Tag Archives: adoption

How to Navigate Transitionitis

July is a rock hard month. Every year. The end-of-term routines are chaotic, unpredictable and with all the changes ahead, children often feel adrift. They are overwhelmed and dysregulate at levels unprecedented in the other eleven months of the year. Whilst we haven’t found a magic wand, there are some things we focus on to help our children cope:

Things that minimise out-of-school overwhelm
Things that calm and soothe
Things that engage their bodies in sensory activities
Things that de-stress them

Here are a few ideas from me and my twitter friends:

Lean On Your Routines

Make home a haven of normality and routine

Say no to parties, trips, and out-of-the-ordinary events. Children are already coping with so much in school, they don’t need even more piled on top at home
Create a predictability at the weekend with a routine if you don’t already have one – a mix of sensory stuff, laughter, exercise and calm time

Calm and Soothe

Reading together – we’ve recently begun reading together before the school run (walk), as that provides a very calming environment, where we are sat or cuddled close together and sharing an activity
Chewing gum – that chewing action on school pick-up can really help them to cope. And research has even proven it. If you don’t like gum, then raw carrots or toffees or bagels are all chewy alternatives
Sucking on hard boiled sweets, lollipops, or on drinks through straws. Choose a thick (but not too thick) liquid like a thick milkshake as it both lasts longer and has a stronger sensory impact
Singing nursery rhymes or simple songs. Sure, you might be fed-up of Daddy Shark or the Narwhal song but your kids might just need that repetitive and funny song to centre them

Engage Their Senses

Bashing, sucking or melting their favourite Lego or plastic characters out of ice-cubes (with hot water pistols)
Digging for dinosaurs or unicorns that you have buried in the garden – with their hands or spoons
Water fights or paddling pools if the sun is shining
Baking together – with lots of tasting and testing and licking of bowls and spoons and then eating something delicious at the end of it all
Bouncing – trampolines and bouncy castles can be great at relieving stress and creating a rhythmic sensation
Games that include blowing are great for regulation as it helps control their breathing (long exhales are the key)

Chill – Maximum Downtime

Avoid homework or bringing school home in any way – its stressful enough without invading their home life as well
Relax, alot – movie nights, games, reading in their bedrooms, playing Lego together, painting, drawing – whatever is relaxing for them
Dens and small spaces are often heavenly for children who find the emotional and sensory overwhelm exhausting – even a small tent in the garden can be a real respite for them
Get outdoors – there is something inherently calming about big open spaces, nature, trees, beaches, sand, soil.

Let It Go

At this point in the school year, the focus in our house is on regulation. Keeping everything calm.

So I might help them dress, put their clothes away (rather than insisting they help), accept that one minutes’ teeth brushing is enough for today, pick up more of their stuff than normal. I also tend to back off insisting they contribute to household tasks – I tend to tidy a bit more, put their laundry away when they are at school.

This is not about creating a precedent or even letting them get away with it. It is about accepting that at this time their capacity is reduced, so I adjust my expectations to avoid tipping them into an amygdala hijack (or meltdown).

Some children need plenty of exercise and extra sleep. It is about knowing (and experimenting) with what works to help your young people to cope with a very tricky time of year.

In the end, it’s all about making everyone’s lives a little bit easier.

Just until term is over and we can all breathe again.

End of Term Problems

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‘Time to turn off the television/ tablet‘ you say in your best sing-song voice.

‘Yes Mummy/ Daddy‘ your child replies gleefully as they turn it off and skip to you for a hug.

For many of us the above is a fictional account of what happens, because…

Change is a shock.

There are little changes like shutting down a tablet and big ones like the end of a school year – which is a layer upon layer of tricky stuff to cope with.

Problem 1: They Are Bone Tired

By the end of the school year, my kids are tired. Exhausted. Ready for a break.
Because they are running on empty, they are more prone to coughs, colds, tonsillitis and more.
Whilst they need a break, the holidays are a freestyle period of spontaneity. However much we discuss our plans, they struggle to grasp that amount of information in advance, so feel insecure about what is coming next.
Long light days make sleeping harder (even with blackout blinds and curtains).

That in itself is quite a lot to cope with. But there’s more.

Problem 2: Transitionitis

Of course, the end of one school year is much more than just the end of term. Because next year, after the summer holiday:

Their teacher and teaching assistant will change
Their classroom and peg and drawer will change
Who they sit next to and the classroom dynamics will change
What and how they learn will change

EVERYTHING will change

Problem 3: Routine Is Thrown Out Of The Window

Dear Teachers

Please note – for every “exciting” thing you put into your end of term timetable, some pupils find them very, very, very stressful. Your exciting event is my children’s panic, stress, nightmares, inability to sleep, relax, enjoy or learn.

An Exhausted Mum

The end of term brings a veritable cornucopia of anxiety-inducing events. From sports’ day, to discos, non-uniform days, outdoor events, residentials or trips, plus award ceremonies, end-of-term assemblies and prize-givings. And don’t get me started on last year’s surprise talent competition…

If you’ve rocked a sobbing child who’s too stressed to sleep for days before each of these “fun” events, you too might roll your eyes when school announces yet another end-of-term surprise. Colour me unconvinced that these special events are great for all children.

