Poo, puppies and parenting...

When did my life become all about poo?

When we first adopted the boys, we knew there would be lots of challenges, but one that we thought we could avoid would be that of dirty nappies and poo... Of course, in their early days we had a couple of accidents and our youngest did end up back in pull up pants for a short while but apart from that, all was fine.. Poowise.

Then we got a puppy. I had forgotten how messy house training a pup is. Yesterday morning for the first time, puppy asked to go out. She ran outside and did her 'business' in the garden. I stood by her telling her what a good girl she was and rewarding her for pooing outside. She was so happy that she immediately ran back up to my bedroom and pooed again by the bed. She sat there waiting for me to praise her... She didn't get it that time.

Then later that day I needed to send out a couple of emails and do the online shop (I am never taking the boys supermarket shopping again, I usually end up buying loads of junk and spend most of my time apologising to whomever TJ has offended - he has learnt that if you put your hand up to your mouth and whisper how fat or ugly someone is then they can't hear you... Unfortunately, he hasn't mastered the art of whispering!)

Anyway, I popped both boys into the garden to 'play' and I pulled out the laptop.

I had two minutes...

Then the crying started. 

I decided to leave it. It sounded more like an 'I'm going to tell' cry than a major incident. But then I heard them talking... "You think I care if you tell him?", KC asked his brother, "What can they do? Ground me? They can't do anything else. So I'll just carry on hurting you."

I was actually stunned. This was my responsible older boy talking. Not only was he being frightful to his brother (who hasn't done that at some point?) but what stunned me was his dismissal of Papa and I as 'they'. It dawned on me that in his mind we weren't his parents, just those who look after him for now.

I was hurt.

Then I remembered his foster carer saying to me, "it will take them as many years with you as they have been in care for them to accept you as their parents." I poo-pooed it at the time (see what I did there?) But I think she was right. TJ was just 5 when he came to is, as he approaches 9 he does seem to accept that we are his parents and would never refer to us as 'they'. KC was 6... So we have a couple more years to wait."

I then heard a blood curdling scream. I rushed out and TJ was bawling. His face was covered in dark wet stuff. I looked at KC. "It's just mud," he said defensively.

"It's dog poo," screamed TJ, 'he put dog poo on my face!"

I sniffed the offending article. It was poo alright.

Now I was in a dilemma. What could I do to KC?  I told him to stay put while I cleaned up his brother.

As we left I turned to him and said, "I heard what you said young man," I was obviously channelling my  father here, 'and if grounding doesn't teach you a lesson then we will have to think of something else, won't we?" KC looked suitably stunned. Then I channeled my mother, "Just wait till your Papa gets home!" I said through gritted teeth. Poor Papa, after a long day at work being 'strict Edwardian father' probably isn't top of his 'to do' list.

As I cleaned TJ up he said, 'Daddy, my tummy hurts, I think I need a poo." I have learned that when his tummy hurts a poo is imminent... I learned that the hard way. I popped him on the toilet and went to deal with his brother.

After the usual chat about how wrong this was and how it made his brother feel and other similar nonsense I informed him that for the remainder of the week instead of watching tv for an hour in the afternoon with his brother he would be sitting with me and we would do times tables together. This time it was his turn to let out a blood curdling scream. Well at least something hit home!

I then had a call from the bathroom. 'Daddy, come and look at my poo... It's huge!'

He'll be asking me to put it on a Facebook next...

April Fools Day

So my April Fools this year were a little sparse.

Its normally one of my favourite days - although those around me may say different.

But yesterday I aimed my 'humorous gags' at my children.

In the morning I informed them that I would be collecting their new pet - a pet with the head of a fish, the body of a monkey and the feet of a kangaroo - it was called a Lirpa Loof. TJ was a little wary - "If it has feet like a kangaroo," he said, "Won't it be very bouncy?" He already thinks the new puppy is too bouncy.

"No," I replied, "you can train them to walk not hop."

He thought about this and then told me he would ask his teacher if she had seen one before. After the previous weekend his teacher should be feeling too sheepish to disagree with anything I say. TJ has already started bedwetting again and I am due to see said teacher tomorrow - my guess is she will keep trying to put me off until the Easter break. She doesn't know me very well...

Anyway, back to my story.  KC was simply excited - he loves all animals and a Lirpa Loof sounded great fun.

As I took him to his school but I also reminded him that today was 'hug a teacher day," and he had better make sure he hugs all his teachers as soon as he sees them. I don't think he fell for that one...

I picked them up from school later - they were both excited to see their new pet, which I had told them I had collected before 12. I took them home and presented them with a pack with the words "Lirpa Loof' written on it. These were their pet documents. They ran into the garage to look for the new animal.

I let them look for a few minutes before I asked them to spell out the words Lirpa Loof backwards... They were not impressed. KC scowled at me and told me 'he knew all along.' Oddly, TJ looked relieved. Both boys sulked - which made for a quiet evening.

I decided to move onto another target. Many years ago one of my best friends made a movie in Singapore - I told him via Whats App that it had been selected for release across the US and Canada as part of their Asian season. He later told me that even after checking online he couldn't find the details. I told him it was my mistake it was actually scheduled for release on the same date next year - now that's the way to keep a good April Fool going!

Happy 'Gay' Dad's Day

I've only just calmed down enough to write this - although those of you who follow our adventures on Twitter have already heard most of this already.

I'll recap.

On Friday, after school, I went to collect my youngest son. TJ walked out of school and immediately we were surrounded by children asking me 'Where's TJ's mum?" and "What happened to TJ's mum?"

I was stunned, I wasn't sure what to say or what to do. TJ was distraught and just wanted to go home. I couldn't understand what was going on. I bundled TJ into the car and we left.

As we walked through the door I asked him what that was all about.

He reached into his bag and threw a card at me. A card in pink, shaped as a handbag with small butterflies and pom poms stuck to it. It looked very nice.

"A mother's day card?" I asked, "Did you make that for Granny?"

Every year the boys have celebrated Mothers Day by making cards and buying little gifts for my Mum, then we celebrate the later Mothers' Day, Singapore follows the American one, and the boys do the same for Papa's mum. Its a system that works for us. Until this year.

This year it had all gone wrong.

TJ told me to look inside the card. He was bit sheepish and obviously embarrassed to hand it to me. Inside it read: "Happy Dads Day."

Of course I accepted the sentiment and told TJ what a lovely card it was and then put it on display - ready for his brother to come home...

When things had calmed down I asked TJ if he wanted to make the card for me and Papa. "No', he replied, "I was making it for Granny but Miss said I had to make it for you - so (and this was the bit that really angered me) she told me that as I don't have a mum I couldn't say Happy Mothers Day, I had to write Happy Dads Day... in front of everyone."

He then burst into tears. "But I told her you wouldn't want a pink handbag?" he sobbed.

I was furious. Here was my little boy, coming to terms with being adopted, learning about different families being subjected to complete humiliation in front of his class mates - not to mention how it reflected on Papa and I, obviously all gay dads would love a pink handbag(?!?). I wouldn't have minded if TJ had wanted to make the card for us and had written "To Daddy and Papa on Mothers Day" - or something similar. But this was inexcusable.

Papa and I are adults, we've been called many names and we can put up with the little jokes and the knowing looks across the playground - but this? This was coming directly from school.

TJ went to his school disco and I immediately fired off an angry email to his head teacher.

Yesterday his head teacher grabbed me for a quick chat. Luckily she was incredibly apologetic and was investigating... but for us the damage has already been done.

TJ had a restless weekend and is bed wetting again. I can only keep re-assuring him that everything is ok. This just made me more angry with the teacher.

If the teacher was unsure then surely a simple phone call could have settled the issue.

Its a shame as TJ was beginning to love school - this has set him back but it wont break him. I'm sure it wasn't meant maliciously, at least I hope not, but I think someone needs a training day on what being inclusive and diverse actually means.

On the plus side we did talk about what we should say when people ask abut his family. Did he want me to say he was adopted - was I allowed to tell his friends.

He thought about it. "Yes," he said, "But only if they ask."

That's fine with me.

Puppy Mother's Day

Its a wierd title but it will soon become clear what I mean.

I have blogged about the boy's attitude to Mother's Day before - and this year they seem much 'cooler' about the whole thing - or so I thought...

As you know, we became the proud owners of a little puppy on Sunday and she has been absolutely fine. She tends to chew everything, but I think thats common for most puppies. Oddly enough, although we have had other dogs (and still have an older one) they have all come from rescue centres, so this is our first 'puppy experience' and its a definite learning curve!

When we went to pick her up I was concerned as to how the puppy would travel in the car, so had taken a box, lined with newspaper for the journey.

