I caught our son out this week.

He was visiting a friend and, when I arrived to collect him, I found him eating broccoli.  He never eats broccoli.  He hates broccoli.

How did we prepare to adopt?  That's a question J and I are asked quite often.

We have a habit of fudging the answer.  

I had a disconcerting conversation yesterday.

A friend, someone I very much respect and of whom I am slightly in awe, told me my blog put him off the thought of parenting.  

Our experience with both our children was that their affection was something that had to be earned, but that once trust had been established it grew.  Slowly.  But it did grow as they not only learnt to love us but also learnt to love and trust someone, full stop.

The last few weeks have been a little more torrid that normal at play school drop off for our three year old daughter.

"Wy didn't you come for ME sooner?"

We were sitting at the breakfast table.  Our one year old daughter had left to play in the sitting room, leaving our six year old son, J and I sitting at the kitchen table.

Our son sat at the head of the table, with J and I either side of him.  I looked across at J, seeing the same concern and confusion in his eyes I was also feeling.

For a number of reasons our progression towards the adoption of our daughter proceeded at something of a canter from the point at which we had agreed, as a family, to be matched with her.

"Good news!" 

We were sitting at our kitchen table and I was talking, with J, to our then five year old son.  "<Social Worker> came to see us today.  He he has found someone who needs a new Forever Family and thinks we might be the perfect family for.... her."

"So do you think you are ready for another child?" Our social worker asked.

We had discussed the possibility a little already.  Our feelings were mixed.  We thought a sibling for our son would be a positive thing.  

Our son had benefitted enormously from being the sole focus of our attention up to that point. We'd help him face and exorcise many of the demons he carried with him when he arrived with us.  However we both felt keenly the risk that being the sole focus of attention, not only for us but also our extended family, could make him unduly self centred.

Throughout our adoption journey, we've generally found support, tolerance and even admiration from those around us and those we have come across.  

Regardless of age and background recipients of the news that we, a male couple, have two children have at worst been polite and at best enthusiastic.  

Occasionally, whilst positive, the response has still taken us by surprise.

Laying your life bare is an essential component of the adoption process.  Hard though it is, for me it always felt entirely appropriate to do so.

Part of that process involves taking a long, hard, honest look at the support networks around you.  In the event of an emergency who would you, could you, really turn to for support.  When things are getting really tough who is going to be there with tea and sympathy or good solid advice and supportive common sense.

Sorry!

Adopting a toddler?  Indeed, dealing with a toddler for whom you are in any way responsible? Then get used to that word.

The texts, the seminars, the training courses do not prepare you for your adoptive child's need to be physically close to you.

This isn't directly linked to attachment, well at least for us it didn't appear to be.  It's about, initially, the child being in a strange environment, with you being the only person who looks vaguely familiar.

When our daughter joined our family she brought a whole new dimension to all of our lives.  Not least her new brother.

Were we selfish?

Are we being selfish?

In the moments of intense navel gazing J and I occasionally indulge in, this one theme comes back to the centre of the conversation often.

I told the story of the Poo Fairy a little while ago.  That explained how we used the imaginary, book delivering, fairy to encourage our son to go to the toilet regularly in the early days after we had adopted him.

Tooth brushing was also a battle we had to face in the early days of our son's adoption.  I'm not sure whether it's just the children's ages, but both are really bad at remembering to brush at all or to do so properly.

Writing this blog about our adoption journey I've tried to continually balance the sadder parts of our children's stories with the truly uplifting experience our becoming a family has been for all of us.

That led me to think how, with very few exceptions, the negative stories always do have a positive alongside them.  Be it that we have created our own positivity from the challenge, or that the bad times ultimately have a positive outcome.

Using the right words with any child is a challenge.  The way they see the world, the way by which they translate your language and actions into something which, for them, is understandable.  All of this leaves you thinking that sometimes you need to engage an interpreter.

Bedtime can be a really stressful time in any family.  In the early days after both of our children had come to live with us, we recognised how important this time of day could be.

In the case of both our children we have letterbox contact.  

So, at regular intervals, we send letters to our Adoption Agency from whence they are dispersed to anyone on the list of birth family contacts for each of the children.