Up and about

Well, despite low levels of energy, Nanny and Grandad have been up with Max (my brother, whose been mentioned before – he’s 10 months older than Logan). They have stayed for the week, which has both helped and hindered the recovery (mental health is up some, but physical exhaustion is down low, the heat is not helping).

But we have had quite some time out of the house. The weekend should afford me enough down time to update, post reviews and generally get back on top of things.

But I thought I should come on and say how pleasing it is to be off the sofa! 😀

Please stop using your children as weapons.

I have been biting my tongue on this subject for freaking ages. But you know what, in the last month alone 4 people close to me have been in the middle of these type of scenarios and frankly it’s frustrating the absolute hell out of me.

Whether you decide to have a child with someone, or things happen and you are unexpectedly welcomed into the parenting world, you have a child and a responsibility to ensure that child has the best opportunities in life.

Now, you can consume yourself in the breast vs bottle debate, or argue parenting styles ’til the cows come home. But what isn’t up for debate is that the child had NO choice in being welcomed into the world, and the child deserves to be no part in the disputes you have with the other half of their DNA.

Yet, repeatedly I am seeing parents chanting their parenting mantras as gospel and declaring they are the best and everyone should follow suit, yet on the flipside denying the other biological entity any involvement, or fluctuating involvement based on how they are getting along as adults. Or even just denying any responsibility for the child.

THE CHILD IS THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS.

What part of that is unclear? If the child is safe with both parenting parties, why is it wrong to give them contact? And even if there are concerns we have contact centres… there are solutions.

Is it not our responsibility as parents to go out of our way to ensure they have everything they are entitled to? And speaking from an adoption background where little is known, knowing who your birth family is and having regular contact is key to being able to accept your identity, the very integral parts of who you are.

Hell, I know that none of these people who are having issues has done anything half as bad as what my children have been through, and yet I still prioritise making sure our letters are sent to birth family (not just the birth parents I may add, extended family too), not just once but a few times a year, and not just letters, but personalised art work for each recipient too. And that is prioritised above anything else in life besides the children’s immediate needs. If I can do that, and have to fight for everything else I can, knowing what I know about life events, and put my thoughts to one side for the sake of the children being able to have their identity accepted, I am positive that not a single one of you holding your child to ransom has a leg to stand on.

It genuinely makes me feel physcially sick.

I don’t care who is offended by this. I have, in all honesty, fallen out with friends who use their child against their ex. I won’t stand around and watch it happening. It is disgusting.

Stop it.

Being “just a mum”: pitfalls of friendships

I find myself, quite often, in this situation where I am “just a mum”. As you have likely already read, I home educate and am a carer to my adopted children. They rely on me 24/7, and in the past 3 years I have perhaps had around 20 breaks. I don’t mean holidays (although considering how much we travel as a family…), I quite literally mean just being able to take time out from being mum. I am counting those times I have been able to have a lie in and my husband has done everything, or I have already done everything and I just go grab myself 5-10 minutes of freedom. I don’t mean breaks like “woo, night out” although there have been a few of those included in that total, not many though. Which even if I totaled up as entire days would still barely scrape 1.8 percent of my life in the last 3 years.

I mean, even when the children were at school I was rushing to and from meetings about their education, health and welfare. Often not even having enough time to shower, or even eat. I was denied basic self care through the needs my children had, and the time I was required to commit to them and the lack of support that was available (I quite genuinely mean required here… I was asking for, and fighting for help, but if I refused a meeting I was being difficult and therefore clearly didn’t need the help).

But I just keep getting told over and over, “being a mum IS hard, we all feel tired”, or “Yeah, I barely get 5 minutes to myself!”, “oh you should just do some exercise, it’ll help you feel more positive”. I don’t feel tired, my body is failing me because of how neglected it has been, and how exhausted I am. I don’t barely get 5 minutes to myself, I quite literally don’t have 5 minutes to myself most days. Exercise is unlikely to help considering that extra trip up the stairs that I didn’t need to do can sometimes wipe me out entirely; or that I am either pushing a wheelchair or carrying a 6 year old with a toddler carrier when I am out shopping or walking anywhere, not just plodding along leisurely.

It’s not that simple. I am not just a mum, doing just the mum thing and then moaning about it. I am a mum, a carer, a therapist, a teacher, a life coach, a student of experience-psychology (by that I mean, being taught by what I experience about the psychology of children who are traumatised). I provide 24 hour care, I barely get any sleep, even if I get a child free bed because I am listening out – the children CAN NOT ask for help at night time. Night time is dangerous. They must take cover and hide and await the safety of morning. If they get too scared, we could have a wet or soiled bed, or worse, we could be dealing with trying to reverse the damage of self harm. I am on high alert 24 hours a day, trying not to transfer that to the children, but also trying to be prepared for everything that’s going to happen, could happen, has happened and is causing consequences.

