Five years and some since trying to become a mum and just over 7 months since succeeding

Let me tell you a bit about yourself. You're currently just over 19 months old. You are walking confidently, if a little wobbly at times perhaps because you're always running. You are chattering confidently too; I get a lot of what you're saying, but not sure anyone else does. You do however have a good number of very clear words; I made a list recently and since then we can probably add another 20 or so including tea, toast, pear, book, chicken (pronounced chick-chick-chick-chicken) and water. You recognise tons of animals and their corresponding noises. You can sit by yourself quite happily reading and chatting, for a good half hour before demanding attention. You like sitting in chairs. You like climbing. You have had a cough for about 5 weeks, but have not been moany about it, though I am going to take you to doctor tomorrow just to check it out. You sleep soundly. You wake happy. You are down to one nap a day on the whole. You love songs, music and singing, everything from kiddy stuff to Radiohead and classical via Led Zeppelin, Blondie, Bowie and more. Really truly you love it all, it all gets you rocking and dancing. You have a little lisp. You have nearly all your teeth, just a few big molars to come through. You can point to your tummy, head, eyes, nose, mouth, teeth, feet and toes, and you like to point to the eyes of your soft toys. You are very adaptable; if we vary your routine, you don't lose the plot, so we can go out with you of an evening and you fall asleep in the buggy – we come home and transfer you to bed, no traumas, you go pretty much straight back to sleep. People who don't *know* say that you look totally like me. And those who do know say the same. You love eating fruit especially tangerines + oranges, pears, plums and grapes. You are now mastering the art of eating by yourself; I do have to turn away from the mess, but it's getting better, depending on your mood. You like drinking from your tumbler that has the crazy straw attached. You eat almost anything and have eaten pickled herring, raw onion (which gave you v stinky breath), olives, saurkraut and, god help me, haggis. You don't seem bothered by sweet stuff. You are very vocal about your wants, currently this involves ah-ah-ahing and a waving left arm. I follow the arm to see where it's going and can usually work out what you want. I am trying to encourage you to use your words instead of the ah-ah-ah and the arm. You have killer eyelashes that people want to measure and your eyes are the first thing they notice. I suspect that you and I will clash in later years as we both have strong personalities, but I hope I can tame myself and do the right thing. Last but not least, I think you are the most gorgeous, funny and clever little thing that I have ever met, and I've met a few.

This is you the very first day we met you. I was so overwhelmed I don't think I managed to hold you much, but kept just staring at you in disbelief that such a brilliant and lovely little thing was to be my daughter. It was the culmination of a very long journey. Then suddenly there you were in the flesh and people were saying "there's mummy" and I would look round before of course realising they meant me.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and seven months 4 days since becoming one

Hit another milestone yesterday as we all went to visit Foster Family. Not the first time we've seen them in the last 7 months, but the first time that we have all returned to their house since the day we collected you. It is a day etched deeply into all our souls.

Pa Cooke came away feeling very ignored by you, but this time I did not. I didn't hesitate one iota to check on you, cuddle you if there were tears and generally be there in your line of vision at regular intervals. The day was manic, too much for me at some points – 5 adults, 4 kids and one very very loud TV on constantly with Wii games and their noises – but A made a delicious lunch and was welcoming as always. You were brilliant; you showed no signs of recognising the house, but charged around as though you did. Now I know you well and have had the benefit of being your mum for 7 months, I know that you behaved exactly as you do wherever we go – you are sociable and happily go to people when you feel like it, so I didn't panic if you turned to P or A and held out your arms. It's what you do. But crucially, as reported after the Christmas visit, you turn to me much much more.

I feel that we now have maybe a couple of years before the questions start, a window of time when we can strengthen our ties yet further and forget about the whole adoption thing for a bit. I swear most of the time I feel 100% that you are my flesh and blood, such is the love and the attachment; sometimes it comes as little surprises to me when I 'remember' you're adopted. We bumped into someone I know through work on Friday, someone I have not seen in a while, but not a long enough while. We said hi, she looked surprised, I could see her doing the maths in her head... but I said nothing, offered no explanation other than yes, I too have a child. This is Louse, she's 19 months. Wow, she looks exactly like you.

:)

Stayed home today, which was lovely. You are king here, you rule your domain. You swagger around like you own the place. Had Gay Uncles over for lunch and you were charm personified. When you are free to roam and can get a regular cuddle, you are an absolute delight. They asked when they might look after you for the afternoon. Praise indeed.

This photo makes me smile as I suspect I will spend a lot of time chasing you as you make a break for the border.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and seven months exactly since becoming one

You took your first almighty tumble today, down stairs. I swear my heart stopped for a second as I watched you slowly somersault backwards down the bottom steps in next door's house. Luckily you had no momentum as you'd just been sitting at the top of the steps and tipped backwards, and luckily your bones are soft. You were in a somewhat crumpled pile when I scooped you up then came a long silent inhale... eventually followed by the wail. I cried instantly and just hugged you, desperately looking for any signs of damage while thinking shit shit shit, how will I know if there's damage, how could I have let that happen, took my eye of the ball for a split second, classic mistake.

Luckily you are ok, I on the other hand have been left a little traumatised to the point where a cognac at 10am didn't feel like the wrong thing.

However as I sit here writing you just had a little crying session, which is unusual now once you're tucked up, and it cut through me like a knife. Instant thoughts of brain swelling, internal damage, pain, bleeding, etc. (Note to self, don't watch hospital dramas and learn rare weird medical cases). But you're ok, the dummy had fallen out and you weren't even really awake.

