Life on the Frontline – week 37



A weekly blog from a family made by adoption, warmed by the laughter, broken by the sadness, held together by love with a big dollop of hope, oh, and often soaked in mummy tears.

It’s been a bad week this week, not for the children, they’ve managed well, no for me. I hurt my foot last weekend.

In a comical moment, I slipped on wet decking whilst trying to kick slugs away from my newly planted pots. As I teetered on unfastened sandals, I first wobbled backwards and flapped my arms desperately to correct myself. Too much flapping and I was then heading forwards, a better option really but a big stone caught my foot as I ended up face first on the nearby grass. After the shock of the episode I then looked to the house to see who might have witnessed my demise. I fully expected to see my husband at the window, clutching his sides, enjoying the ridiculousness of the moment. Thankfully not a person had seen, so my dignity intact I then realised my foot was throbbing. I limped back in the house, made light of the whole event and in my ignorance believed I’d be fine in a day or two. It was not to be.

By the time Tuesday came around and I still could hardly walk on it, I knew I had a problem on my hands. Daddy was leaving us to go to Scotland on business for two days and I was to be home alone, unable to drive comfortably and unable to hobble far. So we called in rescue granny.

My mum turned up on Wednesday morning and didn’t leave until lunch time Thursday, in that time she collected children from school, did my shopping, mad the tea and did the washing up. It was a real life saver; I really couldn’t have done it without you mum (I know she reads). Apart from the obvious physical difficulties I had, the children were reassure by the relative normalness our lives were able to continue with. Small was still able to have his friend over for tea on Wednesday and Tall was also able to attend his play therapy.

There was a little wobble over the foot on first thing Wednesday morning, when Tall suddenly realised he had food technology that day and we didn’t have all the ingredients in. He started to feel anxious about me having to go to the local shop to pick up supplies and deliver them to school.

“I’m not going” he said.

However, with a little encouragement and a quick phone call to school, which ensured he was reassured and well supported, off he went. I managed to drive the two short journeys and then returned home to lift my foot and waited for the emergency services to arrive, granny.

My mum is such a great support to our family; the boys love her and are very comfortable in her company. This is how they describe her;

“Granny is so warm”

“Granny gives the best hugs”

“Granny smells so good”

I obviously couldn’t agree more and as I tell the boys, granny taught me everything I know about being a loving mum.


In Other News

I attended a school meeting this week at the high school about Tall. It was lovely to hear so much positivity about his progress and his capability in school. There has been a marked improvement in how he is coping with school and teachers are seeking out those that support him, to sing his praises. Proud.

Small had his first visit to the high school as part of his detailed and well considered integration programme. It is so far removed from Tall’s introduction to high school where being thrown in at the deep end is the only way to describe it. I think lessons have been learnt.

We’ve had a very successful father’s day with no major fall out. Small really can’t see why parents get a day and can often, very often be heard stating “Why is there no children’s day?” but as daddy says. “It’s children’s day every day in our house.”

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