National Adoption Week: Monday

There will be a lot of talk during National Adoption Week; a lot of opinions and perspectives and events. As I wrote recently, talk can be a good thing, and yet for most people living adoption day to day, this week will be just another week.

So here is ours.



Monday


I woke on my own in my bed for the first time in about three weeks. This was refreshing! The morning ran smoothly - Birdy off to nursery, OB with me to the gym and then off to his home ed group. So far so good.

The afternoon activity was taking OB to his Sensory Integration Therapy. This was a stress point as the last session didn't go too well and we had to abandon it after 15 minutes, resulting in me having an hour-long phone conversation with the therapist that evening.

Thankfully, there was none of that during today's session. He was totally co-operative, climbing through the lycra tunnel about ten times, balancing on the spiky stepping stones, bouncing on the trampoline (legs together, no flying feet!) and grabbing objects out of the therapist's hand. She is a marvel, coaxing, cajoling and jollying OB into all manner of activities, and making space for Birdy too, who has to come along with us.

The therapist and OB played a little trick on me during theraputty time. We were all squeezing our theraputty, looking for buried treasure (buttons, beads, loombands) and I was so sure I had found all mine. I'd got the putty almost paper thin - not that I'm competitive or anything! - and yet I still kept finding pesky objects almost unbelievably hidden in there.

It turned out that the two of them were sneaking treasure into my theraputty every time I looked away. I was none the wiser and didn't even notice their giggles. OB was so pleased with himself when the truth came out! Honestly, I sometimes wonder whether the most valuable part of the therapies is that OB and I get to spend a pleasant hour together with a referee.

The weather was clearing up as we came home and OB wanted to go to the park, but it was getting a bit late. He took that very well. I made his favourite - sausages - for tea, and offered sweetcorn or mushy peas. Apparently he hates mushy peas, so I did the sweetcorn.

The sausages were rejected because they were different sausages. This was true, and an unfortunate substitution in our last online order - normal pork sausages instead of thin pork sausages. The sweetcorn was also rejected because it wasn't on the cob. Personally I can't stand sweetcorn in any of its forms, so I can't comment on that. I got him some toast and fruit and a sneaky mince pie. It sounds like a reward for rejecting his tea, not to mention a rod for my own back. Maybe it's both of those things, but when OB is determined there's no point arguing - bigger battles to fight - and he's too skinny to be going without meals, especially as a recent heavy cold meant he hardly ate for three days. I decided a long time ago that mealtimes were not going to be a battleground, and I don't mind making concessions to keep the peace.

OB has recently re-discovered his extensive array of board games, so we spent most of the hour or so between tea time and bed time getting those out and playing them, as far as is possible with a two-year-old on the rampage. OB was in good form and remarkably patient with Birdy, especially as earlier she had hit him with one of her toys. He even helped me tidy up. I genuinely think some of this was intended by him to make up for the array of 'yuk' noises I had objected to at tea time. It worked.

Apart from a last minute crisis when we couldn't find Birdy's dummies (one for her mouth, one for each hand - judge me if you like, I'm pretty relaxed about it!), bed time went incredibly smoothly and I haven't heard a sound from either of them since.

Days like these are gold.



Read on . . . .

Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday

Comments

  1. I had to comment, just because I could have written your penultimate sentence. Our son also sleeps with a dummy in his mouth and one in each hand and has done so since long before he came to us. He's now three, and at the age where people start to look at him strangely for it, but it's a huge comfort blanket equivalent for him, so we're just trying to ignore them!

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    Replies
    1. Aw, so sweet! All kids need comfort, especially our kids. He'll stop when he doesn't need them anymore and in the meantime, bigger fish to fry!

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