A monkey for a little man

Off we went to Build A Bear to buy a bear for number 4. This was child 3's idea a couple of months ago when I took her to buy a bear. We decided that a monkey was a good choice because he had long arms and legs perfect for wrapping himself around a sad and confused little boy. Child 2 helped with the stuffing, ensuring that he was soft yet filled with enough fluff to keep him strong and robust  and child 1 gently pressed the heart into its chest. Then we completed Monkey's birth certificate with his name Monkey, birth date who it was for and who has given it with love.

I am so proud of my children, they have pretty much taken our adoption plans in their stride, all three wanting to welcome their new brother into our home and hearts in their own special way.  On a good day Child 1 will love him, mothering him showing him that he is a child of our hearts, child 2 will help him grow strong and independent yet gentle when required and child 3 will teach him to share and to love us back. On a bad day child 1 will teach him how not to handle difficult women, child 2 will teach him to fight and child 3 will probably teach him to swear! Oh joy of joys x

Five go on an adventure despite the rain

Being that half glass full lady, I have a tendency to only see the sunny bit when checking the weather and yesterday's weather said sunny spells with a chance of showers so we chanced a trip to picnic at our favourite beach. It poured as we left the house "it's only a shower" I assured everyone then about halfway to the beach  we drove through another shower. "We must be mad" my husband said. But then there in the distance was a ribbon of blue sky, the clouds seemed to be lighter, well I guess instead of black and low they were grey.

We arrived a bit late as usual, to find Nanna, Grandad and my brothers two children waiting for us. "You are very late" stated my nephew "I counted to 237 whilst waiting for you". After drinks and chocolate covered flapjacks we headed down to the beach. What I love about this beach is how different the coastline looks each and every time we visit. Today the tide was still in, the waves were still beating against the cliffs where we usually explore so we decided to walk along the cliff top first, thinking that the tide will have started its journey away from the beach by the time we reached the metal staircase that takes us down to the rocks. By the time we reached the kissing gate at the beginning of the cliff path we were forced into the bushes to wait out a very heavy shower, heavy enough that you could see intrepid explorers running from the edges of the beach along the path and back to their cars. We decided that we may as well wait out the rain. We were quite sheltered, huddled together, and to make a run for the cars would inevitably lead to us getting drenched. The shower didn't last too long and we could watch it pass over us and make its way along the coastline a dark shadow drifting slowly away, leaving behind it, swathes of blue sky interspersed with grey.

Following the cliff path the scent of the sea was thick and heavy in the air, due in part to the weather I am sure but also because it was still so close, the waves still buffering up against the cliff side, we were protected from the wind by the heavily laden blackberry and sloe berry bushes, definitely somewhere to return to at the end of September for some harvesting.

The metal stairs were still damp, either from the rain or the sea spray, so we gingerly made our way down, the children chattering excitedly, could we make our way back along the beach or would the sea still be obstructing our way? As we made our way around the first bend,the sea was indeed beginning its turn away, so we were able to follow the trail of drying rocks hugging the base of the cliffs. The children found fossils and climbed to the top of a huge rock that must have been dragged from the cliffs by angry seas since our last visit. By the time we made it back to the picnic area we were all starving and the sun had come out to play.

Sooner or later we will be really caught out by the weather but, I think that would just be an adventure in its self!

The power of food

Whilest I ate breakfast this morning, listening as usual to Radio 4, Mishal Husain a BBC presenter gave what I felt to be a fantastic tribute to her friend Jon Leyne, the war reporter who died earlier this week from a brain tumour. Mishal shared his Lime and Lemongrass chicken recipe. I am rarely effected by news of someone famous dying but this particular tribute made me stop, listen,smile and brought a tear to my eye. I didn't really know who Jon Leyne was but, I did think what a wonderful way to be remembered. That recipe will be followed by many, no doubt shared with friends and families and he will be remembered by people taking part in one of my favourite pastimes eating.

