I think part of the reason I missed the kids so much was the book I was reading, A Wolf at the Table by Augusten Burroughs. I have read all his other books and while his writing style is obviously the same nothing prepared me for how hard this story of his early years, before the Running with Scissors period, would hit me.

Really it was just a story of a boy wanting his father's love and acceptance and getting nothing back, worse than nothing. Psychological games, fear, rejection, confusion... these were the themes of Augusten's early life, living with a psychopathic father and a crazy mother.

With each chapter my need to hug my children grew and by the last page it took all my self control not to ring Jason and ask him to pick me up just so I could cuddle my babies and tell them "I love you".

When I see Augusten speak about this book in a week and a half's time I will also have to fight an overwhelming urge to put my arms around him and say "very much I love you", though the person from whom he longed to hear those words is now dead and can never repent for the horror which was Augusten's childhood.