tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37593483809345354582024-02-19T19:20:10.662+00:00TazzymaniaThe true story of how a family was made through hard work, patience and lots and lots of paperwork!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-61559930110655266282011-08-22T20:15:00.005+01:002012-01-14T14:54:13.436+00:00I'm back!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7ZV6uPeSSg40ljthLX3sB54PcA2Zj6ZXSQym7fqdcOgO8dRJZlyNANHrDvrIKjyhXygUkNCv1YdXLjmk9ciC7yzZS6E-sWzUIpSBtheL4yGcza7cklGoIdrRvY7YA8We5XlqhP02RtU/s1600/CartoonKids.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7ZV6uPeSSg40ljthLX3sB54PcA2Zj6ZXSQym7fqdcOgO8dRJZlyNANHrDvrIKjyhXygUkNCv1YdXLjmk9ciC7yzZS6E-sWzUIpSBtheL4yGcza7cklGoIdrRvY7YA8We5XlqhP02RtU/s200/CartoonKids.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697499789807718898" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Helloooooo!!!!! Remember me?? It's been so long since I blogged that I really don't know where to begin, but in the last few weeks something has been niggling away at my little brain and I just thought, where better to share my ramblings than here?<br /><div><br /></div><div>Button and Belle are both thriving. Button is turning into a pre-teen and is doing great in school. He remains the happiest boy I know. Belle is nearly 6, very smart and full of attitude. She's great company and is fantastic with Button. It's Belle that my thoughts have been turning to recently, and here's the why!</div><div><br /></div><div>Belle is bright - very bright. I don't think she's gifted, but she's definitely clever. She loves science and insects, and wants to be an entomologist when she grows up (go on, look it up - I know I had to!). She's also very pretty and small for her age, what some might describe as "cute". I know better though - she has told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn't like to be called cute - especially by other children. So here's the million dollar question! Are positive stereotypes a bad thing? </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnx_NYKjqecZ5G9_G-ZjL5O6BvuMnGkRB3snu7C1IXIW80hz5BgiXt5ierHLuwpAfaHdTj5DW5agTZN8JmJq2RMoVwprtTYw5ysBXPQ_mTow8UJSa9jn4FWspL7g6KoAGAzVzd1pPLQX4/s200/Unknown.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697499788718169234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div>We have never had a single negative racist remark made towards our children. Other than one old lady who declared "that's not your baby" when i was pushing Belle in a buggy, all the comments we have received have been about how lovely they are. But as Belle gets older I'm beginning to see that the attention she receives only serves to single her out more - and make her aware of her own differences. </div><div><br /></div><div>If she had brown stringy hair and freckles and was tall for her age (as I was at her age) would she be getting all this attention? Belle would like nothing more than to blend into the background, she doesn't like to be the centre of attention and is really quite shy. But her ethnicity makes that difficult. I know that I myself am guilty of gushing about her (and Button too, but he could' t care less about how people perceive him!), I'm just so fascinated by how her little brain works. Her love of science coupled with her devotion to Disney Princesses makes her a very interesting little person to be around. But that's a parent's prerogative, surely? It's when strangers do the gushing that the problem arises!</div><div><br /></div><div>Before she started school I was told by a few different people that she'd be fine because "Asian kids are really clever" - but what if she wasn't? What if she had struggled? Do people expect more from her academically because of her race? As it happens she IS clever, She IS pretty and she IS dainty - she is the epitome of an Asian stereotype. </div><div><br /></div><div>But she is also a 5 year old girl who doesn't want to be singled out because her hair is so shiny, or picked up and carried around by older girls. We are walking a fine line between making her feel proud of her heritage and yet not making her feel too different. </div>Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-51247493391749059212010-06-25T13:34:00.006+01:002010-06-25T14:04:40.047+01:00School's Out!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6SjsihDqCnEGfcpMeBirQa91kjG4tyuvROb_-nQj8iq39V6RwiMejWOGiaU4WgOyNRmm3iJVvFyQ4V69-ThVtz9x9BOaRL5svIaDvVIKFMsqff2MeLjp1vI2MLrYUtivaP3eN9TKuP0/s1600/school's+out.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6SjsihDqCnEGfcpMeBirQa91kjG4tyuvROb_-nQj8iq39V6RwiMejWOGiaU4WgOyNRmm3iJVvFyQ4V69-ThVtz9x9BOaRL5svIaDvVIKFMsqff2MeLjp1vI2MLrYUtivaP3eN9TKuP0/s200/school's+out.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486695635521061666" border="0" /></a><br />So here we are at the end of another school year. Where did that time go? It seems like just a few weeks ago we were worried about "Snow Days" and whether our little darlings would be able to get back to school after Christmas.<br /><br />I always get a bit emotional around this time of year. Time, and the inevitable way it just marches on, can leave me a bit morose. I'm just not ready for Button and Belle to grow up and it's happening way to quickly for my liking! So while I'm thrilled and excited about the developments they are both making, I miss my babies.<br /><br />Button's school year has been really good - at his recent parent teacher meeting we were told that he's really beginning to let hinmself relax, and trust his teacher. His anxiety has reduced thanks to all the structure and scheduling they have put in place for him and as his Teacher put it (more eloquently than I ever could, but then again she IS French!) "Our little flower is blooming".<br /><br />As for Belle, well, what can I say? My baby girl is getting ready for big school and is approaching it with the same enthusiasm and joy that is the essence of who she is. The world will welcome Belle with open arms, because that's exactly what she expects! Now if only we could find a school uniform to fit her.....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-YK8_xK-JKYyg0cR_u1BYmE8KxUOn7grvBYk5I9Th7-bwsgbcOHJprBwRl4kEwPpyHjKRfe1Yn-D-_YB7s40GJOxndqc4y8jgB5UdOJRuQLMgKUULlkK9jG41LiwrUwVykcBAHhkVeA/s1600/get+a+life.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-YK8_xK-JKYyg0cR_u1BYmE8KxUOn7grvBYk5I9Th7-bwsgbcOHJprBwRl4kEwPpyHjKRfe1Yn-D-_YB7s40GJOxndqc4y8jgB5UdOJRuQLMgKUULlkK9jG41LiwrUwVykcBAHhkVeA/s200/get+a+life.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486695824430479506" border="0" /></a>Thanks to my wonderul new friends, I seem to have done what I never thought was possible and managed to get myself a life! I know! How mad is that? And I'm enjoying every minute of it!<br /><br />When Button arrived home today he had a card for me from Teacher. It contained a quote from Henry Matisse - "Il y a des fleurs partout pour qui veut bien les voir", which translated means "There are flowers everywhere for those who bother to look". Says it all really, doesn't it?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbOWBTA7-I78vura0CUVWxXQke6Di68xKLHA1ce503O4pPJagNtdxIcWQ0q6i3DGACF6yolK26guqDbKwn_lIshTmukspaA2k3jYMDjRDkPsyxK3crlfmkbQysOMxMfwiQeHTQv2jOPs/s1600/flowers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbOWBTA7-I78vura0CUVWxXQke6Di68xKLHA1ce503O4pPJagNtdxIcWQ0q6i3DGACF6yolK26guqDbKwn_lIshTmukspaA2k3jYMDjRDkPsyxK3crlfmkbQysOMxMfwiQeHTQv2jOPs/s320/flowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486696267953928290" border="0" /></a>Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-32467933781235735582010-05-21T14:42:00.008+01:002010-05-21T15:28:22.773+01:00Tazzy is Grumpy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFogrsJUWX7LX8c737BCqIYJ-YyIQwKQHF94Wwh6Bq90eWlPdYtBvH6daKVq1fNWlvdIq6iYzu_zzhiZ9h6byV9kYWROMjcZGfYbsCRGb5lbvcpXwB0fXpYRJh6jSGGP_pMfHeLtvkio/s1600/grumpy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 81px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFogrsJUWX7LX8c737BCqIYJ-YyIQwKQHF94Wwh6Bq90eWlPdYtBvH6daKVq1fNWlvdIq6iYzu_zzhiZ9h6byV9kYWROMjcZGfYbsCRGb5lbvcpXwB0fXpYRJh6jSGGP_pMfHeLtvkio/s200/grumpy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473725840989638322" border="0" /></a><br />I was tagged by a very grumpy Jen over at the<a href="http://thekingandeye.blogspot.com/"> King and Eye</a> to list 7 things that make me grumpy. Just 7?? Is that all???<br /><br />1. Early mornings! Every now and then, Button decides that 5.30 is a perfectly reasonable time to get up, and invariably, these mornings fall on the day of the weekend that happens to be Mr Taz's lie-in. Then on my lie-in everyone will sleep until 8.30! It's sooooooo unfair!<br /><br />2. Lack of sugar! I am a sugar addict - and if I don't get a fix I get very grumpy indeed. My latest indulgence is sherbet dib dabs - you don't get much more sugary than those!<br /><br />3. People who get off escalators or travelators and don't move on when they get to the top- you know who I mean, they stand there, having a chat about which way to go now! MOOOOOVE!!!!!! I nearly took some old lady's ankles out this morning with the buggy, and bizarrely, I ended up apologising to her!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbBS6Erx6G5BhHOaSm3sXhLv5A1A2vvSuHEVgwZ7E7euVQYuFIaeHym74QMvgh4mCLGUaF0pwIoZkIxJ_4a5vwRkeMhFpoFtvedI5IEjJwVxBKAXBSYttMEaZVEav6uhyphenhyphenCYowUFf0Hq8/s1600/checkout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbBS6Erx6G5BhHOaSm3sXhLv5A1A2vvSuHEVgwZ7E7euVQYuFIaeHym74QMvgh4mCLGUaF0pwIoZkIxJ_4a5vwRkeMhFpoFtvedI5IEjJwVxBKAXBSYttMEaZVEav6uhyphenhyphenCYowUFf0Hq8/s200/checkout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473726918943541298" border="0" /></a>4. Checkout operators who read the cover of your magazines as they're scanning them through! I once had a girl actually flick through my mag while I was packing the shopping. Cheeky mare!<br /><br />5. Losing things. This is a big issue for me. I get unreasonably upset over things going missing, whether it be toys, paperwork or even socks! You would imagine that this would inspire me to keep a very tidy house........<br /><br />6. When I order a Chinese and it's not as nice as I thought it was going to be :o(<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz7shp9miZ86acZEaqynwDljH6yK9C6GxWPFYdS7h9V4ZatdohK1o5ukY3cC6xsN41GP38-SlsWtP3QsuyPLtQ-dkfpqpppCc-kbk39nEZ71qtBGXZWSOLzeI_kItMQOo6sJ25HgthaY/s1600/washing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz7shp9miZ86acZEaqynwDljH6yK9C6GxWPFYdS7h9V4ZatdohK1o5ukY3cC6xsN41GP38-SlsWtP3QsuyPLtQ-dkfpqpppCc-kbk39nEZ71qtBGXZWSOLzeI_kItMQOo6sJ25HgthaY/s200/washing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473727322263283122" border="0" /></a>7. There's not much about Mr Taz that makes me grumpy (he's a fast learner, and I've been using ABA techniques on him!), but he has never learnt to hang out washing properly. He seems to think it's ok to hang everything from the middle, so I have to go out and redo it all when he's not looking.<br /><br />That was (rather unsurprisingly) easy! Don't be fooled by the sunny, positive exterior - inside I'm a seething ball of grumpiness! Oh, and if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-76196731232308169662010-05-04T15:27:00.006+01:002010-05-04T16:06:58.040+01:00Belle rocks!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH7k8qA4s8jXg6_fO_wAF1A6ojHiaBU2hsZDVGAlmUhlNsskpjZECRcHCB29curKICU-KHKjg_yWg1aHWBlOeSsLq8fN0aZ4vjR5ltwiCimpoQaqxtCViVZN_A6Vn7O_ff6ItkCuXnR8/s1600/brother+and+sister.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH7k8qA4s8jXg6_fO_wAF1A6ojHiaBU2hsZDVGAlmUhlNsskpjZECRcHCB29curKICU-KHKjg_yWg1aHWBlOeSsLq8fN0aZ4vjR5ltwiCimpoQaqxtCViVZN_A6Vn7O_ff6ItkCuXnR8/s200/brother+and+sister.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467429785239338514" border="0" /></a><br />It's an interesting experience, this parenting gig! Especially when you have one child with Autism and the other with Attitude! Button and Belle are two such different characters that watching them together is always going to be fun, but in recent weeks it's taken a whole new turn. Let me explain......<br /><br />Button has never (and I actually mean NEVER) had a conversation with another child (including Belle) without being prompted and guided, and having some big pay off at the end. Usually chips. He just doesn't "do" children - I think they're too unpredictable for him.<br /><br />Two weeks ago, he arrived home from school and as usual ran in to the sitting room to jump in the window and wave at the bus. Belle was in there on her laptop. I was just about to enter the room when i heard the following<br /><br />Belle: Hello Button! How was your day?<br />Button: Fine thanks!<br />Belle: Good. What did you do?<br />Button: I played Bingo<br />Belle: What else?