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.
In contrast to our calm week off, our first week back included two school refusals, a therapy refusal , a difficult bedtime and one very long and stressful school day for mum.
Tall was adamant on Monday, the first day back that he wasn’t going to school. He couldn’t even be prised from his bed, tugging his duvet back over his head on each request to rise. I remained calm, realising that heightened tension around the situation would not assist. The boy seemed tired, even though the day before, Sunday, he’d slept until one thirty and had an early night. I made a deal with him,
“Sleep for another couple of hours then we’ll get you up, shower and feed you and get you in for lunchtime, ease you back in”
A grunt of agreement came from the duvet.
So that obstacle successfully conquered on the Monday, Small decided that in the spirit of fairness he would not go on Tuesday morning.
“It’s not fair” was the cry.
I calmly dealt the same deal and hoped that would bring a Wednesday where they both attended school. It worked.
By Wednesday Dad was away for work for two days, and whilst they went to school it was a grizzly morning. It was therefore with some relief I turned up to teach my yoga class that day, thankful for a couple of hours of calm time.
The calm didn’t last, post a dash around the super market, and then during a social worker meeting (I seem to suddenly have SW meetings coming out of my ears again) I received a phone call from Smalls school.
I dashed off to collect the boy who had managed to become so angry, three members of staff had been involved in holding him to the floor. On arrival at school, I was shown into the heads office where I listened to the catalogue of events.
When he finished I had one question in mind, just tell me the consequence then I can take him home and start repairing.
The Head looked a little confused “consequence? no you misunderstand I just wanted you to be fully informed on how we had to keep him, other children and staff safe, I’m not aware there will be a consequence.”
So I scooped the boy up from where he now was calmly playing with a really lovely member of the pastoral team and brought him home.
I did take a phone call from the Head and Senco that evening to plan for the following day. Whilst Small was not being punished, their current shortage of staff in pastoral and support (due to exam invigilating) would mean it would be difficult to unpick with Small what happened and therefore would it be possible for him to have a reduced time table in school. They were very anxious that he was able to come in attend his first Art Therapy session but could I collect him after.
It was going to be a logistical nightmare, as Tall had his Therapy at the same time the following day and I was still without husband support. However Small’s school were keen to support us in any way possible and when I uttered the words “I’m sorry I’m not trying to be difficult, I just need to work out how I can do it all”
The SENCO replied “We do not think you are being difficult”
So Thursday morning arrived and a military style plan was in place to assure all would get to do what they needed to do, but there was one problem. Tall did not want to play ball.
After a difficult bedtime with Tall, he then refused to turn his light out and didn’t sleep until eleven thirty. Extremely tired he did get up but was then unhappy when I revealed the consequence for his actions. Yes I know I shouldn’t have gone there at that point but I too was tired and in fact felt I was being very lenient and wanted him to know and not worry about the eventual outcome. Just to add I was only dealing a consequence because I’d had a number of challenging bedtimes recently had informed him that on the next occasion a consequence would be incurred.
Tired and unable to deal with this blow, Tall decide the sensible thing was to go to school, without breakfast and in a really bad mood.
I informed school and the phone call I had in return was that I needed to collect him because he was not supposed to be in school on a Thursday morning. I was a little bewildered by this reply, what was I supposed to do?
“He won’t come with me even if I come to school” I explained to the receptionist, who was tasked as the go between. “He’s cross with me right now”
The next message the go-between delivered after an hour of worrying about how things were going, so I called to enquire, was “don’t worry we can look after him, we don’t wanting him causing you problems at home”
I reassured the poor receptionist, that it was no problem for me to have my son at home and that I was willing to collect him at any point if he wasn’t coping. I was reassured “that will not be necessary”
My blood was boiling. I felt misunderstood and patronised by this school once again. I spent all day in a state of high anxiety about what was going on in school for Tall and what mood he would be in on returning.
He thankfully came home tired and sorry.
So that was up to the end of Thursday and it was with great relief I welcomed my husband home and saw the end of the week on the horizon.
In Other News
I was very happy to spend Friday afternoon at a spa with friends and a very relaxing treatment of a hot stone massage.
Husband and I also let our hair down at a great party on Friday night.
At brunch with grandparents on Sunday both boys were brilliant. Whilst Tall helped with the cooking and table clearing, Small played with his baby cousins.