Pulping the Penguins

I've been thinking about whether or not to write this post for a few days now.

I decided to let my anger subside and then write it with a more open mind - unfortunately, the longer I leave it the worse the situation seems to get.

We are off to Singapore shortly to see the boy's Grandparents and Aunt, Uncle and cousins. Our boys love going to Singapore and they get very excited about seeing their family over there but this trip has already been tainted by the goings on being widely reported in the media and across social media websites.

If you haven't heard the Singapore National Library and Media Development Agency have taken the strange decision to ban all books which do not fulfil the right wing Christian and, to some extent, Muslim groups ideals of a perfect family. These books, such as 'Tango Makes Three', "White Swan Express" and today I heard that 'Lets' Talk About Where Babies Come From" have been removed and pulped for not promoting the family (by recognising that familes of different types occur) and for possibly corrupting young children should they walk into a public space and begin reading such books without parental supervision.

Although it should be noted that "Let's Talk ABout Where Babies Come From" (which in the USA is called 'Its So Amazing' is actually a reference book aimed at parents and educators looking for a child friendly way in which to answer the difficult questions about sex when children bring it up. It is told in a child friendly way but is definately not supposed to be read by the child by themselves. So, in effect, this would be the first adult book that the MDA have removed. Obviously, adults need protecting from corruption as well, particularly as the book contains one page about adopted familes and same sex relationships...

At first glance the whole story seems a bit of a storm in a teacup - even Papa (who is Singaporean) dismissed it saying, "Who uses libraries nowadays?"

And that would probably be true had the Singaporean Government not then lent their support to the ban (bearing in mind that both the Library and MDA come under government juristiction in one of the most censored countries in the world). Obviously, if the government rejected the removal of these books they would be rejecting one of their own organisations policies. The NLB spokesperson stated; "NLB’s understanding of family is consistent with that of the Ministry of Social and Family Development and the Ministry of Education."

So, in a nutshell, the Singapore government has blatantly stated that it is now ok to discriminate against any family that is deemed to be not of the social 'norm.' I maybe overstating it but thats certainly how things appear. It would also seem to include single parent families and all adopted families.

So that raises the question then of 'where does our family fit in?". Our boys are proud to call themselves half British, half Singaporean - even though it would appear that Singapore does not want them.

When we go back to Singapore are they to be barred from talking to other children for fear that they may corrupt them. Will Papa and I be able to walk down the street holding our children's hands without being spat upon - seriously, if you read some of the comments the so called 'Christian' and 'Muslim' groups are espousing on their various social media platformsthat would seem to be the next step.

Of course, we know it is just a minority who have these views and our friends and family will welcome us with open arms - but what is worrying is how much weight this minorty view is being given. And what happens if, God forbid, anything should happen and we have to relocate back to Singapore - will our family even be recognised - our partnership wouldn't be so how would that effect the adoption? Thats actually a scary thought.

After our last trip to Singapore and my comments on how much more open it has become as a society this seems to show that Singapore has once again taken a step back into the dark ages.

On a more positive note - just as the anti gambling ads which ran in Singapore showing a  desperately sad, small boy hoping that Germany would win the World Cup as his Dad had placed all his savings on them (that backfired) so, hopefully, this will help me in my quest to sell the book version of the blog - as my lovely agent said on Monday - 'Its all pretty petty what's going on in Singapore at the moment, and very sad, but it will definately help book sales!"

So here's hoping the Singapore governemtn slap a ban on my work as soon as its published!

Finally Forty - Part 3

Ok - this will be the last part, I promise.

I know that reading about a group of forty somethings frolicking in a French chateau pretending to be students again doesn't really float everyone's boat - and it is a bit indulgent but bear with me for one more post...

What was lovely about suddenly not haivng a family to worry about was the freedom - the freedom that we took for granted before children arrived. I know many of you will be saying, 'But you chose to adopt." and you would be right.

But in the three years that we have had the boys Papa and I have only been away from them together for one night and I have never been away from them all - not by myself. It took some getting used to - well, about three drinks and I was used to it... but there is a sudden realisation that life isn't all about routine. Life is also about having some time to yourself - we soon realised that we could get up when we wanted, eat what we liked, drink far too much and then - and this was the heavenly part - go for a nap -in the daytime!!!!!!

That was brilliant. There is something very decadent about sleeping in the day (when you are not ill, of course) but looking at the light around the curtains as you get into bed just seems really naughty! And no little hands banging on the doors demanding juice or that you sort out their argument with each other. We had a lovely few days - Furry had it all planned out. I'm not normally a fan of 'organized activities' but he had done them well. There was a quiz - boys against girls, the boys specialist subject was trout fishing, the girls tractor management - Furry had brought magazines so we could study. Our team divided the magazine up into sections - one member was very competitive and I was a little scared - so I studied 'Flies' and my question came up and thanks to that we won!

Furry also left a costume for each of us in our rooms - all ready for 'Allo 'Allo night (the eighties BBC show set in occupied France) My costume was that of Herr Gruber, the camp, alcoholic German officer who has a crush on the show's leading man Renee - played by the only genuine Frenchman in our group. (apparently it was typecasting - I tried not to be offended)

Each 'couple' had been designated an evening to cook and Papa and I had gone for a Singaporean menu - except Papa wasn't there, so I followed his instructions and made a Laksa followed by a seafood curry - I gave up on his dessert and made an Eton Mess - which all seemed to go down well.

Th big day came and the birthday girl opened all her presents over breakfast and had a little cry at the many messages people had sent in via their phones. I passed her the presents we had bought for her last year, with a couple more added on - by a guilty Papa - and this time she was allowed to open them.

Then we produced a cake that we had managed to put together despite having very few baking utensils, no baking powder and, more importantly, no food processor - but it went really well.

Actually, the whole few days went really well and it was a shame to leave.

There was only one person who spilled a small can of beans - after a lovely barbecue - which consisted of Furry scorching huge slabs of meat - I asked if we could eat the Vienetta for dessert - I had seen it snuggling in the freezer. Fairy's ears pricked up - "Vienetta' she squealed excitedly... Furry glared at me... 'That was a surprise,' he said through gritted teeth, Fairy politely looked the other way... Sure enough, later that evening as the clock ticked over onto Fairy's big day a Vienetta (complete with sparklers) was handed to her... oops.... still, I had managed to keep everything else quiet - which for me is an achievement! And all kudos to Fairy for still acting surprised when it arrived... (she is a professionally trained actress though!)

When I came back Papa met me at the door - 'Dont you ever go away again," he hissed looking a dishevelled mess whilst the kids seemed to have turned the living room into a circus of some sort...

Its nice to know that you are missed...

Finally Forty - Part 2

This may turn into a series by itself....

But, continuing from our arrival in Nantes...

Fairy and I sat in the airport with our new french friend, she was lovely and explained that the sports car that was due to collect Fairy and whisk her away had met with an unfortunate demise enroute... the front fell off. Luckily no-one was hurt.

Furry had planned to collect me prior to the arrival of Fairy - but for some reason her Easyjet flight had arrived early (which is unheard of) and Furry was stuck in a traffic jam - but he was on his way and he would collect all of us- in return for the French lady helping him he had offered to give her a lift to her home, which she assured us was nearby.

Furry arrived and quickly ascertained that I hadn't spilt the beans (I'm good at that) and loaded us all into his car ready to drop French lady off and then head to the rendezvous in time for supper.

