Validation

This past weekend, we went, as we usually do, to Austin. Since we have a free place to stay (Adam's family has property there) we try to go as often as possible as a way to leave Killeen behind. Austin is the perfect getaway--akin to my liberal sensibilities, it's a nice college town and state capitol with oodles and oodles of stuff to do. In one night, we managed to eat at a ridiculously scrumptious Cuban restaurant, get hot drinks at an open-air coffee bar (which, by the way, had a really interesting 1970 photo of a naked tatooed girl stretched seductively over a Harley Davidson on the bathroom wall), happen upon and dance to a blues band performing outside under a half-shell, and tour through a really cool antique store in the last ten minutes it was open. We heart Austin.

Anyway, lovefest aside, that night a very sleepy us let a very-sleepy-but-loopy-and-overactive Bryony sleep in bed with us instead of forcing her to sleep in her own crib. She's so cute and cuddly, what could be more warm and fuzzy than having your 18-month old daughter sleeping peacefully next to you, right? She was about as peaceful as the Roman Empire when it was conquering Europe. She squirmed, she tossed, she turned...oh, and with the aromatic temptation of breastmilk only inches away from her face, she nursed. Like, every hour. Probably on the hour. Which meant I didn't sleep much and had pretty sore nipples.

By the next morning, when Adam and Bryony woke up to the bright and crisp morning even-tempered and chipper, I hunkered down under the covers and whined about having had little sleep. So Adam got Bryony dressed and ready for the day and the two of them took off for a couple hours so I could get in some more sleep. Eventually I woke up to the sound of my favorite NPR program, This American Life, coming on with their annual Christmas episode. While listening to the show, Adam and Bryony eventually filtered in, cheeks rosy from the coolness of the morning, Bryony high on the exhiliration from her time with Dad. Adam immediately fell into a heap on the chair.

"How do you do it all day long?" he asked me. I didn't get his meaning at first.

And then, I did. And a little flag of victory was plunked down into my new-found territory of Validation!

Not that Adam doesn't offer me praise and support for being a full-time mum, especially since he knows how hard it's been for me to be away from my career (the one I went to school for, that is). But this was totally different. This was the sweet taste of understanding. Of him understanding, that is.

"She was all over the place," he went on to say. "We were at the bookstore and she pulled anything and everything off of the shelves. I couldn't keep up with her! Then we found a playground and she was just running all over the place. I could really use a nap now."

I just smiled and nodded and breathed a hushed "thank you" his way. He had spent less than than two hours with her and was completely knackered; I have spent every single day of her 18 months of life with her with barely a break or reprieve. I think he finally got it.

And I am now claiming dominion over my new territory Validation. The flag is still flying.