All of it, the move, the worry, the excitement, and the frustrations of those first few weeks seem still so acute, so recent. Perhaps all this is because I am still unsure – unsure of where I will go from here, unsure of what I want to do.

I love writing. And I’m good at it. I always thought so before, but now I have some empirical evidence. And that feels good.

The problem is that I miss my son. Every. Single. Day. I know that many working mothers miss their kids. I know that many mothers work and have kids and do both well. I know that we will adapt. Hell, I think we already have. The pain of our separation has lessened, and my son seems resigned to the fact that his mother will leave him in the morning.

The problem with me is that I know what I am missing. I took care of him every day for 18 months and I know exactly what it means to stay at home with a child. I know how it feels to never get a shower and wear ill fitting clothes and worry about money and have food and dirt on me and not have adult conversation and have a cranky sick or teething kid, to change diapers and play the same games over and over. But I know that as much as I thought I would dislike all of that, I absolutely loved being, every day, with my child. I also know how it feels to have private jokes and conversations, to have him wake up and see me and smile, to know what is going on in his head, to have playdates, to see him delight in the wind, an ant, a hose, to see him confident in me, sure that I will never leave him.

I left him, and I know what I am missing.

I am missing the depth of knowledge of my son that I had when I was with him most every day. Knowing him like that made me, I am sure, a better mother. When he acted or reacted, I had a larger library of knowledge from which to draw. I knew what he had eaten and how well he had slept and what he had just learned, who he had played with and what had happened and I could put his behavior into context. My library is now incomplete. Parts of my son are lost to me.

I am missing opportunities to teach in those moments that present themselves suddenly, and without warning. I was with him when he walked and talked, found spiders, encountered new people, discovered rain, and tasted cookies. He fell and looked at me. I guided him every day. My mother is doing that now. And though she loves my son and she has been a mother, she is not me, and she does not teach the same things in the same way. And I think I am better.

I miss cooking, for him and with him. I worry about what he eats. My mother does not know about nutrition and she doesn’t take him to play dates. He is lonlier now. He is without other children. I worry.

And I can’t even think about having another child, a child I want, when I don’t feel like I have enough time with one.

So I am left to decide where to do from here. I love writing. I love my child. I am working on a solution. Maybe I can freelance. Maybe I can work three days a week. I will do something. Because as much as I love writing, I don’t love it more than mothering my child. And this is a surprise to me.

1. I get to call myself a writer
2. I get to read quality papers on a variety of subjects
3. I get to write about these papers
4. I get some control over the papers I cover
5. I get a salary and benefits
6. I get to live in a larger city
7. I have a real boss that is mostly around and provides feedback
8. I get to talk to adults about interesting topics
9. I have the opportunity to meet and talk with some pretty interesting people

Not as nice things about my job
1. I get little personal recognition for my work
2. I have to write according to a set style
3. Sometimes the papers are incredibly boring
4. Strict word limits
5. Fairly strict deadlines
6. I miss my kid
7. I had to move away from a larger support system
8. I wish I had more opportunity to meet and interact with interesting people
9. I don’t get paid as much as I could at another job

So here goes:

Things you do:

You see wonder in the world around you. You point out birds, and trees, trucks, airplanes, sirens and flowers. You marvel at rocks. You show me, force my face upward, to look at how the wind moves the leaves in the trees. You grin in the middle of a popsicle. You demand I order a rabbit back into our yard.

I suggest that we head to the park, and you throw your hands in the air. “DAAA!” you say (the best form of yes), grab my hand and lead me to the door. You know that 10 minutes is longer than 5 minutes and 5 minutes is longer than 1.

You kiss where I am hurt. You hug my leg. At night you ask me to sing to you, and sometimes you sing along. You love trains and especially their signals. You make high-pitched car noises as you move a car along the couch and quietly woo woo whenever we drive by the tracks. At night you rest your head on my shoulder. You put my hands back in place if I try to move them. You giggle and play and make up jokes. You run down hill. (Uphill you like to be carried.) You listen and respond to explanations. You sneak you dinner to the dogs. You splash in puddles and ask me to splash too. You talk to me. You ask me questions. You want me near.