Dear god no-one told me I would be this anxious being a mum... Or did they.

This photo is one of my favourite ways of seeing you, on my knee, engrossed in something. In this instance, some Sesame Street songs on You Tube.

Five years plus since trying to become a mum and six months three weeks since becoming one

Today I found myself muttering for you to 'shut up and please stop whining'.

Nice, don't you think?

For the record, if you ever read this and not knowing what our relationship might be at the point of reading, since we became a family I have not had a single split second of doubt that it was not the right and the best thing (ever) to do, to adopt you. These writings are not testament to any regret on my part, what with all my anger and not handling things brilliantly sometimes, bur rather proof that I am a deeply flawed person indeed. The moment those words formed themselves today, I thought to myself – YOU shut up, what are you thinking! There you are little Louse, discovering your independence and unable to properly state your wishes and needs, swooping from one emotion to another because you know no better. And there am I, ditto, but I do know better. That's me, your mum, the person you are dependent on to help navigate the world of emotions... poor lamb...

Luckily those moments are few; most of the time I am hyper aware of my role and that what I do, how I react, what you learn from me, forms you in the most crucial way. It's a role I take very seriously, even though I feel underqualified, and I do my best, I really do. I have these moments, but I catch myself very quickly and have words. If I could put myself on the naughty step I would. But at the moment that would result in neglect as you'd probably seize the opportunity to career down some steps or get the iron out or something.

Today you said 'five six' and 'hi spider', and you discovered the joy of sand. And you don't know it, but there was the first court hearing this week concerning you. We are now in the final stages of the full and irreversible adoption. *smiles*

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and six months two weeks since becoming one

These are the words currently in your vocabulary, in no particular order and I've probably missed a few out. You parrot many words and understand even more, but these are the ones you actually speak.

shoes (shoosh), hat, cat, apple, mummy, daddy, nanny,trees, flower (fleur), coucou, abcd, un deux, dog, cow, sheep, book, cheerios, milk, juice, spider, quack quack, woof woof, bubbles, ball, baubles, toes, cheek, sleep, sssshhhhh, fish, teddy, purple, feet, bye bye, hiya, (ba)nana, baby, cheese, cheers, ooo-ooo (monkey), ssssssss (snake), bah bah sheep sheep, please, uh-oh, more, and encore.

You are currently next door in the bath being brillianty entertained by the lovely Auntie R. who has come to visit. You like eating all fruits especially grapes, mandarins and bananas, you love the bath and have no fear about getting your whole head wet, you love running around, you don't like being constrained, you love music – all sorts of music from kiddy to classical – and dance to it all, and you are extremely sociable when we're out and about and at the same time you can happily sit in your room reading books when I need to have a shower.

It's great when someone visits and says how brilliant you are and how happy you seem. It reassures me that we're not getting it completely wrong. Sometimes I need an external opinion to recalibrate me. And it has to be said you have been massively entertaining today.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and six months one week fives day since becoming one

Sometimes I get very very vexed and angered by your actions, because sometimes it's as though you hate me and want to hurt me.

And sometimes you are so incredibly gorgeous that I put my face right against yours and stare right at you, feeling your cheek & smelling your breath, thinking bloody hell, you're mine you are, and I think how I would like to put you between two slices of bread and make a little sandwich of you.

Yum.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and six months one week one day since becoming one

Hello Louse

Just wanted to say that all has been much calmer on the western front today. I think a lot of the issue with all the tantrum shouty stuff, is simply me learning how to deal with it and not freaking out. I spoke to my sisters and to a friend today, all of whom tell similar tales of non-eating/screaming/arching/resisting etc. Tiredness of course plays a role, when tired, one is not so resistant and it's easy to take it all very personally. When less tired, one has the presence of mind to be a bit more rational about it all. Having said that, I am knackered today, but have managed to stay calm today and there have been no horrible moments. I think I accept that you will not eat as much as I would like you to for a bit, however you will no doubt eat enough to not starve.

You discovered a chocolate biscuit today and came back for more and more like a crack addict.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and six months one week since becoming one

Dear Louse

You just had a little meltdown. And by little meltdown I mean major screaming yourself hoarse bucking and scratching non stop screaming hysterical tantrum.

I feel like a tornado just went through the house. And me.

As I've mentioned, you've been having little tantrums already for a few weeks and for the last few days you've had a bit of a cold and temperature making you more fractious than usual. But this evening... crikey. You were eating, then you started swishing the pasta tomatoey stuff around, then I took it away and brought fish fingers thinking they'd be less frustrating to eat than slippery pasta, then you didn't seem to agree and kicked off.

I can honestly say I didn't have a ducking clue what to do. I've been reading the toddler manual this week, the tantrum chapter, to arm myself. But suddenly my mind went blank and I could only think of the bit that said 'hug your toddler to reassure them'. I did. I hugged. Even though I was thinking – are you serious, hug that?? But you were too far gone anyway so it seemed to be more a case of holding you so you didn't smash your face open on the floor or something by throwing yourself around. Distraction did nothing. Putting you down aggravated further. So I thought, bath. Yes, bath. Nice relaxing soak. Which sort of worked til I decided this was a good time to attack the matted cluster of dreadlocks at the back of your head... Cue more screaming. At least with good reason this time cos frankly that must have hurt. I thought, well, you're crying anyway so may as well use this opportunity to deal with the hair and have it all out in one go. Wise? Don't know.

Your hair is looking lustrous now though :)