<br />Button: I did photocopying for Teacher<br />Belle: Wow! Very Good! Anything else?<br />Button: Work. I was working for the iTouch<br /><br />To say that my jaw hit the floor would be an understatement. I was immediately on the phone to everyone I could think of, and posted it on facebook. Proud Mama moment!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv36pkVrjrNxNeuIx79Op-M4RRkki_3CAC4V6nJEUpeyN_Ae6knyknqVoVaocjLbsKhOxOBgFm1I8E0CbhiZqWRgKsfrGb90L1JTXQZZn5Jron02F2v__6pzSbdavwtIq-v5Ch4Nz3wBU/s1600/sister.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv36pkVrjrNxNeuIx79Op-M4RRkki_3CAC4V6nJEUpeyN_Ae6knyknqVoVaocjLbsKhOxOBgFm1I8E0CbhiZqWRgKsfrGb90L1JTXQZZn5Jron02F2v__6pzSbdavwtIq-v5Ch4Nz3wBU/s200/sister.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467430516411861746" border="0" /></a>But since then it has happened nearly every day. My children are actually talking to each other. And not just about what Button did in school. Belle will ask him a question and he will answer her directly. Nearly every time. He is also beginning to look for her to interact with and if I ask him to go and check if she's ok, he does it willingly. I have always felt that he loves her in his own way, but now we're seeing the beginnings of an actual sibling relationship, and it's beautiful to watch.<br /><br />She's some girl, my daughter. A lot of kids would have given up trying by now, there's only so much being ignored a 4 year old can take. But not Belle. She is such a good sister to Button. She accepts him exactly as he is, and understands totally that he needs some help with things that she can do herself. She holds his hand (tightly!)when we're out, answers his many repetitive questions and gives him his favourite keys or teddy if she finds them lying around. She really is Button's best friend and ally in this world and I'm so proud of her!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-44994158929682513312010-04-15T15:08:00.010+01:002010-04-18T12:39:19.447+01:0015 things about me<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;">I love being tagged! It saves me having to come up with an idea for a blog! So I was delighted to be tagged by both <a href="http://planetoutreach-asd.blogspot.com/">Jeanie</a> and <a href="http://griffinblaise.blogspot.com/">Lora</a> to do this post! But once again - I'm showing how completely dull I am! You have been warned......<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdKopFOqUF_6uZlzNxsGzxSX2uqDtuurBun-dE5KeQMouCltV7CFn3IVafabpTusFfIwGTz-ZcDw2diF42QArPr-FlHTwLBk61KGiu9dhRvjG0P6INGhxswcy3WB9PvfAr_sJMmapEws/s1600/rollercoaster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdKopFOqUF_6uZlzNxsGzxSX2uqDtuurBun-dE5KeQMouCltV7CFn3IVafabpTusFfIwGTz-ZcDw2diF42QArPr-FlHTwLBk61KGiu9dhRvjG0P6INGhxswcy3WB9PvfAr_sJMmapEws/s200/rollercoaster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461435277282985618" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />1.Things that scare me</span><br />- Not being able to find one of the children<br />-Something happening to me while the children are still small<br />-Rollercoasters - even the little kiddie ones make me really nervous!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><br />2.People who make me laugh</span><br />- Mr Taz - every single day!<br />- Michael McIntyre -LOVE him!<br />- My brother - I can appreciate him now, but he drove me nuts as a child!! He once convinced me I had a talking bed by hiding underneath it and having a chat with me!<br /><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj0cW_RzBA-L_0hsMfWSnE4YANJzdWwuC9FxbimpIpyOX4nAdTBCMWSV686Zd7p1i0vibyHwNaD3g2EybdkjfZiJ06iV3jEMI-D5M_kMweOilHTyW5ktpN8ObN68vmD5foa5RVgYxhtg/s1600/pineapple.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 71px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj0cW_RzBA-L_0hsMfWSnE4YANJzdWwuC9FxbimpIpyOX4nAdTBCMWSV686Zd7p1i0vibyHwNaD3g2EybdkjfZiJ06iV3jEMI-D5M_kMweOilHTyW5ktpN8ObN68vmD5foa5RVgYxhtg/s200/pineapple.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461436064502197394" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />3.Things I hate the most</span><br />- Rudeness - there's just no need.<br />- Discrimination<br />- Pineapple<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4.Things I don't understand</span><br />- Racism<br />- Negative people<br />- Quantum Physics<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5.Things I am doing right now</span><br />- watching Belle blow bubbles :)<br />- listening to "Tom and Jerry - The Nutcracker" playing for the umpteenth time on the television,<br />- having a cup of tea<br /><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu4ns1JTZY2VLr_xq0nRQY4g8pML_yVQ9PseRgpQGU6uOWW5hZYBe59ASIMpwHmf3rS29vuzZ37R7-Kz2K5DTEKPP0EeM57v05II6EFd9PtZ_C3yzoKbY9ozfjnB-TRa9nB-TkLAhv30/s1600/piano.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 139px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu4ns1JTZY2VLr_xq0nRQY4g8pML_yVQ9PseRgpQGU6uOWW5hZYBe59ASIMpwHmf3rS29vuzZ37R7-Kz2K5DTEKPP0EeM57v05II6EFd9PtZ_C3yzoKbY9ozfjnB-TRa9nB-TkLAhv30/s200/piano.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461436410956252066" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />6.Things I want to do before I die</span><br />- grow very, very, very, old!!!!<br />- go whale watching<br />- learn to play the piano<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7.Things I can do</span><br />- bake<br />- cross stitch<br />- touch my nose with my tongue! But I only demonstrate this after a few drinks - it's not an attractive look!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8.Ways to describe my personality</span><br />- positive<br />- fair<br />- shy<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9.Things I can't do<br /></span>- play the piano<br />- speak a foreign language<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>- sing - doesn't stop me belting out a few tunes in the privacy of my kitchen though!!!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">10.Things I think that you should listen to<br /></span>- good music<br />- your children<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>- your inner voice<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIUxIj5uLFtLnEuVXmEyT3GY5xUHpZACOU_7i8F3nCTMpnsVRNWGHQ_JF1nqNN8rmYcneJdkCRw87jayfzoIZIJRet26M90PVbrt4HPpPm0eJKbDuZ-yJ0ajtS5jerqFZUF1f0CbaeI4/s1600/barney.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIUxIj5uLFtLnEuVXmEyT3GY5xUHpZACOU_7i8F3nCTMpnsVRNWGHQ_JF1nqNN8rmYcneJdkCRw87jayfzoIZIJRet26M90PVbrt4HPpPm0eJKbDuZ-yJ0ajtS5jerqFZUF1f0CbaeI4/s200/barney.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461436784017652050" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />11.Things you should never listen to<br /></span>- people who start a sentence with "I'm not racist but..."<br />- rap music - I'm going to sound like my father here, but that's just noise!<br />- Barney - yes, the purple dinosaur! he's banned in our house.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br />12.Things I'd like to learn</span><br />- the piano<br />- Thai<br />- how to not worry about things that are outside my control<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">13.Favorite foods<br /></span>- cake<br />- cake<br />- cake<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">14.Beverages I drink regularly<br /></span>-tea<br />- hot chocolate<br />- coke<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwsIoSHjoKMv-rFmZYO0Kiji7B3zjDl8sUFMYgMhvxLuqKFYy4J5FYHvrnuhD61LXiGi0Zon9GxKTkpA0bfwK2cWZzeB0S9y9CPFux4xXVbTg7ArMODTdqX76uoTD-uATAWzsUtT2ugI/s1600/hong+kong+phooey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwsIoSHjoKMv-rFmZYO0Kiji7B3zjDl8sUFMYgMhvxLuqKFYy4J5FYHvrnuhD61LXiGi0Zon9GxKTkpA0bfwK2cWZzeB0S9y9CPFux4xXVbTg7ArMODTdqX76uoTD-uATAWzsUtT2ugI/s200/hong+kong+phooey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461437189555315970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:13px;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">15.Shows I watched as a kid<br />-</span> Famous Five<br />- Wombles<br />- Hong Kong Phooey<br /><br /><br />So there you have it! I'm not going to tag anyone - but if you want to take up the challenge, feel free!<br /><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(41, 48, 59);font-family:Georgia,'Times New Roman',sans-serif;font-size:small;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span>Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-90277588871574411452010-04-14T13:40:00.006+01:002010-04-14T14:50:16.344+01:00Tazzy gets cross!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoz-PnEgaAF4MJwmqmnOO5lDMbVXhsagB9LABzN8GcVY5c2WVHvTutahiT6Wztzm5YUBuigC0or9FxkrtbI8gliZ7QX-6b6xOgenyXpkmmrNyOI-FERHcFRjv7vtcDtYSXCnRckloumCQ/s1600/angry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 84px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoz-PnEgaAF4MJwmqmnOO5lDMbVXhsagB9LABzN8GcVY5c2WVHvTutahiT6Wztzm5YUBuigC0or9FxkrtbI8gliZ7QX-6b6xOgenyXpkmmrNyOI-FERHcFRjv7vtcDtYSXCnRckloumCQ/s320/angry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459989173286178882" border="0" /></a><br />I haven't blogged for a long time. Mainly because life seems to have gotten in the way, and we've been busy with Easter holidays, house renovations and the general chaos that is my life, but also because nothing has moved me to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as the case may be!). Until <a href="http://uk.news.yahoo.com/5/20100409/video/vwl-unwanted-adopted-boy-sent-back-to-ru-89eb865.html">this</a>.<br /><br />The story of a Russian boy who was adopted by an American woman and then returned alone to Russia because his new mother basically changed her mind. My blood is boiling about this!! If I could get this woman alone, I don't think I could hold myself back. How dare she??? What was going on in her mind that made this course of action even remotely ok?<br /><br />First of all, Artyom is 7. Not 7 months, or 7 weeks, but 7 years old. He has been removed form the care of his biological (allegedly alcoholic) mother, and placed in an orphanage. Two years later he is adopted by this woman, flown halfway across the world to live with strangers, in a country where everyone and everything is unfamiliar to him. Did it not occur to Ms Hansen before she adopted him that a child of this age may have a few "issues", that bonding and attachment would not happen over night, or even that he might be scared and overwhelmed?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5YYxYqkmcJvez5H5Dn-vSuk4fCHarWz1hlixhkv9dndZLtTtTg_Fbo2Ro5wvrNs0Rsgb6NYKRsTLK9OEdwnTGZERwXhn63tzBQy_074vT6Og_cAPvnRO8dEp324Oi4D48514Ee1gRZc/s1600/return.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5YYxYqkmcJvez5H5Dn-vSuk4fCHarWz1hlixhkv9dndZLtTtTg_Fbo2Ro5wvrNs0Rsgb6NYKRsTLK9OEdwnTGZERwXhn63tzBQy_074vT6Og_cAPvnRO8dEp324Oi4D48514Ee1gRZc/s320/return.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459989661673233506" border="0" /></a>Allegedly, Artyom displayed some worrying behaviours. If that is the case, surely sending him back to Russia ALONE, is a little extreme. One wonders what this woman would do if he had been her biological child? There is no return window in the parenthood shop! You get what you're given and you love your child unconditionally. If you run into problems along the way, you do your best to fix things, and use all the resources you can to help your child grow into a happy, stable, loving person. End of!<br /><br />Adoptive families spend lots of time and energy reassuring our children that we are their "forever family", that we love them unconditionally and that we will never abandon them. So when a story like this breaks, we are concerned that our children will worry about it or that someone in the playground will tell them that their mummy can send them back anytime she wants. Ms Hansen has not just damaged Artyom, she has also caused heartbreak for hundreds of other families waiting to adopt children form Russia (all adoptions to America have been suspended), hundreds of children now have to wait longer in orphanages, while their forever families sit in empty bedrooms, and thousands of adopted children are questioning their place in their family. Shame on her.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-65221555962320116332010-03-23T14:58:00.012+00:002010-03-23T20:56:45.446+00:00My Happy 10<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipsaj2WP5A1IyX7v3e9Dt8vUfNQkdNUdnryvREGUOqXPhBQflfHrcfwgV9IlUu-c3gdMP-ZtEtqkD_sBVXO7xO7odWPbs7DYiuKn1jS2ZlWXSq-dyORGzKJCWP8O4Sy9mIOmLASH2Z9Y/s1600-h/10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipsaj2WP5A1IyX7v3e9Dt8vUfNQkdNUdnryvREGUOqXPhBQflfHrcfwgV9IlUu-c3gdMP-ZtEtqkD_sBVXO7xO7odWPbs7DYiuKn1jS2ZlWXSq-dyORGzKJCWP8O4Sy9mIOmLASH2Z9Y/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451931838512564034" border="0" /></a><br />The wonderful Jen, over at <a href="http://thekingandeye.blogspot.com/">The King and I</a>, has tagged me for a Happy 101 award! The deal is that I have to write about 10 things that make me happy every day. Never one to walk away from a challenge (unless it involves physical exertion) I am happy to oblige!