The end, part 1

The week of the Bar Exam was packed. I had a job interview the day before at De Paul University. It was an interview I was trying to nail down for months, and finally got. Before the interview I asked my husband for his advice. He told me: "answer their questions." Huh? What kind of advice is that? I sputtered. "Just answer their questions. Don't tell them more than they've asked you. Listen carefully and just answer what they've asked."

That made sense. I dropped off my budding actress at theater camp, and found my way to De Paul. I parked across the street and dropped my quarters into the meter. The head of the department greeted me at the entrance to the department offices, she guided me into an office where I met the second woman who would be interviewing me, and they asked me my first question. Within seconds, I had pulled out all of my class syllabi from semesters past, my course outlines, and copies of power point slides. I confessed to being stuck teaching courses I had never even taken, I gave detailed explanations of how I switched from studying Irish History to Sport Administration, why I was one course short of my M.Ed, how I started developing on-line courses when I was on maternity leave. I confided in the challenges of being the mother of three while my husband was in law school, and on and on.

So much for my husband's advice.

Despite being a complete blabbermouth, or perhaps, because of it, they liked me. The hiring processes at universities are fairly complex, so nothing is guaranteed, but I think (and hope and pray) I'll be teaching one class in the spring term. It's a start!

The excitement and giddiness of a successful job interview quickly dissolved into the stress and panic of the upcoming Bar Exam. My poor hubby was studying day and night, pouring over his massive exam guides and taking practice exam after practice exam. The Bar also coincided with the end of summer camp, so we were also dealing with a tan, skinny boy who hadn't brushed his teeth in a month, full of excitement and stories to share.

A week of sleepless nights preceded the Bar, and my hubby tried valiantly to sleep the night between the two days of exams. I stayed awake in some kind of sick solidarity. All day, the kids and I glanced at the clock anxiously imagining the torture our love was enduring.

Finally, it was over. Just like that. In a moment, three years of stress, anguish, hard work, fun, fear, pride, ambition, and accomplishment were over. My husband came home exhausted and drained. I asked him, How'd you do?

"I dunno." Came the tired response. "I'll find out in October." And that was that.

The next day was both my husband's 37th birthday (young pup!), and Tisha B'Av, a Jewish fast day. So much for celebrating.

The following day was the last day of drama camp.

We were treated to an adorable and amusing musical performance followed by Shabbat. The Bar Exam did not precede wild parties and celebrations. My husband's birthday was not a cause for joy and licentiousness. we didn't slide into home plate. Three years of Law School and three months of Bar preparation left us spent.

After another couple of weeks of my husband's PILI fellowship, I continued Camp Mommy with three kids. We hung out at the park, went to the museum,

went to the beach,

went to the zoo,

and the big kids and I spent a day at Six Flags.

They had earned their tickets through a reading program at their school.

It was nice getting to spend time with them.

We giggled, played, and chilled. And except for 60 degree weather and rain every day, it felt like summer.

My hubby and I had our own little vacation. We hired a baby sitter to stay with the kids for twenty four hours, while we booked a hotel fifteen minutes away. We dined on kosher sushi, worked out in the hotel fitness room, shopped for shoes (yay!!), and strolled the beautiful Chicago Botanic Gardens for hours. It was romantic, relaxing, and rejuvenating, and I highly recommend it to anyone married with kids.

Finally, the real family vacation came around. We had planned a dramatic, exciting, and outrageously expensive "Post-Bar trip" to California. The plan was to meet up with the family in Northern California to celebrate my parent's 50th wedding anniversary. Then we were going to drive down to Los Angeles with the kids hitting every tourist spot in the state like Disneyland, Hollywood, the studio tours, the Monterrey Aquarium, San Diego zoo, etc. You name it, it was on our agenda.

Unfortunately, the economic meltdown, the law firm cutting back on hours and delaying start dates were not.

In a matter of weeks our glorious vacation was dealt a reality blow and after some tweaking and revising, was downgraded to four days on Madeline Island off of the Wisconsin shores of Lake Superior and a week and a half in St. Paul, Minnesota with my mother-in-law. It may not have been as thrilling as we had originally planned, but it was wonderful nonetheless. The kids thoroughly enjoyed spending time with their granma and her geriatric dog, Amy. And the vacation, in a quiet and understated way, was as mind-blowing as anything the kids could have experienced in California.

Before we headed out to Minnesota, I had a slight detour on my map: the replanned fiftieth anniversary celebration for mom and dad in Ft. Lauderdale! I flew out on Thursday first class, thanks to frequent flyer miles. I got in at midnight, and on Friday morning, we hit the Florida beaches running. I spent the day basking in the sun with my sisters and their families.

It was wonderful seeing my niece whom I hadn't seen since she was a baby.

It was a treat discovering my niece was blessed with more personality in her pinkie than most people get in their whole lives.

It was also a treat hanging out with my family. Just about everyone was there: aunts, uncles, siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, and more.

But the stars of the weekend were my parents who made it to the big 5-0 and still looked as beautiful, happy and in love as ever.

Family came from far and wide to celebrate.

It was as much a family reunion as a celebration of 50 years of bliss. I got reacquainted with family I hadn't seen in years,

and got to meet a few new faces, too.

We laughed, we caught up, we reminisced. We remembered just how much we loved being together.

And all too fast, it was time to say goodbye and get back to my own kiddos.

Shakespeare had it right. Parting is such sweet sorrow, but a common Jewish sentiment gets it right, too: only in simchas. We should always meet under such joyous, wonderful circumstances. And as far as I'm concerned, the more the merrier. I don't know who said that one, but they're right, too.

Part 2: Post-Bar trip to nowhere!