Of course, I had forgotten that my eldest son is practically an animal whisperer - they all love him - he sat in the car with the puppy on his lap and she went immediately to sleep and travelled like that all the way home.

Whilst we were coming home we discussed a name for the puppy. I was opting for Toffee - as she is caramel coloured, Papa wanted Daisy (no idea why - probably a Downton Abbey type thing - he always identifies with 'below stairs'), TJ wanted Maisie and KC suddenly said, "We should call her Gracie, after her mum."

I said that I didn't think that was a good idea, that puppies should have their own names.

To which he replied, "But we are taking her away from her mum - she might never see her again, surely she will want to remember her." I caught Papa's eye and we both knew this was one of those conversations - a rare moment where KC talks about his Mum.

The door had been opened, by him, we decided to let him walk through it.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "I can remember when TJ and were taken into care. TJ cried and cried but I didn't. I knew I had to be brave - the lady in the car said I had to be brave, just like the puppy. I didn't cry I just stared out of the window while the lady held TJ. I wish I could have slept like the puppy did. But I was very scared that I wouldn't see my Mummy again."

I was a bit shell shocked - this was massive. I had only ever heard KC talking like this once before when he was telling our best friend's son what it was like to be adopted and how scary it was to suddenly have to go to a new family. Here he was talking about the puppy but essentially telling us about himself.

TJ was indignant, "I didn't cry!" he said,.
"Yes you did," said KC, " you cried a lot - but you always cry a lot."

"Every time we went to a new foster carer TJ would cry and I would stare until we got there." They had an number of moves but luckily they were with their final foster carer for a long period of time, which allowed them to settle.

"I just want to call her Gracie so she can remember her Mum", KC went on, "It is Mother's Day this week after all."

Papa and I agreed that as it was the boys' dog then they both had to agree on a name. "I want to call her Gracie too," said TJ - so that was it. Gracie came home with us.

I didn't think Mother's Day was such a big issue this year but on Monday I got a call from KC's school - there had been a Mothers Day assembly and he was obviously distressed as each of the Year 6 children got up and said how amazing their mother's were. I asked KC about it later and he said, I was only crying because everytime they talked about their mum's I changed the word to Dad in my head and I thought of you - and that made me cry."

It made me cry a bit too...

Parent Evenings and Puppies

Its been a busy few days - as you will see,

Last week was parents evening for both boys. Both boys are doing so well - I nearly cried, one set of teachers did - but it was so comforting to know that by putting the boys into different schools we were in fact helping them to progress and move on from their past experiences.

TJ went first. He was concerned that his teacher would tell me the truth. And she did... He was doing really well. He had matured much more since his brother moved on to the other school. There were no more breakdowns or tantrums and, as such, his reading was almost at his chronological level and he was making such progress in his maths that he was actually ahead of where he was supposed to be. His English was another matter but that will come - he was so proud of himself.

On Friday it was KC's turn. I went out to his independent school and had an hour long chat with his teachers. The session opened with 'Well, he's certainly not Perfect Peter..." I must have looked downfallen as she quickly added "but his progress is nothing short of miraculous." He had settled, wasn't messing around and, despite his learning issues, was progressing. He talked about being adopted and living with Daddy and Papa - he even gave a short presentation to his class about his experiences - as the teacher told me she started to cry. "He is so happy to have you two," she said. That was it all three teachers were crying. I took them back to the matter in hand - his education. Of course, he's nowhere near the 'average' yet but he is on his way. They also pointed out that his future education was something we had to think about as KC, in their opinion, wouldn't be able to cope if we put him back into a class of 30 when the time comes. I had to break that news to Ppa over the weekend. He took it very well - considering...

I know we have been accused of creating a 'social experiment' with the two boys - but in reality our (and their) lives are so much easier and make much more sense. We didn't split them up (as was suggested by numerous social workers) but by enabling them to live their own lives independently but still come together as brothers afterwards, I think we have given them the space to grow.

Of course, we are lucky that we can (just about) afford to do this and hopefully, one day the boys will thank us for it.

So, as a treat we took the boys horse riding at the weekend - we have a great equine therapy stables a short drive away and the way the boys have interacted with the animals has been brilliant. TJ wasn't keen to ride, I think he needs to be reminded how it all works, but KC was off and away.

Afterwards we went to see the therapist's dog - who had a litter of puppies. One puppy leapt into KC's lap and then ran around chasing TJ. The boys were so happy. Of course there followed a 'Can we have the puppy?" pleading session. Papa said we needed to think about it - so they immediately turned their pester power onto me - after all I'm usually the one who gives in. But I had 'the look' off Papa so knew I had better agree with him.

Anyway, that whole evening was spent chatting to the boys about how it would be their dog, how I would have to look after our older dog (who I'm sure will be glad of the break) and that they would have to walk her and feed her and pick up her poop etc.

KC thought about it and said, "Well, it is a lot of responsibility, so I'm not sure - I'll have to think about it."

TJ just wanted a puppy.

Next morning KC came into our room and said, "I've thought about it and I think I'm ready for a puppy. But I want to help pay for it." He then offered Papa all of his 'ang pow' from Chinese New Year - he had about £50 left.

I nearly cried. But true to his word, Papa agreed and as of Sunday night we became the proud owners of a new cockerpoo, who the boys have named Gracie - after her mother (as its Mother's Day this week) but that's another post...

Oh! What a Beautiful Morning...

It seems that my blogposts are often linked to a song or piece of music.

Perhaps it because so much tends to happen in the early hours, whilst breakfast is going on and the radio is on in the background. My boys both love routine and the radio gives that. The eldest knows when the 'children' come on the radio (Radio 2) that we have to go and catch the bus for his school and when the 8.30 news comes on, then the youngest knows that's the time we should be leaving for his more local school.

It was a tough decision to separate the boys schooling and to send them to different schools. When I shared that decision on a guest blogpost for BAAF I was called ruthless for trying to break the boys 'sibling bond' and had my first ever real homophobic abuse thrown at me.

But it's hard to write in a guest blog our reasonings behind it.

Once the boys had settled then we soon realised that their 'sbling bond' was a dysfunctional one-  meaning both boys relied on it but neither benefitted. One social worker simply said, "They should never have been placed together."

Of course, by now they had been placed together, they were our boys and we weren't going to give up on them, so, we fought and fought and eventually got both boys the access to therapy that they were promised but never given. That was invaluable - both for the children and for us.

Then once the older boy, KC, was due to be discharged from therapy the subject of his schooling was broached. Had we thought about separating the boys at school? They are only a year apart and at the local primary. KC was falling behind in his work, he is diagnosed dyslexic (not that that means anything in the state system - thank you Mr Gove) and was spending too much time worrying about his younger brother. TJ was, in turn, overly emotional, needing to know where his older brother was at all times and was also unable to function. He was placed on the autistic spectrum, although the therapists believe this is a result of his past trauma. We can only wait and see.

So Papa and I chatted with everyone who would listen, social workers, therapists, teachers and it was felt that KC would benefit from going to another small locally based school that specialises in dyslexic friendly learning. Great - except that it is private and not cheap. But we scrimp and save and got him there. TJ went into meltdown.

This was going to be hard.

TJ's school were incredibly understanding and put in place lots of help for him when he felt 'wobbly'. KC, on the other hand, settled into school quickly. It was as if the 'burden of parenthood' had been lifted from him. He didn't have to worry about his brother and now that we had identified his main learning difficuly he seemed to take it in his stride to try and overcome it. I had the realisation (I maybe wrong) that KC had simply stagnated - by which I mean he stopped his learning development at the point of his going into care. He was still functioning as a 4 year old both academically and emotionally but the new school could help him deal with that and could, as they put it, try to fill in the huge gaps in his learning as well as finding strategies to help him with his other difficulties.

Both boys are so brave.

For TJ he needed to know that I would be there for him, whenever he needed it. I finished working and stayed at home, on call. I started a little blog and began a psychology degree with the OU.

But whenever school called I went. and still do go. TJ had to realsie that when he needed help it would be me that came and not KC - he had to trust an adult. That was something he has never done - I still don't believe he fully trusts me or Papa - hopefully that will come.

Here we are nearly a year on and I suddenly realised how settled everything was - despite TJ's little meltdown last week. KC happily headed off to the school bus, suddenly gaining a new air of confidence and seeming very grown up. His school focusses on routine and KC loves that. Its very old fashioned in its ways but for KC it works. He is almost able to read independently. He is 9 now but a year ago and he wouldn't even have been able to differentiate the letters of the alphabet - so this is a big step. More improtantly when the brothers come home in the evening they share their day together - each telling the other about their new friends or things they have done.

