Sports Day

Its been a busy week. What with having our nephew to stay, helping out at school for a couple of days and then yesterday beeing Sports Day its been full on.

Mind you, its good to show Papa that being a stay at home, studying while trying to write a blog based book can be pretty frantic - I'm sure he thinks I sit at home all day watching daytime soaps and meeting friends for long lunches before collecting the boys from school for a fun trip to the sun kissed park chatting with the Mum's while the children frolic in the sand pit before returning for a leisurely tea in the nursery followed by a splash in the bath ready for Papa's arrival home so he can give them a quick kiss and tuck them in before sitting down to the lovely meal I am preparing for him. Then of course, I am happy in my relaxed and pleasure filled state, simnply grateful to be provided for and prepared to sit and listen to how hard his day at work has been, looking at spreadsheets, going to meetings in Madrid and sorting out his flight intinerary and business trips for the rest of the year - most of which seem to fall over the holiday periods... I am so blessed!

(The lack of punctuation is completely intentional as sometimes I don't have time to take a breath!)

Oh wait, that seems to be someone else's life. Mine consists of trying to keep TJ tidy - just long enough for him to get into school whilst ensuring he doesn't impale himself on yet anther 'stick' that he has found and wants to use as a javelin. Trying to squeeze my entire life into a five hour window whilst the little darlings are at school before they race home and in three minutes trash my tidy house, spill sticky juice over everything, fight with me over why they don't want to do their homework that evening before I run them to whatever club it is they are doing next. Then trying to ensure they have food that they like - which at the moment also doesn't seem to be enough as both kids could eat for their country - then have another do his dyselxia on line exercises whilst the younger one is in the bath - where I know he will succeed in soaking all four walls and using every towel that he can before reading to him the same story I have read for the past three months but of which he never seems to tire before getting the older one to bed in time for Papa to walk through the door. At this point Papa will moan about his long journey home and how he needs a shower before he can possibly read a bedtime story - and can't  I do it as he is tired. Then I will do it, then get TJ back into bed as by now he is on his third toilet trip in 30minutes and KC has just realised that he hasn't packed his 'show and tell' for the next day. Finally,  Papa will come down and give each child a quick kiss before telling them to go to sleep and coming down to ask what's for dinner... he has learned not to complain if its something he doesn't like and he no longer raises an eyebrow if I have a cheeky g and t. Although he nearly wore his dinner last night when as we sat down he said, "So have you written much today?"

That's my version of events....

Yesterday was Sports Day. This year I had to attend both the KS1 sports day, as TJ is now in Year 2 and the KS2 sports day, for the older children which includes KC. Parents were also invited to share a picnic lunch between the sporting events. So it was all shaped up to be a lovely stress free day.

Except, Papa had to work -  so, yet again, he missed out on their day. I do think thats a shame as both children are very sporty and it is nice for them to show something that they can do well - rather than be constantly reminded that they are not that academically gifted.

But not to worry - I would be there - although that didn't seem to really excite them - although TJ was looking forward to the picnic side of things.

Unfortunately, yesterday was also to be the highest pollen count of the year so far and within two minutes of stepping outside the door I could barely see through my streaming eyes, couldn't stop sneezing and was generally not much fun to have around.

Then I went to sit in a field...

TJ's day consists of lots of 'team' activities - a sports carousel where every child gets a chance to do something - there are no losers at our school. Which kind of makes cheering parents redundant - as the parents soon found out and ended up chatting amongst ourselves whilst the little darlings ran backwards and forwards sharing bean bags and filling little jugs with water.

Then came the competitive bit - the running races! The parents soon got involved in that - some more so than others...

TJ set off like the clappers - his legs going like little pistons. Now TJ has Noonan's syndrome which means he is much smaller than the rest of his peers but despite that he loves football and running and he is determined to be an Arsenal player so it is very important that he wins - at everything. At the last minute as he raced down the 100m track another boy passed him and TJ came in a worthy second. Which is amazing. Everyone chhered. Everyone except TJ, who took his baseball cap off and threw it at the teacher, he then stormed off in a hissy fit that would have had the best drama queens in awe - beleive me I have thrown a few in my time. I stormed out of a dance class whilst at college complete with hair flick and door slam and it wasn't until I was standing outside in the college car park in the middle of winter that I realised that at some point I would have to go back into the dance studio and collect my clothes, my choices were simple, to stand and freeze until class had finished then sneak back in and collect my stuff or to storm back in, grab my things and storm back out again. I decided on the latter, only this time my second storming out was met with huge laughter from my fellow classmates. So maybe TJ does take after me.

Anyway TJ's sulk went on for a good ten minutes - he stormed off the field, he stood in a bush shouting, he threw his hat back at the teacher when she tried to pass it back to him. He was on form. It was as I was hiding my head in the programme that I noticed that there would be extra points awarded for 'good sportsmanship' - I figured that they wouldn't take points away so TJ should be ok.

By now, my hayfever was unbearable. So I popped home to get some more hayfever medication and also to check that The Little Prince (our nephew) had finally arisen and gone up to London to meet his friends - if he hadn't at least I could get him up and get him to the station. I got back took extra medication and sat down for a few minutes. I think I must have dozed off as I missed the picnic lunch but later learned that Lea sat with her friend's mum whilst TJ ran around the field. I had sent the children in with their own packed lunch so I hadn't left them unfed (in case anyone was wondering).

I then pulled myself back up and returned to the school field for the second round of hayfever hell - known as sports day part 2!

Lea was already overly excited. As I walked onto the field she was busy running up and down the length of the field waving his arms madly - apparently this was part of her 'warm up' routine. I didn't question it as I was too busy sneezing. Her teacher came over and handed me a packet of tissues. That's how bad I was!

Again we were treated to a sports carousel - this time with added features such as bouncing a ball on a net and rolling a ball through a tube whilst running to the other end to catch it, well at least you were racing something, even if it was only a ball.

Then came their running races and Lea set off like a rat out of a trap. She was gone, easily in the lead, powering ahead as the crowd cheered him on. It was at this point that she stopped, seemingly to see where this cheering noise was coming from, although she later denied it, and two other girls raced past her, leaving her in third place. But she was happy. Lea is not really competitive - she was just pleased to be placed and to get a sticker.

We came home and TJ was happy again. Mainly because he placed second whilst his sister only placed third. This then resulted in an argument as to who had the tougher opponents and all was back to normal in the house again....

Climbing Walls...

Well, its actually been quite an uneventful week.

Both kids have settled back into the school routine and this week we have our nephew - their cousin - staying with us having a post exam break before his graduation next weekend up in Cambridge. He has offered to take the boys punting... I don't think he has any idea what could happen... nor have I!

TJ has returned back to his normal cumodgeonly self - he has agreed that he will go back to school - but he is not going to learn anything. So I was nicely surprised when he came home yesterday telling me all about the 'healthy' food he has been learning about - its healthy to eat fruit and vegtables (he named most of them) and chicken - but not KFC (which disappointed Papa who loves the stuff) - lots of water and chocolate... and cake... and sweets. I was a bit shocked by these last three until I overheard him chatting with Lea - their plan was that if they told us these things were healthy then we might let them have it more often. I'm not sure which of them was the architect of this fiendish plan to fool the parents but it did make me smile and hats off to them for their ingenuity. I shall be giving them double brussels sprouts this weekend!

The school are organising a sponsored climbing wall today - we were asked to sign the consent forms and send in the sponsor money 'before' they actually did the climb. I dug my heels in and refused to send in the cash unless I had evidence that these two actually went up the wall. (Despite being professionals at driving me up it!)

Lea has already said she won't be doing it - she didn't even want me to sign the consent forms. She is terrified of heights. Something I have noticed recently is that Lea is becoming more and more fearful of things - I don't know if its just a stage or if it points to a further drop in self esteem. Of course, she could just be scared of heights!

