to interact with adults who are not their teachers/babysitters or family. When I realized that my finances required that I find a shared living arrangement to help me save up for post-3L bar exam and relocation expenses, I decided to rent a house with two guys from my section. They are good, decent men who are respectful and kind toward my daughter and me. I never ask them to babysit and my daughter knows how to respect their spaces (well, except for the roommate who introduced her to Mario Kart...sucker :) ). We knew each other for two years before choosing to live together, and my only regret is that we didn't figure out that we live well together even sooner.

For some people - particularly single mothers - our arrangement would raise red flags, as they would prefer to co-house with another parent, or at least with other housemates of the same gender. If you fall into this camp, then you might look into a service like Co-Abode (co-housing matching for single mothers), or consider establishing your own co-housing arrangement (here are some great resources from Cohousing.org).

Regardless of the approach you take, you'll want to have some sort of roommate agreement, from the more informal, but recognized, division of labor (e.g. in our house, the guys deal with the garbage, recycling & rent-exchange maintenance on the property, while I try to wrangle the kid sprawl and keep the kitchen clean due to the amount of cooking I do), to a more formal agreement (e.g. the customizable roommate agreement templates by Shake Law).

While figuring out your childcare and child-friendly network, and maybe even a co-housing arrangement, don't forget your social needs.

You will need friends.

Seriously.

Friends with whom you can talk about your stuff, issues, goals, frustrations, dreams.... Some of these friends will be other parents, but it is both allowed and NECESSARY for you to talk to them about something other than your kids, your homework or the Lego Movie (unless you dig deep into the film's brilliant subtext). Even if you cannot afford to go out very often because the babysitter costs $10+ an hour, allow yourself to go out at least once a month and be creative (but reasonable) in meeting your parenting obligations. Last Friday night, I joined some friends and fell in love with an amazing restaurant, (revolver). I could go because my daughter had a sleepover at a friend's house; in a few weeks it will be my turn to host a sleepover in return. 

• Self-Care: Do It.

When it all gets a bit too much, make sure you find time to reflect - http://t.co/agVTTvqMEi— Regus Connect (@regusconnect) January 25, 2015

Say it loud and say it proud:"Self care is not selfish!"

Everyone and their second cousin's mail carrier will have an opinion about your decision to go to law school as a single parent. That nattering chorus of ne'er-say-wells can provoke overwhelming guilt in the single parent. Or maybe that was just me. Figuring out how to manage the guilt, required that I figure out how to take care of myself.

I know that sounds counterintuitive. But if we do not take care of ourselves, by listening to and respecting our bodies, minds and souls, then we will not be effective parents. Admittedly, when I was trudging through 1L, I did not always make time to exercise, eat well, pray or even sleep. Thus I am not surprised that I packed on an additional ten or fifteen pounds, began losing my hair in clumps, required a prescription bite guard because I was grinding my teeth at night, and kind of went through a spiritual crisis.  Good times.

I don't recommend it.

When I returned from study abroad in London, I realized that something had to change: Me.

I had to love, value and care for myself and the gift of my one life as much as I love, value and care for the gift of my daughter. So I downloaded and used the Couch 2 5k app and began cooking and gardening again (two therapeutic pillars). I began walking to school while listening to my power playlist (don't judge, it works) and going to the YMCA (it has a great student rate on the family membership, and they have a sauna - my third therapeutic pillar). Inspired by Pope Francis and my own spiritual yearning, I even returned to Mass and began to dust off the old prayer life (my fourth pillar). My journey continues in fits and starts (e.g. bacon regularly conspires with Michigan winters to be my undoing), but I have a better grasp on what I need to do to maintain a certain degree of centered wellness.

To manage single parenting through law school, you will need to do the same. So take the time to figure out who you are in your silent place, when you finally sit down, breathe deeply and exhale a soul-cleansing breath. Whoever you are in that moment is the person you need to nurture, not just for success in law school (however you end up defining that success), but for success as a parent with the capacity to love and guide your child(ren) through the law school journey. With any luck, your law school will have some resources to help you (e.g. MSU Law runs a weekly Wellness in Practice meditation and the MSU Council of Graduate Students runs a variety of wellness programs). Regardless, it is on you to take care of yourself so that you can help your child(ren) not just survive law school with you but maybe even thrive.

