Thank you, Hillary

I happen to love Hillary. Not so much her politics (though I frequently agree with them), but her endurance. I look at her, and I think: "Everything they said and did to you, Hillary, they would have said and done to me." Something about that independence, and lawyerliness (a certain sassy, witchy strength), combined in a not too, too unattractive package just seems to enrage some people, like a red flag to a bull. (Paradoxically, I almost like Sarah P., because she has escaped this fate, and is very beautiful and powerful, and that suggests to me that we are coming closer to the day when smart and hot are not mutually exclusive concepts - yes, I know the smart is in question, and that's where I say almost, because if she were definitely smart, I would like her even when I don't, if that makes sense to anyone other than me. Run on sentence, deep breath!)

But politics is not the point of my blog, and what I want to thank Hillary for is something we can all agree on. Thank you, Hillary, for the expression, "It takes a village." Those words crystallized something many of us knew intuitively, but had not yet organized intellectually in quite so clear a way.

I have a village. I have written about my "supportive spouse," and he lives in the village, but it has many other residents: a nanny, a house cleaner, a launderer, an errand doer, and a gardener. There are people who accept packages; people who deliver things (clothes, groceries, birthday presents); and people who teach things (flute, baseball). They are all part time (don't assume I have the staff of an English country house), but without them, we . . .
no . . . I, could not do what I do. Without them, I would not have the freedom to travel and try cases and work weekends.

I am grateful for that freedom, even as I recognize the inherent circularity of all: working so hard to make the money to pay the people who make it possible for me to work so hard.

Recently, I was speaking with the (female) general counsel of a Fortune 200 company, and she told me a story about the company's CEO, also a woman. The CEO has children about the same age as mine (who are 10 and 13), and the story is that Ms. CEO has authorized her staff to accept calls from her children, when she is in meetings and on conference calls, and the staff are charged with enforcing the rules: "No, Tommy, thirty minutes is the limit for Nintendo on a school night! You have to finish your math flash cards."

Listening to the story, I was shocked -- I have always rigidly maintained the professional/personal line with my (always female) secretaries -- but also, somehow, thrilled. Is that difference between me and a CEO? She knows how to ask for the help she needs to coordinate all her responsibilities? Or has she crossed an inexcusable line?

The former, I think. And yet, how could I ever ask my secretary to do that? Or expect my children to accept it?

What do you think? Is part of your village at the office?

Definition of "Supportive Spouse"

I recently had lunch with a young woman, just entering the profession, who wanted my advice on being-a-woman-in-the-law. I told some war stories, and we talked about clothes, and women judging women, and I gave her my usual, it-is-hard-but-it-is-possible-and-the-key-is-to-have-a-supportive-spouse (or partner or whatever) advice, and then suddenly, for the first time in the many years I have been giving this spiel, I suddenly realized what a "supportive spouse" is. Eureka!

A supportive spouse is NOT someone who thinks: "Of course, you like your job and you went to law school all those years and it's just as impotant as what I do." Nor is being a supportive spouse about the money (who doesn't need two salaries these days?). A supportive spouse is someone who simply cannot imagine you being or doing anything else: someone for whom your being a lawyer is so bound up in who and what you are, that for him (or her, I suppose, but this feels like a him conversation), just as for you, there aren't any options and you haven't made a "choice" to do this, it just is, and because it is, we have to work together to make it work.

"No One Would Want Your Life" - About my blog

I am a mother. I am also a senior partner in a national litigation law firm.

Several years ago, the law firm asked me to become its Diversity Coordinator. I had often spoken my mind about the scarcity of women in my world (at the time, 2 of our approximately 40 partners were female), but still, it was not a position I coveted. Diversity Coordinator is an important job, and a hard one, and the skills required to do it well are not necessarily the same skills that make an effective litigator.

Before accepting the post, I asked a lot of questions, and I did some hand-wringing, and I asked my closest confidants for advice. Most were in favor. But the deciding vote was my husband's. He was adamant that I should not do it, and he offered his two most persuasive arguments:

(1) "It's pointless: you will never be able to change anything."

(2) "And anyway, NO ONE WOULD WANT YOUR LIFE."

Well, I still think I can do anything if I just try hard enough. And it so happens that I like my life. It has its moments, of course, and there are days - lots of them - when I think, "I just can't do this any more!!!," - but most of the time, it's pretty good. My work is engaging and exciting; my children are marvelous (most of the time), and too, there are diversions. I love my chickens, and growing food, reading, writing poetry and skiing. I watch my children play baseball; I play my guitar; I bake bread; I waste countless hours on the internet. Occasionally, I even talk to my friends.

So, I had to become Diversity Coordinator, because it may be hectic, but if I can do it, anyone can. I haven't changed the world yet, but we're making progress. And somehow, the rest of life goes on.

This blog, about the ups and downs of one not-so-bad, cobbled together existence, is for everyone who is trying to "have it all," and if not quite getting "all," is managing to find a way to stitch a decent quilt from the pieces of all.

2012 - Please note, everything in this blog is "true," but not all of it is dead accurate. Meaning, sometimes, I homogenize experience for the sake of anonymity and story line. Questions? Post a comment and I'll respond.