With my seriously over sized, bag hiding, dark circle hugging shades on to hold back that uncontrollable barnet of wispy curls.
Her ruby red lips clinging on to that english rose complexion which lights up the old steely blue eyes and make mondays blog post seems such a distant memory.
This is my pickle nut peach pop who will hate me for calling her that one day but for now she kind of likes it. That lays amongst sweets, peachy, lovey, chick-a-lick, darls, peach pie, bunny and a whole host of private terms of endearment. Of course, in public its just sweet Belle.
**Though Id like to point out to those who do not know that her name is actually Ellie but she is used to be being called Belle these days. Although when there is sneak of trouble she is called by her Sunday name of Ellenor!**
Tried her with her splints tonight for 5 minutes. She cried the whole time and I felt such a bitch making her walk about the top rooms of the house. I ached for her as she struggled to walk straight in them and when she reached out to hold on to furniture, I simply stated that it was not a good idea to do so. The bribe was a back massage (her absolute to-die-for relaxant) of which she so richly deserved. And whilst we took the splints off she said she was sorry for being such a wuss. God, I love that kid. She'll get to the end of this before I do and its not that I don't give her credit - I think its just that I know what is to come and I feel for her. But like all mothers should do, you just have to let your kids find their own paths. But its hard, you know?
Anyhoo, Im going to sign off and find a bag of frozen peas I can sit on because for 5 days straight I have been to spin classes and my seatage feels like I have been sat on a razor blade for 15 miles biking. My ribs are almost cracked from puffing and panting and woe betide if I need to use the stairs because my legs have forgotten how to move. Ouch!
PS: Edited to add this form my lovely freind, Louisa (thank you so much, this made me sob!):
An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream.
'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.'
The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.'
Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.