Preparing for Our First Day at Big School

Last year PJ talked about going to Big School, as she had had her pre-school boosters, so assumed that when she came to me that she would go straight to Big School but she has had another year of Nursery to do before she has actually started Big School.
And now, the time has come.
Big School Day.
Months of preparation, talking with professionals who have supported PJ and I this last year and lots of discussions with her new school.
I have purchased a million sets of school uniform, washed and labelled everything to within an inch of it's life and then a few weeks ago, we shopped for Big School shoes.
I booked an appointment - early in the day so the shop was quiet for a fitting - which really helped ease the experience for me and PJ and - probably - the assistant too!
For PJ, we have eased the idea of leaving Nursery and going to Big School.
PJ struggles with change and it is therefore likely she will regress with such a big move to school.
Indeed, after the 2nd visit to Big School, I noticed some signs of regression: disturbed sleep, tears, tantrums, wet pants.
I chatted with PJ lots and read books on starting school. We drove by her new school several times and stuck photos of her new school and her teachers in her special photo album.
I arranged with her class teacher, that we would continue sending in spare sets of clothes - just in case - and that she would bring in photos of PJ and I to help maintain a sense of connectedness. I spoke to her class teacher about PJ continuing to bring in her transitional object - who has a special job - to remind PJ that Mummy will be back soon.
The school had arranged for all the children to visit the school twice.
The Nursery also arranged for the small group of them all going to the same school to go and visit another time together.
I also then arranged for PJ and I to do a quiet walk through the school at the beginning of this week, before term started, just a few days before PJ was due to start school. This really helped, as we could see the playground, see her coat peg, remind her of where the toilets were, meet the teacher and teacher assistant again, see the gate where we would walk as we wouldn't be going through the main school reception area entrance on the first day of Big School - and this change could throw her - and we did all this in our new Big School uniform - as a practise - it all really helped pave the way for the big transition ahead.
Perhaps the most significant preparation has been the discussions around reassuring PJ. After the second visit to big school, I noticed a regression. I had a hunch and went with it - a nagging thought - what if PJ thinks that a move to big school also means a move to another new Mummy?
I said to PJ - You do realise that when you go to Big School, I will still be your Mummy, you are not going to another new Mummy. I am your Mummy now.
Oh, she said.
I fought back the tears and added: I will take you to big school and I will pick you up. You will still live here in our house with our cat, Smudge.
Oh, she said.
You see, just a short year ago, PJ had said goodbye to her Nursery and then had said goodbye to her foster carers and then come to live with me, her new Mummy. A short while later we started another new nursery.
Now, just a short year later, we talk about leaving Nursery and going to Big School.
PJ, had filled in the missing gaps and made the assumption that a more to big school must mean a move to a new mummy - after all, a year ago, it all meant just that.
This year, though, the move to Big School, is just that.
A move to Big School.
The preparation has been quite a process.
Ready or not, Our First Day at Big School has finally come.

It went really well.

School Transition Preparation

After 2 big school visits and an Information evening for parents, for the most part, that is the Introductions for PJ going to big school done.
The teacher will also make a visit to the various nurseries that this new reception year intake currently attend, if they attend one, to see the children in their current settings and there was an encouraged optional sign up sheet at the Information evening for parents to sign for a home visit by the class teacher or the teacher assistant to visit the children in their home setting during the afternoons of the first week of September.
Each child will have a buddy from year 6 in the school, who they will be linked to and they will get a postcard in the summer holidays to welcome them to their new big school.
Following the Information evening, parents are trying uniform on their children and making their selections and purchases and have the joys of naming everything with name labels within an inch of it's life to look forward to over the next few months - oh - and the trip to buy new school shoes to try and time perfectly with having the choice whilst not buying too soon that they feet are then too big for the shoes in September.

Bear with me, this will be my first experience at doing all of this, so wish me luck!

We have been given an All About Me book - presented to us parents at the parent Information evening which was complete with a photo of our children and named accordingly on the front cover and also an instant camera to take photos of what inspires us to share of our lives between now and the end of the summer holidays to take pictures of and for us to then compile it together on the pages to present it, complete, on the first day of big school in September.

Yikes!

This is all very exciting and for the normal, settled, secure child, this preparation for school is very good. Parents can talk about school and can help their child practise the getting dressed, fasten shoes, toilet themselves and wash their hands and use a tissue to wipe their own nose, alongside buying the new big school uniform and working on the All About Me book - and, for most children and families this will suffice.

