A day til we take you on our first proper holiday

We're off to France tomorrow, our first proper holiday together, the three of us. And to get us in holiday mode, the weather has been very hot indeed.

We'll be spending some time just us, but also introducing you to some family who have been very patiently waiting, but are itching to meet you. There will be aunts and uncles, and little cousins galore. I can't wait for them to meet you, I have waited soooo long to go as a mum. France is such a big part of my childhood, it's a significant step for me to finally be going with my own child. I think it will be a little bit emotional as we plan to visit some relatives that are getting on now as well as doing the rounds of cemeteries. Not as gloomy as it sounds. Or maybe it will be.

But the great thing is that I am so massively proud to be going with you as my daughter because I know 100% that they will all adore you, and they will all, some already do, consider you family, unconditionally. I am sure they will be charmed by you, with your spectacular eyelashes and your cheekiness.

Right, must get on and finish packing. You lucky thing, sleeping soundly next door, blissfully unflustered. You'll just wake up and be taken on holiday. Wish someone would bundle me up and make all my decisions for me!

A day since we got the letter confirming that we are your mum & dad

Just when you think there are no more steps, you get a letter confirming the court ruling to confirm that the adoption process is done and dusted...

Since last writing, nothing major to report other than some very very testing moments for me. It's bizarre how there are days when I'm totally on it, nothing ruffles me, I can take what you throw at me and all is calm. Then there's the days where I am in a sweat from start to finish and you are like a storm in a teacup. There have been two such days in the last week when I muttered not very mummy friendly things under my breath and had not very mummy friendly thoughts so hard was my patience tried. But also, I think I get in a flap some days more than others; behaviour that is normally manageable & containable, on those days becomes a day when I could really call Super Nanny and have her come over. I think that you are teething a bit more, molars perhaps, growing (do growing pains exist?), and at full throttle "terrible 2" behaviour. I know you are testing me. I've read the manual, it says it's because you love me. *laughs to self*

I think that you are testing me more than Pa. Is that normal or is that because I am the working Ma? Either way, you are most definitely seeing what you can and can't get away with so I have braced myself and am standing firm. This is where working part time sort of gets in the way; after three days with you over the weekend, I'm in the zone, but then there are two work days and I fall out the loop again. You are clever though, you know the days that are work days from the beginning. My leaving is no longer traumatic which is brilliant.

Last weekend we had a drink with some new neighbours and when talking about you, they were asking about pregnancy, did we play you music in the womb. I immediately said – no, nothing like that, she just loves music. I could see Pa was teetering wanting to tell them that you are adopted, but I jumped in to stop him. We agreed we would no longer tell people on the whole and I don't think there is any need for D&S to know; not because I don't like them, I do, but because there comes a point where it cannot be a badge of honour or a story we can tell, it has to be your thing when you're ready. I'm happily leaving it behind anyway, til I have to talk to you about it. Don't know why Pa was all eager beaver to tell them. He wanted to share I suppose. But there has to be a limit, we cannot follow "this is Nova" with "she's adopted" all the time.

Despite your three hour nap you have dropped off promptly, you little love. I feel so satisfied when we've had a good day and I have provided comfort, food and entertainment for you.

Two weeks two days since officially becoming your mum

It may be two weeks and two days since I officially became your Ma, but it's a work in progress...

I mean by that I'm still very much learning the intricacies of being a parent and co-ordinating that with being me, the immature, lazy, selfish, imperfect thing that I can be. Of course, parenting requires one to 'park' oneself, you hear people talk about it and you see people doing it – friends and family. Come the moment to do that yourself, it's surprising to see in what ways you exceed your own expectations and in what ways you fail miserably. I had yet another food related hurdle yesterday and don't think I handled it particularly well. The toddler handbook tells me that your tantrums and outbursts are merely because you love us so much and are so dependent on us, it is precisely us you need to assert your independence from, hence tantrums. So, I should be flattered that you care enough. I shall chant that mantra next time a challenging moment presents itself... you love me, you love me, you love me so much you're throwing everything on the floor and bucking like a wild horse...

Anyway, it's fine, I am learning to deal with these things as much as you are learning how to deal with your own emotions. We'll meet in the middle.

The last couple of weeks, since the court ruling, have been good because somehow we feel more settled with you, now we know there will be no more questions and no more intrusions; essentially that no-one can take you away. Did I mention your Life Story Book that E, your social worker, gave us for you? It's great. It covers everything from birth family, to birth itself, to foster family, to us, with blank pages for the future. It's nice that the book so far is only the beginning of the story, of the book itself, that there is space for continuation. You are after all, not even two yet. Quite a story you have already, that you're blissfully unaware of.

When I got home from work today, you were so unbelievably over excited to see me, it almost made me want to weep. It was the most amazing welcome home I have ever had, though most of your welcomes are pretty good. You chanted – mummy, mummy, mummy – and you clutched me and buried your head in my shoulder and laughed and pushed your face against mine. Wow. I should go out more often.