old blog.....................

Well, we had the World Cup competition.   Red and white flags everywhere.   And I mean everywhere.   My daughter informed me at the beginning that it was dangerous to display an England flag on one's car, or even one's house people might take offence or, even worse, damage the offending display.   I considered this for a day or so, whilst counting the number of flags that appeared all over Windsor and Slough.   I looked at all the people wearing celebratory shirts and caps and I listened to the broadcasters on all the media outlets.   Then, I hung up my flag, added two to my car, together with matching sun visors and a big red cross on the front door.   And I waited. Suffice to say that they are all still in place, there are no more scratches on the car and the house looks great AND  the neighbours are also displaying evidence of their support.   Not always for England, I must add, but for whichever country the occupants of this multi-national borough support.   My point ' we must be free to express our feelings ' no matter what voice cries NO.   If we let ourselves be intimidated what price freedom?

Well, that was until 1 July when the bubble burst and England were ignominiously knocked out of the World Cup final, again.   How I hurt for Frank Lampard (not a goal to his name) and how I sympathised with Ferdinand and Terry as the tears fell fast and furious.   AND how sad I felt when David Beckham resigned from the Captaincy ' what a waste ' he has displayed so much dedication and loyalty and set such a good example to our youngsters.   Instead we are left with the memory of a bad tempered, rude young man, incapable of containing his temper and showing our youth just how not to behave ' Wayne Rooney has much to think about in the months ahead ' I think.  All the loyalty and support given to the team by the English public showed me how right we were to return to this country ' we felt so proud of the team and the public who supported them ' maybe next time we will succeed and that will be in South Africa!

Anyway, as my young grandson used to say, there is always something at the end of the rainbow ' and as we turned away from losing the world cup we were delighted to see young Andy Murray win against Andy Rodick at Wimbledon ' and we had something to feel happy about again.  But the flags had to be taken down.

Enough patriotism or not quite!   Being a resident of Windsor one is constantly aware of the very special resident of a particularly nice detached residence at the top of the town.   This month we all celebrated her 80th birthday officially.   On one special day Her Majesty was greeted outside her house by a huge crowd of well wishers from all over the World.   But most especially from Windsor the local school children, clasping hand-made cards and beautiful bouquets of wild flowers and home grown specials cheered and clapped as Her Majesty mingled with them.   My own four year old granddaughter, complete with her own Crown and flowers was there too.   She was so excited to actually see the Queen and hand to her a crumpled bunch of home grown flowers. She said how lovely she thought Her Majesty looked in her red outfit.     Then later in the month at the Garter ceremony one of my grandsons was lucky enough to be chosen to represent his school.   He was so proud and excited to be going to Windsor Castle.    How nice that our youngsters can participate in such memorable events and how wonderful to see the huge variety of people who also enjoy such occasions.

Please Miss has a special affinity with adopted children.  As the grandmother of two adopted children and one natural grandchild I am often brought up short by the insensitivity of people.   Adoption is not for the feint hearted ' it is not for those who want trouble free lives ' it is not for anyone who doesn't have infinite patience and understanding and an immense capacity for love.   I never cease to wonder at the transformation one sees as an adopted child begins to settle into their new, forever, home.   How mistrust and fear are gradually exchanged for acceptance and the realisation that they are important and their feelings and aspirations do matter that they are loved and are now part of a real family.

But, it doesn't come without a great deal of heartache.   An adopted child may have great recall of the past events that eventually led to their adoption, they may have been abused or physically assaulted, they may have witnessed horrific events in their former family homes.   So when they come to their adopted family they bring 'baggage' they may find it hard to forget the past, they may resent their new family or they may hide all their feelings, scared to talk about their experiences.   Whatever it is one needs to remember that probably what they want more than anything is normality, security and the knowledge that they are wanted and loved   So I think parents of adopted children need support.   Remember, in most cases they have never had children before and then suddenly they are at home with one, two or even three little strangers that they want to love and support for the rest of their lives.   But, they haven't gone through the birth experience, they have no blood ties, they haven't gone through the joys of carrying a child and the wonder of childbirth.  So everything is new the nappies, the frustration when the children won't eat any of the food you prepare, the worry every time they seem unwell, or cry or have tantrum or won't go to sleep, or wet the bed it goes on and on.  