It’s more exhausting than just parenting. It’s like working 5 different jobs that cover the entirity of your week where you don’t get pay, personal space (not even for toileting mostly, because one child finds it that hard to separate and the other child will cause harm to self or others if out of eyeshot for literally the length of time it takes to race unrination, pull up pants as you flush and wash hands).

But also, it’s lonely. Because everyone just gets fed up of you trying to vent out your frustrations, or because you talk about the kids (when actually that’s the only goddam thing you have done and known for months). Because of isolating yourself from the people who talk you down and make you feel like crap. Of just deciding that, no matter how tired you are, you are just going to do everything you need doing yourself (on the most part) and avoid help from certain people if you can help it because help often comes at the cost of degradation. Being told you most certainly are not ill, that the person helping you is so much worse (because you are on your feet and trying). Being told you are lazy (when your husband has said “no, you have the kids to look after, take care of them, they are anxious, keep them away and let us do the physical tasks here”) so you aren’t helping people move things, dig things, build things.

My job as a mum to these two children is mentally draining, physcially overwhelming and very strenuous. I wouldn’t change it for the world. But I would happily change the people who are supposed to be there for us in a heartbeat. And that thought plays over and makes me feel physically sick, and fills me with guilt for having thought it. But it’s true. People just aren’t there for us, like we have been there for people. Because they don’t understand. They would if they just listened, but they don’t. They talk over me/the children, lessen our problems, minimise our stresses and strains and say it’s normal. I lose faith in humankind almost daily.

And before anyone says I am depressed. No, I don’t really think I am. I may be suffering with compassion fatigue somewhat. I may be overwhelmed with how much is expected of me at times. But I am not depressed. I am reacting to the experiences I am having. If you are treated like rubbish daily, you either fight back, avoid the situations in question or accept feeling like rubbish (I don’t have the energy for the first all of the time, and the latter has never been an option for someone quite as justice fighting as I). So I avoid, not in a depressed manner, but in a self preservation manner; I save my energy for what matters: me, my children, my husband, my household.

Some hope is redeemed though when I see articles, blogs, posts pop up on my news feed of people helping other’s out and changing lives. Not those “oooooo look I tricked a homeless person into giving me their money just to prove they have better morals than the rest of society, I just so happened to record it too look…” If you can’t read it in my tone, I hate those “social experiments”. No I mean, in cases where people have gone out of their way to help someone, but not posted anything for credit – instead the person who has been helped shares their side of the story. One of those I read this morning gave me hope (Scary Mommy’s post about Sheila O’Mally).

That’s what goes on in my head. That’s how I feel.

30 Days Wild – Day 14

Today we had to walk into town to go back to the opticians and pick up my contact lenses and Logan’s new glasses. On the way back we took a walk along the river. The children wanted to stop and take a look at the patterns that were being created on the water. They stood for about 5 minutes in awe.

Then they noticed two ducks trying to swim upstream against a very fast current and so we had to stand and watch that a while.

As we walked away and towards home, we talked about what we could hear from nature:

  • the running water
  • water crashing against the rocks
  • ducks quacking
  • pigeons cooing
  • wind rustling leaves
  • wind blowing in our ears
  • the flapping of wings

This is what we have noticed today.

A little update

So I know it’s been obvious I have been trying to get on top of things both at home and on the blog, and I kind of feel like I have been achieving that. But I thought a little overview of what is going on would be great.

Well, after months of having way too much on my plate, life has started to slow up a little. Unfortunately as I slow down, the months of doing too much has started to catch up with me, and if I thought I was exhausted before, BOY was I wrong?!?!

But it means I am getting onto more “normal” stuff. Like the fact that I am noticing we haven’t been drinking enough water. Stickers are always a good incentive for my children, and so we have made some weekly sticker charts – each day we have to put up a sticker per bottle of water we drink. It’s just to make us more aware that we need to drink… but so far it’s working. We have been advised about 2 litres a day/adult, 1.5litres for Logan and 1 litre for Caitlin, so we are working off these guidelines.

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We are also prepping “normal” stuff like factoring in international competitions – like the World Cup, realising this starts today we have setup our wall display, done a draw to see which team in each group is “ours” and are ready with our wall chart to keep a track of the scores. It’s not so much about the football, it becomes a talking point for cultural differences, a flag identification game and a responsibility to keep track of something. But it also becomes a way of learning healthy competition, these two don’t deal with losing very well and some of their reactions make me wonder what the encountered in their birth family. But this takes the competition out of our control, so we can’t be held accountable for the win or loss, and yet we have fighting talk and fun.

On the normality front, we have also been able to get to the opticians. Caitlin has never had vision problems but Logan and I wear glasses. On the way in she’d made a comment about hoping she needs some, which I didn’t think about… but when it was confirmed that Logan needed new glasses and we’d sorted his, she had a bit of a wobble about wanting some herself. In short, she refused to leave the shop until she had found some. I explained that she didn’t have bad eyesight so didn’t need some, just like Logan doesn’t need a wheelchair and she does – that wasn’t good enough. She was very adamant. So I had a little chat explaining money and how £65 just because she wants something isn’t really within our capabilities, let alone something I would teach her. However, if she’s feeling that left out I would see if I could find some without prescription online. That settled her, and here they are. They arrived yesterday, she has only taken them off to shower and sleep.