TJ went into school this morning singing. Singing!

Oh What a Beautiful Morning, the Howard Keel classic, had been on the radio and I had sung along (I sing a lot) and on the way to school TJ was singing it too. As we neared the gate he turned to me and said, "Daddy, I can go in by myself." and for the first time ever he ran down the little path to the school gate while I stood back with the dog.

I now know how all those parents feel on the first day of school when children are 4. My youngest may be 8 - but today he took that first positive step to independence. A fellow parent said to me as I turned around, "Is he too embarrased to let you take him to school now?" I didn't want to say this is his first time going into school by himself, so I simply nodded and said, "Yes - don't you hate it when they get to that age."

As I walked home I suddenly felt really emotional. But finally I thought - the struggle of the past couple of years was actually beginning to pay off.

It really was a beautiful morning.

Fantasy Fitter

Ok so today isn't directly about family life - well, maybe it is a little bit...

Today we have the builders in. We are having some work done on our house to correct some damage caused by the winter storms - we spent 4 days over Christmas with no power and leaking windows.

But finally today all was to be finished off and we were to have a couple of new carpets fitted to replace the damaged ones.

The builders came and had their tea and then set to work. Then the carpet fitter arrived.

I opened the front door and it was as if everything went into slow motion, he smiled and I melted. He was gorgeous! I couldn't help but think of the guy from the movie The Proposal with Sandra Bullock, I couldn't remember his name (I googled it later - Ryan Reynolds) but at that moment in time I didn't care. It was as if my whole life had suddenly turned into a diet coke ad - I wished it was bit hotter so the shirt would have to come off (his not mine) but it wasn't, so I toyed with the idea of turning up the thermostat to tropical proportions and seeing if that had any effect.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" I stammered, suddenly feeling about 15 again.

"Just water," he replied. "Just water!" Maybe he wanted to throw it over himself and reveal his chest through the thin white t-shirt that clung to his masculine frame - well, if he didn't then I would quite happily trip and 'spill' it over him. Maybe I could help him dry off?

I came back to earth with a crash. The 'other' builder was asking for another cup of tea. I'd forgotten he was even there.

"I wish I was gay," the 'other' builder suddenly said. "I wouldn't then have to put up with women, they're all 'f***ing nutters!" I was a bit taken aback. He had obviously been scarred by someone - but right now I wasn't in the mood to be Dear Deirdre, I was in the mood to be whatever the carpet fitter wanted!

"I don't think that being gay changes that," I said, not sure where this conversation was going.

"No but if I was gay then I wouldn't have to put up with my b**** of an ex-wife. In fact, I'm quite willing to give being gay a go if it gets her out of my life!"

I was wondering if he was coming on to me - Now don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm God's gift to gay mankind or anything like that but this was definately taking an odd turn.

"Oh well," I reassured him, "I'm sure you'll find the right girl soon." And  made him his third cup of tea which he then drank whilst telling me all his troubles - I obviously was in the mood to be Dear Deirdre, I just hadn't realised it.

A little later I rushed upstairs to see if Ryan (I've decided that's his name) wanted more water. He didn't. I was rapidly turning into a seventies pastiche of the bored housewife - I would soon be donning mules and a frilly bed jacket to tempt him (images of Dick Emery sprang to mind - so I didn't).

"Thats all done," he said in his deep masculine tone - I was ready to sign any Fifty Shades type 'agreement' with him there and then. "You've got a lovely family," he nodded towards a picture of the four of us. (Bugger, why had I left that out) "Thanks," I muttered.

Then he left - carpets duly fitted. Although everytime I look at them there will be a wistful sigh.

Tonight is TJ's teacher meeting - so if that doesn't bring me back to reality with a bang, then I don't know what will. When I reminded him I was coming into school his reply was, "No Daddy, then she'll tell you what I'm really like!"

Sigh...

What a weekend...

Well its certainly been an eventful few days.

On Friday I was taken out for a lovely lunch by a literary agent - who has agreed to represent me and to help me work on the book version of this very blog. The book is finished but needs revision and its great to have another pair of eyes to evaluate things subjectively, as well as look after all the business side of things.

Its all very exciting but also a bit scary - Papa brought me straight back down to earth when I asked him if we could open the 'special' bottle of champagne we have reserved for 'special' occasions. "Wait until you actually have a publisher," he said wisely, "Then we can open it - until then we need to buy you a new monitor and clear out the study so you can actually use it as a... well, study." With all the building works we have going on the study has turned into a storage room and we could barely see the floor. So Saturday was spent clearing that room out.

But now I'm all set and ready to go! Let's see what happens on this leg of the journey.

Saturday was also the day that our youngest decided he would revert to bed wetting - except he didn't tell us. Instead he lay in his own wee - maybe through a sense of shame or maybe he simply didn't care, which was the vibe he was trying to give off. I have read that often children who have experienced neglect find comfort in a wet bed, the warmth and the smell can trigger off a sense of calm. Who knows? Either way we decided not to make a big deal of it and just treat it as one of life's accidents. We decided that - his older brother didn't. KC thought it was hilarious and took every opportunity to remind TJ of his urinary slip up.

So Saturday consisted of me trying to keep the peace between the boys which then resulted in a full on fight and the Skylanders game on the wii being destroyed. Of course, when Papa pulled them both up on it they both decided it was the others one's fault - which just made Papa incredibly angry and he stormed out declaring that the children have no respect for anything. He has a point but then there is also the idea that they have no respect because, well lets be honest, why should they? Monetary objects mean little to them and I lose track of the broken toys that are met with a shoulder shrug when I ask if they are upset that its gone. Sometimes I am guilty of just letting things go for a quiet life... maybe that needs a rethink.

So Sunday we went out with the boys Godparents for lunch and their children. It was lovely to hear the four children chatting away over their lunch, like old friends. Normality resumed.

Then KC reminded me that he needed an atlas for his homework. We had tried using the internet but it just wasn't going to work so at 5 minutes before Sunday closing KC and I excused ourselves from the lunchtable and ran up to the bookshop and purchased a junior atlas, much to the hilarity of the bookshop staff. Homework was completed on time....

Then this morning TJ got up to tell me that he hadn't wet his bed... hooray! But he had lost his tie and was far too ill to go to school - oh, and he hadn't done his maths homework - which needed to be handed in today!

Brilliant!

This book will write itself!!!!!!

Reality Check!

Its been a strange week so far - one of those weeks where very little seems to happen but you seem to be exhausted all the time.

It began at the weekend.

When did weekends become all about housework, washing and catching up on homework?  I didn't used to mind being exhausted on a Monday as I knew it was simply the result of a weekend of excess - probably spent out with friends in the pub - Monday was a day of recovery.

Nowadays I'm just grateful to get to Monday, to feel that the weekend is out of the way. The kids are back at school, hubby is back at work and I am left to clear up the mess and get the house sorted out ready for.. well, for the next weekend.

When did this become my life?

They didn't tell you about this in the adoption manuals... I don't recall any social worker ever saying "make sure you go out partying lots before the kids arrive because after that they will run your life."

Of course, the counter argument is that we have much more quality time together and its great fun watching the kids grow up and playing with them - except that sometimes it isn't. Sometimes they are just annoying - the constant whinging, the constant whining that 'I am bored' and 'why can't I watch TV" - and thats just Papa!

But last weekend poor TJ was poorly. On Saturday morning he simply didn't get out of bed. For TJ this is very unusual - normally he can get out of bed on a weekend at the crack of dawn - not so on schooldays where he has to be shoehorned out of his bed - but weekends he is up bright and early ready to take on the world. Except on Saturday he wasn't.

I went in and he told me his head hurt, he also didn't want breakfast and he just wanted to sleep - warning bells were screaming in my ears. I did the usual checks for serious illnesses and then administered that nectar of the god of ill children - Calpol.

He slept nearly the whole day. Then at 7pm he felt much better and couldn't sleep all night. Suddenly I had a jet lagged 8 year old who required entertaining...

By Sunday morning he was asleep and I was exhausted. But there was still stuff to be done. A roast dinner to make, washing to sort out and a house to clean... luckily both Papa and KC were going to help me - if help meant that they sat out of the way watching the rugby... which is what they did.

So at around 4pm I decided to take the dog for a walk by myself. We strolled by the river and watched the world go by. Then one of TJ's friends came rushing up with his family in tow. 'You're lucky," said the mum, 'having time to go for a walk - where are the boys?"

"I left them at home with Papa," I said, "They are watching the rugby."

The mum looked at me with shock. "You are letting your children watch TV on a beautiful day like this?" she exclaimed, "They should be outside getting some fresh air."