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6Zrmf9htg-Q_lYAQBXwtnh2p0j0pprdsMSVQQ4eqgUoErbGCmH567TIijd-6nHHoUa4ff9IlekWFQ1w9pZJ5gc7cVDnOgPd-t3zo912sLs_rSPq17EpzeJTilfVP16V41SS3Oma0ZQ8/s1600-h/family.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 82px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6Zrmf9htg-Q_lYAQBXwtnh2p0j0pprdsMSVQQ4eqgUoErbGCmH567TIijd-6nHHoUa4ff9IlekWFQ1w9pZJ5gc7cVDnOgPd-t3zo912sLs_rSPq17EpzeJTilfVP16V41SS3Oma0ZQ8/s320/family.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451935963591309890" border="0" /></a><br />1. The obvious - my gorgeous, happy, healthy children. There were many years when I thought I'd never be able to have 1 child, let alone 2, with baby #3 (or Smallie as we refer to him) in the pipeline. Every day I look at them and count my blessings.<br /><br />2. My lovely Mr Taz. He is a wonderful husband and father and he makes me laugh so hard that I'm glad my pelvic floor never went through the rigours of pregnancy and child-birth!! Through all the ups and downs of adoption, autism and parenthood, he's always supported me 100%.<br /><br />3 My parents. I had the happiest childhood you could possibly imagine, and today my parents are healthy and as madly in love with each other as ever. They have set the bar really high for me and it's my ultimate goal for my children to have as many happy memories of their childhood as I do of mine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelJwPrn_pLUkFJ5rCHzsj4d7gN8VhCWlv1_ffJlPwarcVHOF_QgBRbFeKX6ZMlrqoovXaUB-bH0s824c2FoiSkymgzwsYhW3GHK8zd6gt3pijx0GLbeauTv9CAevO2IyGFk3jxVYhb7k/s1600-h/cake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelJwPrn_pLUkFJ5rCHzsj4d7gN8VhCWlv1_ffJlPwarcVHOF_QgBRbFeKX6ZMlrqoovXaUB-bH0s824c2FoiSkymgzwsYhW3GHK8zd6gt3pijx0GLbeauTv9CAevO2IyGFk3jxVYhb7k/s320/cake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451932108635565154" border="0" /></a>4 Cake! I love cake! having recently gone back to Weight Watchers, I can't enjoy it as often as I'd like to. But a nice cake makes me very, very happy!! And a chocolate cake makes me positively ecstatic!!!<br /><br />5 My facebook family. You guys and gals have been my comfort and support for a year now, and you are the nicest bunch of people I know. I'm a blow-in to the town where I live and making friends has never come easily to me, but now I have you all to chat with and a certain select few to have coffee with. You're all a little bit crazy too, you do know that don't you?<br /><br />6 This is stretching the "every day" aspect of the challenge. But i do get very happy when my house is tidy!!!<br /><br />7 That moment where the children are in bed, and you sit down in front of the telly to watch a programme other than Dora or Peppa Pig! Bliss!<br /><br />8 I have a photo in the kitchen of Button and Belle laughing. It's impossible not to smile when you look at it, so I have palced it on the window ledge beside the sink. If I'm having a "moment" I look at it and all's right with the world again. I'll post it on Facebook later and see if you agree!!<br /><br />9 Watching my children head off happily to school. Button hops on his bus every morning and Belle skips in to playschool as happy as larry. After the horrendous first year we had with Button in school, knowing my children are in the right educational placement for them, makes me happier than you could ever imagine. And it's not something I take for granted, believe me!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhioEO1WZIF08VkOO-GlHfQ1OnZUjZWwtOIw-lNCU5eIcW6hEGbd5hk7rfB2iOtuTWlE-TYX9gu8Ab-cKTTWUhsQ85teQogSt6coz8ccNDja2DAwADA_w4h34vBEtWfafoEzrmmhv-nqms/s1600-h/bed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhioEO1WZIF08VkOO-GlHfQ1OnZUjZWwtOIw-lNCU5eIcW6hEGbd5hk7rfB2iOtuTWlE-TYX9gu8Ab-cKTTWUhsQ85teQogSt6coz8ccNDja2DAwADA_w4h34vBEtWfafoEzrmmhv-nqms/s320/bed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451933849139069042" border="0" /></a>10. My bed. This includes my electric blanket and my new goose father and down duvet! Aaaaahh!!!!<br /><br /><br />Not a very exciting list, but these truly are the things that make me happy! Can I have my award now, Jen?Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-64408316844710660852010-03-04T12:49:00.003+00:002010-03-04T13:33:05.065+00:00Vote Early, vote often!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnA0FCcUaCGK1fIkBfKpYvIj1wwx5kJpprK-cogD9mGH0OPe5WOaxcermjA6a8bA4gZByB-VIyL2JQNzNcmCz2eUYaSNyMUyEco4a7dsx90gjnJrkZtbLqc7f_hVBfTETXFS3dW2C8So/s1600-h/vote.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnA0FCcUaCGK1fIkBfKpYvIj1wwx5kJpprK-cogD9mGH0OPe5WOaxcermjA6a8bA4gZByB-VIyL2JQNzNcmCz2eUYaSNyMUyEco4a7dsx90gjnJrkZtbLqc7f_hVBfTETXFS3dW2C8So/s320/vote.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444769672139356770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Abacus Drogheda Needs Your Vote: in the AIB Better Ireland<br /><br />Abacus Parents Assocation is working everyday to maintain the additional services which are essential to the most effective intervention for our kids.<br /><br />Abacus Drogheda is in the final 3 for the AIB Better Ireland grant scheme.<br /><br />The group who comes 3rd gets €2,000,<br /><br />2nd Place will get €3,000<br /><br />But If we win we get €5,000 !!!<br /><br /><br />You can help simply by Texting:<br /><br />DROGHED-B to 51303 as many times as you can. And by telling everyone you know to do it too.<br />Texts are charged at the standard text rate<br />or<br />Go to: <a href="http://www.betterireland.ie/vote.html">http://www.betterireland.ie/vote.html<br /></a><br />And then select: Louth in the County List and Drogheda in the Branch List,... See more<br /><br />Then select B for Abaile<br /><br />You can vote once per day per email address. So if you have several email addresses please place a vote for each one. And it costs you nothing. Nada. Zero.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-81286826542322255132010-03-03T14:49:00.019+00:002010-03-04T16:59:22.935+00:0099<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeZQINoQ25I8rRt_agw-NZMlMaVuQnkTqqAYPE1SJvyb8Rm7WKMpt5aEaRUW1wUoDpA9XpBHZpxvrzXCmZsU7FiPrdGSFHuHhKju_GOemNfLpdVj_yTifNj1x0GTU5BJT9Jy6HfcWcUM/s1600-h/99.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeZQINoQ25I8rRt_agw-NZMlMaVuQnkTqqAYPE1SJvyb8Rm7WKMpt5aEaRUW1wUoDpA9XpBHZpxvrzXCmZsU7FiPrdGSFHuHhKju_GOemNfLpdVj_yTifNj1x0GTU5BJT9Jy6HfcWcUM/s320/99.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444431013921702866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Right so, I'm jumping on the bandwagon! Here's my "99".... I've "bolded" the ones I have done.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Started your own blog</span> (erm... helloooo?)<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(116, 27, 71);"><b></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(116, 27, 71);"></span><br />Slept under the stars<br /><br />Played in a band<br /><br />Visited Hawaii<br /><br />Watched a meteor shower<b><br /></b><br />Given more than you can afford to charity<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(39, 78, 19);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(39, 78, 19);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(39, 78, 19);"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Been to Disneyland</span> (4th trip to Paris coming up, and twice to Florida! I get stressed if i don't get a regular Disney fix)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Climbed a mountain</span> well, a small hillock in Connemara - but it felt like a mountain at the time!<br /><br />Held a praying mantis<br /><br />Sang a solo<br /><br />Bungee jumped<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Visited Paris</span> see comment re Disney - never seen the Eiffel tower, though!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Watched a lightening storm</span> loads - the most impressive one was from the 2o - something floor of our hotel in Thailand. Floor to ceiling windows, very impressive!<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"></span></b><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Taught yourself an art from scratch</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKrZFcbYtPVkVpkBDq6-BslVunGGQarCK1VS-uYfG7lcT_1gBw7w3X1DtXMrHq7x0aiVANQf1oNI-6dpvlZb2vdtyAz31Q4hwasVXzSxsocNYLCtAqDzNn9npDYqtaw8tocfIKQ5BtnU/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKrZFcbYtPVkVpkBDq6-BslVunGGQarCK1VS-uYfG7lcT_1gBw7w3X1DtXMrHq7x0aiVANQf1oNI-6dpvlZb2vdtyAz31Q4hwasVXzSxsocNYLCtAqDzNn9npDYqtaw8tocfIKQ5BtnU/s320/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444430183166008946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's a bit matronly, but I cross-stitch<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"></span><br /><span>Did this one while waiting for Button to come home</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Adopted a child</span> 2, and another in the pipeline!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Had food poisoning</span><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span></b><br />Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grown your own vegetables</span> a few straggly scallions, and some quite impressive carrots!<br /><br />Seen the Mona Lisa in France<br /><br />Slept on an overnight train<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Had a pillow fight</span><br /><br />Hitch hiked<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Taken a sick day when you’re not ill</span><br /><br />Built a snow fort<br /><br />Held a lamb<br /><br />Gone skinny dipping<br /><br />Run a Marathon<br /><br />Ridden in a gondola in Venice<br /><br />Seen a total eclipse<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Watched a sunrise or sunset</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTI7MYstEDhzGMkcVK1e1Z9oF72DObnMrmFpsyf9u5jR-aVBwtwPKtttF9NC2nntyCEU5yB9uZa8kgdBJayjyHWcW97Nz9fMSrsf6N7mWkhcFLIM5ODz2iKyHEx1dp47k9K0H3Up3Uneo/s1600-h/F1000011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTI7MYstEDhzGMkcVK1e1Z9oF72DObnMrmFpsyf9u5jR-aVBwtwPKtttF9NC2nntyCEU5yB9uZa8kgdBJayjyHWcW97Nz9fMSrsf6N7mWkhcFLIM5ODz2iKyHEx1dp47k9K0H3Up3Uneo/s320/F1000011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444428586566874450" border="0" /></a><br />Sunrise on the morning we brought Button home<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Hit a home run<br /><br />Been on a cruise<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Seen Niagara Falls in person</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Visited the birthplace of your ancestors</span> umm....Galway?<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(19, 79, 92);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(19, 79, 92);"></span>Seen an Amish community<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Taught yourself a new language</span> i tried to teach myself Thai - and learnt how to say "where is the toilet?" surely, that's all you need?<br /><br />Had enough money to be truly satisfied<br /><br />Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person<br /><br />Gone rock climbing<br /><br />Seen Michelangelo’s David<br /><br />Sung karaoke<br /><br />Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt<br /><br />Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Visited Africa</span> Egypt - wow!!!<br /><br />Walked on a beach by moonlight<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span><br /><br />Been transported by ambulance<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Had your portrait painted</span> does a caricature done in Disney World count?<br /><br />Gone deep sea fishing<br /><br />Seen the Sistine Chapel in person<br /><br />Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris<br /><br />Gone scuba diving or snorkeling<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kissed in the rain</span> I think I mentioned Galway...... If i didn't kiss in the rain I'd never have been kissed!