Solutions: What Our Children Need

When the future seems wobbly, children need routine

What schools can do:

Stick to the routine as much as possible, for as long as you can
Provide lots of warning and a clear timetable for these non-routine events to parents in advance (no surprises, please!)
Pick one day of the week as your Event Day and then keep the rest of the timetable intact
Consider how your exciting events impact on those children who crave certainty and predictability in order to feel safe and stay calm (and essentially able to learn)
Schedule events throughout the year, rather than cramming them all at the end of term
Focus on laughter and fun during transition events to help kids relax
Create a comprehensive and gradual transition plan – starting the week after spring half-term and building gradually

When faced with change, with uncertainty ahead, with transition, many children need routine and predictability to help them feel calm, not spontaneity and excitement.

Ask yourself as a school what you can do to reduce not increase anxiety.

Adoption Myths: They Won’t Remember

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It is tempting to imagine that a child adopted at a young age will not remember the trauma or neglect they experienced. It’s something well-meaning friends and family might say to adopters when they are cradling a small child in their arms ‘They won’t remember’.

The idea is superficially true – young babies and toddlers will not consciously recall their experiences. They may never say “Mummy hit me” but that doesn’t mean to say that they are unaffected by their experiences.

A foetus will not remember the alcohol their mother drank, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t spend their whole lives trying to overcome the changes to their brain and body.

A Little Bit of Neglect

Is neglect worse than abuse? Is alcohol in the womb worse than violence once born? Are wounds that can be seen (treated, mended) worse than those that can’t?

Nearly all children adopted in the England are adopted from social care, having been removed from their birth family due to neglect and inadequate care. We were told that during our preparation training by our adoption agency, so we knew that. But we also were painfully naive about the potential impact of that neglect on their brains, on their development, on their bodies, on their emotions.

Researchers have started to assess the impact of neglect using simple experiments. In this one, a parent deliberately ignores (neglects) their child for a short period. Note that:

The child is safe
The child has an adult in close proximity

This research, devised by Dr Edward Tronick powerfully demonstrates just how vital eye contact, engagement, play and responsiveness is to a baby as young as one.

“The results are almost immediate and they are devastating. The baby looks to the dad and tries to get the dad back into those games… the baby starts to get frustrated… within three minutes the baby has really dissolved“

The Impact on a Child

By being grounded with a parent, who provides a sense of safety and helps her keep an even (emotional) keel, the researcher Dr Richard Cohen goes on to say that the baby can:

explore the world
meet new people
try new things

All because the baby has that safebase to rely on. Dr Cohen goes on to say:

“We can only begin to imagine what it’s like for babies whose life is like … all of the time – and they don’t get that responsiveness, they don’t get any help getting back to an even keel”

The long term impact can be that the child:

has trouble trusting people
has trouble relating to people
has trouble being calm enough so that they can explore the world

Our Adopted Children DO Remember

Our children cannot tell us what they experienced in their lives with their birth family – and we don’t have all the information either.

Yet we have seen how they can struggle with trust, with relationships, with staying calm or on an even emotional keel (all the things the researcher quotes above). As they grow older, these first experiences seem to have an even greater ripple effect on their social interactions and school life.

Bubbles’ stress-response (amygdala) is super sensitive and often hijacks her brain with a fight or flight response to what is an apparently trivial event. Such that the festive season becomes a tightrope of stress, overwhelm and more (see Festive Fear For All The Family).

Babies Are…

As Dr Cohen says at the start of this video, babies are much more capable than imagined – capable of instigating play, of encouraging their carer to interact with them and respond to them.

But they’re also much more vulnerable.

The next time someone tells you that child adopted at a young age won’t remember, why not show them this video and blog?

Festive Fear for All The Family

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So Christmas (Easter, the Summer, end of term) is upon us again. Tis the season to be jolly, or in our family, tis the season to go a little bit bonkers and have a mini meltdown in a crowd.

Tisn’t The Season To Be Jolly

I love the whole trees, fairy lights, magical side of Christmas (Andy is on the Grinch side of the Christmas divide, but this blog is not about him) and we (okay, I) imagined that the children would love it too. So when they joined our family, we attended lots of Christmas fairs and events with the kids, to immerse them in fun, goodwill and festivities.

But last year, after a fairly bad tempered tree festival, we began to wake up to the fact that these events more often than not deteriorated into crossness, frowns, stomping off and accusations of ‘You are mean.’ We were treading a tightrope across an emotional minefield.

Spontaneous Is Not Fun

From a child’s perspective these events can be:

Noisy – there is often loud music and voices clamouring for attention
Crowded – being jostled amongst teeming throngs of tall giants isn’t much fun
Confusing – do we drink hot chocolate or have cake, listen to the choir or have a lucky dip? They want it all and that’s hard to handle
Overwhelming – sounds, sights, smells of food, choices, raised emotions in the people around them, all add up to a sensory assault and rapid overload

These events are different, special, OUT of the ordinary; yet ordinary is what my kids thrive on.