"Yes, they should," i replied, "But then they would be with me and I wouldn't have any peace and quiet."

I think she was a little offended as she and her brood rode off into the distance... not that I cared - for just a few minutes longer the dog and I sat and stared at the peaceful river before I had to return home to make supper...

I'm not really feeling sorry for myself- I love my life but every now and again I remember what it was like before kids - and sometimes it was pretty good!

We're Giving Up What for Lent!!!!!!!?????

That was the response I got from both boys when I informed them last night that we wouldn't be having dessert at dinner as we were giving it up for Lent.

"Why", KC asked, "Why do we have to give anything up?"
"Because Jesus did," I replied.
"He gave up his desserts?" asked TJ incredulously.
"No, he gave up all food and went into the desert for 40days and nights," I said.
"So he didn't give up his dessert then?" TJ looked confused.
The penny dropped,
"Not dessert - he went into the desert, its an entirely different thing." I told him.

"So why do we have to give anything up?" said KC - he is rapidly sounding less like a 9 year old and more like Kevin the Teenager, Harry Enfield's comic character from the 80's (that ages me!)

"Well,' I said desperately trying to justify my sudden decision - which to be honest, was based purely on the fact that I haven't been shopping since we came home and I had been listening to Radio 4 about the perils of sugar in a child's diet - hence my snap decision to give up dessert for Lent. "Well, Jesus gave it up so he could be at one with God."

I felt my Sunday school teacher (and my Mum) might be pleased with this answer.

"Why didn't he just go to church?" came the reply, "Why did he give up everything and go into the dessert."

"Desert," I corrected him. "Because its in the Bible and we had pancakes yesterday which means Lent starts today.

"What's Lent," TJ asked.

"Its where we have to give up dessert because Daddy's too lazy to make anything," his brother told him.

"There's plenty of fruit," I said, luckily Abel and Cole had delivered as usual that week (I know its horribly middle class to use them but thank goodness we had or we would have all starved - which is probably more in line with the original meanings behind Lent)

"We don't want fruit!" they both cried in unison.

"Well, thats all there is." I told them in my 'kind but firm voice'.

KC looked at his brother, "Ive got a packet of sweets under my bed," he said, "Do you want to share them?"

"Yay," cried TJ," and the two of them skipped upstairs.

I don't know whether to be proud that they are sharing (for once) or annoyed because they have blatantly disregarded me... I guess I'll just pour a glass of red - I'm definately not giving that up for Lent!

An 'Inspirational Post' for LGBT Adoption and Fostering Week

When I was asked to contribute to the BAAF blogpost for LGBT Adoption and Fostering Week, I was also asked if I could make it ‘inspirational’ – “No problem,” I said, “If you need an inspirational piece about being a gay parent then I’m your man!”

Then I sat down to write. But as soon as I sat at the keyboard my youngest son, TJ, decided that now was a good time to tell me that he needed an alien costume for school – tomorrow! Of course, he hadn’t told me when school did, two weeks ago, and, of course, he had lost the letter telling panicked parents exactly what the plans for ‘Alien Day’ were.

So I did what any good parent would do – I got on Facebook and messaged other parents at the school to find out what I needed to do.

“It can be anything, a robot, an alien, an astronaut – the theme is space and you can either rent a costume or make one – but there was a big ‘no’ if you thought you could simply paint your child’s face green and send them in ‘normal clothes – the school wants authenticity!”

I thought that if any alien came to Earth then surely they would do as much as possible to blend in and I was half tempted to send TJ to school in uniform with a note explaining our point of view… Or was I just being lazy?

So we pulled out cardboard boxes and tin foil, paper glue and toilet roll tubes – I felt like I was finally becoming the Blue Peter presenter I had always dreamed of being.

Two hours later my happy little boy was dressed as a cardboard robot and we had had a great time making it together.

Now I had to go back to writing this piece whilst he walked around me shouting ‘exterminate’ and zapping the unsuspecting dog with his ‘laser gun’ (A toilet roll with a lolly stick as a handle).

I couldn’t help but smile at him and at the joy on his face.

And that was my inspiration for this piece.

Gay parenting is no different to parenting. You will experience the same highs, the same lows – yes, adopted children have many more issues but they also bring as much joy.

Don’t be afraid of being a parent. There will be curious stares at the school gate, particularly if, like us, you don’t live in London, there will be difficult conversations about why you are not married to a woman and asking if you and Papa are brothers. You will have all that and my advice is always to be honest, if they are old enough to ask then they are old enough to be told the truth.

But at the end of the day (a horrid cliché I know) it’s the actual having of a family that is the inspiration and I can only hope that by raising awareness of LGBT Adoption and Fostering that more children will be brought into safe, loving, homes where they can experience something that every child has a right to – a loving family.

I hope that’s inspirational enough!

Fisrt published on the BAAF Website : http://www.baaf.org.uk/blog/inspirational-post

... they don't see difference, they see family.

Well we are back from our trip to Singapore.

If anything this year was blissfully uneventful. The boys got to see their Grandparents and Papa's sister and her family. They attended an 'open day' at their cousins airforce base - he is serving his National Service, and the boys generated a lot of interest from their cousins crew mates, all of whom wanted to know how they were related. It's great that our boys simply accept their Singaporean Chinese family as their own - they don't see difference, they see family.

It seems that Singapore is beginning to get used to the idea of gay dads - or perhaps its just us. Where last year we fought off questions and argued about 'where the mother is?' with restaurant staff this year we had a complete stranger congratulating us on our beautiful family. This was lovely but after the chap had said it we kept bumping into him, even ended up standing next to him in a taxi line - which was suddenly very uncomfortable - afer all, how do you continue a conversation with a complelte stranger who has just commented on your family? There was a lot of nervous smiling and looking at the floor from everyone. Still, we gave him a wave as we drove off in our cab.

The air stewardesses were obviously curious. Previously we had always flown either British Airways or QANTAS - the stewardesses there cottoned on straight away about our family mix. This time we flew Singapore Airlines - and they didn't have a clue - or were too polite to ask. In the end one stewardess came over to Papa and asked him if he was travelleing with 'our party' as he seemed to be helping the little boy next to him a lot. Papa explained that they were his sons too and after that we were the subject of much gossip and air crew walking past regularly to get a look at us.

Not that the boys noticed. Wierdly, people still stop them in the street or by the pool to take pictures of them - Chinese tourists love our boys - Papa's sister suggested we begin charging for photos - we would make a fortune - I think she may have a point.

Maybe people do still stop and point at us, or we get comments - but maybe we simply don't notice anymore? The boys certainly weren't phased by anything.

One of the boys friends commented on having two dads. 'When men get married," she said, 'Its because they need someone to stay at home and look after the children.' All of her friends nodded at this wisdom.

Perhaps Singapore is indeed finally opening up to families like our own.

Perhaps.....

Deadlines and Aliens...

I stay at home, I write and I study... (and in between I do a bit of parenting)...

But this week all three of the above have managed to interfere with the fourth - or maybe the fourth has interfered with the other three - it depends on where my priorities lie at any given point in time.

I knew I had a difficult assignment to submit this week - I'm studying an Open University course in Psychology, although I'm sure most parents, particularly those with adopted offspring, are already at doctorate level in that area. But I left the first three days of this week completely clear - I was not going to blog, write, maybe a bit of studying - but that was it. Uniforms were washed and sorted out into piles, lunchboxes pre-prepared and dinners pre-planned - it was all going to be fine. But...

On Monday I was asked to write a piece for BAAF - something inspirational for LGBT Adoption week was my brief - happily I agreed to then be told they need it by Friday. Then I was asked by a magazine to write a short piece for them on being gay parents of mixed race with white children - thats not an easy thing to put together but again I agreed - deadline tonight - and, finally, my youngest son decided that last night was the time he would like to tell me that school are having an alien dress up day on Friday and, no I can't just put him in a fancy dress outfit and paint his face green - school have decided costumes must either be made or hired. (I'm guessing they have the press in - which makes no difference to TJ as we have media restrictions in place). He should have told me last week - but forgot.... great!

So I'm halfway through my assignment - which is all about statistical reports(!) I took psychology so I could legitimately be nosey and pry into other people's private lives - don't they know that! Not so that I would actually have to study things I have no interest in, like maths!

But I was diligent - I researched everything, I stayed up doing online tutorials I downloaded from You Tube - I wrote everything up. Then I got stuck. I needed help - fast. Last night I couldn't work out the final figures for the analysis - not just couldn't work out - couldn't even find... I went into a blind panic.

Then my dear partner suggested I actually open one of the tutorial slides that the online tutor had sent me to 'help' with the assignment and there it was - the exact formula I needed laid out in a step by step fashion, along with everything else I needed to complete the assignment - I really should read those things more often.

