From inertia to inspiration. Kind of.

 You know when you read those inspirational posts on facebook or Instagram that say things that are supposed to be profound, but some days they are just annoying and others they induce tears ? Well I’m not doing that – obvs. I am, however, thinking about something that I’ve seen a lot. ‘What would you try if you knew you wouldn’t fail ?’ It sounds complicated at first, but simply put it’s a kind of go for it, what have you got to lose ? Well for most of us the fear of what could go wrong is paralysing and leaves us in a state of inertia.

I’m thinking about this now because I saw the film about Ruth Bader Ginsberg the other evening and it confirmed for me that she is an amazing woman. Not that I doubted it for a moment, but it struck me that she was fearless and brave in her life and it was with the support and love of her family that she was able to achieve. Often we hear of people who have left relationships behind or driven their loved ones away in the thrall of ambition so to see her children and husband as integral to the success she has achieved was inspiring.

Years ago I joked that I should move to the US and market myself as a self-help guru. I reasoned that if Deepak Chopra could do it why couldn’t I ? It wasn’t entirely in jest and I now see that had I done that I’d probably have pre-empted the yoga boom we have seen and the resultant throw down of all the ‘spiritual leaders’ being accused of sexual assault and inappropriate behaviour with their clients / students. It’s like a ‘me too’ movement with a hint of hemp. I’m not belittling this in any way. What I am doing is pointing to the all-encompassing nature of this culture of casual sexual misconduct that has pervaded even the ‘wellness’ sector. How even the act of finding inner peace is fraught with the potential for inappropriate touch or full on assault due to an imbalance of power and privilege.

And this is the crux of what I’ve been mulling over. For all that I am driven and passionate about equality and fairness and justice what have I achieved in my life ? Is there anything I have done to inspire ? I’m nowhere close to the giddy heights of Ginsberg and her impact, but have I done anything I can be proud of ?

Then at the weekend I shared a post that joked about a Mum’s fantasy being spending time alone in a hotel and just sleeping (all true by the way). My lovely friend Yasmin said she would be doing just that. Going away without her kids and having a break and some valuable ‘me time.’ I commented that I was jealous and she responded, “ I was inspired by you.” Wow that’s kind, I thought. Then I remembered other times people have kindly said they were inspired to do something because of me. Soraya went away on her own to Berlin for a mini break and she told me it was as a direct result of me taking time for myself. It was so much fun “I’m going to make it a regular thing,” she said. Sadly, months later she died, but she had done this thing for herself and I was so proud of her. I have a wonderful friend Paul who is a radio producer and recently he has been presenting a radio show of his own with amazing guests and I praised him on the great success he was having. “I was inspired by you,” he told me. Mind blown. This guy who actually works in radio and is in the business was inspired by little old me to present. What an honour.

Finally – and the one I am most proud of - is the one that I see my son doing. He can’t pass a homeless person without giving them something. It was early in his life that he started to say, “Mummy why is that man sleeping there ?” and I explained that he probably didn’t have a place to sleep or a home. My boy will ask if he can give money or food and always goes up and offers it himself. He has a kind heart and a deep seated desire to help others. I have often wondered where this came from. 

The other night me and Hubbie went out for a pizza (I know we are so rock and roll !) and as we were walking home a woman asked for some money. I shook my head and apologised that I didn’t have any. Then I asked if she wanted some hot food as I could buy it for her. I had electronic money, but not real coinage or notes you see. We walked together to Burger King I paid for her food and asked the man behind the counter to ensure the lady got her meal. I patted her on the arm, smiled at her and wished her well. As we continued walking Hubbie was quiet. Then he said (a bit choked up if I’m honest), “I love it when you do things like that.” “What ?” “You know.” “Well, we are so fortunate and we just had a nice meal, she deserves to eat too.” 

I think I might know where Brown Bear gets it from after all. 

Wish you were here ? I bet you don't !