TJ also refused to climb the wall - I told him it would be fun and we should all try new things - besides, I added, it was to help raise money for the school. "But I don't like school," was his considered reply, "so why should I raise money for it?"I really couldn't argue with that.

Then this morning he decided that he would be climbing after all - I sent in the forms but wrote on them that I will not be parting with any money until I know they have both at least tried to climb the wall!

Papa has gone to Madrid for a business type conference thingy and the cousin is off to a friends birthday party tomorrow - so it will just be me and the kids this weekend. Although TJ was quite disappointed that I hadn't gone to Spain with Papa and left them in the capable hands of their cousin. Apparently, he is a lot more fun than me and, I quote, "He would have to let them do what they wanted!"- Needless to say as much as I shared my youngest child's sentiment that I would love to be in sunny Spain with Papa sipping sangria while he attends a dull meeting, I simply couldn't be quite so mean to their poor cousin - it might scar him for life!!!!!

Father's Day

Well, I couldn't let the day pass without letting you know what happened could I?

I don't know when Father's Day became such a big deal. I had always considered it to be one of those 'Hallmark' holidays - you know, made up to sell cards. Here in the UK Mother's Day is a religious holiday, which is why its on a different day to the rest of the world, so I guess it has some justification but Father's Day always had that feel of being the sort of holiday made up so Dad's didn't feel left out. That was how I always considered it anyway, until I became a Dad of course.

Naturally that brings with it loads of guilt. We never remembered Fathers Day as kids - it just wasn't really celebrated - you rarely saw Father's Day cards and school definately didn't do anything for it. So my Dad was used to us forgetting and now when I recall his shrug of the shoulders and him saying, "Dont' worry," when we remembered we had forgotten - I do feel a certain pang of regret.

We lost my Dad when he was very young - only 53, to a particularly virulent and unlucky cancer, unlucky in that you didn't notice it was there until it was too late to be treated and I think since his death over 10 years ago I have subconsciously avoided Fathers Day - it wasn't a day that really involved me.

Last year, whilst we celebrated Father's Day with the children - they gave us presents from school etc - but at that stage the adoption had been legalised and so there was always a chance - no matter how small, that the adoption may not happen. So possibly we held back slightly as well.

This year we didn't....

This year the kids are adopted - they are ours and we are their Dad's - whether they like it or not (hopefully they like it most of the time - althought I'm sure there are times when they want to be somewhere else - but thats normal and its a feeling I sometimes share!)

So this year I got breakfast in bed - we did debate as to whether we should both stay in bed (as Lea requested) and let her loose in the kitchen - but the thought of clearing up after an 11 year old has done her culinary best did not fill me with confidence. So it was duly decided that I would let Papa stay in bed on Saturday and on Sunday it would be my turn.

Papa got the kids up and they went downstairs to prepare breakfast. I couldn't sleep listening to the clattering of pots and pans as it seemed the entire kitchen was emptied out onto the floor. So I turned on the TV. Five minutes in and the children turned up in my room. Papa had sent them upstairs as they were interfering with his breakfast masterpiece... So they sat with me. My Sunday breakfast show was turned over and the children sat and watched Kung Fu Dinosaurs (it does exactly what it says on the tin - its dinosaurs that do Kung Fu) Obviously a cartoon created by a committee of toy executives... but they love it.

A few minutes later and we were joined in bed by the dog and the cat, I felt like a cross between Snow White and Mary Poppins (although she would never have allowed the tv on)... I got up and went downstairs.

Papa and I sat down and had a really peaceful Father's day breakfast whilst the kids and the pets sat contentedly upstairs... I heard the next cartoon show come on. 'Pokemon' - brilliant that gave us another 22minutes to sit, have a coffee and read the paper.

I know too much TV is bad and we don't encourage it - but this was heavenly!!!!!!!

Afterwards we headed into town for Father's Day dim sum in Chinatown - a restaurant we go to so often we don't need to book a table, followed by Taiwanese desserts around the corner - which are full of sugar and colourings and are a real 'one off'. Finally we walked down to Hamleys to treat the kids to a toy each - after all, without them we wouldn't be fathers at all - and that's the real joy of this 'hallmark' holiday....

Bad jokes... Where do they get it from?

This is the very question I am sitting here asking myself.

I think I am probably to blame as Papa isn't known for his sense of humour.... Although I think he would have found this morning funny.

So I thought I would share it with you before I get to work on Part 3 of our Road Trip trilogy....

This weekend we had to pop over to Bluewater, "Europe's largest shopping destination", and we lost TJ... I panicked and we ran around the shop for a couple of minutes, only pausing to test a few fragrances, that's how serious it was... We found him standing and chatting... To an electric fan! "What are you doing?" I admonished him, "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, "But I was here, chatting to my fan!" He then erupted into laughter and spent much of the rest of the day muttering to himself about his 'fans' and erupting into spontaneous laughter... At least he was having a good time and can entertain himself.

This morning whilst getting ready for school both kids noticed the dog was limping, we think she might have pulled something and is off to the vet later, anyway, there was a huge commotion and I turned around to see the children hobbling around the kitchen... "What on earth are you doing?" I asked... Same twinkle in TJ's eye... "We're having a limping race with the dog.... We holding our own 'limp'ics!! Then both kids fell about laughing!

Finally, as we left for school, the kids were getting their stuff together when TJ said "Daddy, what do call a bird with asthma?' (This is a joke I told him yesterday whilst administering his asthma pump as TJ suffers quite badly so I try to keep it light)..."erm, I don't know," I replied, "What do you call a bird with asthma?" "A penguin!" He said and then rolled around the floor laughing as the Sprog and I looked on...

"Erm, the answer is actually Puffin," I tried to break the news gently, after all I'm sure even the best comedians have fluffed their lines....

He stopped laughing and looked at me with a deadpan stare. 

"Actually," he said, "I don't know what a puffin is and I think penguins are funnier. And anyway, your jokes aren't very funny but mine are...." He then went back to putting his shoes on...

He obviously takes after Papa....

Road Trip 2 - Dinner, Cameras and the Innocence of Youth!

... so we headed off to the boys' Godparents a little before lunch. My heart was heavy as I knew this as going to be a long, long trip...

As we took to the country lanes that link Kent with East Sussex the nephew suddenly announced that he suffered from motion sickness... "Don't you dare be sick in my car." I jokingly said, thinking he was being 'humorous' in that way only teenagers can be.
"I'm serious," he replied, "I really get car sick."
'Then don't you dare be sick in my car!" I shouted, "Seriously, that smell is one that can never be gotten rid of. If you are going to be sick, let me know and I'll pull over."
We spent much of the rest of the trip to East Sussex with the nephew looking slightly green whilst TJ gazed at him in awe desperate to watch a grown up throw up.

Well there was actually very little traffic and after an hour and a half we pulled up the drive to the Godparents, one furry and one fairy as we like to call them, (I'll let them decide which one is which). Everyone had a good stretch as I unloaded the boys' plethora of belongings, sleeping bags, cases, teddy bears, blankets - it looked as though they were staying for a week, not an overnight sleep over - but I was to learn later that they ran out of clothes anyway! We had a cup of tea and a chat and after much hugging, kissing and 'be good's later we got back into a much roomier car and headed back up the A22 towards the dreaded M25.

The journey to the motorway was actually uneventful but we hit the M25 at 3pm and stayed there until 5pm... "Can you imagine how bad it would be if we hit it at rush hour," I said. "You mean this isn't rush hour?" the nephew asked. Inwardly I smiled knowingly, after all I did try to warn them and now we were going to join the queue of traffic heading down the M4 towards the nicer side of London.