French lady may indeed have lived nearby.... the only problem was, she didn't seem to know how to get there. Nantes, like most French cities is packed with roundabouts and, if you are the sort of person that doesn't drive then negotiating roads via roundabouts is particulalry tough, especially when you have the world's most untrustworthy sat nav.

We drove for hours in French suburbia - which is lovely, but all the time Furry, who had been driving through the night was getting visibly tired and at one point we actually went round the same roundabout 6 times at which point Fairy helpfully pointed out that if you go around a roundabout more than three times you are breaking French law (whether that is true or not I don't actually know) but either way, it lent a little more tension to the already fraught air.

We eventually found the right exit and headed over to the French lady's lovely little flat where she gave us coffee - which Furry was in obvious need of.

After a short while we left and headed to the chateau - except we had forgotten that not only was it was the first day of the school holidays but rush hour was now in full flow - so we sat in traffic and argued with large French truck drivers.

We got off the moteorway and then sat nav decided she hated us and refused to take us anywhere that Furry could recognise. Of course he was also nodding off at the time and Fairy was keeping him awake by poking him in the face with a pine cone. It reminded me of my own childhood, sitting in the back of the car whilst my parents squabbled.

Then he saw the sign and we drove along a long drive and up to the most beautiful chateau - a stunning building - although to be honest I would have been grateful to have seen a run down shack, as long as it had a toilet! I was busting!

There on the patio were two carefully placed champagne glasses and Furry dutifully took his wife by the hand and they had a romantic moment in front of the chateau - while I watched. I suddenly felt like Kenneth Williams when he went with Barbara Windsor and the Kray chap on their honeymoon. They canoodled and then Furry led Fairy into the castle where the other guests dutifully popped out of their hiding places - I hoped they hadn't been there for hours...

No sonner had they surprised Fairy and tears were shed (mainly by me as I really really needed a wee) than dinner was served...

And so began the main theme of the weekend... food, lots of it and even more drink!

Finally Forty... part 1

It's been an eventful couple of weeks... with a lot to tell you about...

So let's begin...

Last week it was the actual 40th birthday of a very dear friend of mine (and KC's 'fairy godmother' - her hubby is TJ's 'furry godfather' - as we like to call him - sometimes they swop over...).

If you recall, last year we rushed around trying to sort out a celebratory 40th birthday bash - only to discover it wasn't actually her 40th - there's a blogpost about it somewhere - very embarrassing!

Well, this year it was actually the big 40 and 'Furry' had organised an amazing surprise bash in a chateau in the middle of France somewhere, with a few of Fairy's closest friends and... no one else. No kids, no pets, no jobs... no worries! Or that was the plan.

The week before we were all due to travel on our secret mission (and yes, we managed to keep it a secret) - the French air traffic control went on strike. Luckily, that would only really have effected Papa and I as everyone else was driving down - oh, and the birthday girl - who was also in Algeria (of all places) on a business trip at the time. She turned up at the airport to learn that her plane was still in the UK and the chances of her flying home for the weekend were small. She was also then booked to fly back out to Nantes upon her return home - and that flight looked uncertain as well.

Cue distraught panic from all concerned - excpet for the birthday girl who was happily contemplating a few more nights in sunny Algeria at the expense of Air France and was oblivious to the fact that her dear hubbie was on the verge of a very serious nervous breakdown everytime the word France was mentioned!

Then. out of the blue, two friends had to pull out due to a family medical issue and Papa also had to cancel because he was needed at work. The latter part wasn't such a big issue - oh, except that we had arranged for Grany to come and look after the boys, with all animals being put into kennels. It was to be our first proper trip away without the boys since their arrival three years ago. I love my children, of course, but the thought of eating in a restaurant that doesn't have a menu that you can colour in or not having to share a 'family' hotel bedrroom was extremely appealing.

I was still to go though and a plan b was put in place. A plan B that saw me trying to get across the UK by public transport (Mum was using my car) on Thursday night to join the driving party at 2 in the morning - a plan that was never going to work - and anyway, the birthday girl would still be in Algeria. But we all nodded and said we would try, secretly praying for a miracle...

Then on Wednesday the miracle happened. Fairy got on board a delayed plane for the UK and French Air Traffic Control cancelled the rest of the strike - Hurrah!

So, on Friday I headed off by myself into the sun...

I got to Nantes airport and saw that my plane had landed immediately ahead of Fairy's - she wasn't supposed to know I was here - the plan was that she was to be collected and whisked away in a sports car to the secret destination - whilst I was then picked up by Furry to do some shopping (or something like that).

I ran through passport control and ducked in the baggage arrivals area looking, I thought, not unlike Daniel Craig as James Bond - although it was probably more like Russ Abbott as Brooke Bond in his 80's TV show...

I shot out of the arrivals and ran into - no-one. There was no-one there. I stood in a panic. Should I let Fairy see me - would someone else spot me - and why were there three people dressed in Chinese robes, were they part of the plan? Should I ask them? I went over... no they were waiting for their daughter who was coming back from a year working in Shanghai - but they were very nice people. I decided to just stand in the airport...

Fairy evenutally came thorugh and a lady I didn't know went over to explain that the sports car that was due to collect her had broken down (seriously) and that her hubby (Furry) was stuck in a traffic jam. Fairy nodded and then saw me - "You're here!" she cried (to be honest I knew that already). 'Yes," I said, "But I cant tell you anything." - Which was true as I hadn't got a clue where we were going to.

Luckily the lovely lady on the plane turned out to be a friend of a friend of Furry's and he had organised a secret message on the plane for Fairy using the friend  (It all gets very complicated) and, luckily again, when the mishap had happened with the cars the secret lady was able to intercept Fairy and tell her what had happened - she had no idea who I was though, so if I had remained in hiding, as had been the original plan, I would probably still be there now....

Anyway, we went for a lovely coffee and a chat whilst Furry negotiated rush hour on a Friday in Nantes...

And we hadn't even reached the chateau yet...

Full Moon...

The evenings have been getting longer and staying warm... Which is a nightmare when you are trying to persuade children they need to go to sleep.
"Why am I in bed when it's still daytime?" Is asked every night, and even black out curtains don't seem to work.
So I have allowed for longer bath times and longer stories and longer... Well, longer bedtime routines really.

This evening was no exception and our eldest boy, KC, decided that he was too hot to have a bath so would rather have a shower in our room instead. We have a small ensuite shower room which seems to fill the boys with fascination.

KC has told us he is now becoming a man (he's 9) so needs to start showering. To be honest, I don't care as long as they are clean.

I left him upstairs undressing in our room and ran downstairs (three flights as we live in a townhouse - which means I should be tiny from all the exercise, which I most definitely am not) and let the dog into the garden.

Whilst out there I heard a commotion above me and I looked up...

We are lucky in that we overlook a river, and alongside that river is a riverside walk, a very busy riverside walk, made even busier by the lovely warm evenings...

As the people were taking their evening stroll my eldest son was hanging out of the top floor window... Or rather his bottom was!

His little, pink, perfectly rounded 'tush' (as he calls out) was being thrust through my Juliet balcony with a voice shouting 'it's a full moon!' To all the passers by.

The passers by were gazing up and, to my horror, they started to applaud. This only made my drama loving eldest son more energetic in his 'bum wiggle' and he soon resembled a pale, pink bumble bee doing it's 'wiggle dance' to the rest of the hive.

I was mortified and ran upstairs. Unfortunately by the time I had managed to puff my way back up three flights with puppy in tow, the little monster (or moonster?) was now in the shower denying that he had ever done any such thing!

I sighed... Sat on the bed and watched the crowds that had gathered outside the window disappear... I certainly wasn't going to continue with the show! 

Sports Day Rehearsals

One of the big problems with having children in separate schools is that you have to double up on everything, teacher's meetings, school fairs etc. Hopefully, none of those things then clash - luckily so far they haven't.

This month is a busy one for all schools and one of the biggest events in the school calendar is Sports Day.

We are lucky as KC's sports day is tomorrow whereas TJ's will be next Thursday - so I can plan two separate days out, although Papa needs to take two days off work, but I'm sure he will cope.

However, each day this week has seen sports day practice for KC - he has been coming home each night in his PE kit after an afternoon spent on the school field - which he loves.

However, this has also meant that he has managed to come home with everybody else's clothes. On Tuesday I discovered that he was wearing someone else's blazer and had lost his socks - how do you lose your socks? Luckily I had lovingly (well begrudgingly) sewn labels into all his clothes only to find that he has been picking them out 'cause they itch!'

On Wednesday morning I discovered that he was wearing someone else's shoes - the ones on his feet were two sizes too big, they were like boats on his little feet, which also meant that another child had squeezed his larger feet into KC's small sized shoe - like one of Cinderella's ugly sisters.

Last night he came home again in his PE kit and this morning I noticed that he still had the wrong shoes - only now he only had one of them, but at least he had found his socks...

Upon enquiry it turns out that he doesn't know where the other shoe is. So now not only is he wearing someone else's shoes but he has lost one of them as well. I'm so looking forward to meeting that boy's parents at Sports Day tomorrow...

It reminds me of last year when TJ came home with someone else's uniform in his PE bag - except it was a little girls' skirt - she had taken his trousers home - luckily the Mum and I both saw the funny side.

It will be his turn next week.

Staying at Home - when ill!!!!

I went into school yesterday to collect TJ and came back full of sniffles, "I'm allergic to kids' I joked on the way back. TJ didn't get it.

Then this morning I woke up full of 'man flu' - head banging, body aching, full blown cold symptoms - lots of fun!

I told Papa as he left for work that I felt awful.

"You should stay in bed today then," came the sympathetic reply as he left the house.

So sweet I thought... and then remembered I had to get the boys up and ready for school - which with them at different schools takes a good 90minutes. Then after that I had to walk the bouncy puppy. I got home and sat down. Papa called, "Are you resting?" he said. I smiled, then he added, "Because I haven't any clean shirts left so could you wash and iron me some please?" I stopped smiling.

"I thought I wa supposed to be resting?" I said.

"Well, I thought about it and realised that you can't so I thought you might as well be kept busy," said Papa laughingly.

Haha...

So I have just finished hanging out the clothes and am sitting down for lunch.

Papa called back "Shall I get dinner tonight?" he asked.

"That would be nice," I replied, "Especially as I have to take TJ to his piano lesson and then collect KC from rugby after."

"Great," he said, "Chinese or Fish and Chips?"

To be honest I don't care - as long as I don't have to cook it.

Stay at home parents should be allowed to include sick days in their scope of work... except they can't...

Horrid Henry...

A couple of days ago TJ announced that it was book day today and that everyone had to go into school dressed as their favourite literary character.

Being the consummate professional that I am I went into costume overdrive. I decided that TJ would go to school dressed as the Mad Hatter - the Lewis Carroll version of course... I made a hat, complete with tag, I organised cravats and frilly shirts to go under his suit from his day of being a page boy - well, he does need to get some wear out of it. I dug out an old wig and knew that everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, when I informed TJ that he would be going to school today dressed as the Mad Hatter he looked at me with daggers. "I am going as Horrid Henry," he replied.

I glared daggers back. "I have gone to all this trouble," I said, "You will be a great Mad Hatter."

"I don't want to be the Mad Hatter, I want to go as Horrid Henry, its my favourite book and I want to go as him," he then added, "You can go as the Mad Hatter if you like."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I said angrily.

"Because you didn't ask!" he replied.

I was stumped.

He was right, I didn't ask.

So feeling a little guilty we duly went through his Horrid Henry books to find a 'look' for school.

It turns out that Horrid Henry must also be smelly Henry as he only ever seems to wear one jumper - a blue one with a yellow stripe through it but that was the jumper that TJ wanted...  So we set off two days ago to find a jumper that looked exactly like Horrid Henry's.

We didn't find it.

TJ was distraught.

How could he go as Horrid Henry without a blue jumper with a yellow stripe?

Then Papa had an idea. Wasn't Horrid Henry also a cartoon. We quickly googled the cartoon version and found that here Horrid Henry wore many different clothes - but in the cartoon he was also a red head (in the book he is dark).

So now TJ had this image fixed in his mind - when TJ gets something fixed in his mind you know you are going to have to follow it.

We searched the shopping mall for cartoon looking clothes - lots of britght colours - but definately stripes (Horrid Henry would only ever wear stripes). And then TJ decided that like the cartoon he needed orange hair.

So we went off to the lady's accessories shop - which TJ refused to enter and found him neon orange hair spray.

He left for school as happy as Larry - or Henry...

I just hope he doesn't put his head against anything - or that iot rains - or else he will look like he has been 'tango'ed'!

Praise - it simply doesn't work!

Everyone talks about praisng our kids - encouraging them. Making sure they feel good about themselves. Increasing their self esteem (although judging by the plethora of kids on TV talents shows there should be a few whose self esteem could do with a trim)

But. on the whole, this is a great attitude to take - except when a child simply doesn't believe it.

Let me explain.

Our eldest loves praise - he thrives on it. If you tell KC he's done something well then he simply beams. Even the smallest amount of praise can result in the hugest grin. However, on the flip side of that he simply can't bear any form of criticism. He takes it completely to heart. If you say something along the lines of  'Your room is really messy,' then in his mind he seems to hear - 'you are really messy - so we don't love you.' He literally takes everything personally.

TJ on the other hand doesn't respond to praise at all. He simply doesn't believe it. So if you were to tell him that he did an amazing job at anything he looks at you as if you have just told him to chop off his right hand. 

I saw that yesterday in his piano lesson. TJ is really good at piano (that's not just a doting dad) - but he can play at a level far beyond his years (probably due to his way of seeing the world) and yesterday, he played a particularly difficult piece and, naturally, his teacher was full of praise, "That's amazing TJ, I have adults that can't play that piece TJ..." etc.

As soon as he heard this TJ turned into Mr Jekyll, or Mr Hyde, I can never remember which is which. Anyway, the 'moody, grumpy, refusing to play piano anymore' one.

His teacher didn't know what had happened. She was caught on the back foot and in order to compensate was immediately overly enthusiastic. "TJ, I said you were brilliant," she said. It was met with a sullen teenager like glare.

I decided to end the piano lesson there.

As soon as we got into the car TJ was absolutely fine again - we had a 'chat' about how he seemed to have been very bad mannered to his teacher and how she was there to help him. Halfway through the chat he simply said, "I don't know why she said all that - everyone knows I'm rubbish."

I was floored.

'The one thing you are not is rubbish," I said - and then made exactly the same mistake as the teacher and told him how wonderful he was - it was met with a stony silence.

When we got home I explained it all to Papa - he listened and then said, "But the therapist told you how to deal with him - he can't take praise... always remember that 'good' is good enough."

Sometimes I should remember what the therapists tell me - but they have said such a lot, its easy to forget....

I want to praise my kids and tell them how wonderful they are - but they simply wouldn't believe me - and why should they? They probably spent most of their early life hearing how awful they are before being (in thier minds) given away... they were unwanted by the very people who should have given them the most praise of all... 