Then there is PJ.
Where do we start with the All About Me book - and given that the book will be looked at in school by PJ, probably daily the teacher shared with all of us parents at the Information evening and is designed for themselves to have to share with peers, teachers, visitors etc. I suspect that this book will also be the springboard for their learning activities for the first term - the potential time bomb - for every adopted child - family, identity, life story, belonging, acceptance.

And then, there is PJ. There ain't no way we will be just turning up at school for the first day of big school, without some kind of further preparation for PJ or the school. Given that the centralised admissions team didn't pass on anything to the school, other than a name and a date of birth, I have already begun setting the ball in motion for as smooth a transition as is possible: hopefully it will all help us all.

So, I have met with the head, who is lovely and listened intently as I shared as best I could some of PJ's background, where we are at with the adoption process, her issues and challenges and some of the support and strategies we have in place so far.

I have arranged to meet her class teacher in a few weeks time - as all teacher's at this time are writing reports and have their current class to think of! I will try and outline some of the issues and strategies in greater detail for them to hopefully continue in the classroom to help maintain some consistency and parallels between home and school, so to ease the transition - if possible.

In addition to this, I am sending the school copies of the latest paperwork:
LAC review
PEP
nursery report
CAMHS referral and reports

What have I missed?

The Uniform Challenge is on.

As those of you who have read my blog before will be aware, PJ is preparing to go to Big School in September as she will be starting school and her Reception year.
She has already done a huge transition to move to be with me in this last year and then to start at a new Nursery for her and now she faces another transition: big school.
We are getting to grips, s-l-o-w-l-y, along with the idea of uniform.
PJ doesn't do clothes well.
She used to scream with every item of clothing change. Every time.
She is getting much better.
We have worked hard at lessening choices of clothes to wear.
I set out her clothes for the day and we change in the same place.
I used to layer her vest and t-shirt and sometimes a pinafore dress too, so that it could go over her head as a one-er, to ease the amount of times I was having to go over the head and in the arms of a distressed child.
It hasn't been easy without our battles.
At worst, for me, she lay screaming and crying in protest for 45 minutes as I sat next to her with a handful of clothes for the day. We ended up in just 2 items: pants and a pinafore dress.
We have worked hard at doing coat or hoody options and in the colder winter days have managed coat and hoody - and even, occasionally a hat and gloves as well.
We are now pretty good at socks and shoes, although sometimes we have to wait until we have reached our destination in the car or the buggy, before we do these!
She doesn't like jeans, or cardigans, or anything scratchy.
We have come a l-o-n-g way.
I have been worrying about the whole school uniform thing, to be honest.
I have narrowed down the clothes we wear on Nursery days to dress or skirt option, for this half term.
I have pre-rolled up bundles in a drawer, ready, complete with vest and pants, ready to go.
Skirt = skirt and t-shirt top.
dress option = pinafore style dress and a t-shirt.
She is doing well with this, idea although we are still wearing leggings too.
I console myself by reminding myself of how far we have come with the whole clothes wearing shebang and that we still have a few more months before we start big school and actually begin to wear the uniform.
This week, our 2nd visit to big school, we tried on the school uniform tops and sweatshirts and cardigans for size. Briefly but just about long enough to get an idea of preferences and size.
I think we will going for the cardigan option - a hoody without a hood, I said. She smiled. It's a winner. Phew.
A big relief, as she doesn't really like buttons or pockets either, but perhaps in the excitement, or in the bewilderment, she didn't notice.
I think we will stick to my hunch that the sweatshirts will be too much around the neck for PJ's liking.
I found to my complete delight some "knitted" t-shirt type material skirts and pinafores - the non scratchy material!
So now, as well as practising with getting dressed and with getting dressed as calmly and as quickly as we can and in the either skirt or dress options for nursery days, I am ordering PJ's school uniform.
Eek.