But I was proved wrong and it actually wasn't that bad. We ended up arriving at the hotel just before 6pm (after a detour as some woman in a 4x4 cut me up on the roundabout and I ended up going the wrong way). So we had an hour to freshen up and then head over to the Fat Duck.

we were just going up to our room when the nephew suddenly said, "We'll leave a bit early so you can park." I looked at him with a cold hard stare that would have impressed Paddington Bear. "We are getting a cab," I said, "There is no way I am driving again tonight and besides I'm going to have a drink."Yet another fun part of the trip was that of the four of us in the car I was the only one who partook of alcohol and the only one who could drive my car - which is ridiculous. Whenever Papa and I go out and driving is involved we both end up drinking fizzy water - much to everyone's amusement. The amount of times people say "You mean Papa doesn't drink and doesn't drive - you certainly got that the wrong way round!" My, how we laugh!!!!  Again, Papa's reasoning is that if he learned to drive he would essentially be a taxi everywhere for me and my drunken friends - I guess he does have a point...

So we arrived at the Fat Duck, an unassuming little restaurant in the picturesque village of Bray - it really is lovely, just like the villages you see on Poirot or Miss Marple - straight out of the 1950's.

We went in and nephew asked about his reservation. They couldn't find it... I saw the look on his face and immediately wished I had brought my camera.... Then suddenly they found his name on the list and all was good. If they hadn't have found it he would have been walking home... to Singapore!

Which brings me on my next topic. Taking pictures of food! I may be old fashioned but I really don't understand the need to photograph everything that sits on a plate in front of you, however,  I can forgive the occassional snap with a sneaky little mobile phone - although being ridiculously old fashioned I put my phone in my jacket and gave it to the waiter. Again, I don't really understand why you need your phone when you are having an evening out with friends and family - unless of course you are a brain surgeon or dreadfully important - which none of us are, but who am I to judge?

However, nephew took it one step further and pulled out the biggest camera I have ever seen, complete with zoom lens and popped it onto the table next to him. The inner snob in me shuddered and Papa looked at me furiously as I had told him on no account was he allowed to do anything as uncouth as take his camera to dinner. I noticed the other tables looking over (I think some of the more famous clientele were worried nephew might have been a member of the paparazzi - in which case he was pretty bad at it as he wasn't hiding anything!) The waiter winked at me and I knew that either they were quite used to this or I had pulled... I think it was the former.

So the first courses arrived and as I'm sure you already know most of  the menu due to the amount of times it's been on TV - If you havent just check out my nephew's facebook page - its all there in glorious digital technicolour!. I won't go through it all but I can tell you that despite my initial misgivings about it only being the sort of place people went to 'be seen', it was actually an amazing experience - and there was an impeccable sense of theatre, each course accompanied with a presentation on how to eat it, how it was made, the inspiration behind it - it was a brilliant evening. Of course, we had to stop every time the plates were put down in order for my three Singaporean companions to take photos of their plates and then each others plates - to be honest the only thing they didn't take a picture of was me!!!!  But everyone was having a good time and that was the main thing.

After about the third course though I noticed a change in the atmosphere - instead of being a bit snooty - as everyone was when we came in (apart from the staff - oddly enough), nephew had set a trend - suddenly people were taking pictures of their food quite openly - the lady behind us who had snuck a couple of shots on her i-phone was now standing up and taking distance shots of her and her footballer husband (don't ask me who he was, I just know a footballer when I see one and more importantly a footballer's wife) and the staff got involved too, encouraging Papa to put the seashell from the seaside fishy dish to his ear while everyone took photos. Then the waiters posed for a shot - suddenly it felt like we were in TGI Fridays as opposed to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the country. And it was great fun!

The innocent camera work of a young man had loosened this place up and everyone was having a great time. 'Well done' nephew -and a big pantomime 'boo' to snooty old uncle!

One thing that did impress me though was the level of service and for me great service comes from making all of your guests comfortable - and they certainly did that. They even laid my cutlery out left handed between each course without making a fuss. My mother would have been horrified - she never let me eat left handed at home as 'I wouldn't be able to eat like that in public' so I learned to eat right handed, apart from spoons which I just switch over - but here, here they practically encouraged me to eat left handed - I felt very naughty!

Four hours (and one massive bill - thank you sis) later we got back in the cab after a fantastic evening and headed back to our lovely hotel for a night cap before bed and the drive back the next day.....

It was then that I thought about the kids... were they ok? Had they been good?.. Oh well, we will soon find out! But until then I was going to enjoy the rest of the child free evening with a brandy... or two!

Road Trip 1

As promised here is the delayed post about our lovely road trip last week. Its the first of three parts.. the Road Trip Trilogy!

To recap we had Papa's sister and nephew staying with us (The Singaporean Queen (SQ) and her little Prince) and it was lovely getting to know them both so much better.

Prior to their visit and after the nephew's 'misdemeanours' at his fancy public school - which left him suspended for a week and us with an unexpected house guest (as his UK guardians), SQ had made a reservation at Heston Bloomingheck's restaurant The Fat Duck over in Bray. Very nice - we obviously accepted straight away - or at least Papa did. When he came home and told me I was very excited and then a sudden thought struck me - I quickly pulled out the AA Routefinder and found out where Bray is... Berk 'bloody' shire.

Now I have nothing against the inhabitants of Berkshire, or indeed Bray - I'm pretty sure I have a cousin or two over there... but thats the point. Berkshire is 'over there'... way, over there! I looked up form the laptop and told Papa we couldn't go.

He was incandescant with rage. 'What do you mean we can't go?" he yelled, "Do you know how hard my sister worked to get this reservation (we later discovered it was the nephew who had worked hard), Do you know how disappointed she will be if we say we are not going? She has gone to a lot of trouble! Make it work!" Papa is a huge Trekkie and often quotes Patrick Stewart... or whichever of the captain's it is..... (I put that in just to annoy him...)

"But what about the kids?" I asked, "They can't go, what will we do with them?"
"You can get the babysitter in."
"The meal takes over 4 hours, the table is booked at 7. That means we won't finish until 11pm at the earliest, Its a four hour drive there and a four hour drive back - we will be getting home at around 3am - I don't think the babysitter (we use our mad Turkish cleaner with a penchant for European house music) will be willing to stay for that long."
"Call your Mother, then."
"Ok, but she has to come down from Cheshire and we can't put her up."
"Why not?"
"Because your sister and nephew are staying."

Yes, the conversation was really that nonsensical.

Papa was about to go into his "I don't know why we ever had kids" routine (I get that a lot when he can't do what he wants) when I had a brainwave. "I'll ask the children's' Godparents if they can have them for the night," I said.

'You do that, " he replied, "Because I am not telling my sister to cancel this trip, she's gone to a lot of trouble and she will be very offended." It's wierd, as the eldest sibling I'm not usually scared of my younger brothers and sisters (although my brother has had a few moments) but there is quite a large age gap between Papa and his older sister - so I saw a side of him I hadn't before - he was actually scared of her.

So phone calls were made and it was arranged that on the way to Bray we would take an hour long detour down to East Sussex and drop the boys off before heading back up to the joy that is the M25.

Papa then went ahead and made reservations for us to stay the night at The Compleat Angler in lovely Marlow - as we were going to spend all day driving it was only fitting that we should get to sleep over as well - and I was making sure that he paid for that! (Did I mention that Papa doesn't drive - apparently some people are born to drive and others to be driven - he falls into the latter catagory)

So the big day came and the nephew was very excited about his culinary trip (he's a big fan of Heston's) and after I had explained the journey he suddenly said, "Oh I also had a reservation for the Mandarin Oriental (another of Heston's restaurants) for the same night, but I gave it away when you said we could do the Fat Duck."

I stared at him with a stunned look.... the Mandarin Oriental would have been infinately easier - a trip on the high speed train into town, a lovely meal and home again before midnight. Why, dear nephew, had you not mentioned this before?

I glanced at Papa, who simply shrugged his shoulders. As he later pointed out when you come from a country as small as Singapore, where you can drive from one side of the island to the other in roughly half an hour, the concept of 5 hours in a small compact car really doesn't compute. Let alone the amount of traffic we were going to meet on the motorway.

