Who am I?

 
 my wellies at Bestival - 8 months pregnant. It rained. A lot. Not my most sensible moment!

This is a question I have been pondering for some time. Then along came the Gallery carnival over at Sticky Fingers. Bloggers are invited to post a picture they have taken that represents 'me'. I consider myself a creative person and have been wanting to take part in the gallery, but this prompt has left me stumped, unable to know where to start. So I thought I'd write a post about it...easier said than done, I can tell you. There is nothing that makes your nose wrinkle more than taking a good look at yourself!

Is this me?

My job
I have a good job, a nice job, some would say a dream job. I plod along quite nicely and am in a position that I am proud of. I have got here by being good at what I do and a nice person to work with - there's no blood on my soles. But what does that say about me? There's a risk in this funny world I work in to get carried away by it all - the glamour, the luxury, the access all areas. Reality becomes a mere memory. Although my toes have occasionally dipped into the sensational sea (and enjoyed the tingle) they remain on the side line, merely observing.

My relationship
Mr Scruff and I are self proclaimed 'peas in a pod'. We are the same but very different. Eh? Well, we want the same things in life, we share the same dreams, the same goals, the same outlook, but we just have a different way of going about things. But who am I in this partnership? I am the one that giddies us up. If there is a house to be lived in, I will find it, a holiday to be had, I will book it, a birthday, a party, a wedding, I will get us there. In all this whirl my feet often lift off the ground as I hop on board a flight of frenzy yet Mr Scruff very gently and with his very long Mr Tickle arms, lowers me back down.

My daughter
The sort of mother I am and the sort of mother I thought I would be are two different people. I was expecting Earth Mother, embracing motherhood like it was second nature. But she didn't show up, tish! Instead a lunatic knocked on my door. I will admit I struggled. Not to love Little Miss P - that came before she even did - but with the commitment, the responsibility, the routine, the whole 'mummy thing'. Now over a year on, I am in my swing. The lunatic within me still loiters but I am more laid back. But how has having her around molded me? She's my purpose. Whatever I do I now have a reason to do it. The inhibitions and feelings of self consciousness that have been tickling at my shoulder throughout my life, get brushed off when I am with her. She makes me smile. She makes me realise what life is all about. She makes me rich.

I'm loyal to my friends but rubbish at staying in touch. I love a party but never celebrate my own. I am messy and clumsy but glide around unseen. I like nice things but have no need for luxury. I am quiet, private, shy, yet am always the last one standing. I live in the city yet  I am most at home by the sea. I am down to earth yet I often find my head in the clouds. I am self-conscious yet considered quirky.

Confused? I am.... but maybe that's just me.