So this morning I completed it - I emailed in my assignment, and I am now working on the rest of the stuff, which no longer seems so daunting now I have the statistics out of the way, and then this evening we can get to work on the alien outfit.

Who knows this week might turn out to be quite fun after all - until the next assignment is due in of course!!!!!

'Weighty' Issues...

As any stay at home parent knows the issue of weight is an ongoing battle.

In my previous life as an actor I was constantly being told to 'lose weight, stay thin and remember this is a weight conscious environment in which you are working' - that nugget was passed out by my then agent - whom I still love dearly, even though the last time they saw me they just smiled and said, "I see married life suits you..." single person code for "You're really fat!"

Then I gave all that up to have the boys. I stayed at home - well I couldn't possible earn the kind of money Papa does - not as a struggling actor - but I could teach part time, do a psychology degree and start writing again. Brilliant. But all of these activities seem to be mainly sedentary and when you add in two children the weight just seemed to pile on - literally!

I thought having kids would make me thin - everyone said to me, "You'll be exhausted chasing those two around every day," and they were right - it was exhausting. But suddenly I was spending my entire afternoon, from 4pm onwards cooking. Firstly I cook the boy's dinner - and then usually eat a little something with them and often end up eating half their leftovers as well - I was brought up in a house where waste was a sin. My Mum had a board game of Snakes and Ladders - which was a moral version... I kid you not - if you were good and ate all your dinner you got to go up a ladder - if you were bad and wasteful it was down a demon snake. So it's ingrained in me that waste = bad!

After that Papa would come home and do the boys' bedtime routine whilst I make dinner for the two of us - usually whilst opening a bottle of wine - "Well," I convinced myself, "I need it because I've had a hard day running around after two boys."

Then Papa and I eat, more wine is consumed and we then take the bottle into the sitting room where we consume the remainder. Now, upon the consumption of more wine in front of 'proper' TV, (anything that doesn't involve cartoon animals without pants), the idea of a family bag of Doritos suddenly seems like a good one - followed by a small piece of chocolate, well maybe a bar... and a bit of a biscuit before bed.

In the two years since the boys came I managed to put on 10kg (around 20lbs) - I have no idea what that is in stones.... but it's a lot and nothing fitted me anymore. But that was okay because I was a Dad now and didn't need to be glamorous anymore, the thought of trousers with an elasticated waistband was quickly becoming an attractive proposition.

Then at Christmas my eldest said, "When you came into school today my friend asked me why you were so fat - and I said, 'my Dad might be fat but he gives great cuddles'."

I was distraught - Papa told me to focus on the positive - on the 'gives great cuddles' line - I couldn't... I just heard the 'f' word.... Eventually Papa's sympathy ran out and he just said, "Right for your birthday I'm buying you a gym membership."

I was a bit shocked by that but reluctantly agreed - well, I had asked for it.

Anyway, I decided to give up the booze in January - and signed up to the Cancer Reasearch Dryathalon. Which I did! Then I went to the gym and signed up with a trainer from hell - a small American lady who seems unable to talk in an 'indoor voice' (A term I use a lot with two small boys) - but she makes me run - one day I will get away from her but the damn treadmill keeps bringing me back! Personally, I think the reason she is so thin is because she spends her day exercising her vocal muscles at a pitch known only to Mariah Carey and some small dogs.

Then today, after nearly 6 weeks, I weighed myself.

Yes, I do the trick of moving the scales around the bathroom to find the tile upon which I am obviously lighter - but today I didn't need to.. Today the scales informed me that I have lost a total of 5kg!!!!

I am over the moon and will be wearing my best 'Dafydd the only gay in the village' pink rubber tube top and matching hot pants when I go and collect the boys from school later - then KC's friends can see just how much weight I've lost - although my son may never speak to me again let alone ask for cuddles!!!!

All the C's - Chinatown, Casualty and Casinoes!

Well, it has certainly been an eventful weekend.

On Saturday we took the boys up to Chinatown in London so they could see the New Year celebrations  - they had a great time and we seemed to follow lots of different lion dance troupes - TJ took great delight in making sure we saw all the different colured lions and the boys both loved it when two groups came together and the lions had a 'dance off'. Then they got to throw gunpowder snaps (which I'm sure had some health and safety officer in convulsions) before we went for dim sum at our favourite restaurant. Papa and I realised that this was now the only reason we came into Soho nowadays - no more gay bars and clubs for us...

We then bumped into two old friends in Waitrose, of all places. luckily Waitrose has a bar so we ended up sitting there chatting about Christmas over a couple of bottles of red - well, it was the first of Feb and my dry January was finally over. The boys read magazines and drank ginger beer - it suddenly sounds like an Enid Blyton novel - whilst our childfree friends bought them chocolate and then swanned off to dinner leaving us to drive home with two sugared up kids in the car. (not that we were jealous as we saw our friend's Facebook updates chronicling a lovely meal, a few more drinks and then finally a trip to the casino - whilst we watched Casualty and a late night movie).

Sunday was a lovely family day and then on Sunday night TJ decided to have the biggest asthma attack I have ever seen him suffer. It was painful to hear him coughing and wheezing. I went online and followed all the guidelines and eventually got him settled. It was touch and go as to whether or not we went to A and E - but with it being the weekend I thought that hospital emergency may not be the best place to take a little boy - plus it would have stressed him out. When he was last ill in Brighton we took him to the local hospital which has a dedicated childrens area - which was brilliant and the hospital was amazing. Our local hospital however, leaves a lot to be desired - it's one of the worst performing in the country and its not hard to see why - it is filthy. My bonkers cleaner would have had a field day in there - although she would have subjected everyone to her loud europop music - but that would be better than the state of the casualty department (not at all like on tv). I really is postcode lottery - it makes you want to move to Brighton.

Anyhow, Monday morning came and TJ was still wheezing so I called the local GP - luckily we got an immediate appointment, I bundled him up and off we went.

We got to see the locum (I don't think we have ever seen our actual GP) and he wanted to put TJ onto a nebuliser - apparently we had done everything right and he didn't think a visit to A and E was a good idea either. So off he went to get the equipment - except he didn't have it. It had gone to the out of hours clinic next door. Not to worry, "Why dont we just collect it from next door?" I asked. The doctor looked at me aghast, "But it's not out of hours," he said, "We can't access that building until then."

I took a moment to realise that he was actaully saying that a piece of life saving equipment was unavailable as we were 'in hours' - so to speak. "If he's still ill after 3pm then give reception a call and we'll send him to the Out of Hours clinic" said the doctor reassuringly, "I'm on call this afternoon so I'll see him there." Was I going bonkers or did that just defy common sense?

So rather than send TJ to hospital he pumped him full of steroids, gave hime a 10 pump burst on his inhaler and told me to keep him still for the next couple of days (he obviously doesn't have an 8 year old boy).

So today we are sitting on the sofa - I am typing this instead of doing my OU assignment and TJ is playing on his DS - screen time limits are abandoned for a couple of days - its the only thing that keeps him still!

Dad Dancing...

So this morning I woke up as usual and went downstairs to make my first cup of tea before getting the kids up and ready for school.

Of course, I turned on the radio to hear Michael Jackson's 'Bad' blasting out. I was immediately transported back to my own youth, standing in my bedroom practising the latest 'moves' by the King of Pop himself - I was the white MJ - I knew it - just no-one else did!

So this morning I decided to see if I still remembered all those moves and clad in my dressing gown and slippers I began moonalking, crotch grabbing and screaming whilst holding my hand out to ctahc a frisbee (at least that's how I remembered it).

I was halfway through this incredible routine when I spun (clutching my unseen hat) and turned to see two small boys standing in the doorway with their mouths open - simply stunned.

I quickly straightened up and asked the boys what they wanted for breakfast - as if nothing had happened. And they carried on as if nothing had happened. They obviously needed to block this from out of their minds.

It obviously  doesn't matter if you are gay or straight - Dad dancing is just bad!!!!!!

Today is Chinese New Year and the boys are very excited - rather than greet Papa this morning with oranges and a cheery 'Gong Xi Fa Cai' (he had to go to work as normal) so they are practising to do it tonight when he comes home from work. TJ is particularly keen as he wants his red packet (or ang pow) from Papa - he has already stipulated that it must be full of paper money as he is not accepting coins!

TJ then asked if he should do his Chinese New Year greeting for his teacher and see if she will give him any money.

"I dont think she celebrates Chinese New Year," I told him.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because she's not Chinese," I explained.

"You're not either and we still celebrate,"

"I know, but Papa is so we respect his celebration - and its fun."

