Posted on 13 Comments

I Demand a Parent Contract – Full and Binding

Image: maple /

I had to go shopping for a birthday card this morning.  After wandering endlessly looking for one that the little mister might not think was too gauche, or too girly, or too boyfriendy for his gal pal, I eventually found one that looked plain enough to be boring, but sensible enough not to be misconstrued as anything remotely resembling a card that someone who has a crush on you would send (phew).

Thinking about the ensuing afternoon and future possibilities kept me in a daydream as I imagined fussing about as mother of the groom, and pointy finger wagging in his direction if he dared to so much as divert from his route to have a pint half an hour before the ceremony.  That led me on to thinking about what clothes we should wear, what other people would think – and a lightbulb moment ensued.

Why, just why on earth do we care so much about what other people think?  Ok, so they might raise their eyebrows at the potential of an 11-year-old groom having a pint on his way to his wedding, but come on, I’m allowed to daydream.   My little mister is just not caring in the slightest about how the future is going to turn out, as he’s not even on very good terms with most of the women of this planet (myself included).

So, all this planning and scheming and wedding attire drooling is all about me.   I can’t be the only one who thinks that the rollercoaster rides to get that far are just too much to live with.  Oh the pressure.

I’d love to set out a parental contract for rules between parents.  It would have to be signed and witnessed by all classmates mums and noted by a qualified barrister (free of charge of course, it’s for mums).


1 – Attire
All children under 10 years old must attend any function, party or playdate with mandatory ripped jeans, dirty shirt, messed up hair, egg dribbling from chin, and a big cheesy grin.  Parents must come straight from doing housework with no make up and scraped back hair.

2 – Birthday Parties
Bring a small gift – what on earth makes people think it’s ok to give anyone under 90 a voucher, or a ten pound note, it’s a child’s party?   Smile when you enter the room, and for goodness sake, don’t let the gossipy ghouls put you off from going over and dipping your hand into the party food.  Size issues MUST be left at the door, and any parent partaking of party fare must eat 4 chocolates and 3 sausage rolls as a minimum.

3 – Playdates
Do not spend 5 hours pre-cleaning your home for 4 pre-schoolers to run around and mess up.  You’ll only regret it.  I promise that I will only clean my house to the degree that you will not be sitting in a pile of hair and fluff when you take a seat to watch the proceedings.   Dirty dishes may be hidden in the oven, and mucky clothes make very good cushion stuffers.

I will light a candle bearing the smells of filtered coffee and freshly baked double choc chip muffin, so be ready for a  watery latte and supermarket cake.

I will only provide clean activities without water, colour or squeezies and I expect you to do the same if a playdate is reciprocated.

4 – After Playdates or Parties
We agree to a mutual verbal thanks for any presents received.   Thank you cards – pored over by bored tinys and tweens that get ripped up 5 minutes after they are received must be banned by mutual appreciation.  Arrive on time to pick up your offspring if you have dropped off and run for the hills, and you must agree to actually come in and help put rubbish in the bin before you go.   Visit my toilet and clean up after your own child if they poop in my toilet and I will do the same for you.

That is about all I can think of just now, add any more that you can think of below.

Please don’t read and run, leave a comment to let me know you’ve been here.  We all love a bit of comment love, and the back-link won’t do you any harm either 🙂


Posted on 16 Comments

Adoption Week Part 1. Not the Step Forward I’d Imagined

It has been adoption week this week, and as someone with three adopted children, I thought I should add my tuppenyworth to the discussion and share some of my “ranty wisdom”.  I will also do a jollier post later this week about more of the positives.

I felt like taking my remote control and throwing it at the TV when I began to see some of the coverage that adoption was getting this week.  The Cameron man on the telly moaning on about the process just got my back up, but that’s not unusual for me.

And to top it off, my hackles rose when I watched the segment about the woman complaining about the process and how long it takes to be assessed here, but who had plenty of dosh and managed to find the readies to go abroad and adopt the youngster she wanted.

