Sigh

There's just something about Sunday afternoons in the fall - I remember delicious smells from the oven, the lull of some televised sporting event floating out of the living room, and being curled up with a book, maybe some homework. Generally, it was cozy, homey, and comfortable. It might be that "home" time that I miss the most about living out of my parents' house.

I know, at 30, I shouldn't miss home. Or should I? We don't have any children yet, and no pets, so it's a pretty quiet place. I grew up in a house where it was hard to find a place that someone hadn't already staked out, but it was nice and comforting to be a part of the contained chaos. ST was an only child of a single mother - he doesn't quite understand how I like the madness.

I've been thinking about it a lot lately, as friends and acquaintances are growing their families. It seems like there's been a huge influx of babies and pregnancies in the last year or so, and it makes me sort of sad to look at my own life and see that I don't have that yet. I didn't think I'd wind up in this place - 30, unmarried, no children yet. I had such a good plan - I'd already have 2 or 3 children by this time, would have been married for years. And life happens, and the plans go out the window, and here we are. At work on a Sunday afternoon missing my mommy.

Note that I said "at work", and not "working".