With that in mind, I wanted to leave as early as possible to get ahead of the traffic on the 'Road to Hell', as Chris 'whatshisface' called it, but Papa and his Sis were adamant that we couldn't check into the hotel before 3, so to leave before 10 was foolish... It's funny how someone who doesn't drive knows how long it will take to get around London so much better than someone who used to have to commute to Ealing once a week to teach in a Catholic School. But I was talked out of leaving early and we eventually left at 11.30 with an overloaded car, packed with four adults, two children and enough luggage to fill a truck. "Why is the car so full?" the nephew asked innocently, he had obviously never travelled with children before - they take a lot. It's strange that the younger the child the more luggage they need - newborns practically fill the car!

We were just about to leave when I spotted the dog... The dog!!!!!!! I had forgotten to book her into the kennels!!!!!! The bloody dog! I gave the kennel a call - they were booked out as it was half term but because they love our dog (who doesn't?) they agreed to take her into their home for the night. I rushed off to the kennel with her...

So we loaded everyone into the car... again... and set off on the first leg of our long journey to Bray...

Singaporean Royalty....

Firstly apologies for the absence this week. It's been a bit frantic, we had my sister-in-law and nephew staying with us for much of the week, an occurrence that even Papa took a week off work for, so it was a momentous occasion in more ways than one.

Papa and his sister haven't spent a night together under the same roof since she got married. There was no falling out or anything like that, it's just the way the world works sometimes. So after nearly 20years the siblings were finally to be in the same place for a considerable length of time. This involved preparations that took on a life of their own. The way Papa was carrying on you would have thought that the Windsors were popping over for a few days. Rooms were decorated, new bedding that matched the decor was purchased, cleaning was to be immaculate, even our lovely Turkish cleaner commented on how tidy the place looked, and that was three days before the big arrival.

I jokingly posted on Facebook that the house was now ready for the arrival of the Singaporean Queen. I don't think Papa took it too well, I'm not sure if he was worried that his sister would be offended or if he likes to be known as the Singaporean Queen in our house, so I left it at that. Although the nephew later took great delight in pointing it out to his Mum and even asked where the red carpet was... 

Anyway, our nephew arrived on the Saturday and his mother on the Monday, which was a Bank Holiday here in the UK. Most surprisingly she took the train down from London. Papa was convinced that she would take a chauffeur driven car from her swanky London hotel, so we headed off to Sainsbury's to get some last minute groceries and have the car washed (God forbid we should have a dirty car) when we suddenly got the call that she was at the railway station. We dropped the groceries and raced off, only to have to wait ten minutes as the little Eastern European chap hadn't finished polishing the car. But once that was done we jumped in and headed to the station and sure enough, there she was.... carrying her own luggage! I now knew that Papa had maybe exaggerated the demands of his sister and we might not have had to polish the saucepans and I might not have had to have been quite so nervous about the whole thing....

But, it turned out we needn't have worried. Papa's sister was lovely. They had a lovely time catching up and it was good for the children and I to get to know the other Singaporean Queen (or SQ as I shall now refer to her as Singaporean Queen is a lot to type) as normally we would only see them during the hectic frenzy that is Chinese New Year and its very difficult to get to know people properly when they are in the midst of entertaining their entire family themselves. Of course, our nephew (I guess he is the Singaporean Prince) had already spent some time with us earlier this year after his little misdemeanour at school, so the children were excited to see him again.

So much of this week has been spent getting to know Papa's side of the family better and on Wednesday we all headed off on a family road trip... of a regal nature of course.... 

But that's another blog entry!

Neighbours, Everybody Needs Good Neighbours....

Another song to start today's blog entry.... Maybe that should be my theme for the next year's series of entries, I've been looking for something...

Of course, I could also have used 'History Repeating' by the great Dame that is Shirley Bassey but that might have been too obvious, or not obvious enough.... 

As you know, we moved house in September of last year, out of our beautiful Georgian townhouse (beautiful but not very kid friendly... Apart from the ghosts who were far too kid friendly... Oooo, there's another story there, remind me to tell you later)  into a far more family friendly property which overlooks a river, is near to the park and the school but which has a comparatively small garden, hence football is banned and all budding young soccer players have to make the two minute walk to the park... Of course most children don't want to walk anywhere no matter how close so balls have already gone awry after being kicked in the garden.

What is strange though is that our new neighbours are carbon copies of our old ones. To our left we have an elderly couple who live for their garden, exactly the same as our previous neighbours and, like the previous couple, they are lovely and indulge the children. On the other side we have a younger couple with no kids who are barely at home, I assume they both work late, and consequently their garden is left to its own devices. I think we are somewhere in the middle of the two, literally. I don't mind gardening but it doesn't rule my life.

Yesterday it was a lovely sunny day and the children were in the garden while Papa and their cousin who is staying with us, fired up the barbecue. Since we have had the slightest hint if summer the barbecue has been in constant use, Papa even suggested using it to bake a cake, I don't think that will taste too good but Papa wants to find out if charcoal is cheaper than electricity... 

As in our previous home TJ's version of weeding was to pull any offending weeds up and throw them over the fence, onto the elderly side not the young side who probably wouldn't even notice. I told him off and the two children and I sat down to make paper aeroplanes. Great fun. I was called upstairs and went to see what Papa needed. In the time it took me to get up the stairs and onto the balcony all of the paper aeroplanes had been lost and were to be seen poking out of next doors miniature trees and shrubs where my two had been lobbing them over the fence. Another telling off, then we went out for a walk to get rid of some energy and also to prevent TJ from putting his head into the barbecue to see 'if there was fire yet!'

On our return the kids rushed in from the garden to show me the most amazing aeroplane made out of paper, it really was a work of origami. "Wow," I said, "The neighbours must be back in and you have to say sorry and thank you now." "Why do I have to say thank you?" Asked TJ. "For the paper plane," I told him. He looked at me disparagingly and said, "But the plane came from the tooth fairy, I know because I saw him!" (Our tooth fairy is called Frank and TJ is expecting him any day now, hence we have had many 'sightings').... So I duly went over to thank the neighbours who were very nice about everything and asked if the children liked the plane they had made for them.

We had our barbecue and the young couple from next door had theirs. They  had friends over and were all sitting and chatting on their balcony, not offensive at all... Well, not to us.... TJ on the other hand finished his food and then said, very loudly, "Well, I would have enjoyed that if the people next door weren't quite so noisy!" Cue a sudden silence from everyone next door and much  hushing and 'TJ, you can't say that." from me....

Our neighbours went in soon after that and haven't spoken to us since.... They shall probably start throwing their weeds into our garden next....

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

I'm loving the song analogies this week... a bit... ok, it's a pretty poor link...

Last night the boys asked if we could go and live in Singapore. KC wants to see his Godfather - whom he adores, cousin Marcus is coming to stay tomorrow, whom both boys adore, and TJ wants to join the Arsenal soccer school, of which there are three in Singapore.

This of course led onto the question of why we left Singapore in the first place.

Obviously, we explained that is we hadn't have left then we wouldn't have been able to adopt the two of them and they would never have met us, but that didn't seem enough - so we went on to chat about how they were only babies when Papa and I returned to the UK and how we wanted to come back and Papa had been offered a great job and I had decided I wanted to try something new.

"You were an actor" KC said, "But you only ever wanted to be an actor." KC currently wants to be an actor - or a vet, or join the army, maybe all three. "Ah yes," I said knowingly, "But an actors life is short lived and anyway, I wanted to come back for a while". Obviously the full story was a bit more complex and we did question whether coming back would be a good idea - although at that time becoming a family wasn't particularly high on our agenda..

