Snot fair

So, it's nearly our first Christmas as parents. I'm probably supposed to be getting massively excited and planning present opening and taking photos of Baby Spouse entranced by the Christmas tree.

Instead I am mainly wiping up snot and trying to put away clothes that are too small (but we have no more vacuum clothes bags and the next size are waiting for labels but it's Mr Spouse's turn to do that and HE has the baby's cold too), and also trying to bake cookies and cake (but I ran out of flour and eggs while Mr Spouse was driving home from the supermarket).

And much as I love my readership, I would rather watch trashy films than sit in front of the computer.

So I'm watching Bridesmaids, and this post is brought to you courtesy of my smartphone. Excuse typos.

BOGOF

Apparently, when you tell the paediatrician about the risk factors A and B, and they are assessing your baby's breathing problems, they throw in a free developmental screening.

Anyway, we are home, with some nice strong drugs, and the emergency number for the ward. Tiny violins screeching in his chest apparently, but viral, not bacterial.

Get it over with

We're in hospital for what we hope is a very quick assessment and home again, as Baby Spouse has some breathing problems, it's probably just viral, but they may want to observe him overnight.

After numerous conversations with acquaintances where I don't feel like disclosing he's adopted, in this setting, as Mr Spouse just said, it's as well to say more or less immediately "we adopted him, we met him at 3 days, he had X and Y problems and yes, we know about A and B risk factors and his siblings don't live with us obviously, and we only have one side of his genetic history".

It kind of feels good in an odd way.

(Do bug me if I don't update to say how he is, but don't panic if I don't as it may be lack of battery on my phone)

Some good, some not

First the not. Nursery have messed up and the times they have given us almost completely fail to intersect with the days I'll be working (in 2 weeks! Help!). We considered taking our ball, er, baby home and Not Playing but he really likes it, so that would be mean. Instead he'll do minimal nursery till Christmas and mainly be at home with Mr Spouse.

Who as yet has no job. But at least one interview. But it might be for a job 2 hours away (there are a few locations). But he definitely wouldn't start till January.

This is turning into a game of "Fortunately... Unfortunately..."

Anyway, as I think I said, we're going for a quiet Christmas, just us, Baby Spouse gets a wrapped up box, we have a chilled out time before going back to Birth State. Mr Spouse has asked if we can have nothing happen next year.

At all.

He has a point. In 2012 we went to the US to acquire a baby (by day 4 of the year, no less), he had 3 sets of exams, his mother died, and he finished his MSc (that's more or less in chronological order). Oh, and he got a Distinction. Clever boy.

I did point out that if we want to adopt again, or perhaps foster, we'd need to try and make our enquiries in 2013. But we are so used to having social workers in the house that doesn't count as something happening. And he didn't say "no way" which, for him, generally means "I'm thinking seriously about it".

It occurs to me also, as an aside, that it's kind of hard to find your way round this blog. When I started it, Blogger didn't do tags, and I never bothered adding any. Perhaps I should do some "NIBs" sound bites somewhere. When I have time. Ha.

Oops

I forgot to say that our adoption was finalised about a week after I last wrote. I don't feel much different to be honest.

I have five minutes before the washing machine finishes and Baby Spouse is sitting in his high chair dropping toys. So this will be quick.

The washing is the 75th load after a very muddy festival experience. Baby Spouse has just learned to sit up on his own but can't yet crawl, so most of the mud was ours. We go to this festival every couple of years and saw lots of old friends and met some new. It was interesting to see how some people just say how gorgeous he is (no reference to adoption), others ask intelligent (or not) questions about the process, and others (new friends and those who were completely out of the loop) ask if we were at the festival the previous year (i.e. around 20 weeks gestation).

I had a very interesting, but very long, conversation with an old friend, which I will try to reproduce in full before I forget it.

I am hoping I will feel more "wow" about being a legal parent when we have our baptism and adoption celebration next month. However my mother is currently in another huff because we have the godparents and associated kids staying and we have said that she needs to find somewhere else to stay. She is too cheap to stay in a travelodge, and regards it as her right to stay at our house. We have told her it is not her business who sleeps at our house or where they sleep, as she seems to think we can squeeze her in a child bed in the baby's room.

And Mr Spouse has shown himself to be an expert in emotional blackmail by telling her we don't want to have to explain to Baby Spouse that his granny couldn't be bothered to come to his baptism so she isn't in the photos. He of course feels this particularly acutely because of losing his mother. Note that my father (long-pre-booked-travel) and brother (does not want to make another trip to the UK as he has just been here) aren't coming, in fact the only one of my 5 aunts and uncles and 11 cousins coming is the one who will be godparent (and their kids).

