Christmas and New Year 2018

A Christmas decision

Logan and Caitlin were very insistent that we have Christmas at home, which in some ways is great – it’s so expensive to go away and not be able to join in with anything for Christmas, due to the sheer volume of other people being about. However, being at home for Christmas has never been successful (we had had 3 Christmas days with the children before this one; the first two at home, the third at Bluestone). The only one successful in that time frame was the one spent at Bluestone. So we had to figure out what was different about being at Bluestone (aside from, you know, the obvious of being on holiday) that we could influence from the perspective of being at home. We came up with a couple:


People and expectations: In going away we had taken them away from family and friends and as a consequence lowered their social commitments and expectations. “Ok. We need to replicate that” we thought, so we arranged to have a Christmas Coffee afternoon – mid December. We would have our presents ready for everyone, if people wanted to exchange presents with us (which we discourage as the kids are easily overwhelmed, can’t let go of the stuf they have and don’t have room for more, and frankly, they don’t need presents, they need presence). We would bake a load of goodies and take them with us, setup mulled wine and mulled apple juice, and other drinks. People could just drop in and go off as they please, but we’d be there for like 4 hours. some activities for the kids and it’d all be great. So. That’s what we did.

Presents: Presents were spread out, family had given us presents before we left for Bluestone, we couldn’t take them with us, nor could we fit in ours from one another so we did that exchange before we went away. So Christmas Day was just presents from Santa only and was VERY low key. So we had to aim for that. So we arranged that any presents we had been given before Christmas would be opened prior to Christmas Eve. Then Christmas Eve we would exchange our household’s presents so that by bed time the only thing left would be Santa.

Christmas Eve

And actually – those two things were the only significant differences we could identify. So we did our Coffee afternoon, exchanged presents there. Then opened anything the children got there slowly over the course of the week that followed. We had a special early Christmas planned for Christmas Eve, whereby they’d wake up and get their usual Christmas Eve box (new PJs or an outfit, some new underwear and some hot chocolate ready for bed time routine). Then had a normal morning, followed by a special lunch and a treasure hunt (with picture maps) around our house to find presents that we had bought (and hid) for them – they would open each present in between the search meaning that they had time to run around looking for the next one reducing their anxiety and emotional behaviour. It really worked.

After exchanging presents, the children had a bit of free play time to burn off some energy and emotion. Then as they know I love Harry POtter and had bought me the Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit game, we play that and some other games until it was time to have PJs, get Santa’s treats ready and get up to bed. Every Christmas Eve we hide a new book under their pillows (a tradition we had arranged to hopefully have a little fun)… this year it was a tradition that was finally remembered by them and they were so excited to get through pre-bed time routine to get to their beds . Bed time went smoothly (with the exception of Caitlin feeling a little worried about someone coming into our house whilst she is sleeping… we reassured her that no one apart from us would be in the house. We reminded her that Mumma frequently does things like magic-ing things into a room and she has no idea how they are done, in a similar way her presents would be magic-ed into the living room but offered her the opporunity to sleep in Logan’s room on a mattress. This worked.

Christmas Day

Christmas Eve I had made it very clear to the kids, excitement trumps everything. So no time was too early to ask if it was time to get up on Christmas Day. They would either be told “no, not yet, a bit longer” or in most likelihood “hell yes!”. As I child I was always up at 4am persuading the youngest child in the house to go badger the grown ups to let us get up for Santa’s deliveries. And, anxiety was low enough. For the first year ever I didn’t give up at 8 and go and get them (already awake but too scared to say anything) up myself. They called up at 6am “Mumma, has Santa been?” my heart beated joy “Oh, um… I dunno, why don’t you go down and take a look?”

Santa had been, and he hadn’t left much of his treats on the plate…

The excited screams sounded their way up the staircase. I was worn out, but very VERY happy. I could have cried happy tears in fact “they are doing ‘normal’ kid stuff… what is this?”

The Logan and Caitlin don’t like anyone being left out so Bruce and I have to make each other a stocking and the children had won a stocking at a Christmas Fair so we “had” to fill it for the dog… of course.

The day was very low key, after opening presents, we pulled out the sofa bed and chilled watching the 1940’s version of A Christmas Carol. Then had some breakfast and mostly did a lot of nothing. It was perfect. And ate some glorious food in between. It was perfect. We pulled off a Christmas at home. We know what we need to do now.