We eventually decided that it would be silly not to come back. My career was in the wane in Singapore, the last press articles had referred to me as being the worst thing at British Fashion Week, where I was only the host. Apparently, according to the fashion press, my clothes were so tight that you could see every roll of fat and it was just horrific – in my defense, I had turned up in a suit and the designers wanted me to wear their own stuff, fine if you are a tiny Asian chap, which I am not. I don’t believe I’m fat by any means but a white guy wearing the equivalent of European kids clothes is not going to look good. 

However, being the consummate professional (and because they said they wouldn’t pay me if I didn’t do it) I went on stage and introduced the beautiful models wearing the stunning clothes using my best Judith Chalmers type accent but wearing a tiny outfit and looking not unlike ‘Daffyd, the only gay in the village’ from ‘Little Britain’. I knew how bad I looked and had tried to hide behind the lectern, but that was just a piece of transparent plastic which probably acted as a magnifying glass.

Worse still the day after I had to attend a luncheon with the British High Commission to look at the hosting schedule for the IMF meeting that was to happen later that year. When I walked into the restaurant everyone hurriedly put away the newspapers and started talking nervously about other things. “It’s ok,” I said, “I’ve seen the article” (it was hard not to as it was a full front page colour shot of me in the offending outfit with large red arrows pointing to my rolls of fat, or ‘fats’ as they were referred to, under the headline of ‘The Lowlight of Fashion Week” I was standing next to the 'Highlight', some skinny bitch from the Ukraine I think – she wasn’t even British!) There was a sigh of relief around the table, “Thanks goodness,” the High Commissioner said, “We were worried how we could broach it.” “Don’t worry,” I replied, “ I’ll wear a suit for Gordon Brown” and everyone laughed – inside though I died a little.

So leaving Singapore wasn’t that tough a decision to make.

Going back would be just as tough.... but at least TJ could take his Arsenal kit....

The Arsenal Cavalier

"I've got fleas - they're multiplying and I'm losing control...."

So sang Lea this morning whilst getting ready for school - I didn't want to correct her as she was showing me the dance she had made up to go along with her favourite song from the musical Grease. It consisted of her scratching under his arms and jumping around like a monkey. I thought it was fairly creative so let her get on with it (such a tomboy!). TJ was suitably impressed giving Lea an 8 out of 10 - believe me, anything above a 5 is good from that little critic! (I did get a 10 for fish fingers once - but that's another story!)

We are coming now to the half term break and both boys are getting excited. Today it is dress up day for TJ and, for once, I remembered. But I couldn't recall what the theme was, I knew it had something to do with their recent trip to Dover castle - TJ's favourite part of the trip was running up the stairs from the dungeons to the top - "What about the rest of the castle?" I asked him. "I don't remember that," he replied, "But I was a really fast runner up the stairs."So much for an educational day out - they could have just as easily taken him to a local high rise and asked him to run to the top and back again - he would have remembered just as much. Although, to be fair, I did get a picture of him from school today sitting on a throne dressed as a King, so he must have stopped running at some point.

Anyway, back to dressing up day. "Do you remember what the teacher said?" I asked TJ. As anyone with small children knows asking them to remember anything is like pulling teeth. "I think I can wear my Arsenal kit," came the reply. "really?" I asked, "Its a sports dress up day is it?"TJ thought just a few seconds too long before saying, "Yes, yes, it's a sports dress up day." Warning signals had gone off. A, he had paused to think and B, there was a mention of Arsenal. TJ has had his Arsenal and football privileges suspended for urinating over another child... when I say urinating he didn't just wee on the other boy's shoe or leg, no, my son sprayed the child from head to foot completely drenching him... the reason? TJ told the other child he wanted to wee on the floor and the other child said he would 'tell on' TJ if he did that - so TJ wee'd on him instead. Great. I was back in school and spent about 20 minutes apologising to the teachers, the boy and his Mum whilst glaring at TJ.

Needless to say this week TJ has been on a tight leash - literally! He has to earn back his football club and kit - and it does seem to have done the trick. Normal rewards and consequences (stickers or the naughty step) just don't work with TJ, so in a way I am secretly pleased that we have finally found something that he really cares about.

So the Arsenal kit was not an option. I quickly gave school a call, yes it was dress up day and the theme was 'Castles!' That made sense and we had bought TJ a Cavalier suit a little while ago. "Its too small." He cried as we tried it on, "And the hat's too big. Can't I wear my Arsenal kit.""They didn't have football kits in the old days, I said, "They wore stuff like this." "But I hate it!" he cried again. "This is supposed to be fun!!!" I yelled at him, "Now get dressed and have fun!"

"Can I take my sword then?" he asked once we had calmed down, "No, school said no swords." I replied. "How can I have fun without a sword!" he yelled at me... this was not going to be an easy morning.

Eventually, we all toddled off to school, TJ clutching his dressing up clothes for after lunch and Lea led the way practising her song to show her teacher. I hope the teacher likes the song and I pray that TJ keeps his clothes on....

Beyond IDAHO

.. Firstly I can't believe how successful that last blog post was - I can only thank people for their support in sharing it and for taking the time to write back. There were some truly lovely messages - especially via the facebook page. (I know it can be difficult commenting on here - hence the facebook link).

I think what has surprised me most about the success of our story is simply because that is all it is, our story. I don't want to change the world just let people know that being a multi cultural gay family can really work. We have the same ups and downs as anybody else, although sometimes with more dramatic results I guess and some of our 'issues' have to be handled differently but we just get on with life.

This was always intended to be a light hearted take on our lives and I hope I have kept it that way (excusing the occasional rant - but that's parenting!). I just hope I have kept it honest...

This weekend was an interesting one, our youngest son TJ has had to grounded again. his time for misdemeanors in school. Not only is our youngest now telling the teachers what he wants to do and refusing to do anything that he doesn't want to but he has also taken his anger out on other children in his class - I won't go into details but he is pretty lucky not to have been suspended... I have done my utmost to remain calm when school called me in for the third time on Friday... I take my hats off to his teachers for their ongoing patience. The upshot was that TJ didn't get to go to the movies with Papa on Saturday (their weekly Papa/son time) he got to stay at home with me and together we made 'I'm sorry' cupcakes for his teachers at school. To be honest, I think he had quite a good time - he got to crack the eggs and measure the ingredients and, most importantly, whilst we were baking we had time to chat. To talk about how he was angry all the time but he didn't know why. He wasn't angry with me or Papa - just everybody else... and especially school because they told him what to do... and especially the Sprog... which took me by surprise... Their bond is usually the strongest, but this is a week that has seen TJ in constant trouble and Sprog doing really well in school.

I suppose much of his anger towards those who tell him what to do must stem back to his time in care, the fact that he had no control over where he went or where he lived. As he settles he is now hitting back at the system,  of course, he doesn't know he is doing this, but he is trying, I think,to show that he can have some control over his own life. Unfortunately, that doesn't play out too well in a school setting.

Someone did talk to me about home schooling. Apparently a lot of adopted children benefit greatly from the removal of the constraints of school. I can see that argument, especially at the moment, but I also fear that he would then miss out on the social side of school and also, in my opinion, he has to come to terms with the idea of rules...

My only other reason for removing him from school would be discrimination... He is a child with attachment issues, additional needs, living in a 'modern' family... But I think that is a long way off....

Now back to answering emails from the Facebook page... I hope to see you there!

IDAHO and School...

TJ has been coming home from school this week concerned that other children were telling him that being gay is a bad thing. He is fairly open about most things and was quite happy to tell me that other boys had said that there was a 'gay' toilet in school and that TJ must be gay because he used it (I've no idea where this toilet is - but school can be a funny place), he then went on to say that people use the term gay in a derogatory sense in school (obviously he didn't use those exact words) but he did tell me that certain friends say that things are 'gay' when they mean they are rubbish...'That's so gay... etc'. Obviously, this is quite a common use of the word in today's youth speak but for TJ, at this current time in his life, it has different connotations. As he is coming to terms with acknowledging that his Dad's are gay and that there are gay people in his world to suddenly hear negative views must be very confusing for him.