Who can blame them?... It's me who has to change my word descriptions and remember that when I just say 'good', I actually mean incredible... 

A More Serious Post... It's just neglect...

Good grief - It's June!

How did that happen?

The year is flying past....

Apologies for not blogging over the past few days but its been half term and I have just sat my second year psychology finals - so its been a busy week. But today I am catching up on ... well, on everything.

Then I came across a message in my email intray asking about my opinion on a statement made by the Head of Christian Concern here in the UK about a sibling pair who had been placed with a gay couple here in sunny Kent. The scope of her ignorance amazed me - and yet it is shared by so many.

Apparently after being told by social services that their two children were to be adopted by a gay couple the, supposedly practising Roman Catholic birth parents, were concerned for their children's well being and argued that they would suffer 'psychological harm' at the hands of their new gay parents. This claim was then backed by Andrea Williams, the Head of Christian Concern who said:

 'We do not know all the details as to why adoption was deemed necessary but leaving that aside, this case raises profound concerns. Why is it not possible to accommodate the beliefs of the natural parents and act in the best interests of the children? Why are these beliefs about marriage, which the government claims are protected, being trampled on? It is causing great present distress to the parents and as they have outlined is likely to cause great distress to the children in the future. Why not seek adoptive parents who share the beliefs of these parents?""

Of course we all have our own views and I thank God every day (yes, we are Christian family) that we live in a tolerant nation that allows everyone to express their own viewpoint - but what was said here was just blatantly mis-informed and the most important part about this story is the part that she wishes to brush under the carpet - 'we do not know all the details why this adoption was deemed necessary but leaving that aside...' - 'leaving that aside'!!!! - that was the statement that made me boil!

I had a call yesterday from a lovely TV producer who wanted to know more about the adoption system and he was stunned by the end of the call - he had no idea things had to be so bad before children were taken into care, and then, once they were, just how difficult it was to find even one child a loving home, let alone a sibling pair. The idea of a 'catalogue' of children waiting for adoption being passed out to approved adopters horrified him - but thats the reality...

Its that word 'neglect' that causes so much confusion.

What is neglect? To a right thinking person 'neglect' is exactly as Ms Williams describes it - not bathing the children, irregular meals, dirty clothes. Of course, in this case we have to add in the fact that these two toddlers were beaten by their parents on a regular basis. But I don't want to talk about just one case.

Even in their own investigations the Government admit that the terms 'neglect' and 'emtional abuse' are poorly defined and cover too many areas. They say that neglect can go on for many years - becoming a 'chronic' condition before the threshold can be reached to bring the children into care.

And this 'threshold' is remarkably high, particularly when used in a social work sense.

I was stunned when I knew what 'neglect' really meant when used in a Social Work sense. It is an all encompassing phrase that covers everything from children being left in their own faeces, often  starving, or peeling wallpaper for food as ours did. It is about children being left for hours on end whilst the parents are at the pub or high. Its children watching their parents inject themselves with the drug of the moment whilst they sit and watch cbeebies, if they are lucky - often its hardcore porn or violent films they are sat watching. It is a horrific term that strikes fear in me whenever I see it - but that's because I'm an adoptive parent. I didn't get my information from the Daily Mail - I got my information from months of adoption preparation, from attending courses, from learning what sorts of background my future children would come from. And we didn't shy away.

Nor did this couple who finally adopted these children. They were brave enough to stay the course, to say "Yes, we will take these children on with all their problems. Yes, we will love them and deal with the incredible mess that these children are thanks to their early years with this horrendous birth family. Yes, we will give everything we have to make these unwanted children happy."

And that's the bottom line - the birth parents, Christian or otherwise, didn't want their children and had the right to parent them removed. I get sick to death of hearing that the children's mummy "loved them very much but she wasn't able to look after them." (which is the line social workers like to tell kids in care). Well, birth parents can choose to change, they can put their children before drugs or alcohol- social services work for years with them getting them help before they eventually take their children.

No-one wants to bring children into care - it has to have reached a point where there is simply no other option in order to keep the children safe. For one thing its too expensive - it costs more to keep a child in care each year than to send them to Eton and for another, we know that the best place for a child is with their birth family - but some people shouldn't have children and when that happens then the children are taken into care. Yet the birth parents still have time to change whilst the courts decide what is best for the child, which can take up to a year. However, if there is still no attempt to change then adoption is the final choice and the search for a suitable family begins. The search for an adoptive family can take years, let alone restrticing that search to a family that will support the birth families religious beliefs. Yet, in reality, these beliefs are commented on in the paperwork (and there is a lot of paperwork) and the propsective adopters are asked to comment on it - the religious beliefs are usually put into the catalogue of 'hard to place' children as well. All of this is taken into consideration when looking for suitable adoptive parents.

But, of course, it is the physical and emotional well being of the child that has to take priority, their spiritual journey is one they will undertake later and will be a choice they ultimately make for themselves.

I did smile when I saw the birth parent's argument which read:

'The children will not be able to be brought up in the Catholic faith because of the conflicts between Catholicism and homosexuality. They would not be able to maintain their Catholic faith if they are adopted by this couple and even if it  was promised that they would attend church the children would at some stage be taught or learn of the attitude of the church to same sex couples. This would undoubtedly be upsetting to them and cause them to be in conflict between their religion and home life.'

Apparently they were in tears as they read it to the court.

Of course, my argument would be that it is the church that is at fault here - for seemingly teaching that it is ok to dismiss the parenting skills of  a loving same sex couple in favour of a hateful heterosexual one who see no harm in their treatment of their children.

So to Ms Williams I say this, you are entitled to your views - but at least make sure you have the full facts before you start making such inflammatory statements.

....

If you are interested then the terms I have used have been taken from the Government's own research and investigation into social services and are printed below and the comments I have used above are from Ms Williams own website. All other views are my own - but I'm guessing you knew that already.

......

Taken from: Safeguarding in Children Services' by Carolyn Davies and Harriet Ward. 2012. Jessica Kingsley Publishers

Neglect is described as:
The persistent failure to meet a child’s basic physical and/or psychological needs, likely to result in the serious impairment of the child’s health or development. Neglect may occur during pregnancy as a result of maternal substance abuse. Once a child is born, neglect may involve a parent or carer failing to:

• provide adequate food, clothing or shelter (including exclusion from home or abandonment)
  
• protect a child from physical and emotional harm or danger
  
• ensure adequate supervision (including the use of inadequate caregivers)
  
• ensure access to appropriate medical care or treatment.
  

It may also include neglect of, or unresponsiveness to, a child’s basic emotional needs.

We have quoted these descriptions in full to demonstrate how comprehensive and detailed they are. yet even with such precise guidelines, professionals find it difficult to identify these types of abuse and to decide when a threshold for action has been reached. The difficulties arise for a number of reasons:

• Both types of maltreatment are heterogeneous classifications that cover a wide range of issues as is evident from the descriptions above.
  
• Both emotional abuse and neglect are chronic conditions that can persist over months and years. Professionals can become accustomed to their manifestations and accepting of the lack of positive change: the serious case review into the death of Peter Connelly, for instance, found that professionals were too accepting of low parenting standards.43 These can include poor supervision resulting in numerous ‘falls’ and bruises; poor cleanliness of the house and poorly cared-for animals; persistent and recurrent infestations such as head lice; loss of weight and failure to thrive; poor dentition; skin problems and nappy rashes; delayed motor and speech development; and self-harm and running away in teenagers.
  
