I can't blame the season. I love the bloody winter. But I've been feeling a little low since I was here last. Something that comes and goes in spells but not that often. I think it's just the run up to Christmas knowing that my usual rushed efforts won't be including a card and pressie for my mum-in-law who passed away in March. It just struck me that my kids don't have any grandparents at all now and that my crossed fingers don't seem to be doing much via my daughter and her attempts to make me one! She's on fertility treatment as she has polycystic ovaries, making the natural job a bit harder. Mind you, I can just picture the little 'un in a few years with his/her Prodigy tee-shirt on giving it laldy with mum in the sitting room to her CD's and him/her being fascinated by the tongue stud she'll keep popping in and out her mouth...(doesn't beat when grampa used to take out his false teeth out in front of you, Kek. You tried so hard to do the same!). So, I'm picking myself up and shaking off the blues. I'm so impatient. That's my real problem.
I know when the kids notice I'm down. Especially Ross. It's the only time he ever makes me a cup of tea with an added kiss. But he bucked me up. Even had me laughing when he told me he was about to woo his latest date with a Pot Noodle and Saw V. She giggled all the while she was in.
But my best ever pick-me-up is going through old photographs - and trust me I have thousands. It was when I came across this one that gave me the biggest smile. I can remember the first time Ross met his auntie Maryse he was amazed at how little she was. Only 4ft 10 inches in height.
His first question to her was: "Why are you too wee...?"
And her answer back was: "Why are you too handsome...?"
He shrugged. She shrugged. And that was that. But Ross said he'd try and just grow to her height (he was only about six inches away from that back then!) which I suppose was his way of accepting life.
Unfortunately, he didn't manage that. This pic from after my mum-in-law's funeral really tells the story. It was only the second time the boys had met their auntie and they adored her sweet Mauritian accent and her wacky stories. So I guess I've not really got a lot to feel down about. Not with a family as rich (in unity) as mine when times need.