• Set your child up for her own success

If you do not already have a routine for checking in with your child in a substantive, on his/her level kind of way, start one. Without a doubt, the variable triggers and stressors of law school will occasionally derail even the best routine, but you have to have one first before it can be derailed.

Furthermore, avoid trying to tweak your kiddo's routines to better accommodate your study and class schedule. There were a few really interesting classes I wanted to take during 2L, but they met at night, after my daughter's bedtime. The few times during 1L when I'd had a babysitter take over the bedtime routine for me so that I could attend a late night study session had all been quite difficult for my daughter. So once I began taking electives in 2L, I knew that was not going to be an option. The two times that I took an evening class (5:45 start time), I made sure to enroll my daughter in a fun class of her choosing at the YMCA. By the time she was done with her class, my class was over and I could meet her and the babysitter at the Y.

But the reality is, kids will be kids. There will be tantrums. They will be frustrated and confused by the amount of attention you pay to those massive books they are not allowed to touch or "decorate." You'll want to address their frustrations before your laptop "accidentally" falls to the floor (thankfully, mine "accidentally" fell onto a patch of floor that was well padded by a pile of clean, unfolded laundry). 

In those moments of child sabotage, the hardest thing to admit is that the saboteur may be right - not in her action, but in her feelings. I'm not a family counselor or therapist, but I can attest to the value of taking a deep breath in those moments, coming down to my daughter's level and trying to validate her feelings first. Eventually we discuss strategies for helping her convey her frustrations without being destructive. I do not always respond with such grace, but I have gotten better at it, and best of all, my daughter has become pretty good at advocating for herself and calling me out when I need to "chill" and take a "mommy time out."

Finally, we have been fortunate in that the school that my daughter attends has been very understanding of our situation. In some ways, the teachers and staff there have been like a co-parent who does not take point on the big decisions but is always supportive. I do not have the time to volunteer as much as they would like parents to volunteer, but I have never been subject to any shaming and my daughter is always treated with respect and warmth by the staff and teachers, and the other families with whom we have become friends. 

Admittedly, there is little in this last section that is unique to single parenting in law school. Rather, it's all just part of the reality of parenting. However, to help you and your child(ren) get through law school in one piece, you may need to cultivate a heightened awareness of how the unique stressors of law school impact you and your family and preemptively take steps to mitigate them. 

If your law school or the residential community in which you will live do not have the resources to help you succeed, and if you do not have the time to develop those resources, then perhaps you are not at the right school or in the right community. 

Single Parenting Through Law School: Some Thoughts on How to Make It "Work" - Part One #MSULawSM

I really should be reading for Secured Transactions....or sleeping. But this Lean In meme hit my feed and it resonated with me enough to give me a second wind.

I am in my last semester of law school, and it actually looks like I will graduate.  This was not a guaranteed outcome, and not for lack of intelligence or an unwillingness to do the work, but because every step of the way has felt like a Tough Mudder slog through the viscous muck of uncertainties and preschool hijinx.

Three years ago, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. I didn't watch (and still haven't seen) The Paper Chase. I didn't read 1L of a Year. Because I knew that none of those stories would bear much resemblance to mine.

I started law school as a 38 year old, former college administrator and lecturer,  and single parent to a 2 1/2 year old.

When the meme above crossed my feed tonight, I embraced it because it reflects the cornerstone of how I have "done" law school and made the experience work for me and my family.

Because I remember that it was around this time, three years ago, that I began to think in earnest about whether law school (even with a full tuition scholarship) would be part of my life's journey, I thought I'd take a moment and share some thoughts and experiences that may be relevant to other single parents contemplating a comparable journey.

• Put your family first

Law school is weird. It's like high school + professional school + a high stakes Winner-Takes-All poker tournament. It takes up an obscene amount of time and energy (especially during the first year), which I found to be more hectic than working full time. And at first, I really sucked at managing it because I had convinced myself that I would only ever amount to anything by pursuing the same load and as many as possible of the same activities as my classmates. That didn't work for my sanity, my grades or my dear daughter, who really struggled during our first year.

