Post-adoption me has just cleaned the house, she feels like that’s as good as it’s getting and now it’s time for a lie down. Pre-adoption me is frankly appalled by the low standards.
Pre-adoption me would have been very excited and relieved to reach the Easter holibobs and would be singing the holiday song. Post-adoption me feels sick at the thought because she knows that in the words of Bad Boys 2 ‘**** just got real’ and probably violence is about to go up along with anxiety because of transition to holidays, the prospect of new teacher and class set up. Post-adoption me knows this is where we are because she got hit full pelt by large plastic items this morning once on the forehead and once on the back. Pre-adoption me thought that incidents like this would be occasional and have clear triggers. Post-adoption me laughs at this because she knows this morning was all internal triggers which are complex and sometimes there just is no warning.
Pre-adoption me would be planning get togethers with friends for meals and whatnot. Post-adoption me is thinking of who can cope with meeting us at the park and who small person will accept being in our house for any length of time.
Pre-adoption me might have been awake at 3.15am this week but would have stayed in bed. Post-adoption me got up because that was small person’s preferred wake up time and tried to find ways to be calm, entertaining and regulating. All whilst wishing she could crawl back in to bed.
Pre-adoption me thought she’d have a little cry when her child was presented with a trophy in assembly. Post-adoption me was too worried about shame reaction potential and how quickly she would get hit with the trophy or the trophy would get thrown or broken.
Pre-adoption me thought that things would be tough but not unrelenting. Post adoption me laughs in the face of that too.