I remember a couple of years ago I was asked to speak to our local council about bullying in primary schools - they were obsessed with cyber bullying and how to tackle that. When I brought up homophobic bullying in schools I was simply told, "That doesn't really happen in primary schools - its just a bit of banter at that age." and the conversation was moved on...

Well, as more and more gay parents send their children to state schools then schools have to recognise that the 'harmless banter' is incredibly hurtful and confusing to many of our children, especially as they become more aware of differences in family life.

TJ has been telling his friends that the reason he doesn't have a mum is because she is in prison for doing a variety of horrid things, one of which is smoking. I know this because his little friends told me and at that age they are obsessed with families that are different - be it a same sex family or a single parent family. At this stage my main concern for TJ is that he has gone from being confident about his family to lying about his background - this may also explain some of his recent 'acting out' in school.

The Sprog is getting more aware - someone said to me that children shouldn't be learning about this type of thing at such an early age, but on the flip side it is also said that if a child is old enough to ask then they are old enough to be told the truth - all be it in a child friendly way. So it was back to the book 'Let's Talk About Where Babies Come From' which covers a great range of families and how they are created. (In the USA its called 'It's Amazing') an excellent book that he can understand and which I think TJ can be introduced to now.

Interestingly today is IDAHO (International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia) and this morning I used the opportunity to broach the subject of homophobia with the children - how it was not ok to discriminate against anyone. The Sprog said, 'You mean like when people say that being gay is bad?""that's right," I replied at which point, to my horror, TJ said, "Gay... eeeeurgh! Gay is horrid!"

Wow! I had to stop, the Sprog stared at TJ with his mouth open. "You can't say that," he said, Daddy and Papa are gay, that makes them sad."

"Are they?" TJ asked and he looked at me questioningly. "Yes, we are," I replied. "What's gay?" asked TJ. "It's where two men or two ladies love each other," the Sprog told him, "It also means happy." he added. "Oh," TJ said, "I thought being gay meant being dead." He wouldn't be drawn any further on the conversation but I wonder if other kids have said 'Your Dads are gay' and he has assumed they mean dead, which again could explain some of his recent behaviours. Of course, I may be over thinking it... (that happens a lot!). But one thing is certain, homophobia and homophobic comments start at a very early age - and it needs to be discussed openly and honestly at both home and at school - after all we wouldn't allow racism at home or in school and this is exactly the same.

I sat with both boys and we talked about TJ's Godfather, who is very involved with the Pink Dot movement in Singapore and I explained that unlike England, in Singapore it is still not allowed for two men to love each other. The Sprog looked horrified, "but then Uncle wont be able to find someone he loves and get married," he said. "Well, Uncle is in love but no, he can't get married in Singapore," I told him, The Sprog ran and got his pink dot cushion that Uncle had given him, "So this means that men should be able to love each other?" he asked. "Yes, that's right," I said. "Then why doesn't Uncle come to live with us? That way he can be happy with his love." The Sprog said.

I wanted to point out that the very reason that Papa and I had come back as because we wanted to have a family and as the laws changed in the UK so it seemed the right time, Papa then got offered a job and we came. I didn't add that in Singapore our four years together were not recognised so Papa nearly had his partnership visa revoked - luckily we had friends in the British High Commission who were able to help us get together all the correct documents but it did mean that Papa and I rushed our civil partnership through in 6 weeks in order to ensure his visa was correct. To be honest his work visa would have come through in time for him to start his new career but if he lost his job then he would have had to have gone back so it was better to get a partnership visa. Once full gay marriage is approved we will have a proper ceremony as so many of our friends and family missed out on our rushed Civil Ceremony. But back to the kitchen.....

TJ was listening intently to it all... "Let me get this straight," he said in his serious grown up voice, "Being gay means two men that love each other, two ladies that love each other or being happy?" "Pretty much," I said. "So is the Candyman gay?" he asked.

The Candyman had just come on the radio - as it does every Friday on Radio 2.

I was a bit stunned... "I don't think Sammy Davis Junior was gay,"I told him. "I meant its a happy song," he said disparagingly, "and you said that gay also means happy."

"Yes, yes, this is a very gay song," I said. The Sprog looked at me, "So are you saying its good or bad?" (obviously we had gone full circle back to gay being a derogatory term). "What do you think?" I asked him.

"Its a good thing!" he replied smiling. And the three of us danced around the kitchen to 'The Candyman" - How gay is that?

In the meantime I shall keep an eye on developments in school for both kidss... and I will definitely let TJ stay up for Eurovision this weekend!

The Napoleon Complex....

This seems to be something our youngest son is currently suffering from.

As regular readers will know TJ has a condition known as Noonan's syndrome - in his case it primarily effects his size, so although he is 7 he is roughly the size of a 4 year old - which means that he can get away with an awful lot. Being little and cute and having the ability to turn on the tears at the drop of a hat certainly has its advantages!

I have been called into the school three times this week - last week, you may recall, my youngest was holding his teachers to ransom - he would only do the test required if he was allowed to build a castle out of boxes afterwards. Well, we had a long chat with him about respecting teachers and that he didn't make rules in school etc. I also spoke to his therapist who pointed out that it was much more about control - that as our youngest was now becoming more settled so he was trying to control the areas of his life that he felt he could - most children tend to do this through food, refusing to eat etc, TJ does it through bargaining and getting people (parents as well) to coax him into doing what they want - usually by bargaining with him and eventually giving him precisely what he wanted in the first place.

Control is a big thing for many children, but for those who have come through the care system and who have suffered severe abuse it takes on a different aspect. In their birth families they had no control of the horrors that were going on around them and often happening to them, in the care system they had no control as to where they went, who they lived with or for how long, they were always ready to be moved on. So now TJ is more settled he is trying to exert his own form of control. Last year he did it through self harming and now that we have worked our way through that he is doing it through will power - or the Napoleon Complex as we have knick named it, the need for this little man to control all those around him.

So in order to ensure that both the teachers and we as parents are using the same techniques I went into school and had a chat with the teacher. We put into place a 'smiley' face scheme. The aim is to ensure that he gets a smiley face at the end of each day - providing he does this he can go to his beloved football club as usual. Any misdemeanours and there will be no football that week. It sounds harsh but as TJ also has the ability to disassociate and can completely cut himself off from the outside world, particularly if its something that he doesn't like (again this is a defence mechanism learned whilst with his birth family) However, recently he has made some progress and now the only thing that really matters to him is football - if you took away anything else he wouldn't care - and the usual discipline tactics very rarely have any effect on him, he doesn't want reward stickers, he switches off of you shout at him... all he cares about is playing football. So, rather than simply rewarding good behaviour we now have to put into place consequences for poor behaviour. Let's hope this has an effect.... although I have just been told that he will probably score quite low on his recent SATS tests... I'm not that concerned about the actual test itself, personally I think its ridiculous that 7 year olds have to undergo test conditions... I am concerned that he simply refused to do many of them, especially the ones he didn't like... He simply sat there and told the teachers that he wouldn't be doing it and that was that. He didn't relent at one point and tried to get the teacher to let him 'only do half the test', luckily the teacher was having none of that and hence I was called in. So consequences have to be metered out I'm afraid... great...

This then leads us onto the area of parenting that I hate - that of being the 'bad guy'. TJ has already told me that he is looking forward to my death in order that he can then 'do what he likes'. I was prepared to be told the usual kid things; "I hate you," "I wish you were dead" etc at some point... but to be told by your youngest son that he is looking forward to your demise in such a calm and calculated manner puts the fear of God in me... But I shall still have to go ahead and cancel football club for him for this week - I have to stand by the threat and carry it through - or I will simply be giving him back the control he so desperately wants.... sometimes parenting seems so cruel...