• Both types of maltreatment can persist for many years without leading to the type of crisis that demands immediate, authoritative action. Without such a crisis it can be difficult to argue that a threshold for a child protection plan or court action has been reached.
  
• Both types of maltreatment are also closer to normative parental behaviour patterns than physical or sexual abuse, in that most parents will, on occasion, neglect or emotionally maltreat their children to a greater or lesser degree. It is the persistence, the frequency, the enormity and the pervasiveness of these behaviours that make them abusive. However, such factors are difficult to pin down with any degree of clarity and this makes it difficult both for practitioners and the courts to determine when a threshold has been reached.
  
  

Hooray for Sports Camp!

'Hooray for Sports Camp!'

That was the cry that went out this morning as the boys got ready to head off to the local primary school to attend a two day half term sports camp. Only the cry came from me. The boys did not want to go...

I was stunned.

They had spent the past three days sitting inside and moaning about ... well, about everything. The weather has been horrible so we haven't been able to go out and do anything we had planned. Throw a bored elderly dog and a hyperactive puppy into the mix and you have a recipe for an incredibly stressful few days. Stressful for all of us.

We did the craft and the colouring and the obligatory jigsaws and the entertainment pack. In the end I resorted to TV to keep them amused. I know thousands of parents the world over have just judged me - I don't care - I needed a break and so did they - TV gave them that. We don't have satellite or cable, just the free to air channels - so they sat watching cartoons, with lengthy commercial breaks that gave them enough time to fight in between.

So I booked them into sports camp. I thought they would be thrilled. They weren't.

KC was on his best behaviour. "What's going on?" I asked him as he helped clear away the breakfast things. ""I'm being good so you don't send me to camp," he said. "You will love it once you are there," I told him. "But I want to stay home and watch TV and play my DS all day. I'll be so quiet you wont even notice I'm here," he promised.

Whilst it's nice to know they want to stay at home, this dad was not for turning. "I've paid for it now," I explained, "And anyway you need to go and run around."

"Do I have to have a packed lunch?" TJ asked, "I don't like packed lunches."

This was the first I was hearing of this - from the sandwich king of the universe.

"Think of it as a picnic," I said.

"What if it rains?" came the smart Alec reply.

"Then its a picnic indoors!" I retorted.

We went. They dawdled. Then when they saw their friends, who's parents had all obviously given up, just like me, they raced ahead and ran into the school hall leaving me clutching two dogs and a packed lunch. I handed the packed lunch in and left without even a goodbye from the boys. At least they were happy.

Mind you, yesterday, TJ went to his piano leson and, with KC watching, he played his first duet with his piano teacher - with mixed chords and everything. I was so proud I can tell you I shed a tear. He finished and he was so happy and proud of himself. Even KC gave him a round of applause.

As we left KC turned to me and said, "Can I learn to play a musical instrument, like a guitar? Then TJ and I can start our own pop group?"

"Sure," I said and promised I would look into it - which I will, after all I am a firm beleiver that music is therapeutic and who knows, one day I may be watching them receive their first gold disc!

My "Get out of Jail' card.

I have injured my arm...

That sounds worse than it is.

I've actually damaged my tendon and it hurts.. a lot.

I had an appointment with the physiotherapist today who told me to 'stop using it.' She then taped it up.

This wouldn't be a problem except its my left arm... and I am left handed. It's now not fun.

Even typing this is taking longer than normal as I tap with my right hand and make loads of mistakes.

Papa has been sympathetic. I called to tell him earlier and he said, "It's a get out of jail free card for you, isn't it?"... that didn't sound very sympathetic at all did it?

It wasn't.

I suppose by this he means that because of my injury I won't be able to carry out my paternal duties over the bank holiday weekend (it's a long weekend here in the UK) and I will expect Papa to do it all.

So instead I sorted out the washing and the airing cupboard, made the pizza dough (Its pizza night) made a banana bread (thank you Angela May - best banana bread ever) and then sat down to do my revision - except that now my arm hurt... again.

I, of course, am a trooper. I don't share my pain with anyone (except you). I carry on in my role as a candle for the world (I took over where Princess Di left off) and i bear my pain with the upmost of fortitude... Did I tell you it's a lot of pain????

It's not really - its just annoying.

And I don't think I will be the only one it annoys this weekend. Papa and the boys may have to fend for themselves - well, partially.

Oh well, I'll let you know what happens.

Wish me luck!!!!!

Adventures with the puppy...

After the last post I decided to venture into an area a little less serious - that of our puppy.

She is growing and, unfortunately, she is also managing to jump even higher.

Yesterday I made a cake for the boys' tea, I placed it on the hob and turned around to close the oven door. When I turned back the puppy was already on the hob (which wasn't turned on) and eating her way into a freshly baked orange drizzle cake that must have been still close to the 180degrees that the oven was set to. She didn't seem bothered and despite my telling her off she just carried on eating.

Afterwards I surveyed the mess that was my bake off challenge and decided the best thing to do was cut the top third off, ice it and not say anything. So that's what I did. Except this being the age of social media I couldn't help but put a picture of the resulting mess up on Facebook - 153 hits later and hubby definately knew about the cake. Luckily the kids didn't and they tucked in with abandon after their evening meal.

After dinner I had to log onto to an online revision site for my upcoming exam in psychology - such fun! As I tried to listen to the lecturer and ignore the hundreds of 'chat messages' from fellow students who all wanted to be re-assured that they were indeed going to pass the exam despite having full time jobs and families, I also had to manage the puppy, who has decided she will never leave my side - or in this case my lap. Trying to type with a dog trying to leap onto you is not easy. Needless to say, I didn't take much part in the chat sessions but used the time to try and focus on the areas that need the most revision. This seemed to involve starting three weeks ago - oops!

I haven't taken a written exam since my schooldays, so I am pretty nervous but, apparently, with the right amount of revision I will be ok. Then why did they schedule the exam the day after half term? The poor boys will be spending their days at pony clubs and fottball camp whilst I try to revise.

I wonder whether the puppy can go with them?

This morning the puppy decided the boys' rabbit was her bestest friend in the world ever! The rabbit wasn't too sure, particularly when puppy managed to open rabbit's cage (I still don't know how) and had her head in the rabbit's dinner bowl (I spend a fortune on puppy food and I could easily have just shared the rabbit pellets). The rabbit wasn't too happy and hopped out and it all would have been fine if he then hadn't decided to run. The next five minutes were spent with the dog chasing the rabbit and me chasing the dog - the rabbit found a spot behind the garage and barracaded himself in. It took me twenty minutes of coaxing to get him to come out and pop him in his run (puppy safe!)

We have just come back from our walk and luckily she is worn out - as am I. Although I know it wont be for long!

Wish me luck!

My Son is Ashamed of Me...

My son is ashamed of me...

That took a lot to type. I've been wondering all morning whether to write this blog entry or not - I even went to the gym to mull it over whilst pounding the treadmill... and as I found out this weekend I really must be 'pounding' the treadmill.

Let me elaborate.

My eldest, KC, who is 9, went to a friend's party at the weekend, the friend's mum called and asked if I wouldn't mind helping out as she had invited an awful lot of children. I didn't mind, I explained that I would have TJ with me and she kindly offered for him to come to the party as well. KC wasn't too pleased when he heard, complaining that TJ goes to loads of parties (which is true) whereas KC goes to very few (also true) so why should TJ get to go to this one.

I explained the situation and that I was going to be helping out anyway and TJ would most likely stay with me for the entire party.

We left...