<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(56, 118, 29);"></span></b><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Played in the mud</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOi99jcPdm5OckzgcX2smidyIPNR3G0_m0_GzwzbO5VrHetrWGKeIcJN35_EKVMDtJQhyphenhyphengY36oaI-0EzsaKorHdyFwZAY09DVvL517AvUyryAwZm5ndZgBa7QGHf5imyKNLobr0qAXPY/s1600-h/mud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 90px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOi99jcPdm5OckzgcX2smidyIPNR3G0_m0_GzwzbO5VrHetrWGKeIcJN35_EKVMDtJQhyphenhyphengY36oaI-0EzsaKorHdyFwZAY09DVvL517AvUyryAwZm5ndZgBa7QGHf5imyKNLobr0qAXPY/s320/mud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444432303159496466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Gone to a drive-in theater<br /><br />Been in a movie<br /><br />Visited the Great Wall of China<br /><br />Started a business<br /><br />Taken a martial arts class<br /><br />Visited Russia<br /><br />Served at a soup kitchen<br /><br />Sold Girl Scout Cookies<br /><br />Gone whale watching<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Got flowers for no reason</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Donated blood, platelets or plasma</span><br /><br />Gone sky diving<br /><br />Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp<br /><br />Bounced a check<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(76, 17, 48);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(76, 17, 48);"></span><br />Flown in a helicopter<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saved a favorite childhood toy</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZGUxzMZZBWnzVvlOqW-ADFcKLRccC0u-UYfEtaKiANdyXkvofnnqvzDK350MAmNkMvRbnP_YMNTJ2169lwzSSYLkW3FXrMedOs12YNgb6X-49PNUopG2cf0LueTJLLdO0hOO6WDhjI0/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZGUxzMZZBWnzVvlOqW-ADFcKLRccC0u-UYfEtaKiANdyXkvofnnqvzDK350MAmNkMvRbnP_YMNTJ2169lwzSSYLkW3FXrMedOs12YNgb6X-49PNUopG2cf0LueTJLLdO0hOO6WDhjI0/s320/004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444429595308157458" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Dylan<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Visited the Lincoln Memorial<br /><br />Eaten Caviar<br /><br />Pieced a quilt<br /><br />Stood in Times Square<br /><br />Toured the Everglades<br /><br />Been fired from a job<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Seen the Changing of the Guards in London</span> before my parents moved us back to Ireland we did all the touristy things in London so that my bro and I would have some great memories. needless to say, we don't remember a thing!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"></span><br />Broken a bone<br /><br />Been a passenger on a motorcycle<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(32, 18, 77);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(32, 18, 77);"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(32, 18, 77);"></span>Seen the Grand Canyon in person<br /><br />Published a book<br /><br />Visited the Vatican<br /><br />Bought a brand new car<br /><br />Walked in Jerusalem<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Had your picture in the newspaper</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(19, 79, 92);"><b></b></span><br />Kissed a stranger at midnight on New Year’s Eve<br /><br />Visited the White House<br /><br />Killed and prepared an animal for eating<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Had chickenpox</span> my mum got out of doing jury service because of my pox - she's still thanking me!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saved someone’s life</span> Technically, if we hadn't adopted Button.....<br /><br />Sat on a jury<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Met someone famous</span> Said hello to Gok Wan in London in November!<br /><br />Joined a book club<br /><br />Got a tattoo<br /><br />Had a baby<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(56, 118, 29);"></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(56, 118, 29);"></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(56, 118, 29);"></span></b><br /><br />Seen the Alamo in person<br /><br />Swam in the Great Salt Lake<br /><br />Been involved in a law suit<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Owned a cell phone</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(120, 63, 4);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(120, 63, 4);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(120, 63, 4);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(120, 63, 4);"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(120, 63, 4);"></span><b><br /></b>Been stung by a bee<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /></span></b><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br /></span></b>Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-82691519553352156172010-02-26T17:51:00.010+00:002010-02-27T19:15:48.756+00:00but...sometimes Autism Rocks!!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8IjQPyIL2bH-zw2anZ8PFCppDZkBTqFcRpawypzoFoYJmqPQlWVwYH057hFHYtTWAhNqptkTG0CJwnEzt8tePdwgYfULDiaDzpFVEu5u0Y5YmgyTFbbOkhDJ_izGta3SlX5DpjfKKtE/s1600-h/optimist.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8IjQPyIL2bH-zw2anZ8PFCppDZkBTqFcRpawypzoFoYJmqPQlWVwYH057hFHYtTWAhNqptkTG0CJwnEzt8tePdwgYfULDiaDzpFVEu5u0Y5YmgyTFbbOkhDJ_izGta3SlX5DpjfKKtE/s320/optimist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443002576816656290" border="0" /></a><br />I want to apologise for my last blog. I know it was all true and written from the heart, but it was a bit depressing. I'm a really optimistic person, to a fault sometimes. My brother once told me that if he lost a leg, I'd say "Ah well, at least you've still got the other one!". It's not that I'm unsympathetic, I just can't help myself! Things can always be worse!<br /><br />So I've decided to rectify the situation. Because, yes, sometimes autism sucks, but often it ROCKS!<br />I've been thinking a lot of the positive things that autism brings to our lives, and here's what I've come up with:<br /><br />Button will never be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">embarrassed</span> or think it's not cool to give me kisses and hugs. He could not care less about what others think of him, so shows no reluctance to throw his arms around me and kiss me as only he can! Usually by pressing his forehead into my face!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONLfqowz1G5dE76fO_IwMKJtgun123z5kIebkzyyivXp6pLI6LVwXIFQwEsrp2UALzvSozo2RWIWp4n-SyBBjbhEB_CUU6RXMxkWZKjxSoXCjQq0m5x2q901Z6U7mKC7aeA-KytVQx9U/s1600-h/trendy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONLfqowz1G5dE76fO_IwMKJtgun123z5kIebkzyyivXp6pLI6LVwXIFQwEsrp2UALzvSozo2RWIWp4n-SyBBjbhEB_CUU6RXMxkWZKjxSoXCjQq0m5x2q901Z6U7mKC7aeA-KytVQx9U/s320/trendy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443003830288675970" border="0" /></a>I will never have to worry about him keeping up with the latest trends. No peer pressure for my little man!<br /><br />He doesn't want the latest game console or gadget (though he does love his/my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">iTouch</span>). He is completely happy with his baby toys. If it makes a noise or flashes a light, Button is entranced. I stopped buying him the things I thought he should like years ago. This year Santa brought him <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">squirty</span> bath toys! Big success!<br /><br />Every small achievement is significant and cause for celebration. We rejoice in him and never put too much pressure on him. His happiness is our ultimate goal.<br /><br />He sees the good in everybody. He is not cynical or jaded or critical of others. To Button the world is full of good people.<br /><br />He still thinks that Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Taz</span> and I are absolutely hilarious! We don't get the rolling of the eyes and the "Oh <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Muuuuuuuum</span>!" that so many of my friends with children of the same age experience.<br /><br />He has made me a better person. '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Nuff</span> said on that really! No need to explain, you all know what I mean.<br /><br />So you see, even though we have our down days and times when life seems unbelievably unfair, we also have so much to be grateful for. Time to count our blessings, I think! Oh, I can't believe I nearly forgot the most important one.....we get to skip the queues in Disneyland!!!!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-42135669538605735822010-02-15T16:28:00.011+00:002010-02-16T11:21:58.835+00:00Sometimes Autism sucks!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHvRrdRn1p9Mwhen6ZcXLKwUgTMtVrAey1GpEgula0O45tz_Yao-ZbHAdRKGx6mO2-v1dHpIoZY0q2OdlmQbfV51FClxzLv1u6cpy-mFbf8qy9lKzfTIlvrwjsg4yJnEhx17nIy1keCs/s1600-h/communion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 107px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHvRrdRn1p9Mwhen6ZcXLKwUgTMtVrAey1GpEgula0O45tz_Yao-ZbHAdRKGx6mO2-v1dHpIoZY0q2OdlmQbfV51FClxzLv1u6cpy-mFbf8qy9lKzfTIlvrwjsg4yJnEhx17nIy1keCs/s320/communion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438797618141331970" border="0" /></a><br />Recently we decided that Button would not be making his First Communion this year (or any other year, in all probability). It wasn't exactly a tough decision, but it did open up a bit of a Pandora's Box of emotions that I had thought had been firmly laid to rest.<br /><br />As I have mentioned before, I am not particularly religious. I believe in a higher power, but I'm not a huge fan of organised religion. I think if you're a good person and treat others with respect and dignity, well, that should be enough for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anyone's</span> God. But Communion is more than a religious event. it's what 8 year old boys like Button should be doing! A rite of passage, that was part of my vision for the future for him in the days, months and years before he came home. I have very happy memories of my communion day, and quite simply I wanted the same for him.<br /><br />In the run up to a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">child's</span> First Communion, there are 5 or 6 special masses arranged where the children all sit together and do the readings and prayers of the faithful. Two weeks ago we went off to mass, fully prepared with his favourite small toys, sweets and the promise of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">iTouch</span> for being quiet. It was a disaster. He was poking the lady beside us, shouting and trying to escape from his seat. After about 10 minutes (that felt like 10 hours) we decided enough was enough and made a hasty retreat to the car, with Button kicking and hitting various members of the congregation as he made his way up the aisle.<br /><br />As I sat in the car <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">waiting</span> for Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Taz</span> and Belle, I just knew that Button was not ready for this. He simply cannot cope with crowds, and having to sit still for any length of time. And suddenly I was sobbing, as it hit me just how much his autism affects him and us as a family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdg_8uytEUHFieOFOXCP82Lwdzf2svvDfrgIgnoHopPEZYQoFswD41KtVz-ZGPJyNPRUcDV6YouwQ1uM39LefwFdIKEq95_TsZbjkF5f2WEN-M4JkUWqZYK464wr0iz7lnh98Kzwdf2l8/s1600-h/slap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdg_8uytEUHFieOFOXCP82Lwdzf2svvDfrgIgnoHopPEZYQoFswD41KtVz-ZGPJyNPRUcDV6YouwQ1uM39LefwFdIKEq95_TsZbjkF5f2WEN-M4JkUWqZYK464wr0iz7lnh98Kzwdf2l8/s320/slap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438799673711676114" border="0" /></a>We go through our daily life thinking that Button is doing great (which he is), basking in the lovely comments that have been coming home in his Book recently and loving his funny, quirky nature. We live in a little autism bubble. This is our world and we know no different. As Belle grows up, we're getting glimpses of the "other world", but for the main part we potter along thinking everything is going to plan.<br /><br />Then Wham! one day something hits you, and you realise that you're not as ahead of the game <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">as</span> you think you are. The difference between Button and his peers is remarkable. I watched those little boys and girls sitting quietly with just the odd giggle and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">murmur</span> of chat. Their hands piously joined in complete <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">innocence</span> and joy, fully aware of the importance of the day they were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">preparing</span> for, and my heart broke.<br /><br />I'm generally a very optimistic, positive person. but that day I grieved for all the things Button will never enjoy. Birthday parties, trips to museums, pantomimes, playing football on the street with his mates, these things that you dream about and imagine your little boy doing. They are not part of his life, and in all probability never will be. It sucks.<br /><br />He is the happiest, most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">innocent</span> little soul I have ever known. He doesn't care one bit about those things. And 99% of the time, neither do I. I am not at all bothered about the actual communion, it's just a very stark reminder that life with Button is always going to be different from how we had pictured it to be.