I grew up in a family that didn't take holidays. If my mum was able to save up she would book a caravan for a few days in North Wales or Devon. We'd be driving all day with nothing to do in the car and would always arrive late (usually in the dark) and would pretty much all complain the whole time. I consider holidays with my kids now to be my karmic reward for this. When we go away I pack the car, arrange for someone to feed Neo and Hubbie charges up the kids' devices so they are busy during the journey. We always leave early to get to our destination during the day and try to get the boys settled as quickly as possible. Once we've located the nearest play area I can unpack and put on the kettle.

The last time we went way was at Christmas and the boys were a nightmare. They argued and fussed all day every day and it was just horrible. At one point I told Hubbie to just get the train back home as his complaining was almost as bad as they boys' behaviour. He stuck it out and we had a miserable time. So what possessed me to book to go away again ?

Well, I noticed that all the families at my son's school have plans for the summer and they pretty much all involve going abroad. We don't take the kids abroad yet, but we do try and get away for at least a week over the summer. In the last few years we've been going to Cornwall because it's so beautiful and there is so much to see and do. There are places we all love to visit like Lappa Valley and then the Eden Project which I am a massive fan of and I bribe the boys to go to with the promise of a pasty for Hubbie and big slabs of homemade cake for the boys.

We're staying a lovely cottage in a part of Cornwall we've not been to before. Yesterday we went to a beautiful fishing village then spent the scorching afternoon on a beach with they boys paddling in the sea and then playing in the sand. It was pretty much what I had hoped for. There are young children living here who knock on the door to play with the boys and yesterday when we got back from the beach they had a paddling pool out so our boys jumped in with them and had a great time before dinner.

They woke up this morning and were playing and mucking about together - which is great, ast least we don't have to supervise them every moment. I got them to sit for breakfast and put some bacon under the grill for Hubbie. I had managed to cut the bread using the bluntest knife since those kids' knives you get in Ikea and made myself a tea. Hubbie took the bread I'd hacked for my breakfast and I eventually sat down to a stone cold cup of tea, mostly burnt toast and a not quite cooked egg - yummy !

We used to have holidays that involved drinking on the plane and staying in bed until we wanted to get up. Breakfast made by someone else. Lunch with cocktails or wine. Dressing up to go out in the evening. Tours and walks in the local area and not a play park in sight. I rarely visited a supermarket for cereal, plasters or colouring pencils. Everyone keeps telling me, "they're not young for long," or, "enjoy it," and my personal favourite, "It gets worse when they are older." Oh joy.

Well. I've got to pack a coolbag with drinks and snacks so they don't have to go any length of time without consuming something. They will still insist on buying something to eat anyway. Probably ice cream. Oh well we are on holiday I suppose.

It takes a village - and a cat - to raise a child.

I watched the movie Mommie Dearest the other day for the first time. I have heard of it, but had never seen it. If you don't know it, the book was written by Christine Crawford about her adoptive mother Joan Crawford and the cruelty she inflicted on her children. I watched Faye Dunaway screaming at her kids for having wire coathangers and witnessed them cowering in fear. There was a clutching feeling in my chest as I thought, oh god I hope my kids they don't think I'm like that when I shout at them. Brown Bear was staying at my Mum and Dad's house and while I was pondering how terrible a parent I am, I got a message from my sister. It said he was telling her he had 'the best day of his life' with me last week when we went to the Lego store and BBC Radio London. Phew, I'm not Joan Crawford. On the scale of parenting it goes from Joan Crawford at one end to ... Oh I dunno probably Mary Poppins and she's not even a parent.

My boy the radio presenter

One of the things that worries me most is that I'm not a great parent. That I shout too much. I don't cook enough. I tell them off when they are just being kids. That I indulge them and they will become spoiled. Basically everything. So when they offer any form of praise or suggest I've got it right I'm proper chuffed. It doesn't happen that often. I have accepted that being a parent means I'll get it wrong at times and the kids will notice. What they also do, however, is forgive me.

