I just got back from "Mothers' Night Out", which involved too many margaritas and yummy (if inauthentic) Mexican food. Now I feel rather tipsy: it's hard to keep up with all those Brits and Australians, who are so fond of drinking (Americans are total lightweights in comparison, I suppose it's our Puritan ancestry).
I worried about little R while I was gone, but she was just fine and slept the whole time. I am glad I have a baby who is a good sleeper: thanks Dr. Weissbluth!; she would have freaked out if she'd awoken and found me missing. Of course B was at home the whole time, but while little R loves him with all her heart, he just is not as good when it comes to giving her comfort and security. For better or worse, I am still little R's living security blanket.
It's always great to talk to other mothers with small babies/toddlers, because it makes you realize how similar mothers' experiences are. Everyone is going through the same thing, and facing the same issues (of work vs. home responsibilities, changing relationships, guilt and family problems). I find it very soothing and validating.
B tries his best, but he just doesn't have the same experiences as me, and probably never will, so in a sense he is never going to get what it means to be a mother. I'm not sure if this is specific to him and our situation (me as a housewife, him working full time), or if it's just part of different parental roles (other women's experience suggests to me it might just be innate, but I am not sure). In any case, the vast majority of the "heavy lifting" of parenting is done by me, so it's nice to talk to other women who really get it.
But I'm glad to be home, reunited with my little R (B and I snuck in to admire her sleeping peacefully when I got home) and my darling B. He may not fully understand mothering, but he understands me in general. I always feel a great sense of calm on being reunited with him, as if I am at last with someone who sees me fully and with whom I feel truly comfortable being myself.