So although we have almost all of Mr Spouse's teeny family, and several friends, I don't have high hopes for feeling fabulously excited. But there will be cake. And a gown.

Tracking

The substitute for a court appearance to finalise Baby Spouse's adoption is a load of notarised paperwork (how surprising!). It's been to the relevant UK government department, back to us, and yesterday was FedExed to OHP, where it arrived today. Next stop is NLA-town, but as NLA can't deal with it, it will be going to Substitute Lawyer to take to court on an undetermined day. Will keep you posted.

Am I the only one here?

There are times in your life when you do something ordinary for a not very ordinary reason - sometimes not a very good reason.

You wonder if you are the only person doing this for that reason.

Am I the only person having an ultrasound to find out if my baby is dead?

Am I the only person having blood taken to find out if the ERPC worked?

Am I the only person who gets to talk about prenatal brain development to my students, while wondering how far my baby's development got?

Am I the only person asking my employer for annual leave not to sit on a beach, but to go to a frankly not massively exciting adoption preparation course?

Am I the only person sitting in this conference seminar on the latest research on prenatal drug exposure, wondering if I will need to know this for my child?

Are we the only parents with their baby in hospital who didn't give birth to the baby?

Am I the only person picking up prints of their nearly-7-month-old baby to send to his birth mother?

And are we the only family planning next year's holiday to visit their child's birth family.

But I'm happy about the last two. Though, as this will be our last set of monthly photos, I won't miss desperately trying to find the right number of suitable photos at the last minute. We take far too many arty (read: blurred, back view, naked) photos.

Someone has been reading the baby book

And it's not me.

Baby Spouse chose yesterday to roll all the way over for the first time. Today he's 6 months corrected. He's also decided that not all solids are truly disgusting - banana is particularly nice, as are rice cakes.

We were given What To Expect In The First Year, but it scared us so we gave it to the charity shop. It has about 1 million diseases in it. My friend whose baby was 8 weeks early said the other day they looked in it to find out what she should be doing, and immediately decided they shouldn't look in it any more.

So, when you forget to blog...

Too much happens, and you can't blog, or you forget it all.

The News in Brief (not all good):

Baby Spouse is now six months and some transitions are happening (in his own room, holding and mouthing objects, banging), some kind of (rolling, which he did when tiny, but he got heavy, has partly come back, he is rocking on his tummy and arms), and some NOT - Mummy what is this horrible stuff you've put in my mouth Eewwww give me some MILK!

We had a monthly phone call with Nella and she did not sound as keen to talk as previously. We were due to cut down the frequency and I don't feel that she will object. This is a bit of a relief. Actually, it sounded like she was talking about someone else's child, which it hasn't before.

My mother has been in a major strop. She often sees things very negatively, but now is dragging up perceived slights from years ago. I think she has calmed down a bit, but both I and Mr Spouse are a bit bemused.

I still have bits and pieces of work to do, but unfortunately this is interpreted by some colleagues as meaning I can do anything they want as well. This is annoying me. I will book a babysitter (not always the free paternal one) for an important meeting, but not for an hour to create someone a reading list.

A former colleague - one of those people you click with after a short while, and keep up with on the Book of Face, had a baby boy about 2 weeks before Baby Spouse was born. On Wednesday he died, probably a cot death (SIDS). I am not sure I should even email her to offer support - I have a baby the same age as hers.

Sorry, I did say it wasn't all good.

This is not a very exciting post

But I went shopping today in our nearest BIG city (just over an hour on the train) and I bought:

2 plates (to replace the top tier of a cake stand I sold on Ebay that broke - but our plan is not going to work. Boo)

1 tank top and 2 pairs running shorts for me (AA, I wear them as warm weather pyjamas, causing Mr Spouse great mirth)

2 bodysuits (onesies), one black and one bright green, as well as karate pants and a wrap top, for Baby Spouse (all AA, particularly pleased about the black onesie)

A salt grinder, a navy and green maxi dress, two size 6mo+ (HOW is this possible) grobags, a light green onesie and a romper with a lion on (TK Maxx)

6 more bodysuits and a London bus romper (Next)

4 bras and 2 swimsuits (Bravissimo)

But no shoes.

And I was home by 4.15. All made possible by the power of Dad in Charge. Plus he took baby out of the bedroom at 7.30 am and I went back to sleep.

