default positions

I've heard a lot about all of us having a 'default position' that we regress to when under stress. I've realised that I'm avoidant. I shut myself away in my room. I go for a long drive. I don't answer texts or phone calls. I'm horrible to people around me so that they leave me alone. I call it my 'flunk' and think of it as falling into a dark abyss that's difficult to get out of.

My kids have their default positions too, and they're pretty distressing to see. My daughter feels physical pain. Under stress she'll suddenly get hysterical about a hitherto unnoticed skin abrasion or make herself fall to the floor pretending she's tripped. My son gets angry. He throws things around and he screams and screams and screams.

Unfortunately, all three of us have hit our default positions this week. The kids are loving their Sports Club but it takes it out of them. It's stressful to keep up their 'coping' persona all day, and they are shattered by the time I pick them up at 4pm. I HATE pick up time. At least one of 'ems always ready to blow. This is how the week panned out:

Monday: Son was up in the middle of the night, probably because of his excitement at going to the Sports Club next day, so even without a day of running around, he was always going to be knackered. He started off by being rude to me at pick-up, escalated it to defiance after tea, and then upped it to hysterical screaming during shower and bedtime, including the line 'you're hurting me, you're hurting me' when I entered his room to say goodnight. That was nice.

Tuesday: Screaming when he realised he only had a normal amount of time on the wii, and had to go to bed at the usual time. The deal had been that if he could handle extra time on the wii and a later bedtime, then he could have it, but I didn't consider his behaviour yesterday to constitute 'handling it'. Told him that if he could hold it together at showers and bedtime, then he could have the extra time tomorrow, after which ensued a battle inside of him between good and evil. Oh my goodness how he so wanted to tantrum and scream but on the other hand how he so wanted extra wii time and a later bed. The good won. Just. With much chuntering and mutterings under breath.

Wednesday: Daughter came out from club obsessing about some crisps she'd been given (long story) and I do mean obsessing. When we got home I took the crisps off her and said that if she ever said the word 'crisps' again she'd never have another packet as long as she lived. To which she fell to the floor and began bashing her feet on the ground toddler tantrum style, screaming and crying that HER LEGS WERE ITCHING. She's nothing if not logical, my girl.

I verbalised two observations. The first was that she wasn't tantrumming because her legs were itching, she was tantrumming over the crisps. The second was that as son was not tantrumming today she obviously felt the need to fill the slot. Then she tantrummed about having pasta for tea. Then I lost it.

When the kids lose it, I keep calm for them and help them regulate again. When I lose it, no one does that for me. I have to find ways to get myself out of it. So I had a fag out of the window, took some Syndol for the pain caused by my brain which - for reasons unknown - seemed to be trying to jump out of my head, and slept for twelve hours.

Thursday: The morning was a smorgasbord of default stress positions. Daughter was crying about pains in her tummy, my son was being defiant over every routine matter, and I was a wall of hatred. It didn't make for a good day at home on my own after everyone had gone off to do their various things. But when I picked the kids up, something miraculous... we had all seemingly decided to call a truce and went out of our way to be nice to each other. A perfect evening.

Friday: Son very teary, dangerous close to tantrumming on the way home. I observed that this week was like a tantrum fest, and that daddy was the only one who hadn't had one. Suggested to son that as he'd had two days of tantrums this week, maybe he should let dad do the tantrumming tonight. A bit of humour worked. We made it through the evening OK.

So far this weekend we've had the usual attentions seeking, defiance, silliness, and tonight we had screaming again, but at least none of it came from me!

I was thinking that we don't just have one default position, we have two. One for when we're under stress and one for when we're not. I think maybe in their birth home my kids got plenty of practice at their stress default position. It is very easy for them to fall into their stress responses, because they used to be there all the time. But what is a struggle for them is to keep in their non-stress default position. They're not used to being happy, or enjoying themselves for long periods of time. It's probably a bit scary to be happy for too long. Hopefully that's something that will change in time. Like the rest of us, they'll always have a stress default, but I think it only fair they get the other default position too.

school's out for summer!

Just for the record, I didn't inflict a two day funk on my family this weekend. I came close to tipping into the abyss on Sunday morning when I overslept and came downstairs feeling headachey to find that husband had not done everything I would do in the way that I would do it. But I pulled back.

