I want my mom.

You know that cute children's book where the little bird falls out of the tree and looses him mom?  Well, that's how I feel.  Even though I am a 34 years old and a mother of 4- I still need my mom.  I live my life and try not to think about it every Sunday night when I know my family is all at my mom's sitting around the fire, visiting and laughing.  I try not to think about not being a part of the family activities when it's Halloween, and Easter and Thanksgiving and so many other times.  Fall at Gardner Village, Easter at Ft. Green, August in Montana.  Going to lunch with my sisters.  Fundraising for Anthony.  Temple open houses at Mark and Julia's.  BYU football games with my dad.  Baby blessings.  Baptisms.  All these things I miss out on.
 I try and have a positive attitude, but sometimes it's hard.  The other day I was at Walmart and I saw a woman at the end of the isle in the home decor section.  She looked just liked my mom.  I stopped in my tracks and watched her.  She was standing sideways looking at something.  She bent down and picked up a table cloth and was looking at it just the way my mom would.  She had the same movements as my mom.  I just felt like shouting out, "mom! Your here!".  But I knew it wasn't her.  I started crying, right there in Walmart.  There was a hole in my heart bigger than I thought was there.
I am missing my family.
You know, when we first moved out of Utah I was ready.  I wanted to experience living somewhere else- and also be close enough to go home for the weekend if I would like.  Idaho was perfect.  We wanted to move to Idaho, and loved it there.  But when we moved to Tennessee, it wasn't particularly what I would have chosen.  It was further from my parent's, but at least we had David and Marilyn.  Then we heard about Florida, I thought, "No way."  I really didn't want to move to Florida.  I wanted to stay in Tennessee and have Darren go to school there.  But life took us to Florida.  And the truth is that I miss being around my family.  It's getting kind of old. It has been 9 years since we lived in Utah.  When I had Gabe, my dad came out to visit.  I looked at him and realized it had been over 2 years since I had seen him.  That's just too long. I am not OK with this.  But what can I do?  Nothing.  Actually I guess I can count my blessings.  I can put a smile on my face and live my life.  I can hang up my Christmas lights in flip flops and shorts and think about how fast this first year has gone by.  I can think about Laura coming to visit in January.  I can think about maybe being able to go to Utah again this summer.  I can think about how grateful I am that Darren is in CRNA school.   I can look at my beautiful children and be grateful for my husband. I can hang out with friends.  I can go to movie theaters with huge leather seats.  I can go to the beach.  I can go jogging in shorts and a tank top in January.  I can let my kids roam the neighborhood.  I can think about what a fun time when had when Mark and Malinda, Athena and Ben, and Julia came. I can make the most of it while we are here.  And I have every intention of doing that.  But sometimes, I want my mom.