Regression

Regression visits our home on a regular basis at irregular times and at seemingly inappropriate moments and regularly outstays his welcome.
Regression occurs when my undivided attention is lost. The phone rings, a friend calls round, a professional visits, I am clearing away the main course from dinner and regression steps into the breach and takes centre stage.
There are several acts to this play.
Act One, Scene One: scribble on the walls, running around the room or bouncing on and off furniture, demanding attention, tears, hitting or kicking or throwing things or chasing the cat.
Act One. Scene Two: There may be silence in the regression as PJ becomes self absorbed, lost in her own little world whilst squidging play dough into the carpet or spaghetti on the plate or soup being sipped through a straw, or paint smeared all over her body and the floor and the table, or lip balm smeared all over hands and up the arms in a gooey, sticky mess as if it were soap.
Act Two is a quick escalating regression that occurs when faced with new experiences, which can go either way. Either we regress aggressively through taking control where being bossy, assertive, wanting to take charge and speaking over others are hallmarks. Running around like a whirling dervish in and over and through anything or anyone in it's wake is a common feature. Tears, tantrums, hitting, kicking and biting quickly become inter-twinned with these other features.
Act Three in this regression is the flip-side where anxieties flourish. Fear and flight take root. Of course running around, on and off furniture may feature as may tears and screams and kicks but running through this torrent is distress. Clingy, contrary, confused and crying like a baby, unsettled and unstable. Regression occurs when our world is rocked.
The foundations are void in places, so a few bricks of stability and routine being threatened and there is a gaping hole that is revealed. The fear of falling, falling, falling down in to a bottomless hole, is too great a risk. Resilience must be found from somewhere. From deep within her soul, a reversion to what is familiar and known is found.
The familiar fear, flight, fight pattern.
Regression to a time once known before: baby talk, throwing food, drinking with sippy cups or teats on a bottle.
Act Four is the final Act: The Aftermath. After new experiences, new places, change, new routine, new people and professionals visiting regression occurs. Tears, tantrums, wet pants, unsettled sleep, distressed crying, hitting, kicking, biting.
The final curtain of regression closes some days or weeks later as the symptoms subside. A few more bricks are placed deep within the cracks in the foundation stones and a sense of resilience, calm, peace and an "all is well with the world feeling" takes form.
It is something beautiful to behold.
We regress to move forward.
We dance with you regression.
Sometimes, we are on tippy toes.
Sometimes we stomp.
The dance of Regression.

How well do we dance?

The Ups and Downs of Today

The ups and downs of today have been typical of what can happen over a month or more - except that today, we have had it all in a day. I guess it sometimes happens this way.
We ride the surf, dip with the roller coaster ride and make the climb back up the hill to take the breathtaking view from the mountaintop.
PJ has a cold which started a couple of days ago, so at 6.30am she awoke saying she had earache and then promptly went back to sleep again. 7.50am PJ awoke, her nappy had leaked so we changed the bed, said hello to the cat and chased him downstairs for breakfast. Cereal. Today it was requested without milk. We went back upstairs to get dressed and then came back downstairs to watch a bit of CBeebies whilst I get ready, do some jobs and start the washing. The tears started when her drink spilled on her top and the top I got out the drawer to replace it, was not liked. I don't like that one, I want a different one. We had similar later with sobs, complete with snotty nose, over a change of leggings because a pink pair would be preferred to the blue pair I got form the drawer. on each occasion, I gave a hug, said no, reassured and asked again what it was we were about to go downstairs to do - watch telly - or play - and eventually the clothes were obligingly put on with considerable help, quickly and we went back downstairs.
We had tears over which DVD or CBeebies or how many programmes we were going to watch and I stood my ground. We had No's and not that toy, or that one, over suggestions of which toys might be played with. One toy would be suggested and seemingly agreed on but then when the toy was produced it was met with lots of No's and shaking of hands and head and tears. Today was play date with a wee friend - but the first time they had come to us, so I sensed a battle with control. Eventually, I struck gold and a quick suggestion alongside producing the toys and continuing to put them out ready and the tears subsided and a look of delight took hold. Briefly. PJ wanted to play with the toys in the hallway but I said no and then the tears and throwing of toys began. I tried diffusing the situation but a meltdown occurred. I went to sooth and got hit in the crossfire. I put her on the bottom step of the stairs and repeated the word No. Calm restored.
A friend of mine arrives for coffee en route, as the washing machine whirrs, with some welcome gifts for PJ and a new game is played together at the table, with PJ sitting on my lap and happily playing the matching game and chats happily to my friend who she has met once before, a few months ago.
PJ's wee play date friend arrives and all is well. They play well, my friend leaves to travel a long journey home, leaving me and PJ and wee play date friend and their Mum to chat and drink more coffee as the children play. A little aggression starts with some boundary pushing over a few familiar issues - can we go and see the cat, can we jump on the beds - which results in some hitting and kicking after the boundary is re-set. The step at the bottom of the stairs and a firm No results in the hitting and kicking continuing. Random, nearby items are grabbed and thrown: shoes and a basket. Each are removed and another hit in the response to the reminder of a No. I pick PJ up and carry her to her room and put her in her room, re- affirm that I do not like being hit and that it hurts and that we do not hit and go back downstairs. I am thankful for friends who go through similar experiences being around at times like this. My friend who came today for the wee play date has adopted her children too - so yes, she says, she carries one of her little ones to their room too, over similar issues and after similar responses to a No. by the time I am downstairs I am asking PJ if she is ready and she is saying yes and we go downstairs. It is time to say good bye to our wee play date friend and to tidy up together and then have lunch. We have a meltdown over tidying up. Toys thrown and then a quick recovery as I say she can watch some telly whilst I get lunch after we have tidied up together. it all gets done pretty good. More tears over lunch as she asks for a blanket to eat her lunch with and I say no and suggest a hoody if she is cold. The tears came because it seems as if only the blanket would do. I stood my ground again. After lunch we go out and get some jobs done. She lets me put on her shoes and gets in the buggy, asks for a blanket and sits really well as we got to a couple of shops. We return home to sign the birthday cards we are about to deliver and get in the car and go. It all goes smoothly and the present giving is a fun activity - and there is cake to share! We go to a nearby park and run around and play for a while before saying goodbye and getting back in the car to return home. A very quiet PJ, watching a DVD for our usually much loved and looked forward to weekly movie night - and PJ is clearly not feeling all that great - although her temperature still reads as OK.
It has been a busy day - with several things happening, seemingly all at once. This is life and some days are busy like this. Some days do have the emotional ups and downs, with the ups of the smiles and laughter and shared I love you moments and the downs of the hitting and kicking and tears and meltdowns and the pushing of boundaries.
I have remained firm and calm.
Probably helped along by drinking coffee with friends today.
The days has gotten easier as the day has gone on - and maybe the triggers of worry for PJ with 2 x different sets of friends coming to our house this morning on top of her not quite feeling well with her cold, caused more meltdowns and the regressive behaviours we have known to rear their ugly heads once more. Fleetingly.
Maybe an afternoon of the familiar - shopping, visiting a more familiar friend with the promise of a run around in theor local park and ending with the familiar movie night - has helped to calm the storm and for the ups and downs to stay on an even keel for a while.
The truth is, we could analyse the triggers for hours but both I and PJ have to cope with change and cope with both the familiar, the unfamiliar and the busy days and the calmer moments.
We both have to cope and in the meantime I have to go with the ups and the downs of our worlds. Where 2 worlds have collided.
7 months ago.
This post is linked in with the Weekly Adoption shout Out - #WASO - check it out, of you haven't already!