Adopted Children Love Routine

Routine might sometimes be synonymous with boring yet that’s what my children need. They feel safe and happy cossetted in a warm blanket of cosy predictability. Our family is happiest with a simple routine:

Getting up at the same time every day and doing things in the same order. The kids beg for breakfast in their PJs on a weekend, but it can throw the whole morning when I ask them to get dressed afterwards
Walking the same route to school – when Andy walked them once, Bubbles tugged on his arm and shouted ‘You are Going the Wrong Way!!!!‘
Having predictable meals/ mealtimes/ bathtimes/ playtimes/ bedtimes

Christmas is the Anti-Routine. It is a sparkly curveball that wrecks their safety, and threatens their fragile sense of safety and security. So it’s no surprise they don’t react with giggles and glee.

School Timetables Fear

Schools, nurseries, playgroups, churches etc, organise festive feasts of fun. Event after event after event to celebrate religious festivals or Mothers’ Day, Easter bunnies or ends of term. Discos, film nights, singing, dancing, storytelling, plays, performances, sports, clubs, painting, drawing, snowflake cutting, bake sales, fundraising events and more.

Events that are designed with the best of intention, but that create anxiety and fear in adopted children, traumatised children, kids who have experienced upheaval, abuse, violence or loss associated with this time of year, children who are introverted, or SEN, or autistic (the list goes on).

For Bubbles and Nibbles, these events trigger anxiety, discomfort, uncertainty and more. Even if they enjoy the final event, the countdown can be agony. Bubbles will fret for around two weeks before a performance – two weeks when her learning is reduced, when her trauma mask starts to slip, when her emotions are as unstable as TNT.

A Carol Concert of Fear

Bubbles is singing at a carol concert this week. She loves to sing and be part of the choir.

Knowing full well that this was going to trigger her anxiety, I’ve been telling stories about the concert with her, sharing how the audience will be smiling, how her teacher will be looking out for her. Yet I missed something, because I forgot to step into her world. As we walked to school today, we chatted about the concert, and one fear eclipsed them all:

‘The church. It’s big and scary‘ Bubbles told me.

She blew me away. Because not only had she expressed her fear out loud, she had added new detail to it, something that I wish I had known earlier. For we could have visited the church together (in advance). Wandered up and down its aisles, got used to its size and shape in the light of daytime. We could have looked for toilets or exits, seen the doors and the pews, seen light shining in the windows. We could have made friends with the church, and in doing so, taken some of the surprise (aka fear) out of the concert.

Festive Fun is Family Fun

So we are starting a new family Christmas tradition. A Christmas focused on each other. On our relationships and connection, on our energy and well-being.

We are avoiding all the Christmas fairs and events in our local area (which started in November for heaven’s sake). There is little sign in our house that Christmas is approaching – there are no decorations up yet, no obvious signs of the festive season, and as little change to our routines as we can manage with the exception of Rudolf (our own little mischief maker).

Our children have their solid Sundays – a park run in the morning and a swimming lesson before tea bookend a simple day of family time. There may be a trip to the cinema, some tablet time and a walk but not much else.

We are learning to put predictability at the heart of our family and our festive season, for that is where the most fun will be had.

Fun can be simple, easy, calm.
Fun can be cheap, low-key, at home
Fun can be a picnic in the lounge, baking in the kitchen, dens in the bedroom, bubbles in the bathroom, a Theraplay game for one-on-one time, balloons in every room of the house

The heart of family (and festive) fun is creating a sensory experience that my children are comfortable with from start to finish.

How do you ensure your children have fun (not fear) at out-of-the-ordinary events?

The Trauma Mask

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“She seems happy” says Hazel* (from school), as she sits on a table with our social worker Mo*. We three are discussing how best school can support Bubbles to feel safe and secure.

I sigh deeply and remain silent, shaking my head a little.

Bubbles, like many traumatised children, lives her life behind a mask. A mask of control, of pretence, of keeping her feelings and emotions hidden. The mask only slips when she feels safe – when she feels secure enough to express the inner conflict of her world.

“Is Bubbles happy at school?” Hazel asks, her tone a mix of bewilderment and concern.

What should I say? There isn’t an easy answer.

A High Functioning Traumatised Child

Bubbles achieves in school. She is meeting expectations in all areas, exceeding them in reading. She tries really hard to do what she is told and what is expected of her. She tries (so hard) to please and be recognised and rewarded in school.

To all intents and purposes she might seem like a model pupil. She is what I call a highly functioning traumatised child. Yet a deep dark secret lies beneath the surface.

But in holding in together, the truth leaks out as clues

The way she can tip into anger or frustration with a single misplaced word
Her reaction to friendship issues, to rejection taking it beyond personal into a slight on her very soul
How any stress or frustration shown by an adult will stress her out ten fold (by taking perceived safety from her)
Her chewing (raw, powerful grinding)

At a recent assembly I watched her chewing (as my heart went out to my amazing girl). It wasn’t just a curl of hair that strayed near her mouth; Bubbles was stuffing great handfuls of hair into her mouth and gnawing it with gusto. When it wasn’t her hair, it was the shawl I had crocheted for her. Yet minutes later, when I gently asked her if she was anxious, she denied it and seemed surprised that the shawl was wet.

