About Me

This blog is about me and my voyage to becoming a mummy. Ironically called “mummy in the baking” as together with my passion and obsession for all things cake related, I will never be able to have my own "bun in the oven." Years of fertility treatment have taken their toll and I now find myself on a new..eek, i hate this word...journey! The crazy train to adoption. I hope you will join me while I bake my way to becoming a mummy. I want this blog to be a source of information as well as a comforter. I hope it will inspire and help anyone who is considering adoption or who has in fact already bought their ticket for this..here I go again...journey. Cake makes me happy and I hope you will enjoy sharing my love of it. I want it to help lift your spirits and hearts through what can only be described as 'the trials and tribulations of the adoption process.' Along with my desire to be a family, I love my dogs, have an unhealthy love of sausages and chenin blanc, adore my land rover uber-nerd of a husband and continiously dream of balmy summer evenings. Baking in progress…..

Friday, 21 February 2014

Beware: Rant alert....

I've been carefully monitoring LBM's behaviour over the last couple of weeks and have had a realisation. Actually it was a new friend, Mrs Shaka Zulu, who mentioned it first. Now I've realised it, it is all so obvious. LBM has anxiety issues. At home with me and the dogs, he is a dream (well, mostly!) but put him in a social situation or a toddler group and he falls to pieces. Unless of course he has something in his mouth and this has a lot to do with why he asks for food. It's his way of dealing with the anxiety. The uncertainty of a situation.  It feels like it has got a whole heap worse but I have to keep reminding myself that it's only because I am aware of it now and am purely noticing it more. But I am determined to persevere here and keep taking him into social situations and offer gentle encouragement. Even if we only manage 5 minutes at a time. Is this the right thing? Who knows? Adopted children come with a whole heap of issues and you are constantly doubting yourself in the choices you make and what the best thing to do is. Just yesterday, we were due to meet up with his foster carer. In typical UK fashion, the weather was looking pretty grim. She called and asked if I would mind bringing him back to her house instead of meeting in the park. My immediate thought was 'no way.' Surely that's forbidden territory. Surely? This is way too soon for LBM to go back there. Surely? She seemed disappointed that I wasn't in agreement and again, I found myself doubting my decision. Was this the wrong call? She is the experienced one here. But it just didn't sit comfortably with me.

The last visit of the day is Miss Delia and her boss who LRUN said looked remarkably like Janet Street Porter (must be the teeth!) at 7.15pm to discuss the outcome of their meeting on Jelly-tot. I manage to get LBM into bed and put the wine glass out of site into the dishwasher before they arrive bang on time. Miss Delia looks sheepish and I suspect something is up. We wait for LRUN to come home and have five minutes of idle small talk. Then JSP drops the bombshell. They have decided not to place Jelly-tot with us. I am shocked. I see LRUN looking to the floor and I can feel his disappointment from here. They launch into a speech about how they don't think LBM is ready for a sibling just yet and how it would be too unsettling for him. They ask my opinion and I tell them I feel the opposite. How I don't think suddenly being an only child in a small family is doing him any favours. But I know it is pointless. Their decision is made and there is nothing we can say to convince them otherwise. I feel a strange familiar feeling.  It's almost like having another miscarriage. But then that feeling turns to anger and I realise I am actually just pissed off with them. Why push us into making a decision? Why show us photos, videos and reports of Jelly-tot if there was ever any doubt on this placement? They should have had their meeting before any of this was shown and encouraged with us. They go on and ON about what a fabulous job we are doing with LBM and I sense they are both feeling guilty. In fact, they go on so much about it, it becomes annoying and patronising. I just want them to go. They eventually do and LRUN and I stand there looking empty. I pour another glass of wine and we try and talk ourselves into thinking things all happen for a reason. But I am struggling to shake this anger.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

Battle of the bottle.....

The best advice anyone has given me so far is that this parenting malarky is a marathon, not a sprint. So here we are simply plodding along. Day by day. Some days are just hideous where I find myself spelling the words 'panic' in the magnet alphabet letters on the fridge. Other days are pure bliss and I feel like I can take on the world. The biggest step we have taken this week is to swap his baby bottle of milk for a toddler sports bottle. The tears were initially ear shattering but I was determined to stick it out. I know it's for the better and tonight my friends, he is happily sipping on his 'big boy' bottle. Result. Miss Delia has put me in touch with another of her recruits and we agree to meet up. Mrs Scooby Doo is just lovely. It's amazing how much we have in common and I am instantly relaxed in her company. Baby Scooby Doo is younger than LBM and too cute for words and I feel I have made a very special friend here.

We have a big meeting this week to discuss Jelly-tot and Miss Delia and Miss Scarlett arrive at what can only be described as LBM's bewitching hour.  We watch a dvd of Jelly-tot but to be honest, I hardly take any in at all as all I can see out of the corner of my eye is LBM violently shaking his head in refusal. And of course, Miss Delia clocks this. Gah! I'm hoping its more of a bored racehorse stuck in a stable sort of head shake rather than a "don't you dare bring another little one into this house head shake."
They stay for well over 2 hours and it doesn't end well. I have to abandon the meeting halfway through and feed LBM and continue with his evening routine while LRUN carries on without me. In fact Miss Delia comes up to say goodbye while LBM is in the bath. Oh my hat, she has seen his winkie. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I watch the dvd later when LBM is asleep and oh my...she is cute. Big deep blue eyes and she has LBM's cheeks. Too precious. We must be mad but it somehow feels right. But now, the decision is in their hands, not ours. Once again, we are party to their judgements and opinions.

On the cake front things are looking pretty dire. My emporium of glass cake stands stand empty, longing to be bursting with the luscious delights of the past. I'm hoping the passion will return. I stand in the baking aisle with a whining toddler in the trolley and can't seem to find the inspiration. However, there is that awkward moment when your toddler squeals with delight when you put the gin in the shopping trolley. And everyone turns to look. Yes, that!