"I'm half Chinese," TJ went on.. and then he suddenly stopped. "No I'm not," he cried," I'm half Singaporean - which means Papa isnt Chinese either!"

"He's Chinese Singaporean," I started to explain but then realised that maybe 8.30am wasn't the time to begin a conversation about race and nationality... so I just left it and said we would talk about it later.

I think as long as he gets his red packet he will be happy.

Celebrating Cultures

It was only this morning that I realised just how much the children wanted, no needed, to go to Singapore for Chinese New Year.

This sounds like its going to be a long whinge about the state of the current education system and the way in which children are simply not allowed to take holidays in term time. Full stop. Period. No asking for special treatment, no chance for the headteacher to apporve necessary trips away - nothing. Oh except exceptional circumstances - a death in the family would suffice I guess. But I'll save that for another whinge - there are plenty of people out there moaning about it already.

No, this is about how our not being able to go has had such a surprising effect on the kids... and I hadn't seen it!

Yesterday, as we can't go for Chinese New Year, the boys and I decided to pull out the CNY decorations and put them up in the dining room for Papa. TJ loved it. He wanted to hear the story about the animals and how they became the astrological symbols. He wanted Papa to explain all about the different symbols and items we put up for prosperity, longevity etc etc.

Then that evening I found him in his room crying his eyes out. TJ doesn't cry - not ever and definately not in front of people. He used to. He used to cry over everything, not being able to tie his shoelace, his jumper being inside out - all were major catastrophes. Then he just stopped. We went to therapy but he simply built more defences, so we stopped going, we didn't want to re-traumatise him - I know there are lots of possible reasons, the one I am favouring is that he doesn't want to show weakness, which could also be a peer group thing as well - boys of a certain age suddenly seems to want to be men, with their own interpretation of what being male means.

Anyway, he was distraught. He wouldn't talk about it - but he would let me hold him whilst he cried. Its strange to say that I actually loved having him in my arms, sobbing into my shoulder - its such a rare occurence.

This morning it all came out. He wanted to see his Grandparents, he wanted to see his Aunty and Uncle, he wanted to see his cousins, he wanted to see his Godparents and all of our friends. For the past two years, since the boys came to us, every CNY we have gone to Singapore and celebrated with family and friends. And I hadn't realised how much that meant to him.

I now felt as if I was denying him a festival as big as Christmas - thats the only way I can describe it. He had tried so hard to fit in, to meet his new family, to get used to our 'ways' and now he was settled and looking forward to it I was cancelling it - or rather school were.

The Government had cancelled Christmas.

I suppose that because the boys are (to use ethnical descriptions) white British, its very hard for people to get their head around the fact that they are also half Singaporean. The boys have had no trouble getting used to it. They know that Papa's family  are in Singapore, they know my family are here. That's their lives. They don't see race, they don't see cultural difference, they see Daddy and Papa - they see their family.

Its an argument I am going to push harder next year - even if i end up talking to our MP or Mr Gove about this - its not fair and I'm sure my children aren't the only ones being punished because some people misuse the system.

Our children were adopted into a mixed race family and the minute that happened they took on both of our cultures and both need to be celebrated and accepted by everyone around them - including me!

....

Its funny but after reading this I was suddenly reminded of a play I did with the fabulous Chua Enlai, directed by the equally fabulous Krishen Jit - it was David Henry Hwang's 'Looking for Chinatown' about a white guy who has been adopted by Chinese parents and is essentially more 'Chinese' than the Chinese guy he bumps into (played by Enlai). The piece was seen as almost ridiculous but thought provoking - indeed I think that Francine in the TV show 'American Dad' is also adopted by a Chinese family - why is this seen as comedic? Plenty of Chinese kids are adopted into white families - so why is it the other way round seems so strange? Am I asking my kids to live a life previously restricted to the theatre and comedy shows?

Papa's Big Day

Yesterday was Papa's birthday.

And, as every year, he took the day off work. Papa has a very stressful job so the boys and I had planned a nice breakfast followed by them going to school and then Papa and I having a nice lunch together and then taking the boys out for burgers (a treat) in the evening before KC has his drama lesson - with the impossibly cheerful drama teacher.

However, things are really stressful at work for Papa at the moment so he threw a spanner into our carefully planned morning by announcing that he wanted to get some work finished so he could enjoy the rest of the day.

The boys were a bit disappointed but I told them we could give presents and cards later when Papa had his cake (which I hadn't actually made yet). So KC went and gave Papa a hug and kiss and wished him Happy Birthday by performing a birthday dance he had been practising (it was very sweet). Then he went off to school.

TJ then decided that he wanted to wish Papa a happy birthday - so he went into the sitting room where Papa was working and saw that the lamp was on - TJ knows that Papa hates wasting electricity so he duly switched the lamp off at the main switch by the wall.

It was then that I saw the colour drain out of Papa's face as he stared at his laptop... TJ had turned off the internet router... Papa whispered, "I've lost eveything" as TJ cried, "Happy Birthday!!!!!" and jumped onto Papa's head.

Papa was now turning a shade of crimson so I decided that it might be best if TJ and I went to school early. TJ took the hint and we were at school before the gates even opened. Then I took the dog for a long, long walk before going home to see if Papa was ok - and had managed to finish off the rest of his work.

I came back and Papa decided we were going out and as it was his day he didn't want to do any of the things I had planned... like looking for a new family car (boring) or going to Ikea (also dull) - I know it not exactly birthday mayhem but how often do I have Papa to myself without the kids? - and taking the boys to either of those places is hell - last time we went to a car showroom KC set off loads of car alarms - he was trying all the car doors to see if he could sit behind the wheel - even the ones of cars that were not for sale. And Ikea - well, that's a nightmare - TJ climbed into a cupboard once to see if he could find Narnia (I blame my Mum for letting them watch the movies). It took us ages to find him and when we did he popped out shouting 'But I've only been gone a few seconds!..... much to the 'delight' of the store staff.

Still, it was Papa's day so we did what he loves - we went shopping for clothes! Clothes for him - not baby gap, or kiddy Next, or Junior John Lewis - No, proper grown up stores where people talk to you and not to your children. Proper stores where you get time to try on clothes without little boys shouting that they are bored or pulling the arms off a mannequin... that's happened...

For just one afternoon we were proper adults again - shopping, lunching and going to the toilet without having little ones running behind you playing with hand dryers whilst you try to 'go'...

Being a parent means you never take the little things in life for granted...

But it was lovely to go out as a family that evening and just eat junk food and then watch Papa blow out the candles on the enormous banana and walnut cake I made for him... its his favourite!

The Wrong Kind of Ham...

So I have been called into school. Apparently, I have been forcing my child to eat food that he hates - in this case ham.

Now, TJ loves ham - it's pretty much the only meat he will eat - he is a vegetarian otherwise, loves his salad and vegetables - I'm not complaining about that but as TJ 'sees the world differently' then he also insists on having the same lunch on a daily basis. We have set up the routine for him and he sticks to it. So I was quite surprised when I was informed that TJ had decided to have a huge temper tantrum in the middle of the school dining hall and in a fit of rage throw his half eaten ham sandwich at the dinner lady - who at the time was trying to coax him into eating it.

Great!

So the dinner lady 'told on him' - his words not mine - and I was duly called in.

I thought they would be telling me how they would be disciplining TJ, what consequences he would have for being so unruly and downright rude... Nope. They were bringing me in to ask that I only give him food that he likes as they need to ensure that he eats an adequate lunch.

What?

I told them that if he doesn't eat his lunch that I lovingly prepare for him (complete with little notes saying how I am thinking of him - as the books tell us to) then he can go hungry - after all he gets home a little after 3 and has a snack then - a couple of hours won't kill him and maybe, just maybe, he'll think twice before throwing good food away. (I'm very traditional when it comes to wasting good food).

They asked me what he did like - I said chocolate spread and peanut butter - together - 'Well he can't have that in school - that's not nutritious" said the food police, "and we dont have peanuts in school in case another child has an allergy and sits near him." Hang on a minute - I just saw another kid munching a bloody Snickers bar in the playground!!!!

"The other thing he likes is ham,' I went on. This was met with a stony silence. So TJ was brought in. He looked at me sheepishly.

"Can you tell Daddy why you threw the sandwich at the lady?" asked the food police.
"I didn't like it." came the reply.
"But ham is your favourite," I said.
"Yes, but its the wrong kind of ham," he replied.

I had now heard everything.

"The wrong kind of ham? Can you explain that?" I asked - my tone was probably sounding a little harsh by now.

"Well,' (you always know you are going to get a long winded, roundabout answer when TJ starts with 'well.')