I convinced myself that, in honour of the start of the holidays, happiness was allowed to happen. We've got an easy few weeks ahead of us and if that can't make me happy, nothing will and I should just give up and go and live in a cave on my own somewhere and stop bothering nice people.

This week the kids are in their School's Sports Camp and they are ecstatic about it. Seriously, for once I'm not being sarcastic. They did Sports Camp last Autumn and loved it and they've been really looking forward to going to this summer one. I've been looking forward to it too, in truth. A longer than school day, with less traffic to battle and no homework to make them do? What's not to like? This week almost feels like a holiday for me too. That's why I'm pissing around on the computer at 10.35 in the morning, spending time with my favourite blogging people, checking out sites about Guinea Pigs, and communicating with friends through e-mail and Facebook. I'm on holiday, I can do whatever the hell I like, and I happen to like doing stuff like that.

Over the weekend, also in honour of the start of the holidays, I allowed the kids have more time on the wii and the DS. I'm usually quite strict with how much time they can have on those things in a day, usually one hour in the morning and one hour after 4pm. Mainly this was because I noticed that if they spent too long playing these things, they were prone to being moody when they came off. The games they play can be quite intense and they just couldn't handle them for too long without getting wound up. Also, the wii and the ds are their very favourite things and if I didn't put limits on when and how long they could be used, then they'd just want to be on them all the time, sabotaging anything else I tried to do. And yes, I do know that from experience.

But, they've come a long way in the last year. They don't tantrum and fight when they stop playing anymore. Even my obsessive son can handle coming off the games now because he understands and trusts he will get to play again the next day. So I made a deal with them. They can play on these games longer, as long as they keep showing me that they can handle it. No tantrums when they come off, no fighting, no moodiness. Any sign of going back to that sort of behaviour, then we're cutting it back again.

So far, they've managed to handle it and I am really glad. We should all be allowed to do the stuff we like for a while, shouldn't we? Juts like I intend to piss around on the internet for the entirety of this morning, shouldn't we let out kids just go mad with their favourite things for a bit too?

The key is balance, I think, *she says, her protestant work ethic breaking through* I mean, before I came on the computer this morning I already did the shopping and housework, and I've got a load of washing in. Then this afternoon I'll work some more on the garden. It's not like I've gone crazy spending the entire day dossing around. And the same with the kids. I've got lots of creative, healing, useful, playful, bonding activities lined up for us to do over the summer, and we will do them. But, you know what, I don't think the earth will grind to a halt if my son spends an extra hour playing Mario Kart too.

I'm feeling a bit sorry for my husband right now. He works full time and he's only got one week off this whole summer. This used to make me feel guilty, but now I think, in honour of how lucky I am not to have to work, I'll just appreciate my time off instead. School's out... let's party! Or something a bit like that.

making connections

Blogging can be very enlightening... thinking about my last two posts, which I wrote in the same night, I can see why our children's ex-Social Worker's behaviour is a trigger for me. She's a bit like my mum; perfectly pleasant and all that, but totally uninterested!

Her very last home visit before we got our Adoption Order (meaning she never had to visit us ever again! Hurrah!) I played a game. I decided that I would tell her nothing about me and the kids unless she asked. She sat in my house for an hour, drank my coffee, ate my biscuits, and the subject of me and my children and husband never came up! We spent the whole hour talking about her and her family! And this is a woman who is paid to monitor our welfare!

I guess I have a lot of festering irritation from all the times people should have put themselves aside and asked after me, but never did. And it's worse when they do it to my kids, like she did. I've also dropped two 'friends' I'd had since childhood because they took no interest whatsoever in the arrival and continuing presence of my children. It infuriated me.

It's comforting to know you're on people's minds sometimes, and very lonely when you realise you haven't been. Screw them, I says, screw them all.

difficult weekend, part two

Something else that made for an uncomfortable weekend: an honest chat with my brother.

I have two older brothers, both of whom I keep at arms length, letting them close enough so that the children benefit from the nice side of them. They both, you see, have a nasty side, and more than ten years ago I distanced myself a little from my immediate family, realising that I didn't have to subject myself to their periodic verbal aggression and put downs if I didn't want to.

You will know that our parents have health problems, and that me mum's had an operation recently. We've all felt the strain and my two brothers have had a big falling out over it. The brother I spoke to on Friday night swears that he will never speak to our eldest brother again ... he's sick of his verbal aggression and the put downs!

