This was one of the questions our little boy asked in the context of what we would take when moving house. To be fair is one of the more sensible ones. Would we be taking the stairs and windows were two others that come to mind. The flip side of this came when we looked round potential houses to move to . When we asked the kids what they liked about it they would say things like the sofas or certain ornaments. We of course had to explain they wouldn’t be there if we moved in and they needed to think about the house rather than what was in it.
Maybe this is the same with all children I don’t know. It did strike us though that with our children “moves” have been very much done to them. They have moved into other people’s space where their belongings have been added to an established household. Their move into foster care would have been with a bagful of stuff , late at night and with little comprehension about what was going on. Their move to live with us, more planned obviously and with slightly more belongings. Nevertheless as with the foster carers the house was already fully furnished. With this experience why should they think any other house move would be any different?
The decision to move has been a very carefully thought out one and not just due to the extra mortgage we will be taking on. Our main concern was uprooting the kids from a house they were feeling settled in. A house they could call home. We have stressed throughout this would be different to their other moves. We would all be moving together and the things familiar to them would be coming too. They are not going to be catapulted into someone else’s living space as they have previously.
As the move hopefully gets closer (if the bloody solicitors get their act together) it is noticeable they are a little unsettled. They are slightly anxious about moving somewhere new and having some things packed already doesn’t help. The promise of their own playroom remains just that at the moment. The extra space they will love isn’t tangible for them right now.
One thing for certain is moving house is more than just a physical act for these guys. It will be emotional for a number of reasons. We have to make sure that as well as packing all their toys (and the fruit bowl), we also take for them other things they have acquired while living here. Security, reassurance, stability and bucketloads of love.
We will leave the stairs and windows though.
Author: thankyoumindfortheimafailurestory
Sick days…
As a relatively new parent I still find illness very hard. Not that I’m saying it’s a breeze for other parents at all. What I mean is for birth parents they’ve had a while to get used to signs, symptoms and subtle changes which tell you what’s going on and how ill they really are.
I remember my GP telling me “Just bring them in. Don’t wait. You won’t necessarily know. For you it’s like having a new born.” How right he was! My teenagers at school can tell me when they are about to puke everywhere but my little ones still struggle to articulate exactly what’s happening until we are covered with reheated chilli con carne.
My mum always says you can tell by the eyes! I am sort of understanding what she means but I am still getting used to the eyes, the changes in skin tone and the altering of mood. I am still ringing my mum or my sister for advice.
After two trips to the hospital this weekend I now think I’ve got the difference between stomach bug and appendicitis! But there’s so much more. How do you stop that creeping fear when they are asking the questions to rule out sepsis or meningitis? How do you stop panicking when your thermometer says her temp is 34? How do you stop feeling moronic when the doctor raises his eyebrows and tells you your equipment is faulty?!
Last of all, how do you stop feeling guilty whether you stay at home to look after your needy child or whether you go to work and ask your mum to do it? How do I take care of the children I’m paid to teach and the ones I chose to love? I’m not saying that it’s easier for birth parents but I really can’t let my children down. I made a promise to never let that happen again.
I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, I suppose parenting is just looking to tread that fine line. It’s just the line with my children and others like them is just that little bit narrower and I just have to accept I need to tread it slowly for now.
About a boy
Now seems to be an appropriate time to complete the”trilogy” of individual blogs about our children. Our house sale sadly fell through this week and so, temporarily at least, our quest for more space has been thwarted. My wife, as is her nature began thinking about the other two things that may go wrong as per the saying. Though it may that be her hairdresser leaving, coupled with the kids’ bad behaviour the other day may have just completed that list. However maybe now is a good time to remember that good things come in threes as well.
Of course as has been well documented we only intended to adopt two. Strangely I always envisaged adopting two girls. That was what I imagined and maybe subconsciously it was what I wanted. This is perhaps contrary to many men who have a strong desire for a son. Of course I ended up with the two girls and a boy. The best of both worlds. Thank god we went for the “50% extra free” option.
I know I’m biased but our little boy is an absolute star.As he was only two when he arrived he has changed the most physically out of all three. He wasn’t toilet trained or speaking properly when he arrived. We have watched his character develop. Enjoyed his little traits such as collecting stones and wanting to take certain things in the car with him. He loves to help which is great, even if mowing the lawn takes longer than it used to.
I love the way he sees this as his home. He is very much a home bird and it is undoubtedly where he is happiest. Even at his age he has a strong sense of family. When he was younger and we said we were going somewhere he would always check his sisters and ourselves were going too.
Of course the fact he was so young when he arrived means his memory of birth family are pretty non existent. He only really seems to think he lived here and his foster carers.There are therefore some difficult revelations ahead for him. However he is so full of life, I am sure he will continue to embrace it whatever it throws at him.
It’s amazing to think he starts school next month. He will be completely fine. With his eyes he will get away with murder even if he does cross the line.
So would i have been sad had I not adopted a boy? Don’t think I would.
Would I have been sad had I not adopted THIS boy. You bet your life I would.
The girl who learnt to be a child
Stuck in the middle
Hey readers! It’s time for another guest post from the husband….