We got a voicemail from Nella to say she needs to give us her new address (so, housing situation has as predicted not stayed stable but she still has a phone). Mr Spouse doesn't really like talking to her on the phone - it is true, she finds him a little hard to understand.

I told him that IF we adopt again and it's from the UK he should do this kind of call as his accent is easier for people from our region. He did not say No we are not adopting again.

Lucky

I have already posted about people saying Baby Spouse is lucky, and how to make people realise it is not lucky if you cannot grow up with your original family. We have tended also to emphasise what an easy baby he is and how rewarding. But I was caught out the other day when I was surprised when someone offered me a seat on public transport when I had him in the sling. Surely I already have an advantage and I should be giving up my seat?

There have been a few amusing posts on STFU Parents about things not to say to your childless friends, and about "mommyjacking". One common theme is telling people they cannot possibly know the meaning of the word "tired" until they have children. As I say, we are very lucky in how easy Baby Spouse is and the fact that he actually sleeps, but I can think of at least four things in the past that have left me at least as tired:

- Shift work (as a volunteer, but coming just before starting medical school, it was very good for me in that it played a part in my, very sensible, decision to follow a different career).

- Insomnia, which at times has been chronic.

- Being in charge of a group of school aged children on a multi-day holiday (it's when they take it in turns to have nightmares/arguments/homesickness).

- Being in charge of a single, very ill school aged child who can't be left alone, even for one night (thanks to that parent who still sent her daughter on sleepover).

The last two I know are likely to happen again (the first because I'm a masochist and the second because I know there will be illness at some point). But if you are awake feeding a newborn (at least, our newborn), you don't need to be nearly as alert as if you have a sleepwalker or cough-till-you-vomiter. These thoughts leave me to conclude that my recent ennui was not entirely tiredness-based.

In other news, Baby Spouse's cousins adore him, naturally, and vice versa (five year olds are very amusing to a baby). The clans aka all my friends will descend on our London flat tomorrow and the next day (approx 8 adults and more children). And everyone at my work is taking it in turns to be a pain in the proverbial about matters adoption-leave-related.

Phew

Home at last. Got back yesterday and had a bad night with jetlag, Mr Spouse being unwell, and Baby Spouse not synching with us. But I managed to make it out of the house and make a new mummy friend - the family across the road have an 11 month old with an equally "unusual" name. She seems to know everyone in the street, and has invited me to go out on Friday with her, colleague with very prem girl (who told me about this family) , and wife of That Wasn't Awkward colleague, who has a baby too. I like the new neighbour and these are all "in the know" but all of these children will be at school with Baby Spouse and I just don't know how much of his story he will want to share when he is older.

Home alone

Or not home, as the case may be. Mr Spouse went home yesterday, and two night time feedings are more than twice as tiring when you don't have anyone to share them with. I am aware that we are very lucky it's only two.

Everyone is taking care of me though, I'm at the foster carer's house for dinner, and tomorrow I'm meeting the adoptive parents my friend introduced me to, again.

I have a few bits and pieces of paperwork to get done - I just picked out the ten photos the agency gets us to print for the first month, and written a draft of a letter for N to put in her scrap book. We have another well baby appointment on Thurs, and I'm thinking about going to a Mommy Matinee.

The visa agents have a status check facility on their website, and we were pleased to see the paperwork not only arrived at their offices but was sent to the embassy. We were very surprised to see an estimated back-in-office time of next Weds later in the day. We'll believe it when we see it, but perhaps Mr Spouse's obsessive form-filling side has helped. We actually have one supposedly essential piece of paper missing, which we cannot get, though we got a court order to circumvent this. So we are crossing our fingers they noticed this already and don't mind, rather than that didn't notice and are going to object when they do.

Poor mite

It's been a day of ups and downs.

Baby Spouse does not look at all like Winston Churchill, and is in fact incredibly gorgeous, though I could be biassed.

N is, understandably, very emotional, and a bit all over the place. I think we can get to know her pretty well and the SW from NLA has been helpful in giving us tips about what's appropriate and not.

Now for the worrying news. Despite being a good weight for his reasonably high gestational age, he just failed his car seat test (a breathing test for preemies). He was just taken down to the NICU. Those are not words you want to hear. It's possible he has a little reflux but he needs to be monitored for 24h for apnea. We may get to stay in the unit, we do need to stay one night at least, and if he fails the test again he'll be in for a week.

Guess what?

I'm just waiting to board a flight. The baby was born on Monday afternoon - 3 weeks early, a couple of "issues" but nothing major. We arrive very late tonight.