The touching sight of her anxiety led me to action: whilst school had been hesitant when I had previous suggested one, that day I bought her a chewigem pendant to bite in school and at home (Bubbles was delighted). Her chewing isn’t the issue; anxiety is the issue. Bubbles isn’t present during her anxiety. She is stuck in flight or fight mode (when her amygdala – what we call Amy – is in charge). Sometimes she simply doesn’t even remember being anxious or angry, as if her brain has blanked it out.

And because she doesn’t know she is anxious, she won’t tell you she is either.

Her Mask is Safety

Bubbles problem is simple: she doesn’t feel safe. Her early years were sufficiently chaotic and disorganised that she learnt that the only way to be safe was to be in control.

To take charge of every situation
To do what she is told to avoid anger or violence or harsh words
To deny her own emotions for they were too painful

She Yearns For Love

To her teachers and the staff, she seems a happy, cheerful model pupil. Like a swan. All elegant gliding on the surface, but beneath the water, her insides are churning like crazy.

Her need for love, for praise, for acknowledgement, for recognition competes with her anxiety. Bubbles sits and practices her times tables, her handwriting, her reading because she wants someone to notice her and smile.

A little eye contact and a smile mean the world to her.

Yet shame is just beneath the surface. A harsh word and her world crumbles. She tries so hard, exhausting herself every day holding everything tight, holding her world together, taking control of every tiny aspect of her life, losing the carefree years of her childhood.

The Mask Falls Away

At home Bubbles feels safe.

She can express her raw, intense emotions without being shouted at, without incurring the attention of the class, without being shamed. The mask falls away and I see just how much keeping it all together during the day costs my little girl.

I am humbled that she trusts me enough to express her rage, her anger, her intensity – and writing this the guilt rises up at the times when I didn’t react with empathy. On a day when multiple things have gone wrong, her rage can last two hours.

Homework is hard. Not because she is lazy or doesn’t care. Sometimes she cares too much.

Sometimes (after a good day) she has energy and enthusiasm to spare and aces her homework, which builds her fragile self-esteem
After a hard day, when her anxiety left her running on vapours, then it triggers rage because it feels too hard (and rocks her self esteem)
If her anxiety is still sky high, then it triggers shame because she can’t remember her spellings or times tables.

Her battle is real, every school day. Yet somehow through all of this, she still manages to absorb information, to learn, to have moments of fun and friendship.

But when you ask me if Bubbles enjoys school, I don’t really know what to tell you.

* not their real names.

This blog is an excerpt from Emma’s forthcoming sequel to her book “And Then There Were Four” that charts the struggle to learn to parent her adoptive children therapeutically, to get support from school and the adoption agency and to educate herself and others in the needs of her adopted children. It will be published in 2025 and entitled “And Trauma Made Five.”

The Crochet Conundrum: Sanity versus Presence

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If you follow me on social media, you will have seen a lot of photos of crochet lately. Have I lost the plot? Am I creating crochet orphans of my children, as my attention is drawn to the magical combination of hook and wool?

What’s with all the crochet?

Crochet Keeps Me Sane

I revived my crochet in the hope of skipping over the snacking-hour that has me dipping into highly calorific nonsense the minute Andy takes the kids to bed. And it is hard to crochet and each cheezy dibbles at the same time (unless you are using orange wool).

But in it, I found much more than just a distraction from biscuits.

It is utterly absorbing – my mind gets a rest from all the thoughts and problems such as my mum’s health problems
It is relaxing – it is a flow experience that takes over for minutes or hours at a time
I create something unique – an original combination of wool, hook and pattern that is practical (in winter at least)
It is fast – as someone who is undeniably impatient, I love making something in just a few hours (unlike books which takes years to mature)
I am learning new skills. Today I learnt how to start a double-crochet chain and it felt amazing to nail it (even if it’s not going to make my CV)
It gives me something productive to do in those few moments where I would be twiddling my thumbs or checking my phone for the umpteenth time

The Hours We Wait

As a parent, the hours of waiting (when I’m purely there in my capacity as a Bouncer) seriously add up

At the school gate – as they race off and play with their friends until the door opens
At the swimming pool – we are there way too early (soo excited to go swimming, even ten minutes of shivering as we wait cannot dull her giddiness), and it takes ages to pull skin-tight leggings over damp post-swim legs
At mealtimes – waiting for them to finally finish the plate or declare that they can’t eat another bite (unless there is pudding)
At the playgym or park – when I am there to ward off Stranger Danger, to rescue them (less often nowadays) or ferry them to the toilet

Parenting can often feel like a hundred waits a day – all strung together. Nibbles and Bubbles are at an age now when they don’t want me to play tag with them in the school playground (Mum! No! How embarrassing!), but I have to be there.