Patience

Patience.
Sometimes I have it.
Sometimes I seem to have lots of it.
Sometimes I don't have much patience.
At all.
Sometimes, my Patience runs out, disappears and I just go Raaaaaah!
It has happened a few times this last week.
A conflict of interest, a challenge, a wrong that needs righting, a No when a Yes was hoped for, a tantrum and I have struggled to S-T-R-E-T-C-H that extra little bit - and I have gone Raaaaaah!
I have removed myself from PJ momentarily, after realising that in that split second I have gone Raaaaaah!
Almost in tears and shaking and having raised my voice, on several occasions this week, I have gone Raaaah!
I have gone Raaaah this week, after:  the play dough was deliberately squidged repeatedly into the carpet,
Raaah! after the tantrum when the DVD was turned off at the right time but it was apparently not the one that had been chosen, despite it just being watched and seemingly enjoyed,
Raaah after  the screams and pleading and tears and begging on and off for an hour for movie night when it is not our movie night day,
Raaah after the many refusals and running off and around in the opposite direction giggling several times when it is time to get dressed, or the time we need to leave the house, or the time we need to go home, or the time we need to get into the car, or the time to get back in the buggy.
Raaah after the doll, the strawberry, the knife and fork and spoon have each been been thrown across the room at me this week.
Raaah after the bedtime routine has been sabotaged with control issues of wanting to do things a different way, and not the usual routine we have grown into these last few months.
Raaah when joining in appropriately at the various groups we attend has not gone to plan and after several attempts to re- join in I have picked up PJ and we have come home early.
Patience at times has disappeared, this week.
Then, after I have gone Raaaah! I have walked away, out of the room, gone downstairs, left PJ safely in her room for a few seconds, gone to the bathroom, taken a few deep breaths, tried to re-compose myself and tried to remember who is supposed to be the grown up in all this.
I have returned, somewhat calmer, often to a tearful and sorry PJ, where those breakthrough moments occur, a sorry and a hug is exchanged and we tidy up the mess and return to do whatever it was we were trying to do before the outburst, the meltdown and the Raaah has occurred.
I feel racked with guilt in these moments after the Raaah.
By contrast, friends say I am doing really well.
Friends with a partner say that when they have had enough, they simply hand over to their other half to take over for a while.
But there is just me and PJ.
We have had some lovely days this week, some magical moments where there is not even a shadow of the merest raaah. We have had moments when there has been patience in action and moments when kind friends from my support network have been around our lives and played with, eaten with us, and eased and helped reinforce the boundaries and friends who have been here in the evenings to share laughter and food.
Even so, Raaaah hasn't been pretty.
Patience?
I desperately need it.
Please.
I don't like Raaah!
I like Patience.