On a more positive note both boys were with me yesterday when our new mattress was delivered. The delivery man was joking with them and then said, 'Who is this mattress for, you boys or your Mummy and Daddy?" To which Lea quickly replied, "We don't have a Mummy we have two Dads, and we are very lucky." The man looked at me and said, "Well, that told me didn't it?" he then smiled and said, That's one very bright little girl you have there." The children then raced up the stairs to show the men where to put the mattress.....

So we must be doing something right....

I did it....

... yes, I did.

I now hold the dubious title of being the first to swear at the children... I'm not proud of the fact and I have been feeling guilty all morning. It didn't help when I called Papa to tell him of my terrible transgression and he laughed, "I thought it would be me who was the first to use an expletive," he said triumphantly, "I can't believe it was you! Well, that's your 'Dad of the Year' award out the window now!" and he howled at his own little joke...

What caused this dreadful misdemeanour?

Well, this morning was the standard Monday morning ready for school day. Except that over the weekend Papa and I had been putting up shelves and a bookcase as well as preparing the garden for a delivery of garden furniture today so our normal weekend routine had been thrown slightly. Usually on a Sunday I get everything ready for school - book bags, sports kits, shoes cleaned etc, on well prepared days I even get the packed lunches ready and in the fridge.

That didn't happen and it's a mistake I won't make again.

This morning we were suddenly in a major rush - TJ was shouting for his football boots, Lea was complaining that she didn't want cheese sandwiches, she wanted jam. "Ok',' I said, "I'll make you jam sandwiches!' So I got the jam out of the fridge (lovely Pear and Ginger - which Lea loved at the wedding, so I bought 4 jars!), Lea took one look at it and said, 'Not that jam, jam is supposed to be red not green." I was now trying to wash a dirty football boot in the sink whilst making a jam sandwich with apparently the wrong sort of jam - she didn't want lovely farm made jam that was her favourite until that very moment - no she wanted supermarket 'everyday' sugar filled rubbish. Well, tough, as I didn't have any.

TJ then decided that he wanted toast for breakfast - after I had already prepared the cereal he requested when he got up. Again, tough - they had to eat what was in front of them.

I got the lunches packed and ready and poured the children their juices, Lea likes only apple and TJ only likes red juice - it doesn't matter what type as long as it is red (Arsenal red!)

School uniforms next. I raced upstairs and sorted out the school uniforms before collecting book bags and homework.

The kids were screaming at each other - I have no idea what the squabble was about - jam probably, but by now my head was beginning to pound and I need a coffee. I don't allow myself coffee until after the kids have gone to school and I can sit down. I was getting more and more agitated as for the third time I told the kids to sit down and eat properly.

Then the phone wrang, it was the school. TJ is to be called before the headteacher today - for refusing to sit his test paper. Thats a blog in itself so I'll do that later... its a good one! Anyway, the school told me that I wouldn't need to come in they would deal with my youngest themselves.

TJ heard this and said to Lea, "That's good news, Daddy doesn't have to come in," TJ now thinks he has got away with his behaviour - just you wait young man!

Anyway, the upshot was that in this frenzy TJ gave Lea a push, Lea knocked her apple juice all over the floor that I had just mopped yesterday evening, time froze and I just erupted... "What the f***!" I shouted... Lea burst into tears and went to her room while TJ sat there with his mouth open revealing the cornflakes that were waiting to be chewed. I stood there feeling incredibly guilty - so I covered it up as all parents do when they feel they are in the wrong... I shouted louder and made sure the kids knew that my losing my temper was in fact their fault. They went to their rooms and got changed - although I knew they were discussing my transgression (or maybe that was my paranoia).

So we went off to school and to be honest as soon as we got near the gate the children saw their friends, gave me a quick kiss goodbye, and rushed off to get on with their school life. Hopefully they won't remember the events of this morning by lunchtime... hopefully...

Divide and Conquer...

So this is an area where adopted children are said to excel - they experience it from very early on in their lives and soon become used to power struggles and maintaining their own safety - its a kind of defence mechanism I guess.

If the parents are busy fighting each other then they wont be taking their anger out on the kids... its awful to think that comes as an inbuilt device for so many in the care system.

Unfortunately, our youngest is king of this and it is now continuing in school - yesterday I was told that he practically held his teacher's to ransom - he was not going to do his test unless they allowed him to rebuild his castle - and he was adamant - he even held his ground until the teachers gave in. Whilst a part of me admires that grit and  can't resist  a smile at imagining him bargaining with his teachers - there is another part that worries about his distinct lack of concern for anyone in authority. Again, when you have been in care you are pretty much invincible- everything you say is listened to and given weight - particularly when it is aimed at adults - after all, unlike birth children, everyone who comes into contact with these children is paid to do a role and is therefore scrutinised constantly. Our eldest is now using his therapy as means of dividing Papa and myself-  or attempting to. He reports things to his therapist expecting there to be action when Papa or I don't behave as he wants us to - ie. we tell him off, apparently shouting is a big 'no no'. His therapist and I are now discussing whether this is now a good time to put his therapy on hold for a while - in order for him to have to trust us and not the professionals.

I sat him down this morning, shortly after the two kids threw apple juice over each other and informed them that they would be shouted at if they behaved so badly - and that if shouting was so upsetting then maybe they should try being good and nobody would have to shout... I must admit I was at my wits end with them both! (I'm pretty sure that is not in the 'good parenting guide')

Papa and I had a big chat last night - mainly about parenting and how it has changed our lives - not always for the good. I hate to admit it but there are times when we think that our lives would have been so much easier without all this hassle. We sat down and tried to remember why we wanted to do this - I can honestly say we couldn't but we knew we were committed to these children and somehow we had to ensure that they didn't play us against each other - as they are doing...

Its obvious that KC sees me as the soft touch - but I have seen him at his lowest, I've picked him up off the floor when it all got too much and sat with him as he sobbed about his past.  I can relate to him as he is so open with his feelings - now... it took me a long time to get him there but now he needs to move on and (I hate to say it ) but grow up.

TJ on the other hand is tiny - due to a condition - and as such plays his size off against any form of discipline - he can turn the tears on at the drop of a hat, but the tears don't mean anything. He is very withdrawn and does respond to Papa, I think because they are both more reserved and I have to be careful not to push TJ away - but again, we have a tendency to treat him as a baby and heap so many expectations on our older child....  we cannot play favourites although I'm sure the children know which one of us favours which child....

Parenting is hard and, I'm not looking for sympathy - just sharing, adopting can be a nightmare!!!!!!

May Day... A Royal Story...

So its officially the May Day bank holiday weekend and the children were watching Maypole dancing on a kids TV programme last night.

"Why are they doing that?" TJ asked. "Well, its to celebrate the beginning of Summer," I replied. "Do they have a barbecue?" asked TJ. "I think they probably have one afterwards if its nice weather," I told him. The Sprog said, "Did you do things like that when you were little, Daddy?"

The kids are obsessed with the idea of myself and Papa as children at the moment, they say its a sign of recovery from trauma when children start to settle enough to think about their own future and are able to put their past behind them, so we are doing all we can to encourage this interest, showing pictures of us as boys, getting the children to talk to their Grandparents etc. So I carried on, "When I was little we lived in a village and every year we used to have a big party when the whole village would come together and there would be stalls and a parade and parties afterwards - it was lots of fun." (admittedly it does sound like the beginning of a particularly gory episode of 'Midsomer Murders' but it also sums up the village atmosphere.)

"Do you have any photos?" TJ asked. "I think Granny has," I replied, "We can ask her to show us next time we see her." Again this brought back memories of my Dad's endless 'slide shows' where we would all sit huddled in a darkened living room with the screen set against the wall and my Dad leaning over the projector and us laughing when he put the pictures in upside down - which I now appreciate he probably did deliberately in order to break the monotony of seeing yet another beautiful picture of a tree in Snowdonia..."

Then I suddenly remembered one particular Village Day and wondered how on earth I was going to explain this one to my kids...