Now I get to add a few more rows to a hat or scarf, whilst looking up like a less-nervous meerkat occasionally to revel in their play, in their games, in their swinging or balancing as the sun catches my face.

Sanity Versus Presence

Recently I commented to Sarah Fisher (author of Connective Parenting) that I was concerned that my Parental Presence was suffering as a result of my current crochet fad. Parental Presence is the true gift of your unwavering, undivided, unhurried attention that lets them know that you care, that they matter etc.

Her reply (which inspired this blog) was “Ah the balance of sanity vs presence”

How can I be sure that my crochet (or tweeting, or next hobby) is positive for the whole family, rather than just positive for me?

Do I still pay attention to my children? Am I emotionally available to them when they need to be heard, listened to, to talk, to share, to ask for help (or do I tell them to go away as I. Am. Busy?)
Do I ensure that I give my children my undivided (hooks down, wool out of sight) attention at both the start and the finish of each day?
Do I wait for my children to decide that they do not want my attention/ energy before I pick up my hooks/ phone etc?
Do I spend more time (when the kids are around) with them or with my hooks?

I haven’t always got it right (I told Andy that I was busy just last night, counting stitches as it happened). And that last one had me responding with an Oh (followed by ouch) which tells me that recently the balance has been in favour of crochet rather than them.

Yet the truth is, that whether I am ready for them to grow up or not, Nibbles and Bubbles need (and want) me less and less these days.

They are more independent, more self assured, keener to do things on their own. Bubbles loves to spend time at her (new) desk in her bedroom, reading, writing and more. Nibbles loves to play, but often on his own rather than with me. And in that gap, in that new space in our family, I have rediscovered a love of crochet. I just have to make sure that it doesn’t nudge the other fledglings out of the nest, like an oversized cuckoo.

So I am setting out my stall in front of you, my audience, as you are my witness:

I choose both – my kids and crochet, parental presence and sanity.

My Little Pomeranians

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Apparently the names that I use online for my children are derogatory, or so an adoptee told me today.

The adopter saw a tweet where I mentioned Nibbles and Bubbles and was irate..

Bubbles and Nibbles? Are they Pomeranians? This is how APs [adopted parents] refer to us. Cutesy disrespectful little names that make us sound like housepets. Or AD4 (adopted daughter age four. AS is adopted son). We are people, not furniture to “place” or accessories to wear like badges.

When I explained that they had pseudonyms to keep them safe, the person remained unforgivingly angry at me.

Perhaps they would like me to use my children’s given names? To leave a digital trail for their birth parents to find them?

There Is Nothing…

.. I would not do to keep my children safe. I am fiercely protective and beautifully proud of my children and all that they achieved given their adverse starts in life.

I have and will continue to do everything in my power to give them a family that loves them and undo the damage that they experienced both before they were born and in the early months and years of their life.

At times I need support, someone to listen to my life, someone who understands the unique challenges of being an adopter. That is why I am on twitter (as well as to offer the same to others when they need it). If you are there to judge me, then please unfollow me. When I try and talk to you, open your mind and listen, rather than tell me that I am only on social media to “exploit my children” to get “sympathy hugs and congratulatory back pats.”

She Is Not You

You shout that your opinion counts because YOU ARE AN ADOPTEE.

Yes you are an adoptee. And as such your personal experience of adoption is unique. And possibly a world apart from that of Nibbles and Bubbles. Not all adoptees are alike, not all adoptions are alike and not all adopters are alike.

It seems I am your enemy based entirely on the fact that I am an adopter.

Today has been tough. I have cried buckets today, so I sought out my twitter family for support. And in amongst the support I gave, came your vitriol.

Bubbles raged today. A symptom of what happened to her before we met, when she lived with her birth parents, when her body, mind and soul were neglected. In those first vital months, when she should have been loved, nurtured, cherished; when she should have learnt that the world was a safe and loving place, she was neglected. Instead, her experience taught her that she didn’t matter, that however hard she cried, no-one was listening, that no-one cared, and her needs went unmet. She learnt that the world was a place of danger, that everything was a potential threat; she learnt to be vigilant and constantly alert.

She should have been cuddled
Her cries should have bought help, comfort, love
She should have been fed when hungry, changed when wet and put to bed when tired
She should have learnt that the world was a kind and loving place

Her brain didn’t learn how to control stress, her hippocampus did not learn that if she cried that comfort would come and so it didn’t need to be high alert all the time. That experience should have happened over a thousand times in her first year of life. But it didn’t.

You know nothing of this, because this is not your experience. I respect the needs of adoptees to express their experiences, to share their dismay in the process, their disappointment, their rage.

But stop treating adopters as the enemy.

I am not your enemy. I am willing to learn from the mistakes of the past. Providing you are willing to listen without judgement.

I will continue to keep my children’s identity a secret. I will continue to parent them in a way that builds their self-esteem, that redresses some of the neglect they suffered, that slowly but surely trains their hippocampuses that threats vary in nature and to respond appropriately. To help her stay regulated so that she can be the kind, loving and generous girl that I love and adore.