My mother is over the moon - as my brother said, the baby knows which side his bread is buttered on, arriving on his potential grandmother's 70th birthday.

Open Adoption Roundtable #33

This Roundtable asks

"What did you learn about open adoption in 2011?"

A couple of things immediately spring to mind:

1: It is possible to be too open - I had a very early lesson in how even seemingly innocuous information can be misinterpreted.

2: as a follow on to 1: it's never wrong to be cautious. I have been practising, and using, the phrase "that's not really our information to share".

However the last couple of weeks, with my new role of "listening ear" to N, has taught me also that Mr Spouse is even more on the same page as me regarding openness. We are both comfortable drawing parallels between this new family relationship, and existing relationships, and they are the same parallels - and having those parallels also makes the relationship less scary.

Class divide

I'm going to talk about money. And class. If you are English, look away now.

We are spending Christmas Day with Mr Spouse's mother who you may remember has quite bad memory loss and would not really cope with staying at ours. It's too far to bring her up to ours for the day, and her tiny old people's flat is too small for me to cook in so we went out for lunch.

My family, the middle class ones, have various taboos, one of which would be wasting money on things like eating out on the kind of day when it costs more (or indeed ever. See: mother's upcoming big birthday). My mother can be very generous (she just gave us a frankly ginormous cheque towards our travel expenses) but will not call me today on my mobile, I can confidently predict. My family also seem to avoid using cash (both parents seem to suffer from empty wallet syndrome when for example a coffee out is suggested).

So to me, having Christmas lunch in a restaurant is a new experience. We also never watched Morecambe and Wise (or ITV in general) and we had stockings where Mr Spouse had a pillowcase.

You may also remember my mother-in-law lives a few hundred yards from an area that was rioted in August. We did book an out of town place, and we booked the early sitting (old people eat their dinners early - oh yes, though this is also a regional thing, we grew up eating lunch followed by dinner, not dinner followed by tea). It was more relaxed than I thought it would be, and the food was better (it's a chain). But the early sitting was clearly the right choice. There were a few tattoos in evidence, but crucially accompanied by sufficient  teeth. All children sat still and wore age-appropriate clothing. Only about two blokes were propping up the bar chain-drinking lagers.

It was as we left and the 2.30 sitting arrived however that the true flavour of Christmas became apparent. Toddlers in tutus that would put My Big Fat Gypsy Christmas to shame. Enough fake tan to paint a canteen of undercooked turkeys (and that's just the blokes). At least half the adults permanently hovering right next to the door smoking (one hopes not too near each other's hair or the hairspray might ignite).

Clearly the 2.30 crowd either knew they wouldn't be up in time to get there any earlier, or alternatively wanted to get a head start on the drinking). Judging by the navigation skills of the friend being directed to the restaurant ("You just drove past! Turn round! No, not left!"), it may have been the latter (one hopes it was the navigator on the Stella).

Of course, as with absolutely everywhere we've been in the last 7 years, I was wondering how suitable it would be for a small baby - and it was a positive conclusion - lots of room to run around, very helpful staff. And I promise a) not to dress babies in suits or crinolines and b) not to say, like one dad on MBFGC, "you can't buy a doll for a boy baby, he's not gay".

Phew

Just heard today that our final renewal paperwork is on its way to the notary and thence to Official Hague Person. Do not pass the labyrinthine corridors of the Department for Education, do not collect $200.

Pleasure

We are spending the day in Blackpool, first at the Pleasure Beach (an amusement park) and then seeing Mike Harding, a comedian and singer we like, whose book "A Transvestite Yorkshireman on Everest" has to be a contender for Best Title Ever.

A month ago I was here with the Brownies on a big regional day out. There were 9000 girls and leaders, as well as various unwitting members of the public looking bemused. We managed 3 rides all day, including one we waited nearly an hour for. I'm just glad the girls didn't have watches. There was a rather good ice show included in our tickets, though.

Today I've lost count of the rides we've been on -  I'm sitting in a cafe while Mr Spouse goes on The Big One for a second time. I do rollercoasters, but not huge ones.

It's odd, considering that we normally go to classical or folk concerts, and the theatre, that we both like amusement parks. We really enjoyed Disneyland too. This does feel like the kind of place you are supposed to bring kids to be let in, but not overly full of babies - mainly 10 year olds. And there are some boring middle aged couples too.

Plus, it's looking like a gorgeous sunset -off to take a look and go on one last ride.

Cheating

Just to keep up my daily post, I am reporting that I'm lounging on the sofa watching Californication and knitting a scarf for my mum's Christmas present. And sneezing.