The Strangely Familiar

Don't travel too far when the adoptive placement starts they said. Don't plan on any big family gatherings, no big family holidays, definitely we wouldn't recommend going abroad - for at least 6 months. Oh, and no big house changes or changes in circumstances for at least a year.

We began our new family life and I intended to take it slowly. I planned on slowly introducing PJ to new family members, new places, new friends slowly - which I did do - gradually over those first few weeks we "met" my close friends - they would come to our house - so that it was on our turf, our terms - and friends stayed for just a short time. PJ is very bright and articulate, hyper vigilant, remembers everything and everyone. I tried to be mindful of these things and tried to prepare her, so to lower the anxieties. Her Introduction book had photos of me and the house and the cat and a few carefully selected close friends and close family members we would meet in those early weeks.  A few friends gradually come and play with PJ and I for about half an hour or an hour at a time. It seems to go OK. She brings out a strange selection of toys that we hadn't really played with together during Introductions. The doctors set, containing some "joke" cut fingers. PJ thinks it is hilarious, my friends think it is gross but dutifully play with her and steer her towards the other items in the doctors set. After they leave, there is a huge puddle on the floor of wet pants. This pattern continues with the arrival of anyone home for the first months. Friends arrive, out comes the doctors set and the joke fingers, they leave and there is a puddle on the floor.

I thought I was prepared.
I was, except PJ is an individual, has anxieties and past trauma as well as been uprooted from everything she has known. Everything and everyone. Everything familiar and previously known has either gone or has been uprooted and moved. Familiar toys are in a new place in a strange room. No person we meet and no place we go to is familiar. We go to the park. We've looked at photos of it before we go and it becomes a seemingly enjoyable experience. Home and the park, our park, become relatively safe. The strangely familiar. I am the most known person to her, now and we have only known each other for an increased amount of time for a few weeks. The reality is, that during the Introductions of several weeks, we still hadn't spent 12 hours together in a 24 hours period until she came home to be with me for the last leg of Introductions. We go to the park everyday. It becomes part of our daily routine, our new ritual. It all still very new for her, the strangely familiar.
We go beyond the park to the river after a few weeks. I thought it would be nice to see the swans and the boats. She becomes distressed and cries and starts saying I want to go home Mummy. We need to go back. I want to go home Mummy. She clings to me and becomes anxious. We return to the familiar park, reassuring her all the time. she seems to relax a little and we  return home. The strangely familiar is more strange than familiar.
Taking her to a supermarket - even if the supermarket was the same brand name - was a completely new experience, new turf, the unknown, the never been here before, place. The trolley is different, the store layout is different, no one walking down the aisles is familiar, the car park is different, the journey to and from the supermarket is different. Heightened anxiety, hyper vigilance, fear, fright, flight takes hold. We kept it to a minimum. I pre-stocked the freezer and cupboards with familiar foods, and meals, based on the list the foster carer had given me that I had requested, prior to Introductions starting. Family stocked the fridge with fresh milk and fresh food prior to us arriving home for the last leg of Introductions. Friends turned up at tea time with a home cooked meal to drop off for us to eat - for the first week - which we then extended for 10 days - so that I could focus on PJ and not worry about having hot things and knives in the same breath, when it was the start of being the wrong end of the day to leave PJ alone whilst I cooked tea. I did Internet shopping for the first few weeks and we went in the buggy to the same small local store if we could. After a month we did a bigger shop. To a bigger store. Not the green one Mummy, not the green one, she cried. No, it's OK, I reassured, we are going to the yellow one. For some reason the thought of going to the green store, triggered a memory, a past trauma that resulted in some anxieties. We went to the yellow store. It was tough going for us both. She refused to go in the trolley, tripped on the wheel of the trolley and bashed her nose. And cried. I cradled her in my arms and did my best to soothe and calm her as we both and the trolley queued at the checkout. With everyone staring. 4.30pm is the wrong side of the day to be doing this, I tell myself. Shopping with a 3 year old is strangely familiar to me, too.

