As adoptive parents sometimes when we see a glimmer of progress it is often combined with a feeling of sadness. It is an odd feeling to be sad when you should be happy. The reason for this is often the signs of progress are things which other children never have to face, things which never even cross their minds as being an issue, yet can be absolutely massive steps forward for our children. This could be something as simple as reacting in a shy way to a stranger where they would normally go up and give them a huge hug.
New years’ celebrations have always been a bit anticlimactic in my mind. I’ve never celebrated the incrementing of that last digit of the date by one. The transition of 1999 to 2000 was celebrated by me being in bed with flu. There are often too many expectations that come with moving from the end of one year to the start of the next. I’ve never really understood why, in my mind it’s just the start of another day. All the problems that existed on the 31st December are still there on the 1st January, as is everything else. I’ve never
It is that time of the year, the time when some people get all jovial, extra generous and kind, and others get panicky, grumpy and fairly fed up. For others still it is a dichotomous time with some elements that are loved and some that are hated.
It’s impossible, you can’t control it, stop worrying about it. I say it to myself many times most days. Yet my subconscious brain refuses to listen. It’s there gnawing away at my conscious brain causing me anxiety and stress. Unnecessary, yet ever-present.
I think it is sometimes very easy to think of our adopted children as broken, and the recent calls for extra support to be given probably hasn’t helped that concept one little bit. I don’t think looking at it that way is helpful, our children aren’t broken and to label them a such creates a detrimental stigma. Sometimes, though, they do need a bit of extra help and understanding to meet their potential. Maybe certain processes that work so well for 90% of children need to be changed or adapted to mean that children from a trauma background are able to
As adoptive parents we are presented with what is called a “Support Plan” at a reasonably early stage. Our adoption agency does this shortly before Matching Panel so that the plan can be presented to the panel and forms part of the decision as to whether the parents are a good match for the children. Often the type of support detailed in the plan will vary based on the knowledge and skills of the prospective parents.
Last week my Eldest son started his formal education at the school we chose for him last year after visiting it. Since January he had been itching to start, frequently asking “how many days until I start school?”, occasionally getting himself in a bit of a grump when we replied with a number that was a little too big for him to imagine. We had no doubt that he was ready to start school. When he is feeling secure he comes across as quite a mature little boy, he loves reading and is not frightened to use words that he
Yesterday I was hit with a Kid’s Kindle Fire tablet, punched on the leg and then whacked fairly hard across the face and nose by one of my sons. All done in temper, but all in a day’s work of being a parent to them unfortunately. Especially when they’re tired, which they were having spent the day at playgroup.
My Eldest starts school in September. I know, it’s ridiculous. What ever happened to my little boy still in nappies, not quite talking right, relying on us for pretty much everything without much complaint? He’s still in there somewhere, but the sprout of independence is slowly growing within him. The sprout that parents simultaneously hate and celebrate. A little while ago we had a visit from one of the early years teachers from the school we picked along with one of the teaching assistants. This wasn’t something we had expected the school to do, but apparently it is common practice
Before I wrote my previous post I had a conversation with the lovely Emma Sutton (a published author don’t you know?) and a few others on Twitter, which started off as a commentary on the ‘Gender Divide’ in people’s households. I was sitting there chuckling away because we are a same-sex household so by definition there is no gender divide. The only similar thing we have is that one of us is a stay-at-home parent and the other is a go-to-work, or as we’ve called it, stay-at-work parent. Emma and I felt there was definitely enough material in that to