Brown Bear goes to stay with my parents sometimes and Blue Bear has stayed with Hubbie's parents in the past. The kids know what they can get away with - a lot - and push their luck by doing the cute baby faces and big eyes to get what they want. In Brown Bear's case that means chocolate spread for breakfast, McDonalds for lunch and so many new toys and clothes that his trunki barely closes when he has to return home. Blue Bear has simpler expectations. He likes to play with all the toys and drags Grandpa around to build railway tracks and play with him. He often just plonks himself on Grandpa's lap and waits for sweets to appear. It doesn't take long.

I asked my Mum what it was like to be a grandparent and she told me that it was like the reward for parenting. That you invest in your kids and the return is the grandkids that you spoil and fuss over. All in the knowledge that the parents have all the stress of raising kids that they already went through. Of course filling the kids with sugar before sending them home is just a bonus.

We also have a secret weapon in our parenting armoury - the cat. Neo has been teaching my kids to be good cats for years. He is expert at it now. Years ago he trained Brown Bear to open the tin of cat biscuits in secret so when I said no he would still get treats. The two of them cuddle up together and snuggle and Blue Bear has been jealous of this closeness for a while. Then a few days ago - while Brown Bear was away - Neo decided it was time to train Blue Bear as well. I watched as my son crawled around behind the cat copying him washing his paw and face and then observed as Neo stopped and waited for him to catch up when he walked off. It was adorable.

He showed Blue Bear how to eat and drink like a cat:

He likes to sit under the clothes airer and meditate - looks like Blue Bear does too.

After an afternoon of cat training they both needed to relax.

I am still going to worry about how inadequate my parenting is, but at least I have some great helpers.

For the love of cats

It's been a while since I posted a gratuitous cat love post - I know if I'm not careful I'll get thrown off the internet ! In honour of my first four days of sugar free February (and no fatalities so far) here's a round up of feline fun:

Neo fell asleep on the sofa this evening so Brown Bear wrapped him up in a fluffy blanket, "like a baby."

Oh how Neo loves the animal bundle game (erm... no he doesn't actually):

Arty shot of the cat - can never have too many of these:

I asked Neo to help me tidy up the toy room - here's his contribution:

Then he stopped for a rest:

I have no idea why he's grooming Brown Bear, but this may explain why they are such great pals:

Moody atmospheric shot during the 'golden hour':

And lest we forget: 

You're not the boss of me ...

...was the petulant response from Brown Bear the other morning when I reminded him of the school rule 'no football in the playground before school. I was wrong footed and heard myself, say, "well actually I'm your Mum so I pretty much am." Uh-oh. Not exactly winning any parenting awards for that now.

I don't subscribe to the school of thought that my kids are my mates, I am their parent first. However, I'm very uncomfortable with the notion of harsh discipline that I was raised with. When I said those words all the work I have done on forming a secure attachment, being a loving and understanding mother and instinctive parenting seemed to fall away. I took a step back and decided to make amends. I gave Brown Bear a hug and wished him a lovely day at school.

My parents never made amends. They never apologised. It was their way or no way. If I didn't comply I was glared at, bullied, then manipulated into agreeing. As a child there was no choice. I ate foods I didn't like because to not eat was disrespectful or rude. I learned not to answer back because if I did the consequences were excessive. I was called a whore for wearing nail varnish, accused of trying to hurt my siblings if they were injured within my line of sight and not spoken to for years without ever being told what I had done. During this time my dad walked past me in the street and acted as though he didn't know me.

My loyalty to them was borne of a belief that they were entitled to my unconditional love because they are my parents. They demanded respect because as far as they were concerned they 'own' their children. If I asked to do something they didn't want me to do the first response was always, "who do you think you are ?" As a result I went to university where they wanted me to. Did a degree that they approved of. Lived a life filled with guilt at never being good enough.

