I don't watch tv. I'm not into celebrity news. All my DVD's are kid's titles. My escapism is reading the blogs of people who have much more interesting lives than I do. Generally 30 and 40 somethings who don't have kids, or don't have kids at home anymore, and have lots of time to knit, read fiction and write good smut.
I was catching up today, savouring a very well written series on a break up. I was feeling the same weight on my chest, the same weary eyes from crying, and the same peace when she escaped her pain to cuddle her friends little kids. I don't often think of my somewhat chaotic life as anyone's idea of an oasis, but there it was.
My kids are an oasis.
And I miss combing Darkmirror for nits while he plays on the computer. I really do. At 14 it is likely the last real hands on physical mothering I'll get to do with him. I get to be an ear to what he wants to share these days, but I don't get to clean out his ears. I really, really, miss that. And what I'm feeling is that weight on my chest, it does feel like a break up.