My children know their life story, they know their parents’ names, their identity, the reasons they were adopted. They are in touch with their foster carers, and I will help them find their birth parents if and when they chose.

There is nothing I would not do to protect them and I am sorry if those pseudonyms offend you. I am not going to change a thing.

Ice Ice Baby Please Please Sleep

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The lounge door opens. We pause the TV (just in case). It’s TOO hot Mummy. I sigh. I am rapidly running out of ideas. Bubbles really needs her sleep and last night, the hottest night of the year so far, was a particularly protracted bedtime – instead of lightly snoring at 8pm, she came down to complain umpty-seven times and was still awake nearly an hour later.

Some children might cope quite well with less sleep, but tiredness is a big trigger for emotional dysregulation in our house, so I do everything I can to help them sleep. Here’s some of the things I have and will be trying.

Ice in the Room

Keeping the room as cold as possible helps enormously:

Close the curtains during the day to stop sunshine warming the room through the windows
Once the sun is no longer shining directly in, open the curtains and the windows to the max
Ensure that the air has room to flow – that means leaving their door open (and tiptoeing around at night), but an open window with a closed door doesn’t work
Use a fan to circulate air and cool the skin (cue complaint about the noise!). As an added bonus Fi (@wilmawasmycat on twitter) suggested putting bottles of frozen water in front of a fan to provide air conditioning. One to try tonight.

Daytime Ice-child

For daytime cooling off:

Hoses, water pistols and even a sprinkler. We don’t have a sprinkler, but Michelle (@Reader5Michelle on twitter) said that it was the best £20 [she] had ever spent for summer fun. So I might have to invest (if I can silence my water saving eco warrier) because it is hilarous and cools us down. I might use the hose in the meantime…
Paddling pool – this is the time of year when even straight-from-the-tap paddling pool water is acceptable to my kids. So let them soak, splash and more to keep cool during the daytime.

Nighttime Ice-child

We have a standard bedtime routine with TV and stories that keeps the children’s emotions and energy at an even keel and this is even more important on hot days (for ours, running around outside in the heat and then coming in for bed simply wouldn’t work).

You can also use these tricks to cool them down to help sleep come more easily/ quickly:

A cold bath or shower – preferably as close to bedtime as possible, so either move their existing bath or shower nearer to lights-out or add an extra dip just beforehand
A cold flannel or sponge – on the forehead, the back of the neck, over the skin for a light wash. Where possible, leave the moisture on their skin as its evaporation will cool the skin. Removing the clammy sensation and making them feel fresh can make a huge difference and give them a window of coolness in which to fall asleep. If they don’t like the feel of a flannel, ice-cold water in a spray that leaves a fine mist might suit them better
Ice on the skin – whilst it makes Bubbles giggle and wriggle, often an ice cube rubbed down her spine, over her forehead and on the back of her neck is even better than a flannel
An ice-water bottle. Hot water bottles are so, like, winter, don’t you know. But the same bottle filled with cold water (and ice if you have any leftover from your G&T) is something tactile they can keep next to them as they try to sleep. It lasts longer too, so they don’t pop down to tell you how hot they are every ten seconds
A cold drink – some sips of cold tap water can cool your child a little
A small pieces of ice to suck on – my kids both like to suck or chew on ice, so it’s both a treat and can help them feel they are doing something to fight the heat. It might be a sense of control over the heat that matters most

Ice Their Mind

Much of the problem with a hot night is not the heat. It’s our thoughts and how frustrated we get about them.

Bubbles: It’s too hot

She is not really telling me it’s hot, because I know it is hot, and she’s already told me five times in the last twelve minutes.

As tempting as it is to reply: Just Go. To. Sleep that is about as useful as telling her to calm down. I need to read behind the lines, to the words she isn’t saying, to what she really wants. The least I need to do is respond with empathy:

Me: It must be very frustrating feeling so hot when you want to sleep.

It might be that she wants a specific technique – so I might ask How can I help? And she might admit she wants a cold water bottle.

But these are some useful techniques that apply just as much (if not more) on hot days to help my daughter (particularly) calm down:

Calming her thoughts. Our brains cannot hold two conflicting thoughts at once. So if we can replace the I hate the hot weather, it’s too hot thought with something more helpful that will calm us, that will shove the other one out. As we walked to school today, we talked about how it is often our thoughts about a situation, not the situation itself that keeps us awake. Perhaps thoughts like I love the sunshine. This is just warm. I can fall asleep quickly and easily will work? We will be testing these tonight.
Calming her breath. Sitting alongside her for a few minutes and just breathing slowing together in silence can help her to relax a bit.

Today has been another scorcher of a day, and tonight is forecast to be hot. I have bought another cold-water bottle so the kids won’t fight over them, I have some plastic bottles 3/4 full of water in the freezer for my homemade air conditioning and we will be talking through some more positive thoughts before bed.

Wish us luck…

What techniques have you found to be useful in helping your children (and adults) to get to sleep faster on a hot muggy days?