I see you learn and grow. I watch you think. You are sweet and good, kind and strong. You like mischief. I tell you these things in the dark. I whisper in your ear. You are a joy to me. When you are happy, I feel happy. When you marvel at the world, I marvel with you. I have replaced my former life with a life with you. You make this life better. You are a gamble that I won.

Kid: Hi!
Me: Hi!
Kid: What’s your name?
Me: My name is PA? What’s your name?
Kid: My name is “Kid.” What’s your favorite color?
Me: Blue.
Kid: Mine is purple.
Me: That’s gross.
Kid: What would you ask for if you had three wishes and you couldn’t ask for more wishes?
Me: A magic carpet, the ability to fly, and to find a four-leafed clover.

I don’t know why I would need a magic carpet if I could already fly. On retrospection, that was poor planning on my part, but I did find that four leafed clover. It resides inside a hard-bound copy of the works of Rudyard Kipling. My mother, not too long ago, donated all my old childhood books to a local library. I wonder if anyone will ever find my four-leafed clover stuck to a page in a collection of “just so” stories.

I was, and remain, pretty proud of that discovery.

I find myself engaged lately in considerable self-reflection. Where do I want to go from here? I ask myself. What should I work toward? Will all my hours spent poking around the internet and watching Big Bang Theory prevent me from achieving some of my goals? I need to start working on my next goals. What are my goals, really? HOW DO I KNOW IF I AM REACHING MY GOALS?

This is what happens when you reach big goals. You start making more. (You being me, here, of course.)

And while self-reflection is a good thing, a NECESSARY thing, sometimes I begin to feel overwhelmed by number of things that I want to do, that perhaps someday I COULD do, that I have not yet even THOUGHT to do, but I am not doing right now. I am not doing things right now that I want to do but I don’t know what they are. Ahh!

Well, thanks to Karen Walrond over at Chookooloonks, I have been inspired to make a list. She does that, that Karen Walrond. She inspires.

1. My kid is now almost 2 years old. Can you believe it? Oh, he is SO fun. Occasionally exhausting but really fun. I am hoping to chronicle more of his growth and hijinks here. PS: Spell check suggested I change the word to hijacks. Yeah, hopefully not.
2. I have a new job. Get this – I am an official Science Writer!! I now work for a major science magazine and have a real title and everything. So. It really CAN happen.
3. I moved to new city for my job. It was scary. I did it anyway. I am hoping that this is a good thing.
4. After spending (and loving) 1.5 years at home with my son, I now have a good dose of working mother’s guilt at going back to work. Sometimes I really wish I was still with my son. Maybe I should have just moved into a smaller but still nice house so that I could stay with him for these next few years and be able to buy a few things and save too and do this writing gig later, you know, when I will have all kinds of time. Instead I am in new city away from friends and family with more expensive housing and doses of guilt. These are the things that keep me up at night.
5. But, I love this job and I love the directions that the job will allow me to follow in the future. I figure that it’s only fair that I bring you along with me.

So, hello all you all. I’m back!

Who can tell you it will be like this?
I have a camera for watching him.
I eavesdrop on his sleep, his soft quick breaths.
Sometimes I love him best this way-
Powered down.
When he wakes I can feel my heart quicken, my body
Warms with apprehension.
He becomes to me a hidden explosive.
Tread softly, I admonish others.

And yet sometimes I love him best just when he wakes.
I race his father to see him.
Hands on the stairs I push my way up
As an animal.
I lift him up and breathe his skin. I celebrate him.
I produce my hip for his seat.
I run toward him and yet away I pull always.
I love you, come here.
I am tired of you, let me be.
Others, watching me, must find me insane.
Perhaps, I think, they are not so incorrect.

This is now the second time I have received this letter. It reads:

Dear PA ,

I am writing on behalf of the international academic publisher, LAP Lambert Academic Publishing AG & CO.KG.

In the course of a research at the Library of YOUR UNIVERSITY, we came across a reference to your thesis on “ESOTERIC THESIS TOPIC IN THE SCIENCES”.

As we would like to make your work available to a larger audience, I am wondering if you may be interested in publishing your thesis in the form of a printed book.

Your reply including an e-mail address to which I can send an e-mail with further information in an attachment will be greatly appreciated.