So after I lost my scholarship for a year because I fell short by 0.03 grade points in 1L, I did some serious soul searching. Participating in the ReInvent Law Lab and studying abroad in London (joined by my daughter and mother) convinced me that there was still some work that I want to do both in and with law. But I decided that how I went about my studies would reflect how I plan to live my life. 

I set my priorities and family came first. While I knew I had to work hard to regain my scholarship (which I did), that work would have to be in a manner that respected my primary responsibility to my daughter. Motherhood is not just the hardest job I've ever had; it's also the source of great joy.

Then something strange happened: the more time I allotted for my daughter (including making most Saturdays OUR days), the happier I was, the more efficient I became and my grades significantly improved (I made the Dean's List!).

Granted, this prioritization came at a "loss." I didn't serve on law review or any other journal (which is fine with me because The Bluebook truly is the 7th Circle of Hell). While I did serve as a student attorney in the Urban Ag law clinic for three terms, I did not clerk or otherwise work outside of school (except on my entrepreneurial interests). Moot Court, the Trial Practice Institute and even the Arbitration, Negotiation and Mediation competitions all passed me by. Instead, the bulk of my professional development was through ReInvent Law and the related suite of courses, workshops and events. Instead of taking the shotgun approach to law school, I had to use a much more targeted strategy that forced me to take ownership over the "unique course" I wish to set for myself professionally and personally.

Figuring out the work/life balance cannot wait until after graduation. It must be a fundamental part to one's law school success plan. And that means learning when and how to say "No," and figuring out where you will invest your "Yes."

• Ask for what you need: Institutional Resources 

Law school will train you to "think like a lawyer," but when it comes to being successful as a single parent in law school, you need to master the art of advocating like a lawyer, for yourself and your family. 

Even before you send in the enrollment deposit, figure out which staff and administrators are aware of and sensitive to the challenges student parents (especially single parents) face. At MSU Law we have a wonderful Diversity Coordinator, Mary Ferguson, who has been incredibly supportive for student parents, including providing Finals Childcare for our kiddos. Ask the Admissions people if they know of other current or admitted students who are parents and ask to be put in touch with them. One of my closest friends found me through Admissions, and now both our daughters and we have become dear friends.

Addendum: Don't forget to look beyond the law school's institutional resources to determine if the broader university has resources that can help you succeed as a student parent. MSU has a Family Resource Center that serves as a wonderful compendium of all the university and community resources available to support student parents (the FRC Resource Guide for Students with Children (pdf) is bookmarked on my computer). I joined the student organization, Student Parents on a Mission (SPOM) through which we have enjoyed discounted & free family-friendly events and activities. I have shamelessly taken advantage of the free subscription to Care.com, the five free days of emergency child care, the Finals Childcare provided by The People's Church across the street from the university (and which I learned about from SPOM),  and even the discounted Sick Child in-home care when missing class would have meant running afoul of the ABA attendance requirements (don't get me started on those). And I have applied for and received the Council of Graduate Students' Child Care Grant every semester for which I have applied, which has helped make it possible for me to enroll my daughter in a Montessori school.

Once you are enrolled, your interactions with your professors will be tantamount. My professors (many of whom have children who attend the same school as my daughter) have been understanding when I have had to bring my daughter to class, miss a class or even come in late (True Story: during 1L, my daughter fell asleep in the car on the way to my school & by the time we arrived she was starting to snore. I carried her into class late, laid her on a blanket in the back of the class, and she sawed logs audibly for the duration of class. Yet the professors were very understanding). It is on me to let the professors know my situation in advance, if possible, and ASK them if they mind the accommodation I need, when I need it.

Okay, the second wind is all but gone, so I will sign off here. 

Part Two will come soon(ish) because school reading, four job applications and a coworking business proposal, my daughter's social calendar (a sleepover one night and a birthday party), a day trip to Frankenmuth with another #lawschoolmom and her kids, the next #WritingWeekend story, and oh yeah...classes all need to be done this week. 

Part Two will cover:

1. Ask for what you need: Peer Community
2. Self-Care: Do It.
3. Set your child up for her own success
1. with her own emotions
2. school as co-parent

Single parenting through law school is a humbling exercise in logistics, project management, occasional outsourcing, and LOTS of design thinking. BUT it is also workable if you are true to your family, your values and your dreams (personal, familial and professional).

