New year, Fresh start….

Well it’s not exactly new year anymore, almost 1/4 of the way through 2024, but nevermind!

I ended up having close to 2 months off work, so January and half of February was spent reading books, watching tv shows and movies, napping, swimming and generally trying to rest and relax as much as possible while the girls were at school. It’s been a little up and down and I still have good days and bad days, but I am generally feeling a lot better overall, I have settled onto the medication and feel a lot more rested and less burnt out than I was in December.

My work have been really good and allowing me to ease back in more gently with a lighter workload, and things at home have improved somewhat.

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November

November was up and down, but mainly down.

We saw some lovely old friends who came for a visit who we hadn’t seen in a long time. We took impromptu road trips to look at houses. We planned a birthday party and Christmas presents and all sorts of things.

We are still struggling with some really tough behaviour overall from my older daughter, but it comes and goes and we are slowly attempting to navigate it and figure it out. I have had a few insane parenting moments myself, losing my temper and threatening to throw away ALL of her jumpers for example, or shouting at her down the street that she was being a MASSIVE TWAT (not my finest hour). I have recently installed my very own star chart reward system whereby I give myself a gold star for every time I stay calm and regulated in the face of angry irrational screaming and yelling from the tween, and when I fill it up I am treating myself to a massage.

However living in a house where you get constantly screamed at and blamed relentlessly for flushing the toilet incorrectly, or moving her new lip liner even if you haven’t touched it, or failing to help her understand her maths homework, or buying the wrong damn snacks all the time is exhausting. And it grinds you down fairly quickly when it’s every day, all the time, which it feels like it is at the moment. I’m told that “relationship gestures” are the best way to regulate trauma in these cases, but no amount of texting “I love you”, buying her flowers, buying tickets to football matches, buying new jumpers or clothing, or sourcing her favourite biscuits seem to help.

Sometimes the little one parrots my words back to me and it always makes me laugh when you realise there are certain phrases you clearly say a lot. The other day she shouted at me “MUMMY YOU HAVE TO BE PATIENT! I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING BY MYSELF!”

The little one turned 6 and we had a really great party and she was inundated with presents! Annoyingly 90% of them were pink and unicorn themed which feels like a massive step backwards for feminism, but nevermind….

While falling happily asleep after the party she told me “Mama my favourite part was getting all those presents. And my favourite part was playing with all my friends. And my favourite part was dancing and playing games with V. And my favourite part was making the cake. And eating the cake. And my favourite part was my party bag. And my favourite part was….”

It was very sweet and wholesome!

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October

October was BUSY.

Full of Dr’s appointments and smears and scans, and repressed subconscious dread, and 3am fully conscious dread.

Full of school flu vaccine consent forms and parent’s evenings and “your kid isn’t where we would like her to be in English and Maths but try not to feel like a failure as a parent”, and school fetes and forest school and mysterious insect bites from forest school, and head lice and football matches, and forgotten pe kits that need to be driven to the school asap as there’s an external football match we didn’t know about.

Full of job interviews, and important work projects and external webinars (no my hair is not behaving for that!) and research about visas and moving to France, and meetings with estate agents, and potential house viewings and approving photos and putting the house on the market.

Full of laundry and batch cooking and meal planning and playdates and trawling the city for good-quality second hand bicycles, and “it’s the best quality one that they have who cares if it’s pink?”, and buying new reflectors and lights and bike locks, and putting the bike chains back on when they fall off, and waiting on hold for insurance companies and police reports. Full of Christmas and birthday present shopping to spread the costs out.

Full of pay disputes and union meetings and strike ballots, and absorbing the unfolding horrors of Israel and Gaza.

Full of fighting to access post-adoption support that is sorely needed, full of referrals from one team to another team, to another team, who have already closed our case as we were referred onwards…. Endless phone calls and meetings over and over and over again.

Full of stress, full of hormones, full of angry teenagers shouting and screaming and a very tired parent who can no longer be therapuetic because she is EMPTY. Full of general despair and feeling low and miserable and fed up of literally everything.