On the way there KC suddenly said, "When we get here can you tell everybody that you are my uncle and TJ is my cousin?"

I nearly drove the car straight into a tree I was so taken aback.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "What's wrong with people knowing I'm your dad and TJ is your brother?"

"I just don't want anyone to know my business," he replied.

I decided to leave it. "We'll talk about this when we get home." I said and we went to the party.

The party was chaos. The kids (30 of them) were off the wall and most of the parents, who had been drafted in to help, like me, stayed glued to the bar whilst myself, the boy's mother and an aunt ran around doing everything - even the party organisers were dreadful. But the kids had a good time, which I suppose is the main thing. Except that at the end of the party I saw KC behaving appallingly and ensuring that none of his friends would play with TJ. I appreciate sibling rivallry and all of that (I was no angel to my little brother) but KC was off the wall - jumping on things, climbing on stuff that was quite dangerous and being openly mean. I had never seen him behave like this before.

I told him to come inside, I wasn't going to tell him off in front of everyone. He looked sheepish, "There," I said, "Now everyone knows I'm your dad because I have just had to bring you in. You have two choices, you either stay and play nicely with your brother, or we go home now."

He opted to go home. So we said our thank you's and goodbyes and left.

Later that evening, whilst TJ watched TV, KC and I sat down with Papa to have a chat.

"Why didn't you want people to know that Dad is your dad?" Papa asked.

"Because I wanted to spare his feelings," KC said in an obviously rehearsed manner.

"Spare his feelings?" Papa asked. I just sat listening.

"Yes," KC went on, "I didn't want my friends to laugh at him because he is so fat."

At this point the bottom fell out of my world. I was stunned.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm no slim Jim and since we had a family I have definately put on a bit, well, a lot of weight, but to hear that your own child is ashamed of you is dreadful.

He went on, "My friends all laugh at fat people and I didn't want them to laugh at Daddy."

"What about TJ," I asked, "Why did you pretend he was your cousin?"

"Because TJ is small and looks weird," came the shocking reply.

I was absolutely lost for words. We haven't explained TJ's disabilities to either boy yet, I'm thinking it may be time soon, I just need to pick the right time - it could crush TJ's self confidence, or it could empower him - I don't know which way the coin will fall yet.

TJ has a form of dwarfism, coupled with possible Foetal Alcohol Syndrome, which effects his appearance - although to me he is gorgeous. Being on the autistic spectrum means he finds social gatherings difficult - but he tries really hard.

But at this point in time I was concerned with where all this was coming from KC. I decided to be honest with him.

"You're not worried about what people think of me, I said, "You are worried about what people will think of you - let's get that point sorted first. If you were worried about me then you would stand up to your friends and tell them you don't care how your Dad or your brother look, but by asking us to lie, then you were only protecting yourself. After all, would it have been ok for these 'friends' to laugh at me and TJ if we were your uncle and cousin."

He shook his head, knowing his argument was flawed.

"There's a boy at school who is fat," he went on, "And some other boys call him names."

"Do you call him names?" I asked.

"No,' came the reply, "But I don't say anything, I'm just glad it's not me."

"Not doing anything is as bad as taking part," I told him, "You have to help him, how would you feel if people laughed at you?"

"That's why I don't eat lunch," he said, "I don't want to get fat."

What??? He's not eating lunch??? He is 9!!!!!!

"I'm on a diet," he said.

We went on to talk about body shapes, different types of people, and the fact that he was an incredibly active little boy who didn't need to watch what he ate just yet. He doesn't have fizzy drinks, occassionally he has crisps and junk food is a treat. I told him all of these things and they seemed to get through to him.

This morning as we were getting ready for school he packed his snack box, "I'll just have two pieces of fruit today," he said.

Now I'm wondering if we got through to him at all.

Either way a call to the school is definately needed and I am back at the gym!

IDAHOT 14

I can't beleive that its been a year since the last IDAHO - time flies, now, of course it's IDAHOT., the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia.

I was wracking my brains thinking of a topic to tie in with the themes of education and homophobia when Papa asked if I could write about a subject dear to his heart - the acceptance of family.

It all came about because one of his friends had been telling him about the fact that his son was gay and that he was now in a long term relationship. The father was concerned because he felt his son was going to miss out on so much of family life and, also, that he was never going to experience the joy of being a grandparent.

Over the past year or so, since they've been friends, the son has gone onto get engaged to his partner and the father has, through his friendship with Papa, seen that a gay relationship can still result in a happy family life - albeit a different one from the one he may have expected for his son. He is a regular reader of the blog and that in turn helped him to see that our family is really no different from any other - we just handle certain things creatively..

Papa then went on to talk about his own family. How in Chinese culture being gay is just something that is not talked about. He was open with his parents from a very young age but, I suppose, like many other parents, not just Asian ones, they were hoping it was just a phase or that he would eventually meet the right girl. Of course, he never did and when I came along his parents, and family, had to accept the fact that we were a couple and that they were probably never going to have grandchildren to carry on their family name. We soon changed that...

As society changes so attitudes change and Papa's parents welcome us all to the family home and accept their two 'ang moh' grandchildren as if they were their own flesh and blood. Indeed the boys both refer to the Asian cousins as 'Cousin...." and 'Cousin....' thus emphasising their role in their family lives. The boys recently had a vote on their favourite cousin (I overheard them) and the Little Prince won - mainly because he was a boy and serving in the Singapore Armed Forces (sorry little princess - but I'm sure it will change, and anyway at least you came second!)

My own parents were pretty ok about my 'coming out' - my Dad said it wasn't the best news he had all year, when I told him, but it wasn't the worse. My mother did that thing of telling me she knew all along - "Great," I said, "Then why didn't you tell me!" It would have saved a lot of heartache and anxiety on my part.

I listen to children in the playground now, particularly in secondary schools, discussing gay role models, such as Tom Daley or gay characters in their favourite TV shows, openly. Whatever their opinions may be, at least there is discussion. Yes, there is prejudice and yes this needs to be addressed, but things are moving in the right direction.

As I prepare my book for publication (hopefully) people ask if I am ok with being so open about our family life - but if we aren't open then who will be? Change comes from people not being afraid of what may happen. Hopefully, we can help to dispel that 'fear' of the scary gay agenda - I hate that phrase!

By looking at our family hopefully, some people have lost their fear of 'gay' parenting. I don't think we preach, we just tell it like it is. If our opening up our lives helps people to understand about the 'modern family' then it has to be a good thing.

So today's post is about openness in family - after all if we can't be open with them then how can we be open with the rest of the world.

Whos' Going?

That was a question that completely took me by surprise yesterday... let me elaborate.

Yesterday I had had enough of the puppy. Puppies are very cute - they have lovely faces and gorgeous eyes. They like to be cuddled and sit on your lap licking your fingers - they are beautiful.

They also poo and wee on everything. A lot! And ours is no exception...

Yesterday, I needed to get some work done. I needed to sit and write and also to revise for my upcoming exam - my second years end of years exams in Psychology. I haven't taken an exam in 20years... I'm very scared!

But, my tutor reassured me, set out a revision timetable and stick to it. A little bit a day is better than cramming. Add into the mix a looming deadline for the book and an accompanying proposal and you can see why I saw a full day of being able to work at home as a blessing.

The puppy saw it differently. She saw it as a full day of having me at home - someone to play with.

So I took her out for not one but two long walks - to tire her out. They didn't.

I kept an eye on her all day, making sure she didn't chew anything dangerous and putting her outside at regular intervals to do her 'business'.