My children don't deserve that. They deserve to enjoy their childhood, to take risks, to make mistakes. When anyone says to my older son, "you're old enough to know better," I get annoyed. I heard that all the time. As the oldest I was always looking after the younger ones and didn't resent it one bit. I love and care for my siblings to the point that I didn't see I was being used as a cashpoint machine by one of them for years. When I finally said no to her the reaction was shocking and upsetting. I don't think I've really got over that.

I'm not saying my boys should always get their way. If they did it would be wall to wall TV and haribos and that's no way to live is it ? Well, ok it does sound appealing, but it's not sustainable and they will lose all their teeth before adulthood. Instead I want them to know they are loved and that I'm being fair to them even when they don't like it.

So, this is all on my mind right now because I've been really angry lately and when I was swimming this afternoon I worked out why. It's the boss thing. At the beginning when my first boy was a baby everyone had an opinion about how I should parent and I was easily led. Then I found confidence in my own parenting, but still took on board the ideas that seemed to make sense to me. Then when we adopted Blue Bear it was all new again and it was like learning how to parent from the beginning again. Still, I think I've got a handle on this.

Over Christmas when we were away the boys were overexcited and out of sorts being away from home and every day was an endless round of Hubbie getting annoyed with them and me getting fed up with the drama. You see if someone is negative about my children I take personal responsibility for their behaviour. I see it as a reflection of my sub-standard parenting and instead of letting it go I am then too strict with my kids. Hubbie became the boss of how I parented and I lost all confidence in my own skills.

Then yesterday morning when my mother was here I found myself getting impatient with my boys because they weren't behaving to the standard that she expected from me when I was a kid. As soon as my parents are around I suddenly become this strict dickhead of a parent that my kids don't recognise and I like even less. My boys don't react well to 'shouty Mummy' and my mother actually said to me, "don't tell them off too much." I walked away and went to have a shower. I wanted to tell her off for so many things she didn't do well. I said nothing. She's not the boss of me. Any more.

I swam to get the anger out of my system. It sort of worked. I remembered that my boys aren't me and I'm not my parents. We are a family held together by love, not obligation. Loving my boys doesn't, however, mean being a pushover.

I'm not the boss of my boys.  They're not the boss of me.

My funny Valentines

I realise that not everyone is big on Valentine's Day and it's a bit overblown with adverts for a diamante encrusted pedi roller that was described thus, "Give the gift of beautiful feet for valentine's day." In the midst of such idiocy how do you salvage something even vaguely dignified ? Well, when we were first together we did give soft toys, sick-making cards and Hubbie would make amazing meals for me that involved fancy ingredients like rose water. Now we are an old married couple (ten years this year thanks for asking) with children we have to be practical about such frivolity.

As I had planned to go and have my hair done and go for lunch with my lovely friend SJ I mentioned to Hubbie that if he wanted to get the hairdressers for me that would be a much appreciated valentine's gift. He duly obliged and I bought us tickets to see Stewart Lee next month. Everyone's happy and not a Cupid's bow in sight.

We had a cursory discussion about what we we each wanted to do this year. Go out for an overpriced set meal ? No thanks. Make a meal at home ? Yeah, but nothing too fancy. Hubbie mentioned that M&S were doing their meal deal offer again so we decided that was the way to go. I popped into town on Friday after dropping Big Boy at school and Baby Boy at nursery and chose a meal that he would love even though I can't eat it. Then I had a brainwave - well it's for 2 so why not invite lovely Jill from next door. After all she's practically family and she loves Beef Wellington too so everyone is happy.

Then this morning the boys surprised me with not one, but three bunches of beautiful flowers - one from each of them. We also got some flowers for Jill and a card from the boys so she wouldn't be left out. The boys gave them to her as they were washing the car for me (inside and out). It did mean they were all soaking wet, but as we were going swimming this afternoon that wasn't so bad. The car is all shiny now - ready to get wrecked during half term.