Now don’t get me wrong, I would have gone abroad if I hadn’t managed to find my forever children in the UK, but come on, complaining about the system you have to follow to get those children is just plain wrong if you don’t even adopt from here.

Let me tell you about how the adoption process was before they made it that little bit tougher.  We went overnight from no children to 3 children who were not fully socialised.  Foetal alcohol babies are hard work, I can tell ya.  Imagine your trouble with a crying baby with colic who doesn’t sleep, and multiply that by a factor of 1000 x 1000 with knobs on and that could be the potential.

All those wannabe mums out there think that a little bit of love is going to make it all right – well it doesn’t.  Those cute little bundles may very well end up as aggressive, troubled tots who don’t get the help they need to survive.  Lots of families disrupt, even now when they can’t cope with the changes that children with high needs means.

Make no mistake, if you have a diagnosis of Autism, or an “acceptable” condition, the world will sympathise and help you with your children.  If your children have a diagnosis of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome or your child is Drug affected, you are going to hit your head up against a brick wall to get help.  And if you do say what the diagnosis is, people will think you are a raving alcoholic and start crossing the street and avoiding your kids party invites.

The bottom line is that most of the young children in care nowadays are disabled, alcohol or drug related births.  There are some who are orphans or young mums not wanting the responsibility, but they are certainly not the norm, and potential parents HAVE to get it through their heads that love is NOT enough to bring up drug and alcohol affected children.

I HATED the adoption process.  With an enormous passion.  I thought it was too long and I thought it was ridiculously monotonous and repetitive, but the authorities HAVE to try to suss out as many of the nutters who try to adopt for other reasons as they can.  If they handed over kids to a ring of child abusers, we would all be up in arms that the process wasn’t comprehensive enough.

Lets get down to the nitty gritty.  Adoptions take so long because there is NOT ENOUGH MONEY in the pot to get the work done that needs to be done to keep everyone safe.   Social workers have too many groups to assess, and to be frank, lots of approved adoptive parents sit waiting for the phone to ring rather than being pro-active and finding their future kids across the country.  There are also some fabulous homes not being used because there are not enough staff to get the meetings set up, organised, pulled together and finalised.

I do think the inflated considerations about race and ethnic backgrounds are pretty crap to be honest.  Lets just chuck kids into uncontrolled and often violent childrens homes eg just because they might be black and christian and a council only has white protestant adoptive parents on their books.

If I get the religions wrong, I apologise – as being a non-believer I just don’t care what religion anyone else is as long as they don’t try to sell me their faith.  That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t happily support a child who needed to learn more about their own faith and culture.

I’d like to see the kids put into homes that will stick with them through thick and thin, support their race and ethnic backgrounds, and to hell with the rules of what colour skin, race or nationality we should be before we can help a child escape from institutionalisation, temporary parents and abusive homes.

After care is rubbish.  Yes, there are “supposed rights” but considering post adoptive care says there is no money in the pot to provide anything, then it really is an empty promise unless it is desperate in my experience.

I am afraid that the negativity far outweighed the positivity that it should have showed, and would put people off finding out more, or moving forward with a process that needs to be shored up.

Right down to basics, adoption is about being parents.   In the same way that parents take on responsibility for children and have to fight for their needs, there is nothing different.    There is no special treatment in being an adopter once you are there so think about it long and hard, and treasure the preparation process because it is there for a reason.

If Mr Cameron wants to make the system work, stop complaining and support the Councils who are mostly doing their best with the means they have at their disposal (money, people and imposed rules) and ringfence pots of money for adoption and disability.

Yes, there are problems and yes, there are always nasty people who don’t do their jobs right, or get in the way of things happening, but they are in the minority.

I saw those segments, and rather than feel good about what was being said, I was conscious that if I were a new potential adopter, that it would massively put me off if I thought that the system was as difficult to breach as it sounded.

Mr Cameron needs to put his money where his mouth is to find alternative methods of moving adopters through the system and helping approve positive matches for families with support to help families cope with the potential problems they will face.

I’ve said my piece and now I will settle back and sort out my three adopted boys photos for christmas cards.   The whole process was worth every rotten moment it took to get through.