"Well, I like the ham with lions on the packet (the one sold in support of the armed forces that I think I have bought twice before, I'm pretty sure if any of the armed forces ate it they would return it as its mainly water and tastes foul) and this one didn't have lions on the packet." TJ told us.

There was a knowing nod from the food police. "So you didn't like the taste of this type of ham,' she said. I think my mouth may have fallen open and she bought this excuse hook, line and sinker. "Why didn't you like the taste," she went on.

"The taste was ok," TJ replied, "It just didn't have three lions on the packet."

I breathed in and counted - I didn't get as far as ten.

"TJ," I said (using that tone that all parents seem to develop - I've no idea where it came from), "TJ, can I just ask - where were your friends whilst you were eating?" TJ is a noticeably slow eater - its part of his syndrome.

"Oh they all ran outside to play football - but Miss said I had to eat my lunch first," came the reply. He then froze realising that just maybe he had given the game away.

"Right," I said, "So I have come into school because you would rather throw your lunch at the dinner lady and then cry because I gave you the wrong ham - all because you wanted to go out and play."

He nodded slowly.

"Ok," I said, "Well, I won't give you ham tomorrow  we can look at what else you can have tonight but you can go swimming with school and I'll see you afterwards - is that ok?"

He nodded.

The teacher smiled and all was well.

..........

A little later I went to collect him from school. "TJ didn't go swimming today," said the teacher - the same one as before, "He told us that you didn't pack his swimming trunks."

What!

"Yes, I did,"I replied indignantly, "I packed them with his towel last night."

I was now obviously the worst parent in the world - not only did I force feed my child processed meat products but I expected him to swim naked - I knew what she was thinking - perhaps we were a strange gay naturist family. At that point in time I was so cross that I nearly said that we were...

I looked down at our youngest son.

"I asked you to check your bag this morning, did you?"

"Yes," he said, "Only I took my trunks out."

The swimming police teacher nodded knowingly (which made me want to punch her - I didn't - I just smiled)

"Why?" I asked simply.

"I didn't want to wear my blue ones," he replied.

I was about to say something when I realised that he only has blue ones.

I knew this argument was going nowhere so I simply smiled. took his hand and said, "Come on lets go home."

He smiled back and said, "Daddy, can I have ham sandwiches for tea."

I nearly threw them at him!

Post Adoption Blues?

Every now and again I feel the need to share something that leans toward the more serious side of adoptive life.

After my piece on being a stay at home dad I was surprised by how many people, both Mums and Dads, wrote to me expressing their own thoughts - most felt the same and were happy that the issue was being raised.

But one of the things about being a stay at home parent - or having stay at home parenting thrust upon you is the sudden negatvitiy that fills your life.

I don't think I was suffering from post adoption depression - maybe I was - its more common than a lot of people think but its a condition that many adopters (and I'm sure birth parents) feel incredibly guilty for feeling.

We spent over two years in the adoption process - fighting homophobia, running aroun the country following leads about possible children only to have doors slammed in our faces. When we eventually found our two boys we were elated - but then we spent 18months fighting for the funding and the rights that these two horribly abused little boys deserved.

Finally, after nearly four years we got our adoption order and we became a family. Then the real problems started - as the boys settled so it became apparent that I couldn't work and I had to stay at home - I could never earn the sort of money Papa could, so my career actually took a back burner purely because of the financial rewards.

So now I found myself at home spending each day waiting for the phone call telling me that I needed to go into school, for whatever reason, or simply waiting for the boys to come home.

If I wasn't called into school then it was considered to be a successful day - so a successful day was one where I wasn't required... That doesn't fill you with a great sense of self.

There are days when I would sit looking out of the window wondering why we had done this. Papa was now stressed as his was the only income, I was losing my sense of self and the boys were trying to discover who these strangers were that they now called their parents and how they fitted into our lives. We had to move home as the boys needs were too great for out little house - thats stressful in itself...

I felt I was losing everything - I'd lost the house I'd loved and made into a home, I was losing my relationship, I wasn't being this amazing 'super' parent that the TV programmes and self help books get us to strive for. I was disappearing into a vat of homework, fish fingers and bedtime stories. Papa is rarely home before the boys are in bed so as soon as he got through the door he would go upstairs to do his goodnight routine whilst I cooked his dinner - from 4.30 till 8pm each week night I am cooking... luckily I like cooking and decided to use this as a way of maintaining my sanity.

Then it was a bit of TV - I watch that whilst Papa finishes off whatever work he still has to do and then its bed - exhausted we crash and then up at 6.30 to begin it all again.

I couldn't tell anyone how I felt - after all as soon as you start to complain people are quick to point out that you chose to adopt, you chose this lifestyle - you chose this... and thats when you start to feel guilty.

Yes you did choose this - in fact you fought for it - but once the dust settles you realise that the choices you made didn't give the results you expected. I didn't choose those...

Life does that...

So I punished myself for feeling sorry for myself and in turn I punished my family - not physically but mentally - I was so angry for so much of the time. Angry at everyone else but myself... and that anger got in the way of our bonding as a family.

I learned to channel that anger - into my writing I hope - but its only now that I can admit that I was actually angry at all... I don't like who I became but I hope that I will learn to love my new role and learn to love the person I will become... a good father and husband... and maybe a better writer!

Stay at Home...

It sounds like a dream come true I'm sure - the idea of being a stay at home parent - especially a stay at home Dad.. but believe me the novelty wears off very quickly...

It's taken me a while to admit to this but I actually don't really like being a stay at home Dad - or I didn't. I've learned to like it and to accept my role in the family but that took a while.

I'll go back to the beginning...

When we first decided to adopt the idea was that I would work from home, I ran a successful branch of a large arts education company with 14 employees. I would therefore, take more of a managerial role and only have to work during the school term time and primarily during school hours. It all seemed like an ideal plan. The social workers liked it, I liked it, Papa liked it - everyone liked it... unfortunately no-one told the kids that they should like it too.

Our boys came to us from a very traumatised background, as most children from the care system do, but they needed someone constantly, they needed me in school when things went wrong, they needed me for therapy trips, they needed me for hospital trips, they needed me when school got too upsetting for them or when they were simply having a bad day where they found coping with a new family difficult.

It soon became apparent that I simply couldn't work anymore. My business was slowly falling apart, employees were leaving to set up by themselves and I decided to sell up whilst there was still a viable business to sell.

So I did...

Then I became a stay at home Dad...

And stayed at home...

Papa wasn't happy as he felt he was the one left to pick up all the bills - he is paying for everything now and getting little in return - at one time there was nothing but stress from everyone and I could see why he didn't think this was a pretty good deal.

I was stressed because I no longer had a purpose. I was now completely beholden to Papa for everything - I couldn't even go for a coffee without asking for money.

The kids were stressed as they were dealing with their past trauma, settling in, a new family - so much for two little boys...

But we got through it.

I came to the realisation the other day that this is my role for now. Writing has helped, blogging has helped, getting the book together has helped and now its a new year and I have to stop punishing myself for being a stay at home Dad.

I miss adult conversation that isn't about children.

When Papa comes home we sit and chat and then he will say "Do we have to talk about the kids!" and I sit there and think, "Well I've got nothing else to talk about really..." But at least we then have a quiet meal...

But thats ok - I can listen to his day and be jealous of his adult life because I know one day I will get my 'adult' life back - so I shall enjoy my children, my partner and yes... enjoy the life I have now.

'Finding Mum and Dad'

Today's blog was supposed to be about the psychological challenges of being a stay at home parent - the feeling of losing self and, most importantly, self worth - it was one of the reasons I started writing again but also something I am only just coming to terms with. If you asked me what I 'did for a living' - I very rarely admit to being a stay at home Dad... but I think that will have to wait until tomorrow, or later today if I can get the washing and the shopping done before lunch.

Instead I am going to write about a show that was on British TV (Channel 4) last night. Called 'Finding Mum and Dad'. It focussed on the new 'adoption parties' that the British Association for Adoption and Fostering (BAAF) are running to encourage more approved adopters to consider taking on 'Hard to Place' children. These are usually sibling groups or children aged over 4, primarily boys who are traditionally harder to place than girls. Once a child hits 7 they are considered 'unadoptable' and the state stops looking for adoptive placements for them and instead puts them into long term foster care. So for any child aged between 4 and 7, this is a crucial time whereby their futures will be decided. If they are in a sibling group with younger brothers or sisters then by 6 the decision is usually made to place the older child into long term care and continue looking for adopters for the younger child(ren). Of course, this is a generalisation and I'm sure their are some social workers that will fight tooth and nail to find adopters for their older children but the reality is, as the show said, its a buyers market and adopters can pretty much pick and choose with those children who are not 'chosen' being put back into the care system.