Finding Our Rhythm of Family Life

I wonder what is the Rhythm of your Family Life?

It's half term for many, so is it a chance to kick back and do things differently, or take things at a slower pace? Transition and change - especially for the holidays can be a challenge as well as a joy. The change in routine can - and does throw some children, not just the child who is adopted.
PJ loves routine - it brings stability and breeds security - it is like the receiving blanket that she perhaps didn't have when she was a baby. Routine and structure is her: it's OK I am here, you are safe. You can relax. I am here. This is the Love of basic trust. The foundational bit a newborn receives in those early months. Except for PJ her basic foundational trust either wasn't built on firm foundations at all or simply wasn't there. The receiving blanket of trust of food not being there or provided all the time, the change of many care givers, the cries that weren't calmed perhaps often, or that rocking that rocked her world with domestic violence has shaken and stirred her, from deep within. It has been a rocky start.
We are early into the adoptive placement, nearly 6 months and our pace of family life is still finding it's optimum rhythm. I am trying to find the right pace for life to not rock her world too much, whilst introducing the concept that life isn't always the same. Some things change and do change and that despite the change, we are OK. life carries on.
I have stuck to the same daily routine she had known from her foster carers and her bedtime routines and favourite and familiar foods to try and cushion the rocking of her world with the transition and change as we try and form a new family. Together. A new team.
I am familiar with leading teams. Whole classes that changed every year as a class teacher, where we would network with the previous class teacher to find out about each child, whole school ethos's would be developed for simple things like do we all write the date on the top left or right hand of the page, or do we all mark with a smiley face, or do we all give positive praise and rewards for the same things? These similarities and common practise can really help a child moving from one year to another with transition and change, for them to succeed.
I have led International teams of children and young people and families into nations where we have all had to learn to adapt, to be flexible, to take on a whole new culture and to be team - and in a sense, to be family together. As a team leader, during these times, I have learnt to put in place a daily schedule, good team fun times, plan our meal times, bedtimes and when and where we might shower and wash our clothes. Each time we move to a new location, our rhythm changes and we adapt. It takes time and is a necessary part of their transition. We re-group. Orientation happens. We spend the day learning about the new place we are in, the new culture and spend time exploring the new place with lots of family team time fun before we get on with the rest of our team purpose. As leader, I watch for the warning signs that the team is tired or needs more and we change accordingly. Lead so they can follow, without leaving them all behind.
Now, as a new Mummy, I am building a new team. A family. It's a new breed. Me and PJ. Never been done before. There are times when I feel I am taming a wild horse. Learning to grapple with the reins is a learning process all the time. New places and meeting new people take it's toll. I try and re-group after these times. I try and cushion busy days with quieter days, like I have known with teams. like a buffer, I surround the new with something more low key, something that is more relaxing. Time to process, time to be just us, time to re-adjust, re-align, re-group, to re-merge.
We go out for a busy day and the next day we kick back a little by staying home based where we do some craft, play and then go to the park. Friday nights are becoming known as the extremely popular movie night where we watch a DVD and eat hot dogs or chicken nuggets or a pizza on the sofa.
Over the Christmas holidays we did a few Saturday type days, she is growing more accustomed to. PJ loves to be in her pyjamas, so much so that she would happily be in them all day. Wearing any clothes and getting dressed can be a challenge. I have tried to add Saturday mornings as pyjamas mornings as a bit of a motivator. Is it the weekend? she will say. Can we watch telly with our pyjamas on? Yes I say. She beams. She loves it. Weekdays are distinctly different, more so next year when she starts school and I will go back to work. I am trying to prepare us both now.
I am aiming for us both to be up and dressed weekdays by 8.30am and after half term I am going to aim for 8.15am. It's gonna be a killer. I know. We will get there. We've gone from the pyjama preference and ensuing tantrums over wearing any clothes by about 10.30am to being ready for 9am. We are a work in progress.
This year, we have some Nursery days, some days when we do other things like toddler dance or toddler group and other days when we meet up with someone or travel a bit further afield on a day trip and other days where it is just us.
Who's coming today, Mummy? she says.
No one I say, it is just us. She loves it.
You see, our Rhythm of our Family Life needs to be a mix of both busy and also time for us. We are family and in this for the long haul. Pj needs to grow into the security that our rhythm of family life might change and it does and will continue to change but even so, we are still: Family.
Safe and secure. Just us.
I hope you find your Rhythm for your Family Life.