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-32145035083655588702010-02-04T15:27:00.009+00:002010-02-04T17:52:37.108+00:00The not-so-invisible Woman!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI88rprCBvr1fWyEcZnwM9lq6Vv2X93bIdIihnoCB5wv901Zv41A2-SePxaBPRqTzhfR8zjTYJK7kfkTbExxic5NGOPuxl4QI1bH0ko3p34CBhuoCRsK8NRUkJo_u4WdEsSmXtjgESEqE/s1600-h/look+at+me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 201px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI88rprCBvr1fWyEcZnwM9lq6Vv2X93bIdIihnoCB5wv901Zv41A2-SePxaBPRqTzhfR8zjTYJK7kfkTbExxic5NGOPuxl4QI1bH0ko3p34CBhuoCRsK8NRUkJo_u4WdEsSmXtjgESEqE/s320/look+at+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434443792781065890" border="0" /></a><br />I'm not the kind of gal who likes to be the centre of attention. I'm very happy to let others take centre stage and just enjoy their reflected glory. But I've discovered in the past few years that I tend to attract a bit of attention when I go out with my children.<br /><br />All adoptive families have numerous stories about things that people have said to them about their children. It's all part of the territory. We cannot chose who we share the information that Button and Belle are adopted with. It's as plain as the nose on your face! Or in our case, as plain as two very cute, non Caucasian noses! But for some reason this seems to give people the idea that they have a right to ask us the most personal and intrusive questions imaginable.<br /><br />Most people mean well, and I always assume that they are asking me questions because of a genuine interest. Often people will tell me that their sister /friend/neighbour/second cousin twice removed, has adopted or is in the process, and I'm always happy to talk about it in general. But I will not share my kid's personal stories with anyone other than my kids! Their stories are theirs alone, to share with whom they choose, when they decide.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhH1ajaiwN4M8IiKwrEaYOc9x-XNm-MDxB3pX_uezCj1Dt8ZpOzWTBnkgoyJ-YNfTcypIkDlrThRN8ok2F4Si95_OPUTx4qiQZOUo1XK216ztuV3xZ-Xvbw_mt0n6hQlVCGLz9-p1ANBk/s1600-h/questions.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhH1ajaiwN4M8IiKwrEaYOc9x-XNm-MDxB3pX_uezCj1Dt8ZpOzWTBnkgoyJ-YNfTcypIkDlrThRN8ok2F4Si95_OPUTx4qiQZOUo1XK216ztuV3xZ-Xvbw_mt0n6hQlVCGLz9-p1ANBk/s320/questions.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434447158156128994" border="0" /></a>I have had some great comments though! Like the lady who asked me if Button's "other mother" was young. Because, she thought, he looks like he had a young mother! As opposed to the knackered, worn out one he's been lumbered with, I guess! And the very enthusiastic young woman who came running up to me squealing "Oooooooh! He's gorgeous! What is he?" Ummm, a baby?<br /><br />Only one time have I ever been offended, and that was by a mature lady who pointed accusingly at Belle and said "That's not your baby"! When I said she was, her response was "well her Daddy must be Chinese so!". Her face when I told her that he was, in fact, from Westmeath, was a picture. You've got to take your pleasure where you can in this life!<br /><br />My children know where they were born, and that we adopted them. They know what their names were before they became Button and Belle, and they know that they grew in another lady's tummy and that she loved them very much. Surely this is enough for other people to know too?Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-38486864661275211552010-01-28T15:21:00.007+00:002010-01-28T16:12:13.061+00:00Button finds his place<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kqx4BKvtmT0L2OCd7gRDskzwNXNNLtdJF36M9rsOmMbUIm6jDB7wX9s_AKPIuXucM8tPOAX5dXrnPUISL8_ObqT7IHN8c0EgyCHI7NYNYXvo3iXo3NX7mKOHyLGtF_JGRpQk6DxBzIs/s1600-h/school+bus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kqx4BKvtmT0L2OCd7gRDskzwNXNNLtdJF36M9rsOmMbUIm6jDB7wX9s_AKPIuXucM8tPOAX5dXrnPUISL8_ObqT7IHN8c0EgyCHI7NYNYXvo3iXo3NX7mKOHyLGtF_JGRpQk6DxBzIs/s320/school+bus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431823809644522850" border="0" /></a><br />Button started in his new school in September 2007. His class consisted of 4 other boys, all of whom had Autism, his wonderful teacher and 3 or 4 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SNAs</span>. They also have a reading teacher. He travelled in and out of school on a bus, with an escort and 2 other children. The bus journey had been my biggest concern - but it turned out to be the highlight of his day! He was as happy as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">larry</span> on the bus, hopping on without so much as a backward glance at me.<br /><br />That first day Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Taz</span> and I collected him, and even though he had been aggressive and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">unco</span>-operative for Teacher, she still gave him a hug as he was leaving and was very positive in telling us that it was nothing she hadn't seen before, and that we'd get through it. In the car he said "Mummy, I don't go to noisy school any more, I go to Happy School" and that is what we call it to this day. Happy School<br /><br />The first few months were hard for Button and Teacher. His aggression was very ingrained by now - as far as he was concerned, if he didn't want to do his work, pulling hair or biting should get him out of it. It had worked for him for a long time by now! However, he had met his match with Teacher! She insisted that no matter what the behaviour the task would be completed. Her hair was pulled, she was kicked and bitten but she didn't give in. There would be no reward for bad behaviour.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaDeyGd-mJRnd_fdzvDL0wLwVUDSRsz1aOlSLzVubFjVeN8WrZgg4ys_r2oWcVz2TL7W5EHQ96rVMTsjpaqupBQb20EpZcOHvx_dAq3K-1Y6flYTFhKLzWLQhDyuj7IngEzRK1ykTWUI/s1600-h/elmo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaDeyGd-mJRnd_fdzvDL0wLwVUDSRsz1aOlSLzVubFjVeN8WrZgg4ys_r2oWcVz2TL7W5EHQ96rVMTsjpaqupBQb20EpZcOHvx_dAq3K-1Y6flYTFhKLzWLQhDyuj7IngEzRK1ykTWUI/s320/elmo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431823949620436850" border="0" /></a>Even though I wasn't collecting Button from school every day, thanks to his "Book" I knew exactly what he was doing during the day. At the end of every term, his classwork was sent home for me to see, and best of all, Button himself was actually beginning to tell me what he had done that day. He was engaged and excited about school, and the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.<br /><br />Along with all the usual academic work, Teacher is very insistent that her boys learn important life and social skills. Every day Button has a job to do, some days he sets the table for lunch, or sweeps the floor. But his favourite is to deliver a message to another class. One day I had to collect him early for an OT appointment, and as we were leaving 6 or 7 of the mainstream children said good bye to him by name. I said to Button "everyone knows you", and one little boy overheard me and said "Everybody loves Button! He's so cool!"<br /><br />And you know what? He is cool!! In Happy School he is respected and loved for who he is. His behaviour is improving every term. And we have gone from every day being a bad day, to maybe 1 or 2 a month. But even when the bad days happen he is cherished and loved. To them he is just Button - his behaviour does not define who he is.<br /><br />Today Button's book read "Button had a very good day today. He paid very good attention and listened well. In PE he did one full rotation on his bike" Did I mention that they asked me to send in his bike to keep in the hall, so that they could teach him to ride? This is what teaching is all about! This is why when I hear such horror stories among my friends of daily struggles with principals and teachers that I thank the Good Lord (or whatever you believe in) for Happy School.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-69913163374369178992010-01-20T15:32:00.007+00:002010-01-20T16:13:44.891+00:00School Days<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEU5P9m-z0iOIR8Rs4TYwv4vGhL4t1rvitRZ82HcAwhZVEFKTA5KDmGoFaSyEykSmttf7bTZo46aULwTCg-hzhD6BN5rKz8PwrbRYjgjrsB7Izsrw7gOvQ43NFyoah9hjIeogi-MMSC8M/s1600-h/school.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEU5P9m-z0iOIR8Rs4TYwv4vGhL4t1rvitRZ82HcAwhZVEFKTA5KDmGoFaSyEykSmttf7bTZo46aULwTCg-hzhD6BN5rKz8PwrbRYjgjrsB7Izsrw7gOvQ43NFyoah9hjIeogi-MMSC8M/s320/school.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428854894898043138" border="0" /></a><br />Shortly after we arrived home with Belle, it was time for Button to start "big school". At this stage he had a "working diagnosis" of autism - basically enough to get him some services, but not all. I enrolled him in our local school, a relatively big, all boys primary. He had and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SNA</span> (Special Needs Assistant) in the class with him and was given 5 hours of resource teaching a week.<br /><br />His first day was absolutely nerve wracking for me. When I met his teacher for the first time, I immediately got the vibe that we were not going to be singing from the same hymn sheet! She was very strict and intimidating, and didn't listen to me at all when I briefly ran through the issues Button had, especially his auditory sensitivity and behaviour.<br /><br />On picking him up she told me he had not been "too bad", but that he wouldn't do what she asked him! Well, what did she expect? I explained again, that he worked very well for reinforcement, and that all she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">neede</span>d to do was to find something he liked (at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">this point</span> he loved shape sorters, so anything shape related would engage him!) and tell him "First work, then...."<br /><br />Her response was "Knowledge should be it's own reward"!<br /><br />We were very fortunate that his resource teacher was a lovely, calm and capable lady. She took him for the last hour of every day, and he achieved more for her than he ever did for his teacher.<br />As the days went on, Button's behaviour got worse and worse. His <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">SNA</span> had her hair pulled often, he screamed and screeched his way through the day and threw and ripped his work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju39ahaTYQI7rbhL7sprkZ3wNPwbKZ0vIPWiOFKL7uUQrlsyul2POD7rr_C8inFWWHBMQey_Vbi4YdjgwcqgVcSDNLFxWOtOklZIW6DU5uVYpABV71lLdV62P4m5rZwnipcB5Y_bDOOoY/s1600-h/whistle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju39ahaTYQI7rbhL7sprkZ3wNPwbKZ0vIPWiOFKL7uUQrlsyul2POD7rr_C8inFWWHBMQey_Vbi4YdjgwcqgVcSDNLFxWOtOklZIW6DU5uVYpABV71lLdV62P4m5rZwnipcB5Y_bDOOoY/s320/whistle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428855345077072818" border="0" /></a>Button's OT and Psychologist had both been in to see the teacher and explain the way to get the best from him. it was important that his behaviour got no reward, and that he knew that he had to finish the task, no matter what he did. I learned later that when he acted up, his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">SNA</span> would take him out to the yard to have a run around! Teacher also was fond of blowing a WHISTLE at her class of 4 and 5 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">olds</span> to keep them in line! Auditory sensitivity obviously didn't mean much to her!<br /><br />His teacher told me on many <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">occasions</span> that she didn't think Button had autism - that his problems were "behavioural". So she didn't implement any of the strategies suggested to her. I have to say at this point, that I collected Button every day from the Resource room, so rarely spoke to the teacher, and was therefore unaware of how bad the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">situation</span> was. In hindsight I should have taken him out of there after week 2!<br /><br />In the Spring of 2007, Button's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">diagnosis</span> was confirmed, so we could finally look at getting him into a more suitable educational placement. We had heard great things about an Outreach Class in a school about 20 minutes drive away, and were delighted when he was offered a place there. Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Taz</span> and I went to see the class and were immediately bowled over by the teacher. She was exactly what Button needed, calm, firm and lots of fun! The school Principal was passionate about his little class of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ASD</span> kids - he had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">gone</span> on training courses himself and was so enthusiastic it was infectious. I could imagine Button being very happy there. All we had to do was to get through the rest of the school year.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-71861046265024322372010-01-14T20:34:00.013+00:002010-01-16T22:47:48.077+00:00My Seven<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC2wBZfvz1bNdBCMpIccvxyNe1g1zQG3Nrz3wFQXe-Yzb_ZNO6sVA0c9mVqAnMj3Hii3h3mCag2HM5alW-YLLQgjsDi8VOZzJH4ANtWm8EedHXyj3SPvL8Tt6zZq7pqrDpKkr2u4t1Tk/s1600-h/challenge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC2wBZfvz1bNdBCMpIccvxyNe1g1zQG3Nrz3wFQXe-Yzb_ZNO6sVA0c9mVqAnMj3Hii3h3mCag2HM5alW-YLLQgjsDi8VOZzJH4ANtWm8EedHXyj3SPvL8Tt6zZq7pqrDpKkr2u4t1Tk/s200/challenge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427346907808778370" border="0" /></a><br />I was recently "tagged" by a fellow blogger Mommy to Two Boys (see her wonderful blog <a href="http://mommytotwoboys.blogspot.com/">here</a>) and asked to write 7 things people may not know about me and things I have not blogged about before! Never being one to refuse a challenge I am rising to the bait and putting Button and Belle's story aside for now!<br /><br />So here goes!<br /><br />1. I am a Londoner! I was born in Hammersmith, West London and lived there for just under 9 years. Moving to Ireland was quite traumatic for me, I remember clearly feeling like I was never going to fit in. I had a very strong English accent, and was painfully shy. It was a tough time, but something I am delighted my parents decided to do, growing up in Galway was a fabulous experience and I'm sure that I had way more freedom than I would have had in London.<br /><br />2.I met Mr Taz when we were 20. We were in college together, but didn't meet until the night of our graduation (me from Social Studies and him from Business Studies). I knew from that first meeting that he was someone really special, and I was right! Another of those "meant to be" moments! He's a pretty cool guy, and an absolutely wonderful, hands-on dad!<br /><br />3. When I was 20, my mother's friend entered me in the Claddagh Princess - a very early stage of the Rose of Tralee! I think I must have been the most reluctant contestant ever! It was an absolute nightmare. Thankfully I didn't win, but I did get a lovely little trophy that my mother still keeps in my old bedroom.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx_RvOvQo2MV3MCLfPAiBBV5PylQWeWpx3EBgK2GcbvhxVa4wbuMSu7sswtSF5IHEr8j7A_gF-7kifal-CC48odrGulJa7OhInrdrIiSWiQmZTiGoZ-cHqR5JSoj3rxeq-_lHFbhCIWI/s1600-h/butterfly.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx_RvOvQo2MV3MCLfPAiBBV5PylQWeWpx3EBgK2GcbvhxVa4wbuMSu7sswtSF5IHEr8j7A_gF-7kifal-CC48odrGulJa7OhInrdrIiSWiQmZTiGoZ-cHqR5JSoj3rxeq-_lHFbhCIWI/s200/butterfly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427348246354069986" border="0" /></a><br />4. I am absolutely terrified of moths. Not quite phobic - but getting there! And following on from that, it pains me to admit - I'm scared of butterflies too! How embarrassing is that? They have a reputation for being pretty and dainty but it's all a conspiracy - they're just moths in brightly coloured jackets! All fluttery and unpredictable! Uuuurgh! My skin is crawling just thinking about them!<br /><br />5. I have only one regret - and that is that I never learnt to play a musical instrument, particularly the piano. Anytime I go to an event where there is a piano in the room, I get an urge to sit down and play the theme for "The Muppet Show". I have promised myself that at some point in the future I will get lessons and someday, somewhere I fully intend to give in to my urge!<br /><br />6. I'm still learning to drive. Yes, at nearly 40 years old I haven't yet passed my driving test. It's a bit of an embarrassment, really! People tend to assume that i can drive and invite me to places that I haven't a hope of getting to! I have a lovely little blue car sitting in my drive, and a couple of times a week I do a spin to Tesco, and if there was an emergency I'd be fine to get to doctors or hospital. But I hate it! I am so nervous that I even (I can't believe I'm actually telling you this!) had hypnotherapy to try and relax me! Hill starts freak me out!<br /><br />7 Before I was a Mommy I worked for a building society, underwriting mortgages! This was back in the day when you could only get a mortgage you could actually afford to pay back! It sounds like a mega-boring job, but I actually really enjoyed it. I have also worked in a factory, testing printed circuit boards (now that WAS boring). But my qualification and experience is all mainly in the child-care area. I worked as a Nanny for a very wealthy Dublin family - and learnt that money is nice, but it certainly doesn't bring you happiness!<br /><br />So there you go! My seven. Now can I go back to blogging about my kids? It's sooo much easier!<br /><br />My good blogging friend, Jen <a href="http://thekingandeye.blogspot.com">(The King and I)</a>, has done a blog featuring her "7" too! Anyone else fancy a go? Go on - you know you want to!!!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-38342782270956893032010-01-12T12:02:00.008+00:002010-01-12T16:45:29.525+00:00Belle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8zva9FNdBJ8uNRRaYMmfSLfVLx75Ke7jAqrlIagl-N7Gto48zgjzaT7jLfzfohaXytnsfbWxsV9SR7TCpldnLnikxZwoQyPNOaPFCsB5tSFUqY9LTic7gWebvzSL_gSSBpR8q5Hsf8g/s1600-h/brother.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8zva9FNdBJ8uNRRaYMmfSLfVLx75Ke7jAqrlIagl-N7Gto48zgjzaT7jLfzfohaXytnsfbWxsV9SR7TCpldnLnikxZwoQyPNOaPFCsB5tSFUqY9LTic7gWebvzSL_gSSBpR8q5Hsf8g/s320/brother.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425894037502046866" border="0" /></a><br />About a year after we adopted Button, Mr Taz and I put in our application to adopt a second child. We had always planned on having more than one child, and at that time, didn't realise that Button had autism. So alongside all the assessments and therapies that Button was having, we were also being assessed to see if we were suitable parents for another child.<br /><br />Button and his issues were a major part of the assessment. And to be perfectly honest, I think the talking we did about it then, both with the social worker and between ourselves, is part of the reason we have handled his diagnosis so well. It was like having our own private therapy sessions. We talked through how his delays had affected us as individuals, and as a couple and how we would deal with situations going in to the future. Adding to our family seemed like the natural thing to do, and we decided this time to adopt from Vietnam. The wait was slightly shorter there, and the babies younger. We thought that Button would find it easier to adapt to a small baby than to a toddler.<br /><br />When Button was 4, we got the phone call to say we had been referred a baby girl. Travelling to Asia can be stressful enough, but travelling with an autistic 4 year old was absolutely terrifying! The journey to Vietnam was uneventful enough and Button coped extremely well with the flights and airports. We were lucky enough to be travelling with a couple of other families who were great with him and very understanding.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPevr0EoihNTY8QHRxEhaYaJXD748CoPPOF4vxce91zZYDnE5wpv_4vc4rxk3gDe5mp4yREewSItcDZVjNRmKbCX8ucbrp3sKoIgbuIdW3H-Bb31x3oHV9eiL9NJOTqcZu_NwzlJLkyc/s1600-h/vietnam+flag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 85px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHPevr0EoihNTY8QHRxEhaYaJXD748CoPPOF4vxce91zZYDnE5wpv_4vc4rxk3gDe5mp4yREewSItcDZVjNRmKbCX8ucbrp3sKoIgbuIdW3H-Bb31x3oHV9eiL9NJOTqcZu_NwzlJLkyc/s320/vietnam+flag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425895098648048194" border="0" /></a>The orphanage that Belle was living in was about a 3 hour drive from Hanoi. Luckily, Button loves to go for a drive, so he was very happy sitting in the mini bus, eating his jelly tots. Meeting Belle for the first time was an amazing experience. She was without doubt the most beautiful little girl ever. They placed her in my arms and once again i fell in love. She was amazing.<br /><br />We had initially thought we would have to be in Vietnam for 2 - 3 weeks, but it turned out to be four. So there we were, cooped up in a small room, in the middle of a heat wave (and believe me, a heat wave in Hanoi is a REAL heat wave!) in a hotel with no swimming pool and nothing to do. Button did not cope well at all. His aggression got worse, he pulled everyone and anyone's hair. He ate hardly anything and was generally absolutely miserable.<br /><br />We visited Belle in the orphanage 3 more times before we could take her home. The journey home started off well, but on the Amsterdam - Dublin flight all hell broke loose. My only guess is that Button was tired and jet-lagged and couldn't face the idea of getting on another plane. He kicked screamed and shouted for the whole flight. Mr Taz held Belle, while I literally had to sit on Button to try and prevent him from attacking the person in the seat in front of us.<br /><br />As soon as we landed he stopped. Like someone had just flicked a switch. We arrived out to the small crowd of family and friends, with Mr Taz and I looking shell shocked, and Button happy, smiling and dancing! I swear that to this day they do not believe how bad that flight was!<br /><br />When I look back to that day, it was one of the happiest and hardest day of my life. Autism was a reality, and it wasn't just going to affect me and Mr Taz, but Belle too. We were all in this together.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-58037706087553321892010-01-06T12:17:00.010+00:002010-01-06T17:28:42.116+00:00The Lightbulb Moment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ut7DzNACd3cRAd59JCxOLI96-k0bDDBbdGOcTimAHAAOcz-lQ1IDcLlW-PLhuIvvjWwd5ovC1Uu3WU_cAAVZPphauUs0CpooOyNje2mjyimI2R5U5dfvnbPOmQK0UJysaOHfBRqzonw/s1600-h/weight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 94px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ut7DzNACd3cRAd59JCxOLI96-k0bDDBbdGOcTimAHAAOcz-lQ1IDcLlW-PLhuIvvjWwd5ovC1Uu3WU_cAAVZPphauUs0CpooOyNje2mjyimI2R5U5dfvnbPOmQK0UJysaOHfBRqzonw/s320/weight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423673771913648594" border="0" /></a><br />The next year is a bit of a blur. Button's central line (or "Freddie" as we called it) was removed after 6 months and a CT scan of his chest showed that, rather miraculously, there was no damage at all to his lungs. We were told to keep up with his oral meds for another 6 months, just to be on the safe side. But to all intents and purposes, Button was cured of his TB.<br /><br />He had been put on a special formula called Nutrini, which saw him put on weight and his growth chart showed a dramatic improvement. He went from 12.5 lbs at 13 months to 20lbs at 16 months! All in all, things were looking fantastic for our little man!<br /><br />Or were they? Just as his health seemed to improve, a whole new set of problems began to rear their ugly heads. No-one expected him to be at the same developmental level as his peers, but as he approached his 2nd birthday, the gap seemed to get wider and wider. He rarely played appropriately with toys, preferring instead to spin wheels on his trucks and press the same buttons on the electronic toys over and over again. He developed the first of his obsessions - balls. We couldn't go into a shop without leaving with a ball. Yet he never kicked, threw or bounced one. Just carried it around with him. He was also becoming quite aggressive.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrxgtxaDp0kWDZzKQ04sSXUB11hTCzseXK2nHpuLC5_6fVbXVdVjomVsJKI3mkuZ5D1u9H8Axy4x-nhyphenhyphenacOOGD8FDiVndmB3Thd2R-pKkO9gW1tubp_3C0zRo2K2IM2f2HtfqNee5l1M/s1600-h/lightbulb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrxgtxaDp0kWDZzKQ04sSXUB11hTCzseXK2nHpuLC5_6fVbXVdVjomVsJKI3mkuZ5D1u9H8Axy4x-nhyphenhyphenacOOGD8FDiVndmB3Thd2R-pKkO9gW1tubp_3C0zRo2K2IM2f2HtfqNee5l1M/s320/lightbulb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423673878254549490" border="0" /></a><br />We had been referred to the early intervention team, and he was getting lots of physiotherapy and a small amount of speech therapy. But it was next to impossible to discern if his delays were due to his physical problems, his institutionalisation or something else. In general, we were all happy with the progress he was making considering all he'd been through. We still thought that with the right therapies, and a lot of patience and time, he would catch up.