The Person I Want To Be & The Work I Want To Do #sharingeconomy #SHARE2014 #reinventlaw

I was raised as an only child, which means neither listening nor sharing come naturally to me.

But the life journey I've been on has taught me how to be better at both. And raising a wonderful, strong-willed and shockingly intuitive four year old challenges me to continue to grow in my listening and sharing skills. Professionally, I look forward to developing my new career path (from academic administration and university teaching to law and legal entrepreneurship), with a commitment to hone my listening ear and heart, and develop a deeper understanding of sharing. Doing so will make me a more effective advisor and advocate for the resilient communities with which I hope to work.

Yet, the prospect of foregrounding that commitment is by no means an obvious one because I am in law school and law too often emphasizes centralized authority that regulates the bejeezus out of the innovative zeitgeist at the heart of the sharing economy.

This tension between law and innovation figured prominently in panel discussions and informal conversations I had at the SHARE conference in San Francisco in May. The topics that captured my attention the most were: grassroots legislation reform; homesharing law wins (here and here) and setbacks; the trifecta between regulation, entrenched market interests (especially with ridesharing), and sharing; the tension between dead capital and venture capital in sharing economy platforms; and questions of access, equity and inclusion. There were some people who felt strongly that if the laws didn't work, then simply skirting the law was a valid response. But overwhelmingly there was more of a willingness to work with regulators as co-creators of the sharing economy, which I found to be a more reasonable position.

Regulators are people too. Work with them as if they are part of the #SharingEconomy. How will you build trust with them? #2014SHARE
— Karen FrancisMcWhite (@accidentalhippy) May 14, 2014

But attending SHARE did not only afford me the opportunity (thanks to generous support from Peers.org and SOCAP) to listen to the incredible speakers and others in more informal gatherings, it also presented me with an opportunity to spend several hours with my professional role model, Janelle Orsi, founder of the Sustainable Economies Law Center. Admittedly, I was a little worried that I may have rubbed her the wrong way even before we met. I had contacted her several months before about the prospect of coming to Michigan to run a Legal Tools for the Sharing Economy workshop for the student organization I co-founded, the Resilient Communities Law Society. Mind you, it's not like my follow-ups had been like that paperboy in "Better Off Dead" (well, maybe a little bit). But Ms. Orsi took my enthusiasm in stride, was personable and allowed me to observe intakes at one of the SELC's Legal Cafes.

Essentially SHARE 2014 and connecting with Janelle Orsi reaffirmed my commitment to growing a new career as a legal advocate for the sharing economy and community resilience. I came to law school convinced that I would focus on community-based urban redevelopment and urban agriculture, and rather than pivot after two years of law school, I think I've widened the aperture a bit.

That widening is largely thanks to the incredible learning and professional development experiences I have had through the MSU ReInvent Law Laboratory. ReInvent Law has introduced me to pioneers in legal design, services and reform, and given me opportunities to develop the project I came to law school to build: MiHomestead.com. I unveiled the first iteration at ReInvent Law London last summer and continued to work on it through a subsequent presentation at ReInvent Law NYC, and for a pitch competition.

So when ReInvent Law London 2014 took place last week, I followed the Twitter feed for #reinventlaw as closely as the four-legged menagerie I am pet-sitting allowed. Last year, I had been so nervous in preparation for my talk that I did not adequately do one very important thing: listen to the other talks. This year, I "listened" to the feed and heartily wished I could be at the conference. Hopefully the videos of the talks will be uploaded soon, especially the following:

• Kanan Dhru, Research Foundation for Governance in India, Lawtoons: Law Made Fun through Comics
• Ivan Rasic, LegalTrek, Lean: Can NewLaw Learn from Tech Startups?
• Mårten Janson, Fondia, Legal Departments as a Service
• Siobhan Duncan, Westminster University Law, Affordable Justice - Prepaid Cards & the Legal Services
• Frédéric Pelouze & Alexandra Uhel, Alter Litigation, The Paris Bar Incubator: Towards Innovation in the Legal Market
• Carlo Rossi Chauvenet, legalPAD/We Have the Future, Law is Not Enough

To say that I have found myself in a bit of a quandary as I consider my professional life after I graduate in May would be an understatement.