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Exploring our options

So, after our wonderful holiday to France in August, we are pondering a serious question….

Should we sell up and move to France?

There are a wide range of reasons why we might want to do that, and just as many reasons why we shouldn’t, so I am attempting to unpick them and explore them all as carefully as I can. I’ve been talking to a wide range of friends and family to try and understand lots of different perspectives and get a sense of whether or not it would be the right thing for us.

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Transitions…

Transitions tend to be tough for adopted children (and a number of neurodivergent kids too for that matter).

After a reasonably calm summer holidays, the start of term has been BUMPY. And ROUGH.

S has had to get to know an entirely new set of teachers (only 1 of her teachers from Year 7 is still her teacher this year, leaving around 14 new staff that she has to get to know and make them like her, which is exhausting for her emotionally). Friendships were somewhat rocky at the end of last year and she now has to repair and mend various relationships.

All of which leads to a delightful, engaged, helpful, lovely child at school and an angry, sullen, pissed-off teenager at home. It ALL comes out at home, mostly directed at me, right in my face, all the time, and it’s pretty hard work.

Reasons I have been yelled at in the last two weeks include:

  • Buying the wrong type of sweetcorn for dinner
  • Suggesting she might want to wear tights as she was cold the day before and the weather has turned chilly
  • Not doing the laundry fast enough or correctly
  • Buying her the wrong blazer/shoes/tights/skirts/hair bands/deodorant etc
  • Asking her if she would like me to make her breakfast, getting a grumpy “I’m not hungry!” response, and then not making her breakfast
  • Gently reminding her to do her homework
  • NOT reminding her to do her homework in a timely manner, so it’s my fault it didn’t get done

She is always very apologetic and remorseful after the yelling and rudeness but it gets hard to manage when it’s so relentless. After a week or so of gliding over these incidents I started to really lose my temper too, and the apologies get less and less meaningful when she says sorry and then is immediately rude again 2 mins later.

The aggression and anger builds up and gets worse, and now thanks to a huge teenage tantrum I have 2 broken shelves in my brand new fridge and I am pretty pissed off and angry myself about it all.

Hoping things will ease up soon but it’s pretty grim and miserable just at the moment.

The part I find hardest is being the grown up and forgiving and forgetting – right now I’m too angry and upset to just forgive and move on – I know I will eventually get over it, it’s just a bit of plastic, it’s just a fridge, it doesn’t really matter, but I’m just not capable of shaking these things off that quickly. I wish to god I was. Of course I can order new shelves, I can fix it, it’s not the end of the world. But I’m upset and angry and pissed-off and I don’t want to just forgive it. I just dont feel like it.

And being a parent means you have to anyway.

And it sucks.

Meeting birth parents…

So in June this year I met A’s birth mum.

It was a one-off meeting, organised through social services, in a structured meeting in a neutral place, facilitated by social workers. It’s a meeting I have been asking for and trying to organise for almost 4 years (since A first came home to me).

Why do it?

Lots of reasons. For birth parents it can bring closure and reassurance that they can feel they know the person who will be raising their child. It can give them an opportunity to share some of their history and past, or details about the pregnancy and birth of the child, and to present themselves as a complex human being rather than being seen as a series of unfortunate events/failures written up in social services reports.

For me, it was an opportunity to find out more about A’s birth father, as there was almost nothing at all in the reports to go on. It was a chance to ask about family medical history, any heriditary diseases or issues I might need to know about.

But most importantly, it was an opportunity for me to get to know A’s birth mum as a person.

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May

May has raced past somehow – I blinked and it’s over!

We had a couple of long weekends, which was nice, and some football, and a coronation, and saw some friends (I finally got to see some of my friends which was LOVELY!).

We organised some belated birthday activities for S, which mainly involved me driving around picking up and dropping off various friends all over Oxfordshire, and S had another catch up with her lovely big brother who we try and see as much as we can and who is just such a sweet and lovely boy.

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