New Year

Normally for New Year’s Eve, we have an evening all prepared, we put the clocks forward 3 hours so midnight arrives at 9pm (much more manageable in this house). But actually, some friends were going through a hard time. They came and stayed over. The kids all played together. The adults all played board games and laughed. The kids fell asleep early. We got no photos. It was just immensely fun. A welcome break in the midst of a very stressful time. We loved it.

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! ­čśÇ

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┬áSheila O’Mally).

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

30 Days Wild – Day 8

Well it’s been a long day… I didn’t manage to get a photo of the 30 Days Wild activities in action… yes like most days at the moment we have been working in the garden. Desperately clearing the ground to try and ready it for the children’s play area┬ásection.

I’m ignoring the end 10 foot of the garden, cause frankly it’s 10 foot deep, 13 feet wide and about 10 foot tall of thick bush. I’m ignoring it for a while until I feel a bit more “ready” for a challenge! (And yes that has to go too… as there’s all kinds of rubbish in that too). I have plans for it… going to be a bit of a surprise for the children when we finally get to doing it.

Only today Logan has been designated the title “Environmental Dispatch Specialist” basically rubbish locating and disposing. And Caitlin has been “Nature Safety Manager” meaning, removal of bugs to a safer location… than in the path of Mumma – “Mega Destruction Operative” hehehe

But we have the base of their playhouse laid down, slabs to the front of it laid down, the next section down has been weed-control-sheeted; wood chipped has been purchased and laid; sandpit built and filled (I recommend never buying a Blooma sand pit from B&Q – chiseled slots different sizes, wood split slotting together, pilot screw holes in incorrect positions – like not even the correct side of the wood – just don’t do it); the climbing dome pinned down and in position… a whole 18 foot in length of the 90 foot of garden needing landscaping is roughly done. The playhouse still needs to be painted and erected, but its base is in position and it’s ready to go.

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I think we have spent the best part of 10 hours outside today. With the threat of rain, but moments of sunshine. We have enjoyed meeting the worm family, the slug family, the snail family, the spiders and beetles and the random fly that looked rather peculiar, but I couldn’t describe or identify. Of course, all of the bugs we came across are most definitely from the same family, I know, cause I was scolded by Caitlin that “of course they are, they are all in our garden. They live in the same house. DUH!”

Anyhow… excuse the wonderful editing skills… my neighbours have not signed up to have their houses on show, wouldn’t want to annoy them… This is what we have left to do…

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Adoption Support Fund and Therapy

Well. 2 years of fighting. Lots of energy wasted on professionals sending us around in loops. Lots of damage added by not having the correct support in place and we finally got funding approved. Intervention offered: Intensive family therapy.

It was approved at the end of February, we had the whole course of therapy approved (8 sessions,┬á year’s worth of sessions). Fantastic! But there was a catch. The funding is only applicable for that financial year so… as close to a year’s worth of therapy as we can fit into one month as possible please…

It was an intense month. A very intense month. Very exhausting, even just the sessions themselves. Take away from it that it had emotional repercussions, that I was trying to sort out a mortgage, a complaint through the Property Ombudsman and home educate to highly needy children.

But it’s over, we’re moved and we’ve been informed that this year’s funding is approved and we have funding approved for further assessment with regards to their sensory needs too. It’s looking like life is finally moving in the correct direction for us (not always in a straightline, sometimes zig zagging) but going forwards and not mostly staying still or moving backwards.

Making Babies: not what you think

There have been many discussions about how babies are made, but this was not one of those situations.

This was a situation where the children were feeling a bit upset by the fact they don’t really know anything about them as babies – which is completely understandable. We have got some information about the date and time they were born, and the length and weight at birth, but that’s almost as far as it goes in all honesty. Their “red books” have barely any info in them.

Well, talks about babies due and babies already born, life changes and development and thinking about their life led to lots of frustration directed at me because I didn’t know. I felt something had to be done. Something they could relate to. Something they could experience. You experience photos with your eyes – but I couldn’t give them something visual in that way.

So I thought… I know the length they were. I know the weight they were. I cut some string to show how long they are now, and then some string to show how little they were. This was quite exciting for them. But the most exciting part came next. Weighing out flour to see how heavy they were when they were born, sticking in it an bag, wrapping it up, and wearing it like a baby in a sling. This felt real. This was experienced. This gave satisfaction. They may not have been able to see what they were like, but they experienced a bit of how they felt. And that was magic.IMG_20180301_164019.jpg