I love sharing a meal, as a family we almost always eat dinner together and this time is full of sharing news, debating opinions sometimes involving laughter, raised voices even the slamming of doors. Last night I shared a meal with some of the girls from a Fitball class I attend, we are all such different  characters from very different walks of life yet Fitball introduced us to each other and we ate chorizo and chicken one pot followed by summer berries washed down with vino, chatter and laughter followed by poor choice of movie "A Song for Marion" I couldn't even consider wearing my contact lens this morning because my eyes were still swollen following the weeping this film provoked.

Then today we had a barbecue with some of the family 15 in total, each family group bringing food chicken satay, colourful couscous salads amazing desserts like chocolate and strawberry cheesecake and banoffee  pie to add to the lamb chops, sausages and array of salads. We had prosecco, pink fizz, juice and coke bottles with our names on. We don't get together very often but a shared meal seems to   link us together encouraging us to share our lives with us finishing the day with promises of get togethers in the future.

Many of the friends and family we are lucky to have seem to share this love of meeting and eating. It seems that sharing a meal around a table or a picnic blanket builds friendship, trust and love.


I guess there is a lot of truth in the saying "the family that eats together stays together"

The trials of being a Tooth Fairy

Child 3 has lost a tooth, the one she has been wobbling for days. She has been pushing at it with her tongue so that it just sticks out through her lips making me shiver!

Long gone are the days, when a copper tuppence was the gift left under a pillow in exchange for a tiny shiny pearl white tooth. No now with inflation a tuppence has become a shiny gold pound coin and the tooth fairy is expected to write little letters.

Child 3 very excitedly placed her tooth under her pillow and the next morning ran into our bedroom devasted because her tooth was still there. "Why didn't the Tooth Fairy come last night" she wept. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, pulled her into my embrace and muttered "because it rained so hard last night, maybe her wings didn't work properly". Well I couldn't very well say "because your mum is rubbish and forgot could I?"

That night I left a note under my pillow with my pyjamas to remind me to be the Tooth Fairy and I crept into child 3's bedroom to leave her coin, but there with her tooth was a little note. The note said how much child 3 loved the Tooth Fairy and then went onto ask how old she was (if it wasn't rude to ask) and why she hadn't come to collect the tooth the night before.

Did you know that Tooth Fairies can be really old, like 157 years old and they collect all the teeth in a family. Child 3's Tooth Fairy collected her grandparents and her parents teeth and the reason that sometimes she doesn't collect teeth is if it has been raining, because the raindrops weigh down her wings so much that she can't fly. Tooth Fairies love little children and they love it when those same little children keep their teeth clean and shiny just like jewels.

An insight into my fears

One of my biggest fears in the adoption process has been the meeting of the foster mother. There are just so many conflicting emotions, fear, apprehension, guilt, concern, empathy and sorrow. We have to visit our number 4 for the first time under her watchful eye, then through the placement process we will be visiting him at her home, taking him out, bringing him here for the afternoon, then the day but always returning him to her.

I know that I am capable of looking after a child, I have three of them, all of whom seem pretty well rounded to me. Children in care are a different kettle of fish, potentially they will have some  different needs than our birth children and the foster carers having providing those, in our case for nearly two years. What if she sits there thinking "well I wouldn't do it like that"

Then, there is the huge elephant in the room, I am going to be taking this little boy away from the only family he has known, the foster family will have built a strong loving relationship with him and I am going to take him away from that. I know, I know as foster carers that is what they are trained for, if they wanted to keep him they would have adopted him. But that doesn't help me with how I feel.

Our social worker, understands me so well, when she emailed me the foster mums contact details she told me not to worry about the foster family, they are being supported through the whole process, yes it would in some ways be very sad but the team deal with these situations on a regular basis.

Last night I spoke to child 4 foster mum for the first time, and she sounded lovely, normal just like a mum from the playground. We shared our family lifestyle with each other and we sound similar in outlook. She was pleased that a family had been found for this little man, one with a brother and sisters and a menagerie of animals. She is happy to answer all my questions, to stay in touch to support child 4 and us through this transition. It would be lovely if they could remain as a kind of auntie, uncle type relationship.