Every time of course I put her outside, she wouldn't go - opting to do her business on the floor as soon as I brought her in. I soon stank of disinfectant.

By the time the boys came home from school she had wee'd and poo'd on everything and I had managed to get very little work done. The boys promised they would watch her whilst they watched some TV.

They didn't.

I heard, "Daddy, the puppy's poo'd on the rug."

I came downstairs in a rage. "I've had enough," I bellowed, "You are going back!" I pointed at the now contrite puppy.

"Who's going back?" KC asked.

"The puppy," I said , still not comprehending what he meant.

"Oh, I thought you were sending me or TJ away," he said quietly, "That's what grown ups do when they get bored of children, they send them back into care."

I was astounded. Where had this come from?

KC didn't seem upset or anything, he said it as if this was just a normal thing to expect.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "no-one is sneding anyone away, I'm just cross with the puppy, that's all."

"If no-on sent their children into care then there wouldn't be anyone for you to adopt," KC went on, "I'm just saying..." (thats his phrase of the week).

I looked at TJ who was staring at me from over the arm of the sofa.

I sighed. "No-one is sending anyone away, sometimes I get mad at the puppy but no matter how mad I get I would never send you away. Do you understand?"

"But would you send the puppy away?" TJ asked.

"Of course not, " I replied, "I just need to housetrain her thats all."

"Did you have to housetrain me?" TJ said.

"No, " I replied, 'Luckily you did that bit yourself." I didn't mention the mess on the toilet floor i cleaned up this morning...

I made a note to watch what I say. It seems strange that after over three years with us they still don't fully believe that this is their 'forever' home - whatever forever means to an 8 year old? But we just have to keep reassuring them and, hopefully, one day it will stick...

Oh well, it looks as though the puppy is staying after all...

Is That Adele?

That was the question TJ asked as he watched the Eurovision Song Contest on Saturday night. We let the boys stay up to watch it purely because this year there had been so much hype about the fantastic British entry that was finally going to do well for us - except it didn't. Although the boys certainly cheered her on - although that may also have been because it was way past their bedtime and as the British entry, Molly, was on last, they got to stay up really late!

Of course the contest was to see the fabulous Conchita Wurst take home the prize for her James Bond inspired song 'Rise of the Phoenix.' As the beautiful, yet bearded, lady came on I expected a barrage of questions from the boys. I didn't get it. TJ looked at me and said, "That lady has a beard," to which KC told him, "No, its a man who likes to wear women's clothes - and that's cool." to which TJ nodded sagely.  I didn't want to go any further into the LGBT debate and let it lie, until TJ suddenly said, halfway through the song, "Is that Adele? It sounds like her James Bond song." Both KC and TJ love James Bond, althought I haven't let them watch the later ones yet preferring to stick to the campier 1970's versions which are constantly on TV - Roger Moore raising an eyebrow or Sean Connery just being.. well, Sean Connery.

The judging came on and the boys asked to place a vote each. TJ opted to vote for the campest French song I have evenr seen - about a Moustache! and KC opted for a little Belarussian who sang about Cheesecake - because he likes cheesecake. If thats the future of Eurovision...

On Sunday we went up to London to see an old school friend of Papa's, who was lovely. I think the boys were shocked to learn that Papa had been at school once and loved listening about his antics as a boy - although to be honest, Papa's antics were pretty few - he was a very good student!

After a delicious dim sum lunch at out favourite restaurant we did a little shopping on Regent's Street, a visit to Hamley's always ensures that the boys are well behaved.

Although over lunch Papa's friend made a comment on how well mannered the boys were - I think that helped them in their present buying budget! I wonder if they bribed her?

Puppy Pulling Power

I had to watch the title in case it began to sound like Scooby Doo's annoying nephew Scrappy but it fits the scene nicely.

Papa and I took the children and dogs to the park yesterday. The puppy is still on lead training as she pulls constantly and is desparate to lick anyone, or anything, that comes within five feet.

The boys raced off to play football with their mates in the park. "Be good," I called after them. "we will," they shouted over their shoulders. I nodded knowing that there was very little I could do if they decided not to be.

Papa and I walked along the outside of the park towards the dog run. We were stopped time and again by other dog walkers commenting on the puppy and asking the usual questions, 'How old was she?", "What breed?" - the answers were usually met with knowing nods or gushes of 'ahhhhh'.

"Why are all the people who stop us to chat old ladies?" Papa asked. I looked at him, "Because they are the ones walking their dogs," I said.

"But what's the point of having a puppy if it doesn't attract lots of young men," he went on, "Haven't you seen Will and Grace?"

"I'm not sure if that reflects real life in a British suburb," I laughed, "But good luck with that." I handed the dog lead over to him. "Let's see how you go."

Within seconds of Papa taking hold of the puppy an athletic, blonde, young man jogged past, glistening with sweat. "Cute puppy," he said and he stopped to let the little dog lick the said sweat off the back of his hand. I felt a pang of jealousy from Papa and knew that he too wanted to lick the sweat off this boy as well. I stifled a laugh - albeit a jealous one.

Papa immediately turned into this macho version of himself, talking about the puppy in a deep manly tone, sharing her age and her funny attributes. "Right, see you around," the young man said as he set off back on his run.

"See you," Papa waved casually.

"Puppy pulling power," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"Let me try," I said and I took the lead from him.

It was only minutes before I was approached .. by yet another old lady.

It was then that we heard the commotion coming from the park and knew that the kids were squabbling over the football - it only takes about ten minutes for 'nice' play to detriorate into a fight.

Things were back to normal.

I took the puppy out again this morning - no sign of any young men for me! I'll try again tomorrow....

Reality Show...

KC has been making great use of his i-pad. He has discovered the video function which means that he is constantly filming.

It's like living in our own reality show - everytime I turn a corner there he is filming the next part of our exploits as a family.

This would be ok if we were constantly doing lots of fun things and maybe had a theme tune and a laugh track that spontaneously cuts in every time one of us says something vaguely amusing - which doesn't happen very often.

But no - KC just films us getting on with life - then makes comments as he does so. He films as if he is talking to his viewer. For instance whilst filming TJ playing with his cars KC is telling the viewer, "Here is my dumb brother playing with his baby toys - he only likes cars and football - he doesn't like anything I like.. but he is my brother so I have to put with him."

TJ, of course, then slams the door in his brother's face - which I'm sure made for a great end of scene.

I was cooking the Sunday lunch (a very British tradition) when I noticed the i-pad being pointed in my direction. 'Do it like a cooking show?" KC directs me ( I say direct - it was kind of like being directed by a nazi stormtrooper) - But I'm happy to oblige and doing my best Jamie/Nigella impression I talk us through the peeling of potatoes and washing of veg before making Yorkshire puddings and basting the roast pork. He gets pretty bored after about 5 minutes. (I wonder why the preparation doesn't make it into most cookery shows - just lots of shots of the celebrity chef telling us how great their food is accompanied by suitable noises). But KC has lost concentration already... 'Now sing,' he says.

I suddenly felt like I was there purely for his entertainment - but being the consummate professional I obliged and sang as I cooked. To be honest, I was having quite a bit of fun and am safe in the knowledge that we don't allow internet access on his ipad, so I know it won't end up on You Tube later this week.

Finally, I asked him to lay the dining table - he wasn't too happy about this and made his feelings well known. "I'm only asking you to do one thing," I said, "You can go back to you filming straight after."

Then I added, "Why are you filming so much anyway?"

He looked at me and then said, "I want to remember you when you are dead."

Sigh...