I continue to work on MiHomestead, but I am well aware of startup statistics (even as I adopt a Lean approach) and am stepping up my research of other avenues for combining my interests in law, the sharing economy, food system reform and community resilience.

Of course I am also aware that the year I finish law school is the year my daughter starts kindergarten, so whatever I do professionally and wherever that journey takes us must be a good parenting decision for my Washington-born, outdoorsy-and-artsy, and London-loving little girl (Sidebar: she has an airplane roller bag that she keeps by the door because "I might need it to fly somewhere" says the child who at four has already been on over two dozen airplanes).

So as I pet/housesit this summer and work on MiHomestead, I have a lot to review, think about, and DO. Because the person I want to be doesn't just sit on her laurels and listen, she's a doer and a sharer vested in building the more resilient society in which I want my child and all children to grow and thrive. She's also a bit of a law geek inspired by legal innovation and determined to roll up her sleeves and join in the grief and the joys of making the law work for resilient communities, rather than against them.

My Official Start of Summer

One would think that my summer would have begun when I completed the last final of my 2L year. Or perhaps it would have begun when my daughter's school year ended in the first week of June. But between those two events and today, I hosted my mom for a week to celebrate my daughter's baptism, was invited to attend the SHARE 2014 conference in San Francisco, helped my family figure out Louisiana intestacy laws for my late uncle's estate, moved my daughter and I out of our apartment into storage and then drove 2400 miles in 4.5 days to housesit for some friends back in Washington for the next 6 weeks.

Just thinking about the last month makes me want to take another soak in the hot tub.

But then I think about my plans for the rest of the summer, and I get pretty psyched. First, I look forward to having some focused time to work on MiHomestead.com (and hopefully, finally, find my tech partner for the development). Second, I look forward to hiking. Real hiking, with significant elevation gain. Michigan has its charms, but I miss mountains.  And the most important part of my summer plans is the Law School Mom penance time with my daughter.

Going to law school as a single parent with a toddler-turned-preschooler has been a deeply humbling experience for me, and not exactly the early childhood experience I had hoped for her. And neither was our Griswold-worthy road trip from Michigan. But I am also humbled by the truly remarkable little person my daughter is becoming. With one more year of law school left, followed by the reinvention of my career, I am shamelessly determined to make the most of my time with Z this summer. While I will still work on MiHomestead every day, the bulk of that work will occur on the days she is with her father, and after bedtime on the days that she is with me.

And I will also blog, twice a week as a means of thinking "out loud" about legal issues, the sharing economy and other randomness (e.g. parenting, Pacific Northwest gushing, and rebooting my health and fitness after that crazy Michigan winter).

But for now...the hot tub beckons...

Transitions

I had such noble aspirations for this blog when I set it up: chronicle the journey of a late-thirty-something single mother's journey through law school and personal/professional reinvention.

But then, there was a snafu with the ex and some legal wrangling last summer, before I could move with our daughter (for whom I have always been and continue to be the primary caregiver).

And being somewhat crunchy (and occasionally naive), I tried to commute to my daughter's school and mine exclusively by bus and bike for our first three months in Michigan. Not surprisingly, spending upwards of three hours a day commuting ate into my study time and I did not do nearly as well in my first semester of law school as I had hoped.

Eventually, I found my stride (and a decent 2000 Toyota Sienna minivan), revamped my approach to studying and realized: 1) the first year of law school really is as demanding as "they" say; 2) my daughter is a resilient child, but she still had a challenging time with the transition (at least initially) and needed me to be more fully present with her when we were together; and 3) there would be no time for blogging (even most of my Facebook and Twitter action were shares of other people's finds and insights).

So, as transitions go, my change from being The Boss of a university program to being a student (one of over 300 in my class), has been an exercise in humility and time management reform. But through it all, my experience of being a mother to a toddler-turned-preschooler has been my anchor and my inspiration, and - with her increasing verbosity - my accountability check. There's nothing quite like being chastised by a three year old who is using your own words and tone accurately, to reign you in (it's mostly when I drive, because Michigan drivers are ... "special").

