Instead, I'm just feeling relieved, hugely so, and a little guilty about it. How's that for deeply meaningful?
The non-technical definition of playgroup for me has = lifeline. As many of you so wisely suggested months ago, finding a group of like-minded mothers to ease my transition into stay-at-home motherhood has been a tremendous source of support, blah blah blah. (NB: I had to add the "blah blah" to maintain some semblance of ironic detachment here; thank you for understanding.). Of gaining insight onto how to approach the changes to come in Master P's life, from nap schedules to the mysteries of preschool wait lists. Of having a place where I can vent. Oh, and providing a nice outlet in which Master P can play in a new, stimulating environment and socialize with other babies.
It's the "Oh, also..." bit that gets me shame spiraling into the Mom Guilt abyss. Shouldn't Master P be enough? Why am I desperate to get out of the house regularly? What happened to the lady desperate for handbags, not the company of other housewives? Is there anything I can't feel guilty about now? Does this mean I miss the working life? (If not being a lawyer, because - no.)(With emphasis)(Parentheses)
Guilt aside, I can't tell you how familiar and welcoming it was to walk into a room of other moms & babies today and have that sense of community, even with those where the only thing which we have in common are said babies. Yes, chilly me, the Queen of Detachment - Hillary Clinton & I both take a village.
And on that terminally sappy note, I'm going to go get Pretty - yes, moms dress up for one another just like we did as Singletons - to attend yet another playgroup this afternoon, lest I continue to sit here overanalyzing this. We'll get back to the business of being Prettier than Everyone Else & other vitally important matters tomorrow; for today, I'm going to brush aside the guilt in manner of my uptight forebears and enjoy.