You Are More Therapeutic Than You Think

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You think you’re getting it all wrong. You feel like a failure. You want to be a fabulous therapeutic parent (TP) but you messed up. (Again.) You ask yourself When Will I Get This Right?

You rate yourself as a rubbish parent. 1 star. On a good day. (Blah blah woe is me blah)

But you’re already getting it right, far more than you give yourself credit for.

Look At Me! Look At Me!

Over the ten days of half-term, we experienced some testing days. Perhaps 3 of them. Or in other words, 70% of the time things went okay or better. Oh, I thought. It felt harder than that.

There’s more. The tricky days weren’t entirely awful. There were whole hours of peace, calm, playing, reading, eating, walking within those days that were okay. Even the hard days were good about 70% of the time.

So it would be more accurate to say that half term was ~5% awful, 95% not-bad, good or surprisingly good, occasionally jaw droppingly cute. Yet it didn’t feel like that.

Why not?

Apparently we are hardwired to remember bad times up to three times more than good times. Helpful? Nope. Those not-so-good memories bounce around our minds, jumping up and screaming Look At Me! whilst the lovely ones melt into the past like steam off that cup of tea you made- gah, cold again?

Savouring My TP Genius Moments

I am a TP genius for at least 12 hours a day. (Go Me). Yes, my kids are asleep for those hours, but it doesn’t detract from the fact that I am brilliant then. And there’s more: when my kids are at school (6 h/day) I’m also a TP Goddess.

It’s time that I recognised that for the vast majority of my day, I am kind, patient, wise, generous, quirky, fun and more. Sometimes I am these things when the kids are around.

Pie to Decimal Places (There’s Always Room For Pie)

Being realistic (see pie chart above), I average:

Genius 5% of the time. This is the parenting equivalent of a getting an unexpected pay rise at work, another week of annual leave whilst going to a 4-day week. Rare as something affordable in Smiggle, but wonderful when it happens.
Good/ Great 20% of the time. I am calm, patient, playful, curious etc. Note: this is not assessed by how my children behave but how I behave towards them*
Okay 50% of the time. Not perfect. Mostly calm, maybe a bit flustered. But normal, everyday parenting level of competence. I didn’t nail it, but I didn’t break it either.
UnTP/ Umm 25% of the time. When I will tut and say That could’ve gone better. Let’s look on the bright side – I created a learning experience, a chance to flick to the relevant page in Sarah Naish’s A to Z of TP and get value for money out of my TP Encyclopedia.

*Too many times I’ve judged myself badly because my child was dysregulated or defiant. I cannot control them (believe me, I tried); I can only take credit for how I behave (which is a double edged sword the times they are adorable and cute).

Instead of judging myself against an expert (Dan Hughes) with over 40 years experience, based on some ridiculous idolised version of a Therapeutic Parent, my aim is to be the best version of TP Emma I can be, knowing that I am flawed in lots of quirky and interesting ways that make for better blogs and books.

Give Yourself Credit

Here’s what you can do if you find yourself wallowing in self doubt:

Stop aiming for being a living embodiment of Dan Hughes, Kim Golding, Ghandi or whoever you most admire in the world of adoption, therapeutic parenting, NVR etc. You are you. That is enough. No-one gets it right all the time
Start recognising how far you have come
Start celebrating the big, small and microscopic wins
Start focusing on all the times your little cactus flowers

Being a TP is hard enough without you getting all judgemental on yourself too. So give yourself a break. Remember this:

YOU. ARE. AMAZING.

Five Lessons in Five Years as a Family

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Five years’ ago today, Andy and I sat nervously in the car, like cops on a stakeout, waiting for 10am, for an awkward handover on the doorstep, for our family to begin in earnest.

We Started With a Wobble

That first morning, as Nibbles and Bubbles navigated the high nets at soft play, I stared in awe and undisguised wonder, bubbling over with novelty and what-have-we-done? fear. It was a pinch me moment; we were finally a family; tonight they would sleep at our house.

Five years on, I’ve learnt a few things:

#1: Love Is Everywhere

When Nibbles first said Love you, Mummy he took my breath away. There is a tenderness, a gentleness and a connection in so much of what they do that shouts I love you.

When they had nothing, they gave me things – sticks, stone, leaves, blossom, now it’s notes or drawings
They care about me. When I was poorly, Bubbles fetched me a toy, blanket and read me a story; Nibbles gives me an emergency hug when he thinks I need one (with unerring accuracy)

They hug and kiss, they share their inner worlds with me (even rages, with a vulnerability and openness that takes my breath away), they look delighted when I collect them from school and when I’ve been away, they gush with love and cuddles as if they store it up when I am not here.

From turning up my favourite song on the radio, to giving me first lick of his ice-cream, love is everywhere and everyday in our family. It’s woven through all our stories too.