This evening as we were putting the boys to bed I was checking facebook and saw an announcment that my lovely friend Carol has become engaged to her partner David. Wonderful news and I haven't been to a wedding in yonks so I'm delighted to have an excuse to dress up.

For the first time this year we had a relaxing weekend with no parties to go to and nowhere else to be. It was great to take things at our own pace and to spend time with the boys. With half term coming up I want to give them a chance to have a rest after working so hard at school and nursery. Today was a good start.

The best thing of all was that I got to spend the day with the boys I love most in all the world.

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes...

I haven't written about adoption for a while now and frankly it's been deliberate in order to stop myself from writing anything too bitter and stressed. I know some of you are interested in adoption and some things can only be talked about (written) with hindsight otherwise the emotion at the time it's happening is just too raw. Just before Christmas two big things happened.

We had a family assessment with a child psychologist to help us manage the boys and the various issues we have with their outbursts, aggression and overall emotions around the adoption and how they are managing to live with each other. It was after school so not the best timing really, but it was interesting to have a professional come in and observe how we are together. Some of her comments were a bit hard to hear, but the bottom line is that Big Boy is acting out because he is feeling that Baby Boy is taking over his territory. Baby Boy is asserting himself in his new home and making it clear that he will not be pushed around. It seems so obvious really, but managing this on a daily basis is not as simple as we had imagined. As a result of the assessment we will be getting some structured support to help us and some one to one sessions for Big Boy which will help address how he feels about it all.

It  has taken so long for me to find the balance and work out how to spend enough time with both boys. For the first few months there was almost constant screaming as they fought for my attention and my default was to attend to the younger one. The other day a friend mentioned that she had noticed this when she visited and I felt so ashamed that it was that obvious that I was favouring one child over another. We all make mistakes, but everyone else's aren't under the spotlight as they are when you adopt.

The other thing that happened before Christmas was that we were given a date for a court hearing to decide whether or not to place Baby Boy with us permanently. It was a surprise as we hadn't expected anything to happen before the new year. We tried so hard not to get our hopes up too much, but it seemed that everything was in order so it was possible that it would be complete before Christmas and he would be officially in our family just in time for his first Christmas with us. On the day itself I had already booked the boys to go and see Santa at a grotto in town so we were there when the social worker rang me. I saw three missed calls when we were in Marks and Spencer and called her back. She said she was going to call in so I left straight away to get home to meet her. I knew it was unlikely to have gone smoothly as she didn't sound too cheery, but told myself she might just want to tell me the good news in person.

She was polite and friendly and played with the boys while I hung up the coats and offered to make tea or coffee. She had to get back to her own children as she was on annual leave and had attended court on her day off. Then finally the small talk finished and she told me the judge had given directions and there was one missing bit of information that had to be presented at a new hearing date set for January. So that was it. Our hopes dashed. In a 5 minute court hearing. The social worker had to go. I wished her a Happy Christmas. I fed the boys lunch, then called Hubbie to tell him. It was beyond disappointing. We had promised ourselves not to get our hopes up, but hadn't imagined that something so simple would be an issue. The judge wanted proof that Birth Mum knew about the proceedings. Fair enough and entirely correct. No one had done that. We went through anger, sadness, trying to make sense of it all then finally acceptance. Christmas was difficult.

I was thinking about how hard it must be for someone to accept that their child is not going to be in their lives any more. To know that their only contact will be via a letter once a year. That they won't see the changes in their face or hair colour, or listen to their first words. Missing those first steps or being there for the tearful nursery drop offs. Not being there to go to the park or to feed the ducks. No visits to A and E or plasters for no reason other than the child is convinced it will make the imaginary hurt better. Never telling a bedtime story or staying up at night with a child who can't sleep. Seeing a toy that you know your child will love and trying to hide it so they don't find it before their birthday. I can't imagine a time when I would be able to accept that was going to happen. It's a tall order to ask that of his mother.

