Taking sides becomes risky business
Lawyers and babies don’t mix, as discovers in her new column.
Which side? Which side? The words are buzzing desperately through my mind as I stare at the mini mountains of paperwork in front of me and reach for the crying baby at my side.
I’m supposed to be listening to the lawyer currently droning on about critical pieces of information while shuffling said mountains around the table like it is a geography lesson.
But I’m rather distracted by the problem of which side bub last fed on, and hence, which side we are up to now.
The baby seems as focused on the lesson as I am, which I tell myself is forgivable since we are both only three weeks into this family gig.
That means my brain is currently a toxic mix of sleep deprivation, hormonal tsunamis and terrifying new instincts that take over my body at any given time.
Which side? Which side? Why can’t I remember which side?!
I’ve got bub out of the car seat now, and I’m holding him over my shoulder while I ‘‘listen’’ and frantically try to remember.
The young female lawyer keeps droning anyway, endless details about decisions I’m in no state to make, and endless bits of information we should probably remember that I definitely won’t.
She’s pretending not to notice my screaming child, but it’s obvious we all want this to be over as soon as possible.
Especially hubby. It feels like we pay by the second to be here. Which side?! And why did we decide to buy a house at the same time as having a baby, I think to myself.
Oh, and to switch banks while restructuring our accounts. It turns out all of these things take time and some of them take lawyers.
Two different lawyers, in two different towns, in one afternoon, with a three-week old.
Note to self, remember to resist hubby’s powers of persuasion in future.
Lawyer lady is still droning, and is now elbow deep in one of the mountains, presumably giving a lesson on the impacts of mining as she ‘‘takes us through’’ them.
‘‘Um, sorry,’’ I interrupt. ‘‘He’s hungry, I just need to breastfeed him.’’
A look of pure, unadulterated fear flicks into her eyes and she tries, but fails, to keep her face neutral. She’s too young for this, it says, and besides it wasn’t covered at Uni.
‘‘Yes, of course, go for it,’’ she says. All I hear is ‘‘No! I don’t want to see your anatomy!’’
Who cares which side. Just go for the right and get this over with. I set my screaming little boy into position: head and body snuggled on my right arm, left arm free for support and crisis management.
He latches straight away and I cover up. There is a collective breath of relief.
‘‘Ok,’’ says lawyer lady. ‘‘So I just need you both to sign these papers and then we’ll need to initial every page.’’
I stare at her. I stare at the mountains. I am right handed.
There is only one thought emblazoned chrystal clear in my mind now:
l should have gone for the left.