<br /><br />My "A-ha" moment came in May 2004, as Button was approaching his 3rd birthday. We were on holidays in France, with my parents and my brother, his wife and their son. We had all rented little holiday homes next to each other on a gorgeous campsite, and were having an absolutely wonderful time. One day, Button was in Nana & Papa's "house", as I went in to get him I was greeted by gales of laughter, and Papa taking photos of Button sitting on the floor with 4 or 5 saucepan lids spinning around him. He was going back and forth making sure none dropped, like a circus performer.<br /><br />It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. We had been to a safari park, a theme park, a zoo, many playgrounds and the beach, and nothing had captured his attention like those saucepan lids! Suddenly, everything began to fall into place -the obsessions, the lack of eye contact, the inappropriate use of language and his aggression. My darling, darling, boy had autism.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-53605613723478888132009-12-28T13:10:00.006+00:002009-12-28T19:35:40.853+00:00a slight deviation from the story....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99ZM8ViUFj0u-7GQdd-khR3P_8PJiQpYpX2BAMO_yCQDHFq0iOsyeEmOv51epoLsldM_Nzl5SlbEj62zLpf24mP5-IpiL70atNCU7O3-BOBSPRvOqKWvJ3IL2WycdUpDlTMnj53eX6n8/s1600-h/which+way.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99ZM8ViUFj0u-7GQdd-khR3P_8PJiQpYpX2BAMO_yCQDHFq0iOsyeEmOv51epoLsldM_Nzl5SlbEj62zLpf24mP5-IpiL70atNCU7O3-BOBSPRvOqKWvJ3IL2WycdUpDlTMnj53eX6n8/s320/which+way.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420285265868967794" border="0" /></a><br />I'm taking a bit of a liberty today and veering ever so slightly off the topic of Button and his journey. You see, this blog was never meant to be just about how sick he was and the struggles he has been through, but I felt the story had to be told as it is all part of who he is.<br /><br />But today, as I look at him playing with his beloved LeapPad and watching Hi5 dvd's, I wanted to dwell on the present rather than the past. I know his story so far may seem sad and tough, but he is so much more than his past. He is a happy, funny, healthy little boy, who just happens to have Autism.<br /><br />I'm not a particularly religious kinda girl, but I'm a great believer in fate - as my granny used to say "what's for you won't pass you". And I firmly, with all my heart believe that Button and Belle were "for us". People often say to me how "lucky" my children are. To be perfectly honest, they are not. It is not lucky to spend the first few months of your life in an orphanage, nor is it lucky to be taken away from all that is familiar to you and placed in the arms of a stranger. Mr Taz and I are the lucky ones - and fate was certainly smiling on us the day our children joined our family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItp-1X60FS8I0GNam3nl569wSkPikuJsSkgNvdxcUcJMbUZx9HV778_aCp3PSIJ7Wh2zoBK6Ut3O9644zQVcx3WrYlCgDEOhnrS8E5T70heWf2zdiAubd8yu-dtonPh2wU4LEjF5B_So/s1600-h/friends.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItp-1X60FS8I0GNam3nl569wSkPikuJsSkgNvdxcUcJMbUZx9HV778_aCp3PSIJ7Wh2zoBK6Ut3O9644zQVcx3WrYlCgDEOhnrS8E5T70heWf2zdiAubd8yu-dtonPh2wU4LEjF5B_So/s320/friends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420287288358712994" border="0" /></a>I have been lucky in so many ways. I have a really wonderful husband, healthy and loving parents, a pretty cool brother and lots of great in-laws. All of them have been so supportive of Button and have taken the time to learn about autism and how best to interact with him to get the best from him and cause him the least stress.<br /><br />And now I have a new reason to feel lucky! Well, at last count 165 new reasons. My wonderful, amazing, inspiring, absolutely hilarious new facebook friends. I want to take this opportunity to thank you all for all the love support and fun that you have brought me this year. Through the good days and the bad you have been there, just a click of the mouse away. I've said before that if it wasn't for adoption and autism, I wouldn't know anyone! And I'm so glad to know you.<br /><br />I hope you all have a really happy and healthy New Year, full of wine, chocolate and full night's sleep.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-27945778351713640182009-12-17T14:06:00.009+00:002009-12-17T15:18:20.434+00:00A Whole New World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5LVXUTmV1yVctZecRPVsOJNf5_Ht0MN_nuRrPMdq5q6IhdrRyo-eHx5JbkKbsHr2idR9RpGCkeIbU0WA1XGNNwqvko9WjRHs1jDqoYnjXWjGaNGvC7rllz02vhUu1NreiN1Ph13qqwA/s1600-h/birthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5LVXUTmV1yVctZecRPVsOJNf5_Ht0MN_nuRrPMdq5q6IhdrRyo-eHx5JbkKbsHr2idR9RpGCkeIbU0WA1XGNNwqvko9WjRHs1jDqoYnjXWjGaNGvC7rllz02vhUu1NreiN1Ph13qqwA/s320/birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416224064632971634" border="0" /></a><br />The day before Button's first birthday he had surgery. He had some lymph nodes removed to check for active TB cells in order to confirm his diagnosis. By this time we had been warned that even if he did have TB, it could be a drug-resistant variety, or that it could even be some weird and wonderful tropical disease. We had had him for 3 weeks at this stage, and I had never left his side. We had built up a tenuous (on his part) bond. Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Taz</span>, Nana and I had been with him through everything , we had declined to use masks and gloves when with him - I was his Mommy not a nurse and I wanted him to know the difference. I felt like I was letting him down when I handed him over to the surgeon, and even though I stayed with him until he was asleep, I have never felt so guilty as I did walking away from the anaesthetic room.<br /><br />The surgery was uneventful - and Button spent his first birthday hooked up to a morphine drip surrounded by balloons and birthday cards. Everyone made a huge fuss of him, and in it's own peculiar way, it was a really lovely day!<br /><br />The day after his birthday brought the wonderful (yes, wonderful) news that Alex had good, old-fashioned TB! He could continue his medication and should hopefully make a complete recovery! I could now start thinking about our future as a family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmEc7KmhQkZUlbENHrCQiCatxeDnA2jK1syVlnwPtl31QX_2AyNARaDMfvDZjrzgRzLGprknQ82Iix0Rx_Sgrv2YBzk4GbxTVVR7VDVeP0Wea6JmoN4VD_yp8EZIdD35w63nde8aGt-w/s1600-h/meds.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmEc7KmhQkZUlbENHrCQiCatxeDnA2jK1syVlnwPtl31QX_2AyNARaDMfvDZjrzgRzLGprknQ82Iix0Rx_Sgrv2YBzk4GbxTVVR7VDVeP0Wea6JmoN4VD_yp8EZIdD35w63nde8aGt-w/s320/meds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416224190566501778" border="0" /></a>Another surgery followed to insert a central line so his medicine could be administered more easily. He was on four different types of medicine, one through his "Freddie" daily and the other three orally, at various intervals throughout the day. We decided that rather than me learning how to administer his IV <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">meds</span>, I would take him to the local hospital every day, where they could also keep an eye on his weight. This would go on for at least 6 months.<br /><br />So our new life began. We got into a routine - every morning I would put numbing cream on the back of his little hands (he needed bloods done regularly to check the levels of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">medicine</span> in his system - too much could be toxic, too little and his infection wouldn't clear), and we'd head to the hospital about a 30 minute walk away. He'd have his bloods done, his line flushed and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">medicine</span> given. Then we headed off, to face a day full of charting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">medicines</span>, trying to get them into him, trying to make sure he kept them down and trying to make sure he ate something. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Stressful</span> is not the word for it! He woke every hour during the night, and hardly slept during the day. But he was home, and aside from the exhaustion, it was heaven. He slowly began to put on weight, and his interaction with me improved. I could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-10702420409654317542009-12-11T16:25:00.016+00:002009-12-11T21:24:25.632+00:00Home Sweet Home!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuRskwZ9RwOX_o-WzfN-q3A0ZXS51AM5FHmNvQo9QJZ9EJbMwkRRnpnVvTFkt7C5wUXvHzu7HeYifBmBzTeni2vyEvlfHb-4XLH0qKa5FYG50mAdAVmPEtOQAk6gxICSvhcIx4AsXcaU/s1600-h/sad+face.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuRskwZ9RwOX_o-WzfN-q3A0ZXS51AM5FHmNvQo9QJZ9EJbMwkRRnpnVvTFkt7C5wUXvHzu7HeYifBmBzTeni2vyEvlfHb-4XLH0qKa5FYG50mAdAVmPEtOQAk6gxICSvhcIx4AsXcaU/s320/sad+face.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414039837961616578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />TB is a cruel illness. Button coughed like an old man on 60 cigarettes a day, his chest rattled as he breathed, he had no appetite and at nearly one year old weighed under 11lbs. He was a very sick little boy. The day after we arrived home we took him to see our GP, who arranged to have him admitted to our local hospital the following Monday. So we had one blissful weekend of normality - well, if waking every hour to check he was still breathing and never letting him out of our arms counts as "normal"!<br /><br />We arrived in the Paediatric ward of the hospital and met the wonderful Dr G. Little did we know what an important part of our lives this dedicated, caring woman would be. She arranged for a battery of tests, and gave him a thorough examination. immediately she noticed that he had high muscle tone in his right leg, especially his ankle, and that he was seriously behind in his developmental milestones. He could not sit up unaided, and could barely turn from his front to his back. She wanted to be sure of the diagnosis of TB, and to rule out any other serious illnesses (particularly HIV and Cystic Fibrosis).<br /><br />He had a CT scan of his brain which showed that he'd had a bleed at some point, probably in-utero - he had Cerebral Palsy. That was a dark day - up until then I had managed to convince myself that with the right medication, and some physio Button would be "perfect" - but as she spoke those words to me, I knew our lives were altered forever. I was the proud mama of a special needs child.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJnygmcK2tjq9PvPQN9Gn-uDj9VMFRIis8S7IkXLQNuxL1__EfKCzk-4YAmBJogQezpE2mjYVkhlkCfRVKKOn_xuWcESWBVQ1h-i6Z0qDmO_jvczYkySLymSQ2OHtGko6PB3GFVUPmCE/s1600-h/xray2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJnygmcK2tjq9PvPQN9Gn-uDj9VMFRIis8S7IkXLQNuxL1__EfKCzk-4YAmBJogQezpE2mjYVkhlkCfRVKKOn_xuWcESWBVQ1h-i6Z0qDmO_jvczYkySLymSQ2OHtGko6PB3GFVUPmCE/s320/xray2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414041684159325426" border="0" /></a><br />Dr G decided that Button's needs could be best served by a more specialised hospital - so after a week we were transferred to Crumlin Children's Hospital, under the care of the Infectious diseases team. It was still vital that the TB was confirmed, and as he'd been on treatment, the normal tests would not work. it was necessary to do a biopsy on one of his lymph nodes. His weight was still a huge concern too, as he was hardly eating or drinking. So a nasogastric tube was inserted. This was the only procedure I left the room for - I had been there for every other needle, examination and blood test, but i just couldn't do this one. When I returned to the room, he was propped up on his pillow, quite calm and relaxed, but I lost it. Now he looked sick.<br /><br />As I looked at his little face, with those huge brown eyes making fleeting eye contact with me, I thought of all he'd been through to get to this point. And I allowed myself to fall completely, irrevocably and totally in love with him. If ever there was a child who needed someone in his corner, it was Button and if ever there were a set of parents ready to do what was necessary for their child, it was Mr Taz and I.<br /><br />Game on!!Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-51832101392030219752009-12-08T14:12:00.012+00:002009-12-08T15:13:29.430+00:002nd time lucky!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq10TEzceYKPZdwmA40lES3rPRSl6q8-y7pJoW67zAfqOV2nVxsmo1nu5ar1AHPuWhujnmSr9mr9tvtmAmVBOFuLmUAbbJv663FrjLTOIugUVVHVzPY4Z4rrf7Mp4jDPA-dxqirLAf0mc/s1600-h/sad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq10TEzceYKPZdwmA40lES3rPRSl6q8-y7pJoW67zAfqOV2nVxsmo1nu5ar1AHPuWhujnmSr9mr9tvtmAmVBOFuLmUAbbJv663FrjLTOIugUVVHVzPY4Z4rrf7Mp4jDPA-dxqirLAf0mc/s320/sad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412881185196730930" border="0" /></a><br />As I'm sure you can imagine, our arrival home was nothing like we had imagined. No banners and balloons in the airport to greet us, no cheering crowds, no open-top bus - ok, so maybe that would have been pushing it a bit, but a girl can dream!! Instead, we slunk quietly home with an empty car seat and broken hearts. It was the hardest day of my life.