The social worker managed to talk to her and confirm that she knew it was happening. That was enough to take to the court hearing. So on the day of the final hearing I was at a fitness class and had left Baby Boy with the lovely neighbour as he was too poorly for nursery. I had two missed calls when I left the class and decided to wait until I was in the car to call the social worker back.
I held my breath as I waited for her to answer her phone.
"Sorry I was in a class when you called earlier."
"That's ok. Was it a good class ?"
"Yes. How did it go ?" holding my breath.
"I've got really good news..."
I didn't hear the rest, but I knew it was finally done. She said she'd be in touch later in the week and congratulated me. I thanked her and breathed. I had to tell Hubbie first, then Big Boy. Both were busy so I went straight home and as I opened the door he gave me a huge, beautiful smile.

My son.

It doesn't matter how we came to be here or what happened before. We all belong to each other now.

We've made a list and we've checked it twice...

When I married Hubbie I found that our families have quite different approaches to Christmas. Of course mine don't even have to celebrate it, but we always have and it was only in recent years and toward the end of her life that I discovered that my beloved grandmother loved Christmas cake and would devour 'plum cake' as it's called in India. Hubbie's late grandmother made something called 'white Christmas pudding' which I had never heard of. A few years ago Mother in law decided to give it a go as a nostalgia thing and to introduce me to the delights of childhood Christmas meals in the family. It looked promising enough and was scattered with crumbled mint aero on top, but I have to say it was terrible !

The main difference between our families is the attitude to presents. Mine cannot wait to tear into gifts and my Mum instigated a rule when my sisters were young that we had to eat breakfast before we could open gifts. The first year I stayed with the in-laws for Christmas I sat politely through breakfast and waited. They opened stocking presents and then went on with preparing Christmas dinner. As the day went on I became more and more impatient. We ate the meal, lit the pudding and even had after dinner mints, but still no pressies. Finally around teatime Father-in-law selected presents from under the tree, put them into separate piles for everyone and we all sat politely waiting. My lot are like wild animals in comparison and a badly scrawled name tag has been known to throw off the whole present opening madness.

Growing up we never asked for presents and knew that we couldn't request anything as it was unlikely we'd get a say in what we received. We didn't write letters to Father Christmas as my parents just didn't want to give an credit to a fat white bloke for presents that they had paid for. Hubbie's family ask for a list of preferred presents and you can guarantee that you will get what you ask for as Mother-in-law does not want to risk buying a gift that is not wanted. I like the approach, even if it does do away with surprise and spontaneity. The only issue I have with this is that I struggle to think of things to ask for as I am so lucky to have such lovely things already. I do think of things for the boys though and this year it's been a bumper year of choosing for two of them. I got Big Boy to write his letter to Father Christmas last week and they will both be going to see him before the day itself so they can assure him they've been good.

I thought I'd give him a head start though by sharing the main things we have on our wish lists:

Big Boy: Anything Lego really - I've bought him a big Lego head storage box and of course I've been collecting the free packs with newspapers all year so he's getting those as stocking fillers. Last year we discovered that Wilko do their own version that is compatible with the brand name bricks. Blox come in great sets and we have the fire station, the police station and an emergency services kit so far. As a special treat we're giving him some Blox figures as he's such a fan of the characters.

Baby Boy: As he has had his eye on Big Boy's Microscooter for so long he is getting a very special big present. I asked for some advice on a starter scooter suitable for a 2 year old and the lovely folks at Microscooter suggested that this mini 2 go micro scooter  would suit him. I cannot wait to see his face when he opens it. I'll be posting pics and a proper review later.

Hubbie: Well as you know he does read this so it's pretty unsafe to even suggest what I might buy for him. We do share our Amazon wishlists with each other so that we can choose specific gifts and his nearly always has band t-shirts and lots of Fall related merchandise on it. He has been talking about getting into cycling more so I know he'd love anything to do with that and have been keeping my eye out for cycling jerseys and useful things like bike lights. I can't say any more - you understand I'm sure.

