For the first time in over four months, I put Eden to sleep in the crib by the bed instead of tucked in right beside me. Instead of a blissful, roomy sleep, here I am, still awake after an hour at 12:54 in the morning, slight headache just above my right ear, but awake nonetheless, thinking about teaching, about university, about what feels like twenty new mosquito bites that I acquired in the past day, listening to the deep breathing of my husband and the tossing of a little body.

I haven't let Eden be babysat by anybody; in fact, the longest period of time she's been out of my arms would be today, tonight, in three-hour stretches. I am what you would classify as a mother bear, a protective hen, a worry-wart. I love being a mom. With that, as the days drift closer to September, I miss the anticipation of a year's work ahead of me, and I especially miss the relationships I won't have with students. I'm curious about the winter ahead, the great unknown. It's been years since I've had one that isn't dominated by the word busy. And of course I am busy, in a completely different aspect of the word that often feels anything but busy. It won't be in the deadline-heavy paper-handling kind of way. I will be learning all sorts of new things, but not in the crammy details-I-need-to-know-so-I'm-a-professional way. While I value this whole raising of a new life in a complex world, it's so much messier, freer, more open, than before. It's not like taking notes for a lecture. It's not like writing a paper. With all its importance, not only do people treat it as more trivial but it does feel more trivial than those things, those "professional" endeavours, as though my (and other mom's) daily activities are something to joke about -- the goings on during the day, the lack of social activity, the ability to talk freely to one who doesn't talk back. I think to myself, I don't listen to enough talk radio. What's even going on in the world? And in some aspects, it doesn't matter; this thing that I am doing is more important. But people don't treat it as more important, they treat it as trivial. My not returning to work. Love handles forming on the brain.

It's a dichotomy: I love being challenged in the educational, researchy, debatable, academic way, and I'll always love it, and this part of me is something that's valued in our society. I love holding my baby girl, knowing she feels safe and loved and warm and that she has my complete attention, and this part of me is something that doesn't feel valued in our society.

It's a dichotomy: waiting (wanting) for her to need me. Praising her ability to not.