Goody Two Shoes

Today has been one of those battles. You know, the one with shoes. A regular occurrence and so much improved over the last few months.
It's not personal, I know, but some days it gets to you. I have to remind myself of how far we have come.
Since the summer, and after working at this very hard, she will now pretty much wear socks and shoes.
Sometimes, increasingly, she will even wear them in the buggy!
Occasionaly, now, I have observed that she will actually keep them on in the car seat.
Often PJ will now just accept that we have to wear shoes or wellies as part of our getting ready to go out routine and often now will willingly allow me to put them on her without the screams and kicks and hits, or the throwing off of said shoes down the hallway, one or both shoes - just as we are about to leave.
Allow plenty of time, the foster carers had said.
No kidding.
I take a few calming breaths and pick up the shoes and start again.
No shoes she says.
I try, but she kicks.
Not those ones she says.
I am not fooled.
Not too many choices, I had been advised. Of the 3 million pairs, or so it seems, that she arrived with, I have gone through the pile of shoes again and narrowed the selection down considerably.
Ix pair of wellies, 1x pair of trainers, 1x pair of new boots and 1x pair of nice shoes.
I usually say boots or shoes or on other days I say wellies or trainers, depending on what we are doing.
Sometimes I simply say which ones we are wearing and give no choice - like - in the snow we wear wellies.
I triumph with one - hoorah - and then there is shoe number 2 to tackle.
After several attempts, we get there - we get on the car.
Wayhay I think. I silently cheer as we buckle seat belts and start the journey.
The voice from behind says, I've taken my socks and my shoes off Mummy.
Aaaaarrrgh, I rant.
By the third set of traffic lights, I have breathed several breaths and calm has returned to my inner and outer self.
At the 4th set of lights, we turn and arrive at our destination.
We can do this, I tell myself, as we re- dress the socks and shoes and the hoody and the coat that she has also removed.
My sense of humour returns as I realise, it's only shoes, I tell myself - and at least she doesn't take all her clothes off !
Today, the battle was over wearing shoes whilst playing at the Baby and Toddler Group.
She screamed and yelled and tried to hit and kick. It felt like forever before she calmed in my arms.
She didn't want to keep her shoes on and had thrown them off when we arrived there.
I gave her 2 choices - either wear your shoes or we go home.
Do you want to run around and play?
Yes.
Then shoes on.
Nooooooo!
I repeat the deal.
Several times.
OK she eventually says.
Shoes on.
Off you go and play.
Have fun.
I will, she says and runs off.
I am exhausted after the battle but we have success.
I have to remind myself of this and of how far we have come.
The Shoes Are On!
My Goody Two Shoes Girl.