#2: Stories Beat Stuff

We have our keepsakes – her first lost tooth, that thing (we’re not sure what) he made out of egg boxes and glitter, photos galore, but these props simply help us remember something even more valuable – the stories we’ve shared:

When Bubbles got bored of listening to Andy and I debate (aka argue) over how best to teach her to ride her bike and just rode off behind our backs and nailed it
When we took Nibbles on his first bus ride and he just said bus, bus, bus all the way to town delighting every jaded bus passenger en route
Staring at snails waiting for their eyes to pop back out, sand in the wrong places, stirring seaside soup, snipping hair under the table and snaffling pancakes from my sister’s Yurt.

Those stories are our history as a family, our legacy as parents, even if sometimes things don’t go exactly to plan and the story contains slammed doors, tears and rage.

#3: Emotions Are King

We used to ask the children to Calm Down (even though that never works) whilst expecting them to grow out of the tantrums and meltdowns. Now we ask ourselves to calm down and have started to explore why we get triggered. As Sarah Naish states in her excellent book The A to Z of Therapeutic Parenting:

keeping [our] cool is the absolute number one most important response to learn

Yesterday Nibbles was upset and he ran into his bed and hid. I calmly and curiously asked Andy what had happened. I escalated things he admitted with a sigh.

Escalation: another word added to our parenting vocabulary. More join all the time: amygdala hijacking, hippocampus, non-violent resistance, PACE, compassion fatigue, blocked trust. All of them shed light on our children and how we can support them.

It is not Bubbles dysregulation or Nibbles oppositional outbursts that matter but how we handle it. And as they say, there is no time like the present to learn.

#4: The Time is Now

When our children first arrived, people told us to treasure these moments as they go so fast. Fast? Everything took an eternity. Mealtimes were Tolkien. A short walk took for.eve. (come on). er. Yet the firsts and lasts soon mount up:

The last bottle warmed to too hot, too cold, just right temperature at bedtime
The last nap (Andy had to wrench that slice of #metime from my grip)
The last bedtime nappy (celebrated with Party Poppers over the bin)
The first time they won an award at school (and I sobbed in assembly)
The first time they both clunked their own seat-belts in (hoorah)

Nibbles still holds my hand on the way to school and I can still carry them on my shoulders for a short time but I know those days are numbered. I am caught in the dichotomy of loving watching them grow, but wanting to keep them with me for longer. Handover feels like yesterday, and a lifetime ago. All I can do, all any of us can do, is to be fully present, to engage in these seconds as they flash by, to savour it all because it will be gone in the tick of a clock.

So when Nibbles asks Would you like me to show you how Robin goes into stealth mode? on his tablet, instead of picking up my phone and checking twitter, I say yes please because he won’t ask for much longer. As Moloko sung “The time is now”

#5: It Doesn’t Matter

I used to fight every battles on every front until I was exhausted. Until I finally realised (with help from Sarah Fisher’s book on Connective Parenting) that lots of things that don’t actually matter, even if the control freak in me likes to pretend they do:

How Bubbles holds a fork, or bites her fingernails (*cringes*), or Nibbles pokes his nostril, or they way they lick icing off an expensive cupcake before declaring they can’t eat another bite. Doesn’t matter.
All SuperMum nonsense, like washing the bedding weekly, homemade scones warm from the oven as the kids come home, ALL ironing (party clothes excepted). Ditto.
A balanced diet (aka meals we used to eat). If they eat any fruit and veg, that’s a win.
A bit of snot on their face as they lean in to kiss you – that does matter, get a tissue!
SATs, their performance versus school year expectations, whether they can spell, their reading level, their ability to sit and listen to boring stuff without fidgeting – so doesn’t matter. School is tiring, so spelling can wait until we have connected and played and had fun together.

There’s very little that truly matters and I am learning to fight fewer battles and save my energy for the ones that really make a difference.

This Matters

What matters is that I love them, to Ikea and back.

What matters is that I will fight for them, wave my flag as a warrior mum, ask for the help, speak to school until I’ve quote every line of their bullying policy, read all the books, attend all the courses, listen to advice until I have the skills to make my family the best it can be.

Today, as Andy walks them to school, I miss sharing that moment with them, the words we share, the warmth of their hand in mine, their goodbye kisses. Yesterday as we walked, Nibbles told me he was feeling fragile and he just wanted to cry when someone shouted or pushed him. What an honour to share his world, his heart with him, to glimpse inside the world of a child.

Nibbles and Bubbles have made life come alive in a whole new way: a technicolor life versus black and white, sound versus silence, glitter versus drab. The only thing I truly miss is a lie-in. And yet I give it up gladly for all the adventures and stories and love we share together.

My children are incredible. And in the reflection of their eyes, through their heart, I sometimes feel incredible too.

and then there were four

tales from the land of adoption

Tag Archives: adoption

How to Navigate Transitionitis

End of Term Problems

Adoption Myths: They Won’t Remember

Festive Fear for All The Family

The Trauma Mask

The Crochet Conundrum: Sanity versus Presence

I choose both – my kids and crochet, parental presence and sanity.

My Little Pomeranians

Ice Ice Baby Please Please Sleep

You Are More Therapeutic Than You Think

Five Lessons in Five Years as a Family