We were talking about a practical matter, but brother was telling me about his relief of not having to see our older brother anymore, and telling me about the nasty text he got from him. He said that he was always criticising him and he'd had enough. I ventured to ask brother if he knew where he got that from? It is of course from our parents.

That was all I needed to say and my brother was away. He related to me several stories from our childhood when our parents put him down, or ignored him, or sent him away. I've got several stories of my own like those. Our parents were not abusive or neglectful, but they were completely uninterested in us. They both worked hard and when they had free time they watched TV. That was it. Hours and hours and hours of it. If we wanted to be with our parents we sat and watched TV with them. That was our life. Any effort by me or my brothers to cultivate a hobby went unsupported, meeting irritation or mockery. They didn't much notice or care when we started to grow up and live independent lives; we could do what we liked just as long as we never interrupted a TV program to bother them about it.

I have long since fathomed this upbringing has harmed me. It made pushing out into the world very difficult as an adult because my parents had kept my world so small and unstimulating. It also gave me low self-esteem, as having parents who do not want to spend any time with you will tend to do. I have also seen how it has damaged my brothers, how we could all have been more if we had been encouraged and supported.

But knowing that for yourself and having someone else validate that for you are two very different things. My brother even brought up a couple of incidents when my parents showed an intensely low level of interest in some big news I had to tell them (getting married and adopting) and how he had meant to tell me how wrong it was that our parents' response could be so muted.

Well, that's not quite how he put it, but that's what he meant.

All this, coming from someone I never considered a natural ally, has shaken me a bit. Things really were as bad as I was thinking they were. It's haunted me all weekend.

I have long since forgiven and excused my parents, two decent people, for their faults. They are of a post-war generation, stiff upper lipped pensioners, who created a safe home environment for their three children, with a predictable routine and food on the table, all on a shoe string.

But I do live with the legacy of their disinterest and overt criticism, and so now do my husband and children. I don't think I so much have a nasty side to me as a dark pit that I sometimes fall into, and that's where I found myself this weekend. Down there, nothing is good, nothing is worth trying for and everyone is the enemy. I can't parent very well from that dark pit. For my family's sake I hope I don't drop in there again any time soon.

I'm OK today though. Back in the sunshine, thinking of bunnies.

beware the social worker

In recognition of my stress levels I dodged daughter duties on Friday and spent the morning with a friend who understands, and who is also good for a discussion of bunnies and guinea pigs and such. We've got three cats whom I love to bits and being an animal lover I'd like to add to our animal family so I'm thinking pets at the moment. I went home feeling emotionally supported with nothing more vexing than rabbit hutches on my mind!

Unfortunately I returned home to a letter from the children's ex-Social Worker. This was never a woman who brought sunshine into my life. I found her a jobsworth, bafflingly uninterested in the children she was placing with us, and scrupulously avoidant of inquiring after our welfare.

Her letter, which came out of the blue, explained that she had visited an older sibling of my two children, and enclosed was a letter from this sibling (an adult now) to my two children that they had worked on together. The letter from the older sibling was acceptable enough, but the letter from the Social Worker was infuriatingly insensitive.

You might remember, dear reader, that we have seen an explosion in distressing behaviours from my son since he read his Life Story book. It is my opinion that reading about his birth family has re-traumatised my son. This I fully related, with tears, to mine and my husband's own ex-Social Worker down the phone who agreed a referral to CAMHS would be appropriate.

The letter states that this ex-Social Worker was aware of the contents of the letter. Why then did these two women, who are close friends and always in touch, think it appropriate to write to us and state that this older sibling wants to meet with her younger brother and sister, wants regular Letter Box contact, and wants the children 'never to forget her'? When thoughts of his birth family have sparked in my son suicide ideation, bed wetting, screaming and tantrumming?

What half-brained human being would even begin to imagine that a letter from a birth family member right now, never mind a meeting, would be beneficial for my son?

I wouldn't have expected this woman, upon hearing of our son's distressing behaviour and our need to access therapy for him, to phone me and ask how we were. She was never interested before and I wouldn't expect her to care now she is (as I thought) retired. However, perhaps a courtesy call to let me know that she was meeting with this older sibling and that this older sibling wanted contact, would not have been beyond even her professional ability.

