I got myself back to the yoga studio last night and let me tell you I am kicking my own head (really, I actually did) for not going sooner.  Two weeks away was two weeks too long and even though my neck and back are hurting today, my mind is much mostly a little bit better. 

There’s just something about the combination of focusing so intently on breathing while moving and sweating (and I mean SWEATING) in a 95 degree room for 90 minutes that makes me feel really clean and good and maybe even a little happy.  I bet that I sweat an entire litre of gin after all the (mostly except for that one part) fun I had on the east coast.   Bugs in the yoga studio are still plastered if they got into my sweat on the floor.  (Ewwww. sorry)  Plain water is really extra good this week.

Last night the kids decided that they wanted to roast marshmallows in the fireplace.  All we had were the dinky ones and it was after 9 o’clock and I was in my PJs when they asked me to go to the store for big marshmallows and skewers and kindling. 

I said, Uh, NO.  Maybe tomorrow. 
Before work?
Maybe.
Pleeeeasssseeeeee?   *insert tears here*
Hmm.  We’ll see. 

So, of course at 8:30 I walked over to the market around the corner and got the stuff minus the kindling (they didn’t have any) and plus graham crackers & hershey bars.  I brought it back home to a hero’s welcome and lots of kisses and was even able to get them to promise that if the fireplace wasn’t working out to use the microwave without any crying. 

I wanted very much to stay home today and roast marshmallows in the fireplace on a too-hot day for it with my kids.   And I cried a little because I couldn’t and because I won’t see the big kids till Monday night.  And, yeah, I can roast marshmallows with them another time, but I miss the spontaneous fun we used to have.  I know that a huge part of this broken hearted feeling I have is about missing my kids.  About the fact that they do just fine without me and that I went from knowing all about their lives to not knowing much at all.  I feel like an outsider when I watch them play and I know I am not but I also know that they have adjusted to me not being there.  Don’t get me wrong, I would hate it if they were not coping well with the changes.  At the same time, I really do miss feeling needed by them.  I loved being just a mom.  I was good at it.