It was 1977, Silver Jubilee year, and our street were putting together a float that was to show a re-enactment of the coronation using the children who lived on the street. Our street was unusual in that there was a lot of boys living there and only one girl who was old enough to sit on the back of the lorry and be paraded through the streets of the village. So the boys were all press ganged into being soldiers, courtiers etc. I, being the same age as the young lady, was to be Prince Philip and accompany my Queen.... All ok so far.

Then the week before the big day we heard that the young lady playing the queen was to be crowned as the Village May Queen and would therefore have to leave our float in order to sit in her own 'carriage' to her crowning ceremony as Rose Queen which was always at the end of the parade.

There was an emergency 'street' meeting. The families all got together in our living room and my Dad's home made wine was shared out - to be honest this was probably the cause of all the problems - my Dad's home made elderflower was extremely popular but also lethal, my aunt once commented that you could run a car off the fumes alone - and then proceeded to drink a bottle and have to be carried home. So everyone was debating what to do... "Should we change our float's theme?" - no it was too late, "Should we cancel the float this year?" - this was met with cries from the kids, we always knew we would have a great time and who wouldn't want to ride on the back of a lorry through the village (kids TV was pretty dull then and riding on the back of a lorry was an annual highlight!). So what were we to do?....

Then my Mother spoke.... As I recall it, it still replays in slow motion, "My son will do it." The other parents and kids looked at her, "What do you mean?" another parent asked, "He is already playing Prince Philip."

Now the world around me froze as my Mum said, "No, he can be the Queen - he wont mind - he loves dressing up." she then turned to me and I felt the eyes of everyone in the street bearing down on me, eagerly pleading with me to agree to this abomination... I was only 8 after all... "Come on dear, " my Mum went on, "If you don't do it then you'll be letting everyone down and we'll have to cancel the float."

Time stood still.

"Ok," I whispered.

There was another silence whilst this sank in. Then the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and everyone relaxed and now drank Dad's wine with celebratory gusto... everyone except my Dad who was now very quiet...

So the big day came - my Mum did my hair - she put an horrendous brown wig on me and I was fully robed in an exact scaled down copy of the Queen's coronation gown, the crown itself kept falling off, so my younger brother was given the task of standing in front of me holding the crown on a gilt cushion (which was actually from our front room). I got up onto the float and sat on my throne, another lady was teaching me how to wave like a royal as a mocked up orb and sceptre were thrust into my hands. The rest of my courtiers and entourage got up on to the float - all the boys from my street who were by now beside themselves laughing and my brother took pride of place in front of me wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen.

My Dad, came up and whispered in my ear, "It's alright," he said, "No-one will recognise you and it will all be over soon - I'll take your jeans and t-shirt to the school and you can change straight after."

I breathed a sigh of relief, I just had to get through the village and pretend to be a girl - no-one would know it was me.

We pulled out of the street and my Dad was right - no-one recognised me, I heard a few people ask who I was and someone even said, "That's a pretty girl - she should've been Rose Queen." I was pretty pleased by that and even my brother was getting tired of grinning at me. Then we rounded a corner and I saw my family all standing together, Dad had obviously been too embarrassed to tell the extended family of my acting debut as my Aunt (who had probably already been on the elderflower wine) suddenly shouted out, "Bloody Hell, that's your son!" she turned to my parents, "It is isn't it?" and then the worst thing in the world happened as she turned to the float and in front of a huge crowd of kids from my school started waving and shouting, "Oy, love, look over here - I need a nice picture of you..." she turned to the assembled crowd, "That's my nephew that is - but doesn't he make a pretty girl!"

By now I wanted the float to speed off and drive over a cliff but it didn't - it pulled into the school field accompanied by a horde of school kids shouting my name, laughing and waving at me. Great...

Dad got me off the float and took me up to the school toilets where I could get changed, although unfortunately the 1970's make up seemed to be etched into my skin and no amount of scrubbing with school hand soap would shift it. So now I was in jeans and a t shirt and full regal make up.

"Never mind,' said Dad, "You did your bit and it will all be forgotten soon. Let's go and have some fun - your Mum's buying the ice creams!"

No sooner had he said that when the Head master stood up to give the winning floats their prizes - there was a lot of competition between the different streets and organisations to get this award. "The winner for this silver jubilee carnival is.. the scouts tropical beach getaway." I breathed a sigh of relief as the scout leader went and collected the prize. "But a special commendation and a jubilee special prize goes to the Children's Coronation," I froze as he carried on, "Can her majesty the Queen come up here and collect the prize." I was pushed up to the front - but by now I was back in my own clothes and any remaining doubts there may have been about who was playing the Queen were now dispelled - everyone in the whole village now knew it was me.

I went up and collected the award and turned to the crowd and to a huge round of applause gave a regal curtsey... then I went and ate ice cream and had a fun afternoon.

Looking back I have to apologise to the real Rose Queen (you know who you are) as I think I upstaged her that day and what should have been a lovely childhood memory for her was destroyed by my reveal as the first drag queen our village knew - publicly anyway... I also think I had a prettier gown...

Now I have to explain those slides to my kids...

Wallpaper.....

So one week after the wedding and we are all back to normal now. We have finally stopped saying; "This time last week we...."

Papa and I decided to throw ourself into decorating our new home and getting it ready for the summer. We had selected the wallpaper for the dining room and the living room a while ago and decided that now was the time to do it!

Papa is amazing at things like this - his DIY skills are brilliant - mine are rubbish but what I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm (to coin a phrase) - Oddly enough on our way back from the wedding we were listening to the Paddington stories on audio cd (read by Stephen Fry - excellent). One of the stories, which TJ thought was hilarious, was the one where Paddington decides to 'help' the Brown's by wallpapering his own room with disastrous results. I'm not sure if that was what put the idea into my head but by the end of the journey we were all geared up to spend the weekend up to our furry little ears in wallpaper and paste.

The living room was a joy to do - we covered everything and I was in charge of pasting - it was a good idea to cover everything as I am a little splash happy with paste and ended up with more of it on me than on the walls. But Papa has a great eye and my Habitat lined paper was up and it looked vertical - Papa had used a spirit level to ensure everything was in line....

We then moved to the dining room and I had selected a 1950's style paper which matches our white washed wooden floors. All good - there was a slight gap in the paper - due to a bend in the wall apparently (or thats what Papa said), but we can hide that behind our pictures - so again all good. We had a roll of paper left and half a bucket of paste. 'Right," I said, "Let's go back to the store and we can get a couple of rolls of paper and do the wall behind our bed."A brilliant idea!

So we went back but the paper I had chosen had sold out! I decide that was good thing as we didn't want the same paper as everyone else, so Papa chose a beautiful silver/grey paper with a wave in it. Fantastic! We bought two rolls and knew we could get them up before the kids bath time.

We raced upstairs and covered everything and then got started. It was as we put up the first roll that Papa realised it was silk and being a silk paper it moved... a lot... and having a wave in it it needed lining up... and that meant a lot more work and a lot of wasted paper. Our quick job ended up taking over 3 hours - the children were in the bath and I was running up and downstairs sorting them out whilst also helping Papa who was stuck up a ladder matching paper. Suddenly Papa gave out an anguished cry. I raced back into the room. "We don't have enough paper!" he cried. Sure enough there were two small gaps at the bottom of the wall which were unpapered. The shop was now closed and I didn't really want to spend that amount of money to cover two small gaps. I suggested that we just piece it together with some of the scraps - after all that area was behind the bed and no-one would see it. "But I'll know its there!" cried Papa.

I told him the story of my own Dad who papered the living room when I was a child. It was only when we moved house that we realised he hadn't bothered to paper behind the furniture and when we took that furniture out you could see great big gaps where it had been. This seemed to placate him and he went ahead to patch the bottom of the wall.

Panic over - wallpapering done - furniture put back... and no-one will be any the wiser. Unless they have read this blog of course!!!!!!!!!