June Bug
June is almost here and that means that spring quarter is almost over and that means that I start to panic. Summer stretches before me, languidly, like the bad-ass big sister I never had. The counterpart to my neurotic habits of filling my schedule, filling my shopping cart, filling my martini glass. Summer. I can smell her from here.
The good news is that when those photons start hitting my brown skin, something inside me is able to let go. When that last final exam is graded, I’m able to retreat. For a while. I’ve routinely volunteered to teach summer quarter in the past, mainly to add structure to my summer. To keep myself from freaking out on the seemingly huge expanse of time between spring and fall quarters. To make sure I don’t load up my car and drive to Costa Rica. Or worse.
Now that we have Lina, I won’t be teaching during the summers. This was all in my Grand Plan of life, but now that I’m on the edge of it, I’m nervous. I LOVE being a college professor and a mom. Love it. It’s two different kinds of nurturing, two different types of leadership, two different lines to hold. All of this is completely me. I know now that I can do it all well, and that’s so thrilling to me. The world constantly tries to tell women to relinquish parts of themselves, and I’m just not someone who can do that. I would be in prison or something if I had to live that way. I sure as hell wouldn’t be Here, doing This, being Me.
But here I am, with a pile of paperwork to my right that will register Lina for summer swimming and music lessons. Two things. Good. Add my yoga to that, walking the dog, morning jogs with the baby, story time at the library, two naps a day, happy hour at 4pm, and we’re set. I almost feel ready. Almost.