At about 10:30 this morning there was a knock on our front door, which opened to show several smiling little faces, followed by their foster carer who also had a baby in tow that she’s caring for.
What followed was a madcap tour of every room of the house, followed by the garden.
Within an hour the foster carer told us confidentially that she had seen very few first visits go as well, and left us to it for the rest of the day. A typical first visit would not last more than a couple of hours. We had the children all day. Yes, we had more tantrums, but we more or less survived unscathed. Bruised perhaps, but still standing - just.
This evening is the first time we have really felt drained. We have realised we are trying too hard. We are in the children’s face all the time. We have been constantly supplying a never ending stream of entertainment and activities that we are involved in. This of course, is not normal life.
We wonder - given the accelerated events of the past few days if the social services have forgotten about us in their concern for the children. We are making mistakes.
Tomorrow we will be stepping back, and affording the children their own space to explore the house, play with their toys, and find their own place in our new family. We will purposely encourage them to play on their own, and entertain themselves - not only for their own sake, but also for ourselves.
We had our first wobbles today when the children didn’t call us “Mum” or “Dad”, and while you can rationalise all you want about it being just a label, it hurt. To encourage “Mum” and “Dad”, tomorrow will bring some deaf ears on our part. Tomorrow will also mark the beginning of “No” to requests for activities - while we could of course fit a hundred things into each day, it’s doing none of us any good.
Hilarious moment for the day was watching the four year old help the two year old put their pants on after going to the toilet - and getting very cross in a manner beyond her years when the two year old lost their balance, exclaiming “Now listen to me! hold on to my shoulders, and give me your leg!”… huffing, and tutting.
Difficult moment of the day was seeing the two year old push her Mum away while crying. Appearance of Dad of course stopped it instantly. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve seen friends children pull that trick.