<br /><br />I pretty much hid myself away when I got back, I didn't want to have to keep repeating the story to people who were expecting to see me with Button, it was all too raw. Mr Taz was my rock, he protected me from well-meaning visitors and screened phone calls. I have never loved him more than I did in those tough weeks. He phoned Thailand regularly, and after 2 weeks, we were told that Button was out of hospital and doing much better. We could go back and get him!<br /><br />Once again, bags were packed, flights were booked and fingers were firmly crossed!! Our trip this time was, to say the least, complicated. It involved a delayed flight, a missed connection, overnight in Amsterdam and a slight detour to Delhi (yes, I said Delhi! - but that's a whole blog in itself!), but we eventually arrived in our by now familiar hotel. After a brief nap and a very badly needed shower we were taken to see Button again, but not in the hospital - in the Baby Home! I cannot even begin to describe how it felt to see him again. No tubes or wires, just my son.<br /><br />While we were in Bangkok, an event called the Nativeland Visit was taking place. Every 3 years the Thai Government invite all the Thai children who have been adopted around the world to return for a week of activities, and a special audience with the Princess. So there we were, with the newest addition to this adoption family, surrounded by hundreds of Thai-born kids with American, German, Dutch and of course Irish accents! It was a wonderful, if slightly surreal experience, and very comforting to see such happy well adjusted children and young adults, even if (as one American teenager told us) they'd rather have gone to Hawaii!!<br /><br />Our goal was simple - to get Button and return home as quick as we could before he got sick again!! So 6 days later we were on our way. It was an uneventful trip for the most part, except for what has gone down in family history as "The Amsterdam Incident". Suffice it to say it involves a very messy nappy, and a well aimed wee! No fancy-schmancy coming home clothes for me and Button, but Mr Taz looked as fresh as a Daisy!<br /><br />The banners and balloons were there, as were the doting grandparents and aunts and uncles (who all managed beautifully to hide their shock at seeing such a small, sickly baby). And on the drive home from the airport we had a baby in our car seat at last.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxi5Pbt5ckz__IG6OF5ZeTwzIqoECw2qe7l70mBL1xwYAJWcicdqeB3a9wE-WZGGznc9qJQ9CUPJQOzDiAg8UGtYE4OKxQcrBu2JcndlZbaMkeqV0ahVKCGmyelABDL98rmKE6fpAOdQ/s1600-h/car+seat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxi5Pbt5ckz__IG6OF5ZeTwzIqoECw2qe7l70mBL1xwYAJWcicdqeB3a9wE-WZGGznc9qJQ9CUPJQOzDiAg8UGtYE4OKxQcrBu2JcndlZbaMkeqV0ahVKCGmyelABDL98rmKE6fpAOdQ/s320/car+seat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412882703626108290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-Y_vdtVr890c9ukUX9z12tmq3v12i7s-Pxn6BIuBqSuGrODuY9LHgCosmVMiMJgUZogztGrAQTVp1pzish5ixn1VO3OH25FgoRqKRcKx9OwLUcRBGI2aJ124HBAb596ZUZLNCP4NKug/s1600-h/car+seat.jpg"><br /></a>Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-62284466406496759922009-11-27T13:15:00.013+00:002009-12-02T15:07:32.512+00:00Sawatdee Bangkok!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3gBPgpqPvh4gp4sURookip9UWSujJBOkyAi8OxdNJyZXmz4kol1PUjmhrrYx1uwbVcvj9qNz44tdkDR8DqutIWt8lE8ckj1dQgt5f1SrT3ZeJKfx6DByZgZeRrOKGX9v9xy2Tya4b2s/s1600/suitcase.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3gBPgpqPvh4gp4sURookip9UWSujJBOkyAi8OxdNJyZXmz4kol1PUjmhrrYx1uwbVcvj9qNz44tdkDR8DqutIWt8lE8ckj1dQgt5f1SrT3ZeJKfx6DByZgZeRrOKGX9v9xy2Tya4b2s/s320/suitcase.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408785696053403778" border="0" /></a><br />Picture the scene -the suitcases are packed and waiting in the hall, we have our tickets and passports (which I check approximately once every 10 minutes), money converted to Thai Baht and most importantly a room full of the most beautiful (but trendy!) baby boy clothes you have ever seen - washed, ironed and sorted at least three times! We were good to go!<br /><br />Two days before we were due to fly out we got a phone call - Button (as we call him - for he is as cute as one!) was in hospital. Immediately I rang the orphanage to find out more. For those of you who know me well, you'll realise that this was no small feat for me - I'm slightly phone phobic, especially when it comes to "official" calls, but for the first time ever I was in Mommy mode - my baby was in trouble - I'd have phoned the King of Thailand himself if it was necessary! When I finally got talking to someone who understood my panicky rambling, I discovered that Button had pneumonia, but that we should come over anyway, because he'd probably be out before we got there, but if not it would only be a couple of days more. Thank God! Pneumonia I could deal with - people have that and recover all the time, right? It was all going to be ok.<br /><br />After a long, but pretty uneventful trip, we arrived in a small town in the North of Thailand where our Button had spent the first 9 months of his life. The heat and humidity when we stepped out of the airport was overwhelming for two Irish bumpkins who had never been further afield than Majorca! But we were there! After a night at our lovely hotel, we met the escort from the orphanage in the lobby. She had with her a little book with a photo of Button as a very small (and I mean VERY small) baby - priceless to us, our first glimpse of the life he had led before we knew of him. He was still in hospital, and she was taking us to see him straight away.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBYvT_CVCuDhcKIJ0TeAc5mW7yfQpCOIpb1JApca-ZRBQXtwKkOzrGwVC3AFcowH7HxYS-ptzGLwyhhfq9VxAKV-Z79V9_P6-HxBSqmXtrEAHWXAazHQXUg_E2tBE_HNu2Y1RDMpzboE/s1600/hospital.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 99px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBYvT_CVCuDhcKIJ0TeAc5mW7yfQpCOIpb1JApca-ZRBQXtwKkOzrGwVC3AFcowH7HxYS-ptzGLwyhhfq9VxAKV-Z79V9_P6-HxBSqmXtrEAHWXAazHQXUg_E2tBE_HNu2Y1RDMpzboE/s320/hospital.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408785843503877474" border="0" /></a>How do you describe the moment when you see your child for the first time? There are no words that can possibly do it justice. But for us, that moment came in a large, slightly scary hospital, where we found him lying on a bed surrounded by doctors and nurses, having his airways suctioned. He was the tiniest thing I had (or still have) ever seen. When they handed him to me, I just wanted to take him and run - he seemed so small and fragile, his arms and legs were like matchsticks, and his face was all eyes. it was obvious he had lost an awful lot of weight since his referral photo was taken - and my gut instinct told me that there was much more than pneumonia going on.<br /><br />Over the next week we visited Button twice a day. His chest rattled when he breathed and the doctors couldn't keep his temperature down. The visits we had were bittersweet, we were so happy to finally spend time with him, but it was incredibly hard seeing him so ill. We learnt that his nickname in the orphanage was "dtaa leuk", which means "deep eyes", and that he was very nosy, even on his sickest day, he would contort his body to see what was happening behind him! After 4 or 5 days he was diagnosed with TB and his treatment began in earnest. We, on the other hand, still had paperwork to complete in Bangkok. We flew down in the hope that when we got back Button would be well enough to come home.<br /><br />Sadly, this was not to be. Even though his temperature was stabilising and he seemed to be responding to his treatment, there was no way that he was fit enough to fly or that he would be any time soon. We knew that he was getting the best care possible, and that he was surrounded by people who loved him and who were familiar to him (a Nanny was by his side 24 / 7 in the hospital) we were strangers to him, he didn't yet know how much we already loved him. We made the heartbreaking decision to leave without him and to return to Thailand in a few weeks to bring him home.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759348380934535458.post-61612344923144557152009-11-24T18:21:00.000+00:002009-11-25T17:34:16.187+00:00Welcome to my world!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6MWAoeIZ7R1Wu3LL-oWmli7LG0FXK0ZR3l57l0oqHy7uUSb53dCFumNg6n6Cn6eAS5mT8ph9ZRGRMAP2DuZjjan9nwUzbArN9CMYDP-2fu3vs2VHtdOiSZC5Fp42uKBi6fIm5Zlz4iM/s1600/adoption.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6MWAoeIZ7R1Wu3LL-oWmli7LG0FXK0ZR3l57l0oqHy7uUSb53dCFumNg6n6Cn6eAS5mT8ph9ZRGRMAP2DuZjjan9nwUzbArN9CMYDP-2fu3vs2VHtdOiSZC5Fp42uKBi6fIm5Zlz4iM/s320/adoption.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408043945236929426" border="0" /></a><br />So where do I start? When I was thinking about doing a blog, I wasn't sure whether to focus on adoption or autism - they're both such an integral part of our lives. But then I realised that any blog that was to truly represent who we are as a family has to include both - for they are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">equally</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">responsible</span> for shaping our family and have brought us into contact with some truly remarkable people, none of whom we would have met if we hadn't travelled on these paths.<br /><br />When Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Taz</span> and I got married, we had our future all mapped out - our "plan" as we called it. We would enjoy married life for a year or so, babies would follow and life would be rosy! Well, they say that man plans and God laughs, and that certainly seemed to be the case for us! When it became clear, that having babies wasn't going to be as straightforward as we had anticipated, we very early on decided that we would rather go down the adoption route than try <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">IVF</span>. My body had had 2 years of fertility drugs, I was exhausted and stressed, and it just seemed that with adoption we would have a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">guarantee</span> of a healthy, happy baby.<br /><br />Much has been written about the gruelling nature of the adoption process, but other than the time it took, we found the whole experience very positive. Never having been one who was reluctant to talk about myself, I took to it like a duck to water - yes, of course, there were a few intrusive, personal questions, but to Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Taz</span> and I it was like free therapy! We decided that our future son or daughter would come from Thailand, a country that has well established procedures for inter-country adoptions, and the wait began.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9XUIkz0exdSlR3qQR_qDXyVZaVtO4gHWvfUrCPn17vXlemUNoceFifGoCtzhZDOyWVSMRvVh7wKgVLzK6n0UqxL6CJlU3__WlHie1IkWjI90ZzOe2ox-yTLB1pQAcdtFiivwX84vNJQ/s1600/joy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9XUIkz0exdSlR3qQR_qDXyVZaVtO4gHWvfUrCPn17vXlemUNoceFifGoCtzhZDOyWVSMRvVh7wKgVLzK6n0UqxL6CJlU3__WlHie1IkWjI90ZzOe2ox-yTLB1pQAcdtFiivwX84vNJQ/s320/joy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408091525643358370" border="0" /></a>After a year or so of waiting we started phoning Bangkok every 6 weeks to see if there was any news. This would involve me laying awake all night imagining all sorts of outcomes, then phoning at about 4 am. Invariably our lovely Thai Social Worker would say "Soon, soon. Baby soon" Until one morning, she said <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">the</span> words I had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">waited</span> 4 years to hear - "You have been matched with baby boy". I was simply gobsmacked. I asked how old he was and she said "he is under 2 - oh no, under 1" To get a baby so young was nearly unheard of in Thai adoptions - all our prayers had been answered. I was a Mommy.<br /><br />About 2 weeks later we were called into the Adoption Board to collect a photo of our son. Obviously, I'm completely biased, but he really was the most beautiful baby i <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">had</span> ever seen - he had these huge brown eyes and his little fists were clenched as if he was a prize fighter (a sign of things to come maybe?) We <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">could</span> hardly contain our excitement, our son was coming home.Tazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095213147043472257noreply@blogger.com15