I am looking forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely yours,
Kind regards

Bryan Narroo
Acquisition Editor

LAP LAMBERT Academic Publishing AG & Co. KG

Theodor-Heuss-Ring 26 / 50668 Köln, Germany

Fon +49 681 3720-310
Fax +49 681 3720-3109

b.narroo@lap-publishing.com / www.lap-publishing.com

Handelsregister Amtsgericht Köln HRA 26549
Partner with unlimited liability:
VDM Verwaltung Aktiengesellschaft
Handelsregister Amtsgericht Saarbrücken HRB 16777

Board of Directors: Dr. Wolfgang Müller (Chairman/Vors.), Christoph Schulligen, Jürgen Gerber,
Supervisory Board: Prof. Dr. Johannes G. Bischoff (Chairman/ Vors.), RA Thomas Bischoff, RA André Gottschalk

The first time I got this letter I was a little excited. I mean, they wanted to publish ME! Who cares if my dissertation is already widely available for anyone who ever cares to read it. They think it could be a BOOK! Like with real pages and binding and my name all big on the front and people will buy it. I was also out of a job and more than a little vulnerable. Of course, I did have some things going for me. First, I’ve done my fair share of publishing in good journals and have no real need to publish my dissertation. Second, I’m am deathly afraid of violating copyrights and going to “pound you in the ass prison” (or any prison, really). And last, I know how to use the internet. So I did what any good little researcher would do.

I googled.

And I found out that this is a scam, people. Don’t do it!

See here: http://hjhop.blogspot.com/2008/12/shady-academic-publishing.html
And here: http://littlecomputerscientist.wordpress.com/2009/06/04/investigating-lambert-academic-publishing-with-google-square/

They really do have a pretty website. But sadly, a good website is a (mostly) necessary but not sufficient condition.

I am remiss for not writing sooner. I feel guilt already for not getting down all those little moments that have changed you, changed us, really, the last few months. Those little tiny, insignificant, significant things that I fear will be forgotten forever. Do not think that this lapse means that I am somehow less in love, less interested, less enamored with you than with your first few months. Because the truth is that it is the opposite. I have not been pausing to document because I am too busy enjoying the moment. I have no idea when it happened exactly, but sometime in the last few months you have become a little boy. You have changed from the baby I loved, to the little boy who just makes my heart burst, and I don’t know how.

You crawl. You “talk.” You demand to eat our food. You grin at silly jokes. You squeal with delight. You find jumping hysterical. You laugh at the dogs. You snuggle me and hold me close. You rest your head on my shoulder. You arch your back and kick and scream. You say, “pshaw” but so far do not seem to know that it should accompany an eye roll. You smack your lips. You give kisses. You have a happy full face grin that comes with crinkle squished eyes. This is my favorite grin. You hold your arms to be picked up. You stand and try to walk. The world to you is an exciting place, and I am so happy to be there as you discover it.

Last weekend we left you for the first time for several days. You have no idea how long or how much I agonized over this event. I planned and prepared and still never thought that I could really go through with it. I was afraid that it would damage you forever. I was afraid that it would damage me forever. How stupid I am. You had a fabulous time. I know because your aunt sent pictures showing how much fun you were having. When I got you back you crawled more, ate foods that you never ate before, and seemed more independent. You also slept through the night. So long in fact, that your father in I felt the need to sneak into your room to check your breathing. So, you’re welcome. Perhaps we should do you a favor and go on vacation more often.

Knowing this, I feel much better about another huge change that is likely soon to happen around here. Your mother has finally found a job. Or a job found her. It is not writing, the thing that she is pretty sure she wants to do in the long term, but it sounds important and fun and best of all will come (hopefully) with some real money. But my dear dear baby, this means that I will no longer be able to be the one who plays with you all day, the one who notices those tiny changes, who finds myself catching my breath at noon on a Wednesday at just how incredible you are. But I hope that I can still do these things with the shorter time I’ll have with you. And I hope that by working I will teach you that women can work and be mothers too, that we must each do what makes us happy, and sometimes having a bit more money in the bank is part of that too. I am excited but I will miss you. I am not sure whether or not I hope you miss me.

May you do those things that make you happy. May you have a life as full as mine.

Happy 11 months, my son. What a time we’ve had.