Now it is summer, and I have survived the first year of law school (or at least I mostly have; we shall see if I totally have when the grades appear). I don't expect the rest of the journey to be easy (though I have enjoyed the downtime between the end of classes and the start of my urban agriculture practicum). But I do expect to be better situated to make time for journaling/blogging about this journey, and my myriad methods of starting over, building anew and making a stable home for my family.

Preparing to become an even more frugal foodie

I cannot believe that we will be moving in less than three months!

The time has flown by, aided in part by some "issues" I am having with my ex.  But I have faith that all will be resolved favorably soon, and my Little Miss and I will be able to embark on this exciting adventure soon!

One of the things I have recognized, as I purge belongings (a process that has become so cathartic, I am seriously at risk of just walking away from all belongings...except for Little Missy's favorite toys of course...I'm not crazy): I need to start more accurately living within the budget we will have once we move.  Which means: I need to do a better job planning for healthy eating and living on our soon-to-be restricted budget.

Today, a Facebook friend told me about the Health on a Budget online conference, kicking off this weekend.  It's sponsored by the folks at Raw Foods on a Budget.  Because, fundamentally, my commitment to urban agriculture and legal reform was inspired by my health saga five years ago, this is something I can certainly get on board with and support.


I may even sign up for the year-long access to the conference archives, as soon as I sell more of my belongings, that is.

To begin anew...

In these waning days of my first professional foray, I have had ample opportunity to explain my decision to move on, chase a dream, and hopefully, finally, pursue my passion.

I began this foray more than ten years ago, convinced that I wanted to be a university professor of English, when really, all I knew was that I did NOT want to teach middle and high school any more and I loved literature.  These last ten years were not, however, a waste.  They were my process of discovery and discernment, through which I made lifelong friends, had many fabulous and life-altering adventures, learned the power of failure and the regenerative force of love. 

But above all this, I finally found the courage to live my one life with passion and conviction.  

As I put to rest my eight year struggle with a dissertation that just... would... not... come... together, I came across two passages, one from Mizuta Masahide, a 17th century Samurai and the other, from Michel Foucault's The Use of Pleasure:

Barn's burnt down

Now

I can see the moon.

And

As to those for whom to work hard, to begin and begin again, to attempt and be mistaken, to go back and rework everything from top to bottom, and still find reason to hesitate from one step to the next – as to those, in short, for whom to work in the midst of uncertainty and apprehension is tantamount to failure, all I can say is that clearly we are not from the same planet.

Letting go of my doctoral pursuit was traumatic.  But it was also an opportunity to recalibrate, reimagine, clarify and truly see not who I thought I was going to be, but who I am happy I've become.

I have had two lifelines in the last two years: my daughter and my garden.  While I have always been vested in social justice, becoming a mother has made me even more determined to insure that I am actively helping to create the world in which I want my daughter to grow and thrive.  I became even more obsessive about gardening and, as much as my schedule as a working single mother allowed, embraced the urban homesteading lifestyle.  That commitment introduced me to an incredible community of urban homesteaders, notwithstanding some self-important strivers who had convinced themselves that they were the founders of urban homesteading, and therefore had the right to trademark the terms "urban homestead" and "urban homesteading".  Dorks.

In the last year, I have recognized an increasingly enthusiastic transformation in my professional and personal interests.  While I still love literature (reading it, rather than writing about it [or worse, grading writing about it]), and I still aspire to publish (memoir and fiction), I have become mildly obsessive about urban agriculture, urban sustainability and the role of the law in both.

So, with my current position vulnerable to the federal budget pissing match, my daughter being young enough to forgive me, and all of my non-school debt due to be paid off by next spring, I decided to do something radical.

I am going back to school.

I have already received a full tuition scholarship to one of my top law school choices, which is awesome, because I am absolutely debt-adverse given the state of the legal job market, my age and my goals: I aspire to be a legal advocate for urban agricultural activities in post-industrial cities like Detroit.  I don't anticipate getting rich, but look forward to making a living doing meaningful and variable work that I suspect I will enjoy.

And so, I begin anew.

It is scary.  It is exciting.  It is me.