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On Monday we are going to be heading to a therapy retreat to do some intensive work as a family. We have no expectations of what we’ll get out of it, but hoping for some positives.

30 Days Wild – Day 13

Today, I was mostly stuck form filling (another 8 questionnaires arrived that needed to be filled in ahead of a therapy retreat we are going to). So another load of hours stuck indoors.

We talked about spiders, and how although they are kinda creepy and I don’t really like them, I appreciate that they catch flies… spiders may be creepy, but at least they aren’t loud and annoying.

(Just have to try and convince myself of my words now…)

spidey

30 Days Wild – Day 11

Due to Caitlin’s aches and pains today, we have just been at home. We did manage to finish the painting of the playhouse porch (we laid a new floor on it). And managed to sort the toys to go in the playhouse. So the kids now have a play area outside, that is fully operational! WOO… we just have so make it safe for them to take the walk up and down.

However, we did look out at the garden for a while and watch the birds coming and going in the shrubbery lining the fence (the neighbours have suet balls there). It’s a rubbish photo as it’s taken through our extremely dirty window (cleaning them is on the list, but I only have 1 pair of hands).

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We also spent some time quite amused by a fly who refused help, guidance and encouraging comments in getting out of the house, and instead proceeded to seemingly get fed up with flying into the same door frame on repeat.

So today, our widlife has been birds and flies.

Aching muscles, processing pain.

It’s hard for Caitlin to understand pain. Well, her and Logan both in all honesty, but her more so. When she first came to live with us I remember her being jabbed with 2 needles and not even knowing if it had happened. She genuinely asked me if they had done it yet. Or when she fell over, she might cry as a shock reaction, or even have a panic attack if it triggered a violent body memory. But she never could express, or recognise the pain.

Slowly through melodrama, lots of plasters and overreactions on her behalf, and lots of sensory input about soft touch. She’s started to recognise these things. So, when she was younger, and her mobility and muscular issues were still an unknown problem, she wasn’t able to alert anyone. However, she’s able to tell us about her aching muscles a little more now. Not always in time for us to be able to prevent her getting too bad, but significantly more than previously.

This weekend, she tested her climbing frame, she had a few falls, she was running back and forth, we have steep stairs. It all adds up. I look at it like someone on a diet – if you have had a fat slab of cheesecake, you can’t really get away with a sneaky glass of wine and a bar of chocolate, hips don’t lie! 😉 For her, each activity would be representative of food. Walking on the flat, whilst wearing supportive shoes and her orthotics is relatively low impact. And whilst she cannot walk on the flat indefinitely, it’s not the most taxing. Going up and down stairs is like a having something out if a box of chocolates, in moderation is ok. Rock climbing, soft play, the park… These things are all like the fat slab of cheesecake, you can technically have the other bits with them but “hips don’t lie” (in this case her muscles) and so she’s woken up today on the wrong end of activity binge.

This morning we have had tears, screams, drama. Today is going to be low activity, low impact. Wheelchair restricted when out, sofa/bath restricted at home. These are the days people don’t see. That people say I exaggerate for my “life of luxury”. I’d give up any of the things to not have to see her suffer, to watch her be included at the same level as her peers. But for today, I’ll just give her what she needs. Rest and nurture.

A new baby – not ours

We get very excited about babies. Very.

And news came to us, just before we were moving house, that a new baby was coming. Well, the news came the day we exchanged contracts in fact. So it was a memorable day for sure.

Anyhow, we like to make stuff, so the kids set to work on what they wanted to do for the new bundle. They made a felt picture each, in a photo frame, for the baby’s room.

I, being me… home education, children, uni degree, house move, blog, health issues, therapy commitments. Clearly not satisfied I have enough on my plate, commit to constructing a quilted blanket. The children were heavily involved in the quilt in its process, from choosing and pairing the fabric, to being my fabric/thread assistant, or even to just getting me a drink (we have a Tassimo machine, they are happy to make hot drinks roughly every 3 seconds of the day).

Well, eventually we ended up with a quilt, many blisters, very dry hands, sore fingers and a sore bitten lip… but a quilt nonetheless. It may have some wonky stitches, but it was a labour of love and excitement, and I am hoping valued more than something shop bought. It was definitely not a cheap option either, I could definitely buy something for a third of the price, but it’d have less thought and effort put in. And, at cot bed size, will be perfect as a play mat for now, and if it lasts, could be utilised as a quilt on a toddler bed.

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30 Days Wild – Day 9

A bit late in posting this, but yes… you guessed it… another day in the garden for us. Seems to be our life at the moment. But we were spotting bugs as we went – this one was a favourite, as the children absolutely loved the colours. We did try and identify and it appears to be a Chrysis ruddii… but we aren’t great at bug ID so don’t quote me on that.

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