Toddler Group Terrible Tuesdays

Nightmare! We went a few weeks ago, at a friend's kind suggestion, to a local Baby and Toddler Group. I thought we were both ready to branch out and try some new things. PJ had been with me for 3 months and the routine of going to her new Nursery was by now established and she was more settled and happy there. The socialisation skills she will learn and the opportunity to play will be great, I thought. And I will have the chance to play with her there as well as get to know some other Mums too, I mused. Bonus. Besides, my friend Sarah, who had suggested we go, also helped to run it. She had a little boy too, Harry, about PJ's age and we had met them a few times at our church. It is all about connections with PJ, to help lower the anxieties, to calm the fear. I thought that telling her we would be going and that we would see our friend Sarah and her little boy, Harry, would help allay any fears she might have. We will have a lovely time, I reassured her. It will be a nice and calm and chilled morning out, I told myself.
How wrong was I!
It was a battle ground.
She went into fight and flight mode and ran around like a whirling dervish.
Toys, babies or small toddlers on the ground, beware. PJ ran through them, into them and over them. I did my best to catch her, but she thought it was a game and ran faster. I did eventually catch her and sit her down.
Time out.
I did my best to talk calmly, soothingly. You know, all the stuff I have read about and experienced in the past in my job context. She seemed still. She got up and did the same again.
Running at great speed, she went for the slide. A tiny tot was tentatively tottering at the top. He didn't see her coming from behind. They slid down dramatically, together. I grabbed her halfway down to steady her and to slow her down. The baby cried. PJ screamed and hit and kicked. All the Mum's glared, or so it seemed, at me. I wanted to curl up and die and for the ground to swallow me up, right there. I did my best to say sorry to the wee tots parent and to stay focused on talking through the event with PJ and to remind her of being kind and steady and the need to share toys and take turns.
I tried.
Snack time was a disaster.
She made a bee line for the comfy sofas around the edge of the room and ran around, shrieking with delight, bouncing on and off, without a care for anyone or anything, or if she might hurt herself, or them. Talking to her, using a stern voice, or warning her of consequences wouldn't work either. She is in such a state of heightened high arousal at this point that she ain't hearing me.
A warning of a consequence would fall on deaf ears and then she would simply fail, which would be unfair on her. Holding her in a hug for her safety and the safety of others is what she needed and got. For whatever reason, past trauma or fear or memories, or this Baby and Toddler Group simply being a new place, this experience had triggered the basic fight instinct in PJ.
The Queen of Aggression and Fighting was in the room.
And she was going to win.
Let Battle commence.
She doesn't yet have the skills to calm herslef down or the skills to keep herself or others safe. That is my job. I needed to intervene and she needed reassurance that she was safe with me and that I would keep her safe. She wasn't feeling safe in the Baby and Toddler Group. New is scary, even if she portrayed a very over confident and aggressive exterior.
The second week was worse.
And the third week. Or so it seemed to me.
She seemed to go for particular children and hit and kick them.
Repeatedly.
When I withdrew her from the situation each time she did this and held her safe in my arms she screamed, kicked and hit me and headbutted me. Well, she tried to.
One lady came over at one point whilst I was holding PJ sobbing and yelling: get off me Mummy, and asked me if I was OK.
I'm fine I said, as PJ lay, now calm in my arms quietly sniffing.
During the third week, PJ was yelling to me that she wanted to go home.
Home was safe but here was not.
Would I take her home and give in?
I wanted to. After all, I had had what felt like weeks of other Mum's glares and the unspoken words of: haven't you got your 3 year old under control by now?
I wanted to yell out to everyone that: She has only been with me 3 months, this is all new for her, she has been through hell in the past. This is regression. We will get there. Once she has settled she will be fine. She loved her previous Toddler group and has now settled into Nursery. We will get through this, please give us a chance. But of course, I didn't say anything.
I didn't bring her home early either.
I simply said we were going to stay here and play together and that if she hit or kicked again I would bring her to the side again and we would stay together until she had calmed down. She didn't like it. It was hard work. We were both emotionally exhausted by the end of Baby and Toddler Group.
Week 4 was much better and we had talked a lot during the week about the structure of the Baby and Toddler Group and the toys and being kind.
She said: maybe I won't hit Harry. Maybe I will.
Maybe you won't, I said.
She didn't hit Harry.
She arrived and said: do you want to play Harry?
Yes he said.
They did.
Phew.
Week 5 was the Toddler group Christmas party.
She did great!
She even won some of the dance games. I was delighted and so was she.
Then we had 2 weeks off for Christmas.
I was dreading going back last week, I admit.
Would we be back to square one, I thought?
She said she didn't want to go but I told her again of the structure of the group and reminded her of the toys that would be there.
It was a dream.
She played happily and calmly.
I even got a chance to sit and chat with some other mum's there too.
The battleground of Baby and Toddler Group has been worth persevering with.
Resilience resumed. The ability to bounce back.
We bounced.
We go again today.

My Coffee Sanctuary

You can't beat a nice coffee, can you? (Well, I also love tea and, of course, wine!)
Today, now as I write, it is coffee that is doing it for me.
My recovery time.
Coffee, right here, on the sofa as I write.
After the nursery run.
First day back.
After Christmas.
Imagine.
2 weeks of complete change to any routine I was establishing over the last 4 months and 2 weeks of a ridiculous amount of telly watching and staying in pyjamas, presents, Christmas decorations, friends, lazy days, creative days, family, new people and new places, toys, games, food, fun days and now, suddenly, from nowhere it seems here it is. Monday. First day back.
It wasn't easy.
My little girl likes routine and loves her pyjamas and has quite got into the new 2 week routine of pyjama loving fun. Change and transition is never easy, either, so I was up early and ready for the challenge. Or so I thought.
4 months ago, when she first came to me, it was a challenge getting dressed and to get out the door by 10.30 am. We have worked hard over the last few months to be up and dressed by 9am on weekdays, regardless of whether it is a nusery day or not. My new goal this term was to be out the door by 8.30am to get to nursery. You see, in my head, we have to work towards me getting back to work, eventually, and my little girl getting to start school in September 2013. It will take time, I know. Rome wasn't built in a day.
So, this morning, it was carnage.
We did it.
In the end.
It wasn't easy.
So this is now my coffee sanctuary time.
And loving it.
How was your First Day Back Monday been?