I remember talking to my fantastic therapists about this once, KC's obsession with death, and their feeling was that he brought it up so often because he was afraid of losing me and Papa and the only way he could seek re-assurance was to talk about our deaths so we could then tell him we weren't going anywhere just yet.

I thought about this and realised that for all the progress we have made (and its a huge amount) there will always be these worries in the back of his mind - abandonment is a huge issue for many adopted children.

I put my vegetables down and went over and gave him a big hug - "I'm not planning on going anywhere just yet," I resassured him.

He looked at me and smiled his cheeky grin, "Then I guess I still have to lay the table," he said...

I guess we will have to think of a theme tune for our show now...

Sweets and Japanese Horror Movies...

It's been a strange evening.

Papa was away last night - he had to go to a fancy dinner in London with a client whilst the boys and I had a fish and chip supper followed by Easter eggs for dessert. Which was, admittedly, great fun.

Whenever one of us is away the boys just don't seem to settle - and last night was no different.

TJ has begun to horde food - I don't know where that comes from - he eats like a horse, but is now apparently waking up in the middle of the night hungry. What is surprising is that rather than come and wake me or Papa and ask for a piece of toast or some cereal (which we would happily give) instead he sneaks into the kitchen and steals sweets - which he obviously prefers to cereal, and I do restrict the boys sugar intake, so actually maybe its not that surprising at all - where I see a psychological imbalance based on his past experiences there may just be a greedy little boy who wants sweets!

However, last night I caught him in the act of sneaking downstairs... Papa was late home and I was still up when this little figure starts creeping down the stairs and into the kitchen. I stepped behind him as he explored the 'treat' cupboard. 'What do you think you are doing?" I whispered in his ear - he jumped a mile.

"I just needed a drink of water," he said, "I was thirsty."

"Really," I replied, "Is there a tap in that cupboard."

He looked guilty. "No, but there is orange juice." (his juice boxes for lunch are stored there and he wasnt having one of those...)

I gave him a glass of water and took him back to bed.

As we walked up the stairs I heard a commotion in my study. I walked in to find KC, in the pitch black, throwing all my books to the floor and turning the furniture over, literally turning it upside down. I clicked on the light to see that he was fast asleep. I decided not to wake him and just followed him talking quietly and telling him it was time to go to bed. All the while picking up the things he threw behind him. He then walked out on to the landing, had a wander around, then went straight back to bed. It was quite bizarre - like one of those Japanese horror movies where the child has been possessed.

So with the boys back in bed I settled down to finish watching my movie and the house fell silent again.

At that moment Papa stumbled through the door - the dogs went beserk and the children woke up again.

I didn't sleep much last nigh!

It's Hard to Say Goodbye...

This weekend we took Granny home after her fortnight Easter stay with us.

Whilst it's always lovely to have Granny (although maybe not her ASBO dog) it's always sad to have to say goodbye. But as my Mum refuses to drive down to us (she hates the M25 london orbital motorway - or car park as we call it) I have to go and pick her up and take her home again. Unless she opts to come down on the train - although that would mean putting her 'beloved' hound in kennels for the duration of her trip. Something she refuses to do - and as asbo dog hates the cat - we have to put our cat in the cattery for the period of time when asbo dog is here - although I think the cat is glad of the rest.

This time it was the rabbit which bore the brunt of asbo dog's 'curious' nature (she's just playing, apparently) - and poor rabbit was 'yapped at' for hours on end. By the end of the trip even my mum said that next time she might have to put her dog in the kennel - or maybe we could send the rabbit away too. At this rate we will all be in a hotel somewhere whilst Mum and her pooch live it up in our house.

Anyway, KC decided to join me on the trip back to Granny's this time. He was very well behaved. He has discovered 'High School Musical' and watched the show three times whilst singing along to all the songs - this would be fine except he is listening to it on his headphones whilst watching the DVD - so any sense of tune is completely lost - a little like the show really.

Well, we spent a lovely weekend at Mum's and even took my Nanny (nearly 91) out for Sunday lunch... except she didn't want sunday lunch as she is on a diet so had a salmon starter followed by a raspberry pavlova (cream's not fattening apparently).

We then took her home and took mum back to say our goodbyes before making the four hour trip home.

As we were saying goodbye, KC grabbed hold of Granny, gave her a big kiss and said, "I hate saying goodbye - but I'm getting better at it."

I thought Mum was going to cry and she gave him the biggest hug ever!

But KC has always hated goodbyes - before he wouldn't even come down the stairs if someone was leaving preferring to hide in his room and we would have to force him into saying his goodbyes. I guess it comes from the idea that everytime he said goodbye as a young boy, whether it was to his birth mum, birth grandparents, foster carer's, social workers - whoever... whenever he said 'goodbye' it really was a goodbye - not a 'see you soon' or 'until next time' but a full on, proper 'goodbye'.

I don't think many 9 year olds will have said as many 'proper' goodbyes as he has... but now he is getting used to the idea that goodbye doesn't necessarily mean forever....

Chocolate in Bed...

It's been a while since my last post.

What with puppies and Easter holidays and having Granny to stay its all been a bit manic. But now the boys are back at school then things should begin to quieten down - one hopes!!!! Ha!

Last night we decided to take Granny out for a meal and booked our lovely childminder (who is also our cleaner). She is a lovely Turkish lady but takes no prisoners. However, she adores the boys and they, in turn, do as she says (which is rare).

So we went out and were only five minutes away when the phone rang.

"Puupy is very naughty,' she bellowed into the phone, "Puppy is eating all the pasta you left on the kitchen table for me."

I had made enough pasta to feed a small army - have you seen how much two boys can eat? - but there was enough for the sitter's supper, should she want some. However, it seemed as though the puppy had eaten it - although why she felt the need to update me with this information I wasn't so sure.

"Never mind," I replied, "There are plenty of crisps in the cupboard."

The sitter thought about this, "Good, I will be eating those then." she said and rang off.

With that settled we went out for a lovely meal - where the waitress was so slow that I was tempted to go and collect the food myself from the kitchen 'pass' (see I watch Masterchef) where it had been sitting for ten minutes whilst she showed her bunions off to her colleagues.

We came home to find both boys asleep and all three dogs silently sitting on the stairs - even ASBO dog was behaving. Turks must have a way with animals - or she scared them into submission after the pasta incident - Never come between a baby sitter and their food!

I went in to say goodnight to the boys and found that TJ's face was covered in chocolate. "Has TJ been awake?" I asked the sitter as she was leaving.

"He only got up to go to the toilet," she said and she left.

I noticed that all of TJ's easter eggs, which had been put into his room to keep them out of reach of the puppy, had all been opened and the largest one (a gift from Granny) was now simply a gold wrapper.

I decided to leave it until the morning.

...

This morning I questioned TJ about his Easter eggs and the chocolate on his face.

"Did you eat three eggs in bed last night?" I asked over breakfast.

He looked sheepish, "No," he said, "I shared it with the sitter."

"Did you?" I asked, "well, let me give her a call later and I'll find out if she enjoyed them."

With that I let him sit quietly staring at his cereal.

As we were walking to school he suddenly piped up, "When I said I was sharing my egg with the sitter - what I meant was that I wanted to share it with her, but by the time I thought about it I had eaten it all."

I looked at him, "It's not the chocoloate I'm cross about," I said, "Its the lying," He looked suitably crestfallen. Then I added, "We shall talk about this when you get home from school."

That should give him a whole day of worrying... cruel, probably...  effective, yes!

Great - so now I have to hide chocolate from both the puppy and TJ!

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.