What I was stunned by though, as this was billed as a BAAF programme, was the title - 'Finding Mum and Dad' - and throughout the show there was constant referrals to finding these children 'a new mummy and daddy'. The would be adopters they focussed on were heterosexuals and the children were all told they could possibly be meeting their new mummy and daddy.

In my opinion, I think the main reason that the government are pushing to recruit more lesbian and gay adopters and single adopters - all of whom were alienated by this programme - is that they, as a group, are far more likely to consider a 'harder to place' child than a heterosexual couple would be, who are more likely to be looking for a baby. Indeed nearly all the gay couples I know who have adopted have all adopted sibling groups of boys, ourselves included.

I heard from the boys' old foster carer today who said the programme moved her to tears - mainly because the two boys featured were so similar to our two and their situation was exactly the same - indeed I think many of the conversations that were filmed between the foster mum and the older boy were similar to conversations she had with KC when he learned he was to be adopted and removed from her.

Her opinion was that the adoption parties took on the form of a cattle market, where the children were paraded in front of would be adopters who then got to choose those they would like to play with and know more about. There was a couple who were interested in the two boys the show featured but decided against it as they met another child instead. That's wonderful for the other child but for the two boys it must have been horrendous - they are taken to party, given a long chat about finding a new family and then come home after being rejected. Of course the boys weren't told the people they had been playing with didn't want them but as any parent of an adopted child will tell you, our kids are far more aware of change in mood and know immediately when they are being talked about.

So I have mixed feelings about adoption parties. If Papa and I do look for a third then maybe we would attend one but I imagine I would find it a bit over whelming and just want to take all the children home - I can't imagine playing with lots of different children with the idea that I might take one of them but not the other.

Ok, with the old system we only learned about our children through their paperwork and a DVD but that meant that we had very few pre-conceptions about them before we met them - yes there were problems but they were problems we had to deal with. Had we met them at an adoption party and watched KC flying around the room bashing people with a toy sword then there is no way we would have taken him on. TJ would have been very different, probably sitting in a corner quietly, making him immediately adorable and ensuring that we would have enquired about him but they would have had to split the boys up to get anyone to take him.

For over 40 children families were found - but what about the 200 plus who didn't get a family but were taken to the party anyway.

I know we need more adopters and we need them to take older children but adoption parties... I'm not so sure....

Broccoli and Anniversaries

Today is quite a strange one for us.

It marks the anniversary of my Dad's birthday - he would have been 67 today, but it also marks the day that the boys were first told about us. The social worker came to their foster home and passed over a DVD and book that Papa and I had created for the boys to look at. They had the weekend to watch and read about us until we met them on the Monday.

I thought this was a bit short at the time but was assured that if they left it longer then excitement would turn to anxiety. That is something we watch out for everyday, that turning point when excitement, be it holidays or Christmas or birthdays, can turn into anxiety.

However, our comedy boys are back on form this week....

Last night as I sat them down to a nutritious meal of fish fingers and chips with broccoli I was met with a moan from TJ - "I don't have as many chips as KC," he said, so, following a similar plan that my Mum used, I took one of TJ's chips, ate it and said, "Now see how many more chips than you KC has."

TJ immediately sulked and turned away. Whilst his head was turned I took another chip. He wasn't happy but then he went back to eating - ensuring I didn't take any more.

A little later I did one of my Dad's old tricks (I'm sure all Dad's do this) "Look over there."I said to TJ and as he turned I took a chip. 'Hey!" TJ shouted, "That's not fair."

By now all KC had left on his plate was his 'beloved' vegetables, "Can you do the same to me?" he asked, "I'll turn away and you can steal my broccoli!"

That is not going to happen.

Adoption is a continually evolving experience but is one I wouldn't change for anything - I only wish my Dad could have been here to share it...

Life Stories...

Well, after the debacle earlier this week both boys are now back at school and loving it.

Interstingly, this was the week that our younger son TJ, decided that he wanted to look at his life story book with me. KC won't even acknowledge it but TJ loves it.

The life story book is given to the children by their social worker once they have been adopted. We are lucky, ours is very comprehensive and its well written in a child friendly way - It also has quite a lot of photos from the birth family - photos that TJ loves to look at. He doesn't want to see the pictures of his birth mum or his birth dad - he just wants to look at pictures of himself as a baby.

But where normally thats all he wants to look at yesterday he decided he wanted to read on - to the bits where 'the bad things happened.'

The book is structured in such a way as it goes from TJ's current life with Daddy and Papa, back to his birth history, then through the 'bad things', onto his foster carer's and then back to his adoptive family and our future together.

We usually skip the 'bad things' simply because he wasn't able to understand it, nor did he want to acknowledge it. But yesterday was different.

He sat snuggled up to me as we read it slowly and carefully together, allowing him to stop and ask questions about what things meant.

The most interesting thing was not his reaction, which was inquisitive and curious as to why people wanted to hurt him and his brother but my own reaction. I had to stop reading as I was having trouble. I didn't want him to see my crying and getting upset - after all its not my story, but at the same time it was good for him to see that I was genuinely upset by what I was reading. It was all stuff I knew - but now I was sharing it with the person it had happened to. It was like reading one of those 'misery' books that dot the shelves of WHSmith but with the author sat next to you - the author as a child. The author who until recently believed that all Mum's and Dad's were mean to their children.

I was obviously emotional and TJ suddenly stopped and said to me, "Why are you crying, it didn't happen to you?"

I looked at him and said, "But I wish I had been there so I could have stopped the bad things from happening to you."

Tj looked back, shrugged and threw back up his defences, "They didn't happen to me," he said, "They happened to KC. Besides," he went on, "I look like a monkey so they didn't want me."

It's strange to think that not being abused is seen as a negative - TJ was so young when he was watching his brother being abused that in his eyes he was being ignored by his parents who weren't beating him - for a child any form of recognition is a form of attention and all children want from their parents is attention and time - the rest is just fluff.

So I promised him that he would always have my attention and my time - not out loud, of course, but internally. TJ then went on to look at his baby pictures and laugh at how ugly he was.

That just upset me even more - how can I help him rebuild his shattered self esteem. His godfather recently pointed out that TJ constantly refers to himself as 'rubbish' and only sees KC in a postive light... My guess is it stems back to these early experiences... where KC was getting all the 'attention.'

New Year - Old Dad!

Well, its seems ages since I last posted anything - I think Christmas took over. Then we had no power over the festive season so we took off to see Granny and used her power instead.

But today saw the boys going back to school - and they were keen to go.

The Sprog (who has decided he is too old to be called a Sprog and would prefer to be known as KC - how many more name changes?) was so excited that he went to bed early last night.

He has to get up pretty early in order to catch his school bus and sure enough he was up on time this morning. His brother (who still wants to remain as TJ) has to come with us in the car - although often he is in his pyjamas as he has to be dragged out of bed. But this morning, he too was up bright and early - we are lucky to be able to walk to TJ's school which saves a lot of hassle.

Anyway, we braved the wind and the rain and set off for the bus stop in the car. We arrived on time and waited in the local pub's car park - a strange place for a school pick up point, but there you go.

We waited for ten minutes but still no sign of the bus.

'Maybe we missed it," TJ offered.

"Maybe its late as everyone has so much stuff to carry," I replied looking at the piles of bags that KC had with him.

"Maybe the driver is sick." said KC (it will take a while to get used to that)

Luckily I had the driver's number in my phone. Unluckily my phone was on the kitchen table. Papa always moans that I never have my mobile on me - 'What's the point of having it if you only use it at home!" he cries...

We waited until nearly 8am when I decided that we had to get back to get TJ to school. So I turned around and came home. We would take KC to school after TJ was safely in - I would go in and explain to the teacher why KC was late and give the driver a piece of my mind.

I then decided to call the driver - I rang his number and it was picked up by an obviously bleary man. 'Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm in bed," he replied sleepily.

I was mortified. "I'm so sorry," I said, "Are you ill?"

'No," he replied, "But its the last day of my holiday so I'm having a lie in."

Right...  I didn't give my name as I put the phone down and looked at the school's newsletter.

There it was in black and white, KC doesn't go back to school until tomorrow.

TJ was now no longer happy about having to go to school... he moaned all the way there.

Still KC was happy and at least the Driver didn't know it was me, until KC remined me that he had a list of all the parents numbers and my number probably came up on his phone.

Oh well, I shall be apologising tomorrow and I'm sure we'll all laugh about it in years to come!

KC, seeing I was a bit upset by the events said, "Don't worry Daddy, you didn't make a mistake - we just had a rehearsal for tomorrow."

Now that's positive thinking!!!!!!!!