Life on the Frontline – Week 6



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 fairly smooth running and calm week in our household. Yes, Small did refuse to go to school on Monday and once there he did refuse to do any work but by Tuesday, he’d come around. He flew through the rest of week in a blazing trail of superness, well he’s always very super to me but I mean as far as school is concerned.

I suppose the big event this week was that Tall started some play therapy. We have been able to access this through CAMHS and we originally asked for a referral about a year ago. However the first appointments came at the time that Tall was dealing with SATs and because he seemed very focus and keen to try his very hardest, we asked for them to be deferred.

So we are hoping that Tall will be able to explore his inner beliefs of himself, confirm his place in the world and understand more about his emotional deregulation. Now this sounds quite a big ask of playing, to me, but the Therapist is fairly confident that we can explore these themes and says we should be ready to commit to up to 30 sessions. I must say this number was at first a shock but I actually feel relieved now that this level of commitment is being given to my son. No six sessions and you’re cured for once.

His eye gave it away, the morning we were due to go to the first session. They darted around in all directions as he sat at the breakfast table, his shoulders rounded down towards his cereal bowl. Again the unusual silence between us in the car told me he was feeling nervous.

It struck me, after he’d disappeared through a door with his therapist, that I too would be committed to 30 sessions of sitting in the not so plush CAMHS waiting room. An enquiry reviled no WiFi so, I wasn’t going to get that online, childfree hour I’d hoped for. Thankfully I’d also brought a book and actually now, an hour of uninterrupted reading seems a glorious luxury.

At eleven, Tall is at the top end of the age range that play therapy is suggested for but in our initial meeting with the therapist, he excitedly rummaged through the different toy boxes and then spent considerable time lining up his soldiers and plotting his war. He is still very much into playing; revealing that his emotional and social ability age is still much younger than eleven.

I was reminded again of this immaturity as he bounded from his therapy room and jumped onto my knee and snuggled into me. I rocked him and caressed him gently.

I personally delivered him back into school to his pastoral manager, who was taking him into learning support, where Tall would spend time before going back into lessons. I was grateful for their understanding and support, knowing that Small was still at home, awaiting going to his support centre in the afternoon. Both at home during the day can be tricky.

So that’s the first session done and I will keep you informed of our progress. I would also be interested to hear of others experiences with play therapy.

In Other News.

Due to me being away at the weekend, my husband announced that on Saturday he had one of the best days he’d ever spent with the boys. So that’s me away next weekend and the next and the next.

Small had a friend over to play, he’d so been missing his pals from school. It was a delight to hear the giggles and laughter that came from his room.

Fatigue is setting in and half term is now on the horizon. Roll on Friday.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *