You can run but you can't hide......

This adoption 'thing' can be so all encompassing, so all consuming that if you're not careful, you find you live, sleep and dream adoption. A pregnancy lasts nine months and most woman spend the first few months in denial and then suddenly start panic buying baby wipes, pram accessories and nipple cream.  Adoption here in the UK takes on average two years. That's a long time to think about the subject. Feeling as though I am at  risk of becoming as obsessed with it as I was with Duran Duran as a teenager, I decided to give myself a break from all things adoption related over the Easter weekend....you know, give myself more time to focus on the important issue of the bunny celebrations....chocolate consumption.

This weekend is going to be all about me.  No adoption forums, paperwork, blogs, books. Nada. I pop into the supermarket for cocoa-infused provisions and decide to buy a nice novel to switch off with, lose myself in. Live someone elses life for a bit. Settling in on the sofa with the dogs, my favourite blanket and a huge pot of tea, I start my 'me' session. Low and behold, my romance novel turns out to be all about social workers, the foster care system, adoption and child abuse. What the....? There was no warning of this on the summary! It's tempting to shut it quickly and dash off to find another one. But I find I keep turning the pages. The book is annoyingly  gripping and I don't leave the sofa. Engrossed in this world of the care system, it gives me an intriguing insight into the world of Miss Delia.
 Later that evening, I run a bath and lie back in the zen like spa zone I have created for myself and tune into that radio station which people tell me is apparently aimed at the 55 year old...sorry...I can't help it....give me Woman's Hour any day over some annoying 'shout outs' about random people on the M1. Anyhow....I digress....the programme turns out to be all about international adoption. I try hard not to listen but it's interesting and I lie there listening to the whole thing..slowly turning to a wrinkly prune as the water goes cold and the Badedas bubbles dissapear. The next day, while listening to the squeals of delight of the neighbours little ones all enjoying their easter egg hunts,  I decide to make an Apple Streusel cake....a light vanilla sponge, topped with juicy tart apple slices and sprinkled with a crumbly streusel topping. It's good but not amazing, in fact if I make it again, I'd make some changes....probably make it bigger....and add custard...but that's just me ..... being greedy....in my seek for perfection.  I'm about to go in for a second slice just to be sure (what?)  and I hear my email ping. Its a copy of a long email my sister (my rock, my love, my helpline and amongst other things, a child psychologist) has sent to Miss Delia assuring her what amazing parents we'd be. I read it over and over again. Its beautiful, raw and real. I think I need to face up to the reality here that there is no escaping this adoption malarky. This is it Miss Sweetness....embrace it! No hiding allowed.

Hummingbird Apple Streusel Cake