Fairy's morning

Here is a post I wrote this morning, but couldn't upload because the internet was down:

It gets worse before it gets better. I know this. But the worse is happening right now, and the better is only a hope for the future.

I want to make a better log of what is happening, and what I’m doing, so I can try to work out what works and what doesn’t. If any of my adoptive, therapeutic friends would like to make any suggestions then I would be delighted to hear them.

This morning Tickle was worried about school, as usual. It doesn’t help that his teacher left with one days notice, and they don’t seem to be actually doing any of the things we discussed that might help him cope a bit better.

At breakfast he was banging the table, and saying he wanted to hurt the cats. Each time I asked him to come in to the sitting room with me, to have a sit in the comfy chair and calm down. The first time I said I had to keep Etta safe, as he’s not allowed to hurt her; he has to come and sit with me until he has calmed down and I know he’s not going to hurt her. The second time, I said he wasn’t allowed to bang on the table but he could bang on the comfy chair if he wanted, which he did, until he said “I’ve had enough of banging” and went to finish his breakfast.

So far so good.

Then came the time when he would usually watch a bit of TV and wait for the taxi, but he’d already thrown the TV remote across the room earlier on (I am abbreviating our morning quite a lot; he’d also woken at 1am, 4am, and 5am, and Husband was in a bit of a state) so I had told him that it was ‘broken’ and he wouldn’t be able to watch any Bing today (*what* a shame). He was a bit annoyed, but we’d already had the discussion earlier (along with the shouting) so at the time he pretty much just got on with playing with his cars on the floor. Fairy and I were sitting at the table at this point, and she was having her breakfast. Then, suddenly, he just popped up behind her, whacked her on the head and pulled at her hair.

Husband was still here at this point so he went to Fairy and I grabbed Tickle. This is the sort of situation where previously I would have gone straight in to a time-in, and held him on the sofa. Perhaps that would have been the better thing to do today, perhaps he needed me close to calm down.
However, what I actually did was suggest that Tickle go up to his room for some calm down time, and Fairy (who wouldn’t leave my side) and I would go upstairs and have a picnic on the landing to finish our breakfast. There was a lot of screaming. Each time he screamed I closed his bedroom door, explaining that I didn’t like the noise, and he could open it when he’d finished screaming. [T opens door, screams, repeat…] We kept this up for a while, Fairy was wearing a spare pair of ear defenders, Tickle pulled my hair, etc etc. He eventually calmed enough to stop screaming, and I asked if he would like me to come in and help him to calm down. He said yes, I came in to his room, he screamed some more.

Eventually, after we had agreed that I would leave the room if he continued to scream, he calmed enough to ask for a squeeze, and we had a few. He seemed a bit calmer. Then he ramped up again. By this point I was feeling a bit narked, to say the least, so I explained to him that I was feeling cross so I was going to my room to calm down a bit. (Husband and I had decided we would try to model this for him..!!) Needless to say, that set him off even more, and he managed to grab Fairy again on her way in to my room.

Fairy and I sat on the floor in my bedroom. I felt safe. I felt Fairy was safe. It was a bigger relief than I had expected.

Everything went quiet outside, and then there was a little voice at the door. “Mummy! The taxi is here”. OK, I said, let’s go and put your shoes on.


I don’t quite remember how we got downstairs, but we did, and I got his shoes on. The escort was standing at the door, chatting to him, talking about how he would be OK at school. Then I went to get his school bag, and all hell broke loose. He ran in to the sitting room, where there was a massive pile of clean washing on the sofa. He pushed it all off on to the floor. And all the blankets. Then he climbed on to the sofa and jumped on it like a trampoline, screeching like a banshee.

I went to the kitchen to get him a snack for his school bag. At this point, Fairy appeared downstairs, wanting to bring her breakfast bowl to put in the kitchen. Tickle went for her. As I heard her scream I turned around to see her bent double, with Tickle hanging off her hair with both hands.

I grabbed him. I put my other arm around her. I shouted at him. I wasn’t out of control, but I needed him to see I was angry. He was quite interested in me shouting. He told me he didn’t like it, calm as anything. That sounds like a positive, but it’s not - Fairy was sobbing in to my shoulder, I was yelling at him, and he was stood there, calm as you like, going “Oh look, Mummy’s shouting”.

The poor escort is still waiting at the door, having to listen to all this. I let go of Fairy, and take Tickle over to her. I explain to Tickle that he has not got a snack today, because as I was trying to find one he had hurt Fairy, and so I wasn’t able to get him one. I have no idea what they will make of that at school, but there you go.

I shoved him at the escort, told him I’d see him later, and said have a nice day. “Bye Mummy!” he called. “Have a nice day too!”.

I mean, what can you do with that?? It’s like he is not inhabiting the same reality as we are. Which I know is probably true, in some ways, but it’s incredibly hard to know what to do about it when you are right in the thick of it.

I phoned Fairy’s school and told them she was going to be late, and spent 40 minutes or so cuddling her and doing her hair in french plaits. Now I’m off to Tickle’s school to try and get some answers from the Head, and to explain to the Community Paediatrician that the three tablets of Melatonin he is currently prescribed are no longer making a blind bit of difference, so could we have some proper drugs please. (Not really.) (Maybe.)



Paediatrician says we should not discount the possibility Tickle has autism. I explained that often adopted children do present with very similar characteristics, but I don't believe Tickle is autistic. She said OK but we should not discount the possibility that Tickle has autism. Thankfully we don't have to see her again for another year. (I recounted this story to our Therapist who we saw this afternoon. She agrees with me.)

Also in the meeting was New School Nurse, who is amazing. She heard me, instantly, and wants to help. I fear she may have a fight on her hands but it is wonderful to have some new energy on the team.

Gran picked up Fairy from school, who burst in to tears at the thought of coming home. She has had enough. On closer probing, she is still - amazingly - able to differentiate between Tickle and his trauma Monster, and says she loves Tickle but she's had enough of the Monster. We had a long chat in the car on the way to McDonalds, for a treat and some Mummy time. I made her laugh a lot, and Tickle was in bed by the time we got home. I've told school she will be late in the morning so she doesn't have to come downstairs until Tickle has left.


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