Me: Well as I said I struggle to think of anything that I actually need so one year I asked for consumables like nice wine and chocolates. Last year I got some fab vouchers for Fat Face which I spent on a lovely new coat in their sale. I know I'll always find something I want to wear from Fat face and also lovely bags.

If I'm being honest the one thing I really want this year for Christmas isn't on any lists and I can't even tell you about it until after the event. Fingers crossed.

Snap, bang, wallop what a picture.

I've not shared a week of photos for a while and it's been so hectic lately I knew I'd have some fun ones to show you.

It's been my ambition to read Harry Potter to Big Boy since we took him to The Warner Bros Studio Tour. Then when I was waiting to meet a friend at Waterloo Station I spotted this beauty in the window of Foyles Bookshop. I'm putting it on his Christmas list and hoping we can start reading it before too long.

Neo has been sleeping on Big Boy's bed for a while now and he is so settled when he's there that we thought we'd have a bit of fun with him. While he snoozed away we carefully placed (very light) toys on him to see what would wake him or make him go all 'Buckaroo.'

Both the boys are obsessed with anything to do with the fire service so I wasn't at all surprised to find them playing while dressed like this.

Now this week wasn't just about everyone else and I went to a book reading by Robert Newman in London. It was pretty low key and there was wine so I had a bit of a natter with him afterwards.

It's not often me and Hubbie get to have a night out together so when we were invited to the opening of a club we decided to go. It wasn't a late one, but it was nice to have an excuse to dress up and have some grown up time. 

Then - of course - it's back to normal. And yay to that. 

All you need is love...

Don't make me choose

When it comes to people talking to me about adoption and specifically about Baby Boy there are a few topics that always come up. How long did it take ? Was it difficult ? Why adoption ? However, I'm most often asked one question and it's always preceded by an apology for bring 'too personal' or 'offensive' neither of which it is. All questions asked about adoption are pretty personal and it's only offensive if it's ignorant or judgemental - even then I'll do my best not to rise to it. I may not talk to you again, but I won't rise to it. How it's worded varies:

It's not the same is it ?

Obviously it's not natural at first ?

When did you realise you did ?

How long does it take ?

Did you know if you would ? 

What if you didn't ? 

The long and short of it is this - do I love baby boy as much as I love big boy ? 

I'm tempted to be flippant in my answer and present a list of pros and cons. 

• My favourite child is the one who's cutest - except they're both gorgeous. 

• I have a preference for the one who makes me laugh the most - they both make me cry with laughter. 

• Maybe it's the one who annoys me least ? Well that's between two kinds of tantrum - one with words and one with loud screaming. Both drive me equally mad. 

Ok. So think about it this way. If you have more than one child you probably had a moment when you worried that you couldn't love another baby as much as your precious first born. Then there was the new child and you found plenty of love for them too. The human heart has an infinite capacity for love - if we let it. 

What's not to love ? 

I knew I'd love baby boy when I saw his photo almost a year ago. When we met him in person I couldn't bring myself to get too close in case he rejected me. The day before I'd said to Hubbie, "I know I'll love him, what if he doesn't love me ?" He smiled and said, "Of course he's going to love us." 

You see at first it really is a one way street. For some adopters it's that way for a long long time. In our case we adopted a young child so he has been able to form an attachment to us and I like to think he does indeed love us. At first though, he was crying for affection and comfort and pushing me away when I went to hold him or comfort him. It was heartbreaking. I'd pick him up and he'd throw his head back and kick me or hit me and I wanted to cry. I kept on giving him unconditional love and hoped that he would eventually accept me and want to be held. 

Then one day as I was holding him close to me his tiny arms went round my neck. I realised that this was something new and hadn't happened before and it made me see what had been missing between us - trust. I breathed a big sigh of relief and held him even closer. He had tested me and was willing to let me love him. 