My fears are slowly diminishing as I am beginning to realise that in the best of circumstances the foster mum and I could become friends and perhaps I should have more faith in my ability to love and raise an adopted child.

What does adoption mean to me

" To take into one's family through legal means and raise as one's own child"

We have spent a year learning as much as we can about adoption, we have attended courses, had frequent social worker visits and read huge numbers of books and studies about how adoption works, why it is necessary and all the types of behaviours we may come across with our adopted child. We are continuing this journey with our eyes wide open. When we were at panel and told that the panel members had unanimously said that we were suitable for adopting, it was like passing  A levels all over again, just this time it won't be just a certificate that we will receive, but also a little person.  As part of the adoption journey we have learned about behaviours that could manifest within adopted children and have taken part in a course on therapeutic parenting to help deal with them in the most positive way. In fact there are on going courses and support networks for all those involved in adoption, my mum is going to attend a therapeutic parenting course with me, so that we can offer our little man the best and most consistent start possible.

Everyone, we have met within the adoption process have said that our knowledge of adoption is fantastic, our social worker truly believes that we will be "good at adoption" our understanding of adoption will make us strong advocates for any child placed with us.

There is just one person within our extended family support unit who is anti us adopting. I know that one negative voice out of the many positive ones should be easy to ignore but this voice has the ability to hurt so much. Perhaps it's because our little boy who is yet to arrive is actually already our child in our hearts. At the moment we are preparing his bedroom and when up in the attic earlier this week, I found a box full of the nursery curtains, cot bumpers and blankets that have been used by all the children in the family. I have spent this week washing them all. Anyone who has had more than one baby will know the feeling of love and excitement you get when hanging expectant baby stuff on the washing line. 

For me these last weeks truly feel like the last trimester of pregnancy, the excitement, the nesting, the worries of coping. The anticipation of  a new baby surrounds the whole family and our community. I am surrounded by people who want to be involved, they want to throw baby showers and I think are definitely as excited as we are about the prospect of a new member of the family. Some have said that they couldn't adopt, it's just not in their make up but, they think that it's amazing that we want to and they support us whole heartedly.

This individual seems incapable of understanding that child 4 means exactly the same to us as child I,   2 and 3. Would this person be saying these hurtful comments about our son if I was carrying him in pregnancy? No, of course not. But those comments are effecting us as if they were. I wish there was some way to explain how we feel but this individual is not listening to us, they have for now,made up their mind. 

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

The whole room lit up, just like someone had aimed stage lights directly into our bedroom. I woke with a start, then thought "bugger, what windows have been left open" the lightening flashed again and again. Footsteps echoed in the hallway as child 3 threw herself in through the bedroom door and into our bed pulling the covers over her head. Child 2 put his head around the door to say "have you seen the lightening? its amazing" he headed back to his room to watch the weather display from his bedroom window. Then, yes you guessed it, child 1 who is 14 came in, "can I sleep with you I don't like it." Husband of course took one look at our now very cramped looking bed and moved out to child 3s now empty bed leaving me with two diva type girlies hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightening.

Although I can identify with the Maria from "How do you solve a problem like Maria" I would love to climb a tree so encourage my children too do so and anyone who has seen my 3 after a visit to the Secret Garden will know that I believe a filthy exhausted child is the sign of a happy child that has had a fabulous day out exploring without worrying about what mum will say when she see them again. I laugh too loud in church and have let all my children dance on the altar during mass, we often run late but all love eating especially with lots of other people. There is nothing better than a bring a plate of food party. In fact we all love any type of party! Also I would love to be described as a wave on the sand or a moonbeam.

Unfortunately or fortunately I am not sure which, I cannot sing, so for me to sing and dance my way through an impressive thunderstorm like Maria is an experience my children will never have to endure. Of which I am sure they are all eternally grateful for. However, I am pleased that they still like to seek the safety of our bed from the monsters of the night.

We may need to get a bigger bed though, what with number 4 on the way.