I miss my mom

This started as a post about how much I'm learning to like people. But it turned into an "I like my mom" post instead. I'll save the "I like people" post for another day.

I ironed before church in the morning and had a moment of contentedness with my life as I lined up my boys' crisp white shirts on the doorway. The teeny tiny baby white shirt makes me smile because it has a onesie style bottom and nothing that has a onesie style bottom can make you frown. The great big giant man white shirt makes me smile because it means I'm not really alone. Even when I feel like I am. There is a great big giant man wandering around this house sometimes and while he spends much more time away than here, he still lives here.

And I stood there listening to the Tabernacle Choir, ironing Sunday clothes and feeling like my mom would be proud of me for just that teeny tiny moment in time. (Probably not so much over the rest of the hectic morning, but for that moment, she would've been proud.)

Which of course launched me into a brand of homesickness that a girl can ONLY feel for her mother.

My mom is coming home today,  and I've missed her terribly. She's been away for 3 weeks paying attention to the other children she loves so much.

I wouldn't have thought I'd miss her so much but I do. I don't see my mom that often, she lives far away (an hour's drive) and I'm lazy. So not seeing her for 3 weeks is not abnormal by any stretch of the imagination.

But there's just something about knowing that she's far far away (in Washington) and even if I wanted to, I couldn't just go her library knowing that she'd take a break and read my baby stories because not only is she the greatest Librarian, she's the greatest Grandma.

There's something about knowing that she's already got her hands full of adoring grandchildren and she has no more knees available for her favorite, (ha ha) my little one. There's something about knowing I could leave her a message on her phone and she wouldn't respond for 3 whole weeks. It breaks my heart to have her gone. There's just a weird loneliness that comes from knowing she's already occupied.

That's how I know I'm glad we still live in Utah, no matter how much I claim to want to live somewhere else.