I can only hope that she has not given this poor woman - a poor wretch who was never rescued from the abusive family home for adoption like her brother and sister - any false hope with regards to Direct Contact. I feel deeply for the poor girl who suffered terribly, but I will not be emotionally blackmailed by begging letters from inept Social Workers to do anything that will put my two adopted children in potential danger.

I left controlled but forceful messages on the answerphones of both Social Workers, neither of which have been returned, and so from now on future communication will be in writing. In my own time, when I am ready.

It made for an uncomfortable weekend. I have been in a bad place, but am better today.

only half an hour left until Saturday is over! Hurrah!

Well, it all went tits up again today!

I hope for better tomorrow.

with a smile on my face

My mum had a knee replacement op recently. She's not a good patient. Trying to find the right things to say to her, and putting the 'smile on my face' she always wants me to wear, has been quite draining. As my much-loved dad has Parkinsons, I've been over there a lot, shopping for them, cleaning, laundry. I'm pleased to be able to help them out, thankful I've got as much time for them as I have, but it is tiring.

On top of all this there has been the escalation in son's behaviours. We've been having difficulty with him ever since he read his Life Story book; refusal to go to bed at night, the scary morning incident, lots of tantrums, and more recently we've had a return of the screaming at shower time.

I think I've been doing a good job. I've been able to see his behaviours as communication and I've been able to swoop in and put in all the gentle nurturing underneath him. I've been playful, dispelling his moodiness with making him laugh. I've been 'wondering aloud' about his behaviours, been curious. I've been empathetic with discipline when necessary. And behind the scenes I've fixed up an appointment with CAMHS for September. See? Responsible as well as caring.

Has any of it made the slightest bit of difference to him or his behaviour? No. He is back to controlling this family with quick and easy expression of violent emotions, and it stinks.

Tuesday night, shower night, I finally lost it and I didn't even see it coming. We'd all been out in the garden and I was doing some major cleaning up of the old vegetable plot I have now abandoned. Husband took son up for his shower and returned a few minutes later saying that son was screaming, demanding he have someone in the bathroom with him whilst he showered. I suggested to husband that maybe he should be in the bathroom then, rather than standing talking to me.

I think, looking back, I was doomed from that moment. I carried on doing my stuff in the garden, my son's scream wafting towards me on the gentle summer breeze through the open bathroom window, but I was angry at husband for not just automatically doing the nurturing thing with son at shower time that I had been doing for weeks. Why does it always have to be me?

Eventually, I went inside to face the bedtime routine, just in time to hear husband being less than therapeutic with son, who was still in the bathroom. This cranked my irritation up another notch. When I was dealing with a screaming son, I concentrated on being matter-of-fact, and sometimes playful, I managed not to resort to threats. I offered to take over from husband, as I didn't agree with the direct his parenting was taking, but he declined.

So I went and lay on our bed and there, instead of getting myself into a good place, I stewed a while load of negativity together. Son ruining another perfectly pleasant evening, husband not handling it how I would, son controlling this family again, all the memories of the extreme screaming I had directed at me during shower time for the first six to nine months of the placement. Oh yes, it all came rushing back at me. My heart was pounding, my breathing was shallow. I should have stayed where I was or stayed away.

But I didn't. I still thought I could control myself, so I got up off the bed when son came out of the shower and reminded him to clean his teeth. Son threw some Oppositional Defiance at me. No, he was going not going to clean his teeth, he was going into his bedroom. I repeated my request. He walked on past me with the self-satisfied grin of one who knows he is pushing buttons.

KABOOM!

I followed him into his room and scooped up his naked little body, and as he starting screaming some more, I unceremoniously carried him to the bathroom, plonked him in front of the sink and said very loudly in his ear, two words. CLEAN. TEETH.

Then, whilst he stood at the sink cleaning his teeth and crying, I stood in the bathroom behind him throwing a whole big lecture at him about acting like a naughty three year old. If he wanted to act like a three year old by tantrumming all the time, I lectured, we would treat him like a three year old. We would make him go to bed at 6pm. We would not allow him on the wii. We would spoon feed him babyfood.

Not pretty, is it?

I should tell you that I did do 'repair' that night, and by our final goodnight we were cuddling and kissing again, but I just HATE IT when I fall back into that parental default of punishment, and show of force, and threats.

I think I'm heading towards burn out and need some escape again, but this time the exit routes are blocked. My mum and dad, who handle son very well, are out of action for the time being. There is no one else I trust to babysit him as well, not when he's being like this. Not when he keep alluding to death and killing himself. So getting out at night time seems impossible. I wasn't here for one night last week (getting back late from that course I did in London) and he wet himself, so I don't even feel I can go out alone to see my friends. I'm not getting to see my friends during the day either because I'm spending so much time over at mum and dad's. And we can't even plonk the kids for a couple of hours with my parents-in-law during the day because they've pissed off on holiday.

I can feel a sense of resentment towards son creeping in, because if his behaviours weren't so difficult, this family would be having a much better time. Even though I know he is not choosing to be like this, even though I know he is hurting and needs my love and help, even though I want to do everything I can to help this little boy heal. I still feel resentment. I feel it because I'm tired and my life is all about housework and shopping and having to deal with other people's emotions with a smile on my face. There is no enjoyment in any of it. I'm having no fun. I want to go and see a good film, or go out for a laugh with my husband and friends, and have lunch with a friend. But I can't. I'm stuck. I'm stuck here and nothing I do or say seems to be making the slightest bit of difference to my son.

The summer holidays are fast coming upon us. I always throw myself into holidays, using them as a chance to chill and bond with the kids. But can I do that from this place I am currently sitting in? I don't know. The way it stands, I don't even want to pick them up from school today and spend the evening with them.

and breathe...

Went on another course last Wednesday, again run by Louise Sydney, psychotherapist and specialist adoption consultant, and I do dig his stuff.

One thing I wanted to put down in writing was his suggestion for keeping stress levels down, because then I might actually remember to do it.

He suggests a meditative/reflective five minutes to help keep us in a 'good place'. Five minutes of doing nothing but watching your thoughts, mentally checking your body over, and listening to the sounds all around. No distractions like books, or TV, or having fantasy arguments with people in your head (a favourite pastime of mine). No having a snooze. No planning the next days activities. Just you being with yourself, checking how you are. Louis said something about it fusing the left and right thinking parts of the brain, and husband, who used to study tai chi, says that such meditations do actually alter your alpha and beta brain waves.

I've tried doing it whilst in the shower or cleaning my teeth, but I felt nothing. You have to just sit somewhere, I think, and give yourself the full focus of your own attention. Imagine that!

I'm not much into airy fairy hippy stuff, but the fact that there might be some science behind this encourages me. I really want to find a way to deal with the negative stuff that keeps popping into my head and surely even I can find five minutes twice a day to be still.

We'll see!

alert level

A bit like a country, this household has different levels of 'alert'. I like to put us on a par with the US Armed Forces defense readiness condition DEFCON. This is how it works:

DEFCON 5

Lowest state of readiness

A normal week of school ahead. No birthdays, anniversaries or special days coming up. Children's behaviour is within acceptable limits. No external pressures.

Enjoy life.

DEFCON 4

Increased parental watch and strengthened coping measures

A special day at school coming up, or a party or some social event for one of the children or babysitter use imminent. No external pressures.

Book a lunch with supportive friend.

DEFCON 3

Increase in readiness above that required for normal stuff

A birthday, anniversary or special family day imminent. Problems with school friends or school pressures such as tests and special assemblies. Children's behaviour stepping outside of acceptable limits.

Cancel all adult social functions, put friends on alert, ensure emergency supplies of Silk Cut.

DEFCON 2

Further increase in parental readiness, but less than maximum readiness

A birthday, anniversary or special day imminent. Pressures at school. School summer or Christmas holiday in view. Children's behaviour becomming exhausting.

Open and engage with Silk Cut, do gym workout until nearly sick, cry down phone to understanding friend.

DEFCON 1

War is imminent

Birthday/Mother's Day/Father's Day/Summer Holiday/Christmas Holiday/some random event that has retraumatized children and reactivated frightening, obsessive, destructive, angry behaviours. External pressures adding to stress.

Open and engage with Silk Cut, do gym workout until nearly sick, cry down phone to understanding friend, self-medicate with Syndol because the codiene and and doxylamine gives nice woozy feeling, stay up until the small hours watching a film in order to avoid having to go to bed and face worrying thoughts about wanting to run away to an island unoccupied by humans.

We're currently at DEFCON 2. Have I put you off adoption, yet?

which side of the brain are you on?

I went on a course called 'therapeutic parenting or therapy?' the other day, which given recent events in the Scribbles' household was quite fitting. It sought to 'demystify therapy and deliver real understanding of the nature of developmental parenting' and 'empower parents and give them the confidence to successfully parent their children'.

OK. I got a few things out of it. Mainly the same message that I'm getting from everywhere else, which is that therapy will not 'fix' a child, and that essentially the parents are the last people standing between the child and its dysfunctions. No pressure then.

But I did have a light bulb moment during the course, which has since continued shining a light on one of my problem areas, namely 'play'. I find it really hard to 'play' with the kids. I always have. Husband can pick up a ball and play catch, sing ditties with them, get down on his knees and fix up a lego castle with them in a flash. Me? Any excuse under the sky not to play.

This has always really puzzled me. I mean, I'm not an 8 year old and so it's not that surprising that I don't leap at the chance of playing Ker Plunk. But the odd thing is, it's not the playing Ker Plunk that's the problem - once I'm playing it, I'm fine - it's the idea of playing Ker Plunk. It's the thought of leaving whatever grown-up thing it is that I am doing and having to go and play that's the issue.

It's been almost like it requires a gear change from top gear back down to first gear, and my engine won't let me do it because it's spinning too fast. That's what it's felt like.

Turns out, according to one of the course speakers, Louise Sydney (psychotherapist and specialist adoption consultant), that that is not too far off what is happening. It's all about the left and right side of the brain. When we play, apparently, we engage the right side of our brain. The right side of our brain is a bit dreamy, so I learn, and imaginative and creative. The right side of our brain allows us to experience 'being'. The left side of our brain, in contrast, is much more logical, sequential and task orientated. The left side allows us to 'do'.

Well, guess which side of the brain I use all day? My days are spent tackling tasks and errands, and I have to keep organised and plan ahead. Even when parenting the children I constantly have to be logical, thinking ahead and assessing the best technique to defuse the constant, little 'situations' that come up. I'd say all of that was left sided. I use the left side of my brain all day to get everything done that I need to get done.

Then, it's an hour or two before the kids' bedtime and suddenly I'm expected to switch brain sides from 'doing' to 'being'. Play, you see, has no real aim, does it? Not like housework, or a phone call, or going to put petrol in the car. All of those things have an achievable aim that once completed can be crossed off a list. But play? To my dominant left sided brain, play is a pointless, time consuming thing that's gets in the way of getting stuff done.

But not to Louis Sydney, it's not! Louis Sydney would have one a big argument with the left side of my brain if ever he met it! Louis expounds that play is essential to brain development, the healing of trauma, and parental attachment and Louis made me see that I don't play enough with my children. I facilitate their playing, in lots of different contexts, but I am mean with giving myself over to play. I spend a lot of time with them, having almost no life outside of them, but I am mean with giving myself over to play. I do a lot for them, my job being to take care of this family, but I am mean with giving myself over to play.

I always thought that was OK because their dad plays with them a lot, they play with each other, they play with their friends. If I played a board game with them or Top Trumps, did some painting or crafty stuff a few times a week, then I considered I had fulfilled my quota.

But it's sad though, isn't it? When did my life stop having some fun it it? Since when did I have to be dragged from doing the washing-up to go play catch? Or since when did I become the type of person who chose to do the ironing over playing a computer game?

So since last week I've been playing with them more. Noticeably more. I'm just letting myself be with them, trying to enjoy the moment, not watching the clock. I'm allowing myself to enter their world a little. And I can already see how this brings you closer to your kids in a way that nothing else can. Closer than helping them take baths, or feeding them food or taking them on day trips.

And I've been watching all the stuff my brain throws at me to try and stop me. I don't want to feel silly. I don't want to lose my authority. I don't want to get behind with all the 'stuff' I have to do. I've been watching and disregarding. I know why this doesn't feel natural to me, I know it's my own 'attachment history' (something I used to call 'my childhood'). My parents didn't play with me. Maybe my dad would play a bit of tennis or cricket with me and my brothers, and we'd all play cards as a family, but that was only ever on holiday! The only other time my parents used to play with us was on Christmas Day when they'd get a board game out! The rest of the time they were busy being grown-ups.

So, I'm trying to be different. Flexing an unused muscle. The kids love it. Mostly. We had major tears last night as daughter regressed to her 'default position' of making herself the outsider, the victim, because she finds it hard to play too. But if I'm challenging my past for the good of this family, then she jolly well can to.