When I'm asked about how I love my son I want to say, how do you explain how you love your children ? Is it logical ? Does it make any sense to you ? Do you have a method for understanding something so primal ? It's pretty simple to me really. He's my son. I love the bones of him and no matter how much he pushes me away I'm his mother and that isn't going to change.

Mind you I used to say that about the cat too. 

Cat and dog in loving harmony 

Does he take sugar ?

It's not often I'm asked to give evidence for why I think something. Even less frequently am I asked to give examples to demonstrate that I am all for equality. Apparently it's not ok to just say, "Well I've been an equality and diversity manager for a living and they don't let you do that if you're not fair and just." I think that's up there with, "Of course I'm not racist or sexist, I can't be, I'm an asian woman."

Well today I was asked to show how I can prove that I'm all for equality and how I support this in my family. So, partly as an instructional guide and partly to demonstrate that I've thought this through here's what I came up with:

Disability:

During the Paralympics we took our son to watch the football and as a result we spoke to him a lot about the difference between a wheelchair and a pushchair, ie. 'you use a pushchair sometimes and you walk sometimes, if someone uses a wheelchair they may not be able to walk or they might have difficulty walking so the wheelchair helps them to do things."

Since he was little our boy has watched Cbeebies so he has seen programmes featuring children with disabilities and is also familiar with the person signing in the corner of the screen. He once asked me about Cerrie's arm and I explained that it looks different, but she uses it the same way as her other arm for some things. He was happy with that and I didn't use the words, 'normal,' or 'disability.'

I took him to baby signing before he could speak so he also has some signs and understands that this is a form of communication. My father and mother-in-law are both quite deaf so we've taught our son that he should look at them when he's speaking so that they can understand what he's saying to them. It's just showing consideration really isn't it ? 

Ethnicity:

Our son has parents of different ethnicity so he is (in newspeak) 'dual heritage.' In theory this means he has a rich and diverse shared cultural experience to draw upon. In reality it means he loves to eat indian food and knows how to say 'hat' in two languages. He also knows that anyone who wears a turban is from the same 'club' as my father. That Grandma will not tolerate shenanigans from errant toddlers late at night. He also knows that some things only happen at my parents house - ie. food is constantly offered - and some things only happen at Grandma's house - ie. Grandpa goes to play golf.

I recalled a Louis Theroux weird weekend programme in which he asked white South Africans about their attitudes towards black people. One of the people he met loved listening to Lionel Ritchie records, but admitted that of course he wouldn't be allowed into his home as he was black. It occurs to me that disliking someone for their skin colour, but being ok with listening to 'dancing on the ceiling,' is beyond parody. That's how I feel about having to explain that I'm not racist.  

Sexuality:

Now I do struggle to show that I'm not homophobic, I mean how do you do that exactly ? Do I point to my music collection and say, "look, so many gays !!" Or point out that I follow Boy George on my twitter feed ? Do I mention that it's irrelevant to me or is that going to sound too flippant ?

I was asked, "what if your child was gay ?" and what I wanted to say was, "I'd cheer, whoop and take joy in knowing that his gorgeous looks and sense of humour wouldn't be wasted on some silly girl." Does this make me heterophobic ? The best reply was given by our dear friends who were asked the same thing - she is a Christian - and in response to the question, "what would you do if you son was gay ?" she said, "erm, love him ?" I hope this was accompanied by a rolling of eyes and '"Duh !!"

When my boy has asked questions I've said, "You have a mummy and daddy who love each other. Some people have two daddies or two mummies who love each other." He's fine with that and if he asks more I will build on what I've already said.

Underlying all of this, however, is the sense that I'm trying to explain something that is startlingly obvious to me. Of course we don't treat someone as inferior because of their age or their height or their hair colour. That would be just stupid. 

Some questions are so dumbass they don't deserve a response.