It is a truth universally acknowledged that being a middle child can be a tough gig. Not so much “Pride and Prejudice”, more “Privileges and Indulgences” . The theory being the eldest child receives the former and the youngest the latter. This leads to “middle child” syndrome where the middle child feels excluded impacting on their self worth.
I write this as a middle child myself. I can honestly say I have never felt the above ( though I may try and play on it occasionally “. People that know me may have a different view but I don’t feel I suffered at all. Our middle child however is a different story. It’s clear from the lack of photos taken from when she was young to the human touch she craves now, that she has been starved of attention. Her early life experience will have exacerbated her “middle child” syndrome undoubtedly.
She is now competing with her well behaved polite and bright older sister and her cute intelligent younger brother. Last year we had a text from school about her older sister saying she had got a certificate. We got a text last week about our middle child to say she had had ” a bad day”. This it was transpired was some naught behaviour towards other children that resulted in a visit to the Head. Even when she is having a good day trouble seems to follow her around.
However let me tell you this little girl is an absolute diamond and the truth is I am probably softer on her than the others. Like a mercurial footballer she frustrates and delights in equal amounts yet at the heart of it all is a girl desperate to be loved. She throws herself into everything with maximum enthusiasm. This girl will never die wondering. She loves hugs so much I thought at one stage she was powered by them. She is also downright hilarious. The fact is you can’t help rooting for her.
She is who she is . By name by nature. Our lives have certainly been brightened significantly by her being in it. This meat in the sibling sandwich is one hell of a filling. Give her a little love and , unless she is digging herself a hole with them, you will get it back in spades.
Two years!?!?
I sit here this morning in a&e contemplating the second anniversary of the children moving in. I remember that first night vividly. Lying awake between these three little strangers my body began to itch all over. A huge physical response to this giant undertaking.
Two years…. I cannot remember what life was like before them. We were wondering the other day what we did before the kids arrived. In the grand scheme of things not a fat lot. We did holiday excessively so we were kind of prepared for the extra costs!!
Our lives have been turned upside down and inside out. The things that happen in our lives are truly surreal and bizarre most days but we have accepted them as perfectly ordinary. We have dealt with post traumatic stress (not just ours), health, bad behaviour, losing them, finding them, inappropriate comments, embarrassing public moments, laughter, joy and, most importantly, hugs and kisses!
In two short years we have seen Elsa leave behind her sadness and become the giggly, silly, huggable bundle of joy. Anna has left behind her regular tantrums in favour of occasional reruns. She is never short of hugs and kisses and she will forever be a worry but she is safe and adored. Kristoff is almost out of nappies – nights are a struggle! He has become an intelligent, inquisitive boy who learns fast and doesn’t let you forget.
Husband and I are older (quite significantly) and wiser but still on a massive learning curve every single day. They are the best thing we ever did and whilst I confess I have wept on the stairs more times than I can remember, l wouldn’t change one moment, one tantrum, one ounce of vomit for anything. Even if you could turn the clock back and make me fertile I would not change this.
I sit in a&e waiting to find out if Kristoff’s beloved 5p is in his stomach or his chest remembering how many times I’ve told him not to put things in his mouth; acknowledging that I’m always going to worry about all of them; feeling overwhelmingly in love with all three of them. It is easy to forget sometimes, particularly when you’ve been in a&e for 4 hours, but life is Good!
All for one…
Some of you may have experienced the challenge of moving to a new place where you don’t know anyone. Living somewhere you are unfamiliar with . Starting a new job where everyone is a stranger. Very hard as an adult. Now imagine doing that as a child.
Oh yes and let’s throw in as well that you won’t see certain members of your birth family again. Icing on the cake is you get a totally new surname as well. Now I know most adults would not cope with that.
Of course our three do not always “cope” with this either. They have times where this is all too much for their little brains. They have been with us for a year now so things are more familiar now. They have friends. School and nursery are places they enjoy. They have spent lots of time with “new” family members.
I have to say that I still remain amazed by the resilience they show in terms of coping with change. Of course some of this is a result of what they have been through. They have been so used to change they have bought the t shirt. Puts to shame those people at work that moan about changing some minor aspect of what they do. It’s heartbreaking in a way how they roll with it all.
Recently with my wife’s return to work they have had to spend time at a childminder after school and nursery. Apart from the tiredness and fractiousness that goes with it, they have managed this with ease. As if we had just asked them to sit down or eat. The childminder has joined the long list of people threatening to kidnap them as well. They seem to have this effect on people. Lost count of times members of public comment on their positive behaviour. This is in spite of the change they have been through not because of it.
Much of their strength comes from the fact they have a strong sibling bond and have been kept together. They have heir fights and squabbles but they are so close. They run and hug each other when they have been parted for a matter of hours. They have all been through dark times together and that has forged that togetherness.They are a package and the thought they could have been separated is hard to imagine. The sibling bond is of course the most enduring bond we have. These guys hammer home the point that we should cherish our brothers and sisters however much of a pain they can be.
Time to give my three musketeers a hug……..
The last day
Today is the last day of my adoptive leave. A year ago my husband and I were enjoying a spa day. The following day our lives changed irrevocably. As I lie here in bed contemplating returning to work tomorrow I am experiencing a combination of nerves and reflection.
I’ve been in and out of school a few times over the last few weeks, mainly so it doesn’t all come as a big shock. Tomorrow feels a bit different. I am teaching tomorrow. Science! Biology no less! I haven’t done Biology since I was 14. Voters take note, education is in dire straits… My son has been very clingy today. He knows. He knows Mummy is twitching. He knows our relationship is going to be tested. When I think about seeing him less, seeing them all less, I get very sad. It’s the dilemma of all working parents.
One year ago I contemplated coming back to work much, much sooner. I was sitting on the stairs in tears on the phone to my husband. ‘I can’t do it. She’s awful’. I hate the fact that I felt this way. To be fair, I’d been screamed at, slapped in the face and bitten at this point. It was a few days after husband had returned to work and our little honeymoon parenting period was well and truly over! I seriously considered that I would be better off at work; that I would never survive; it was too much and I didn’t have it in me.
I have sat on the stairs in tears, and in the bathroom, the bedroom and the car many, many times since then. I’ve also laughed long, endlessly cuddled and read and played. I’ve rocked to sleep and sang and nursed and loved. I have loved and been loved. Every second of it has been worthwhile and joyous and fulfilling. What do I take away from the first stage?
1. Elsa, Kristoff and Anna are loved as dearly and as fiercely as any birth child.
2. Nothing is as important.
3. My husband and I and our unexpected trio have survived.
When it comes to mental health, we should all be panicking
186 days. That’s how long I waited to talk to a mental health specialist about my anxiety. I know it was 186 days because it formed the vast bulk of the apology my therapist was giving when he phoned to make an appointment for me. The waiting list for help is long. So long, in fact, that I felt much stronger by the time the appointment came around and I experienced a great deal of guilt in taking it. I’m glad I did go. If not, the panic attack I just suffered would have been significantly harder to bear.
It has been 5 months since my last severe panic attack. That is pretty good going. The wonderful thing about children is that they really do force you to live in the now and anxiety finds its natural place in future thinking. For example, when my fear of flying was at its strongest, my first thought on booking a holiday was ‘fiery ball of death in August then’. It gets worse than that though. My mind would often say ‘well, of course, if you’re going somewhere you’ve always wanted to go then you will die in a fiery ball of death because you don’t deserve to fulfil your dreams.’ My therapist said he really felt for me because it must be exhausting to live with those kind of thoughts going around your head. It is. It really is.
This evening, my panic attack gorged itself on a veritable emotional banquet. I’ve got two weeks until I officially return to work. Like most other mothers, I do not want to go. I’m terrified. I have no idea if I can still stand up in front of hordes of children. I am not sure I know anything worth imparting anymore. My colleagues have been phenomenal in my absence which leads me to doubt the usefulness of my return. Don’t even get me started on the guilt. The rich sauce to this feast was that all three children chose this moment to have emotional turns. Lovely husband got them in the bath and I sat on the floor in Kristoff’s room willing away the inevitable. My chest started to constrict, my heart rate elevated, the feeling of icy water began coursing through my veins. As if this wasn’t enough, the ‘feeling of impending doom’ consumes me completely and I am mouthing ‘I’m frightened’ to my husband. Somehow, I got to my feet and got up the stairs before the children noticed where I commenced the intense sobbing as I desperately try to cling on to life all the while not being in any danger at all.
Sheer terror is the only way to describe it.
Now imagine you’re 5.
Elsa and I went to therapy this afternoon. She’s been waiting since September. Even with all of her prior trauma she has to wait. We worry deeply about Elsa, she has the most memory of before. She needs it. Lucky for her she is entitled to financial support as a looked after child. She will get this therapy for as long as she needs it. Elsa was very brave but this was new and different and we struggle with new and different. She’s had enough of that. Ultimately she became very distressed and we had to leave. Using cuddle therapy and maybe a little extra help from Nurse Kinder Egg, we got calm again. This afternoon probably led in to this evening’s episode because you just feel so helpless. I would give anything for her to never have experienced this trauma and grief but all I can do is keep trying to get help.
That help is fading for our children. I know it as a mother and as a teacher. Funding for mental health support is disappearing. Counselling in schools has to make way for avoiding redundancies or buying textbooks. If students get counselling at all, it is limited to only a few sessions. The awful truth is that at the same time as a dramatic rise in mental health issues amongst young people, the support is vanishing all around them. It needs to stop. I am fortunate to be able to articulate and process my feelings but Elsa is 5. She needs professional support. The students I teach need it. Pressure is everywhere for children and young people. I’m uncomfortably aware of how much we push them for grades now. Bullying is something that they experience 24/7 with those poisonous devices in their hands. They have to post something interesting and perfect Every five minutes to stay relevant to their peers. I wouldn’t go through it now for anything. I can’t help but wonder with the services diminishing at the rate they are what will be left for my daughter when she has to experience being a teenager on top of everything else. It is frightening.
Thank you mind for the 'i'm a failure story' 