As an 'adopted' grandparent I wonder if maybe parents of adopted children need a fellow parent of adopted children to chat to every now and again.   Having seen the situations that can develop within a household because of tiredness, or frustration, or just plain lack of knowledge I think it would be great to be able to pick up a phone and talk to someone who has been there, or is there now.   Even if it was just to ask about it.   My daughter knows several parents of adopted children and it is amazing how different their experiences are and yet how similar the problems, and the joys are.   These parents  are usually the ones that volunteer for all the extra school activities, that organise the games evenings, that serve as Governors or PTA members, in fact they are the backbone of most local schools.   Why, because somehow they feel they have to  provide that extra special environment for their children to live in.  Together with the parents of 'special needs' children I feel these parents need a 'glass of champagne line?  a link with others in the same situation.  I am happy to uncork the bottle ' anyone interested' 

Of course, this month also heralded the NEW ASCOT  -  and gridlocked all the roads around Windsor for days.   Gorgeously decked out couples drove through our town on their way to the races and some even parked their huge 4 x 4s on double yellow lines, while they drank glasses of champagne and nibbled priceless canap's all before 10.00 in the morning ' and not a policeman in sight ' they were probably all at Ascot!

As we are off to the Hampton Court Flower Show preview  tomorrow I must wrap this up ' but I would love to hear from anyone in my situation who has adopted grandchildren ' and who may have been sitting up, as I have been tonight, until 10.55 singing songs and trying to help a very hot sweaty grandchild get to sleep.   My final idea was a CD of 50 songs by Max Bygraves but she must have guessed my intention because when I walked back to her bedroom with the CD player, she was fast asleep!!

PART 1

Hello, welcome to my first diary page.   Let me introduce myself.   I am a 67 year old Grandmother of three.   Two boys of 9 and 7 and a granddaughter of 4 coming on 44!  (you probably know what I mean!).   My husband and I have just returned to the UK after an absence of about sixteen years (with a short return in 1994).  We have been living in South Africa and for part of the time my husband worked and lived in Moscow and then Tbilisi, the capital of the Republic of Georgia.   Then, for the last six months we lived in Brittany, while our deaf  three year dalmation dog acquired her pet passport.

So, that's my background.   I have been a 'fly in and fly away' grandma, which probably accounts for the fact that my favourite film is 'Love Actually', and my favourite scene is the one at Heathrow Airport at the arrival  point.   How many times have I been greeted at the airport by two bleary eyed grown ups and three sleepy children clutching bunches of flowers all wanting hugs( and to search my luggage for the goodies they know it contains! ) 

The journey from the airport on the crowded noisy roads, followed by traffic jams in the tiny village, which my family call home, means already I am missing South Africa and the modern road systems, the roaring sea and the fresh, fresh air.   But not for long I am home again and within half an hour have forgotten Africa as I am drawn into the day to day life of the school run, the nursery run, the shopping run, the pick-up run and then the ballet run, the beaver run and on and on and on!!!  But that's all in the past, we have returned to the UK and are buying our 'forever home' ' although our daughter has great difficulty believing that her parents are at last settling after twenty four homes ' but we will show her!   However, the school runs still continue!!

For now we are renting a house close by (5 miles away) and are enjoying getting to know the little people we have returned to England to be closer to.  If you live far away from your family you will know what we mean ' and if you live within travelling distance ' then you know how to handle  ?Grandma, you have ruined my life!!? from a three year old.   I never did discover what I had done but then who does know what goes on in the mind of a tiny Company Director of 3 ' who can dictate her terms very forcibly and knows exactly what she wants'  After a day spent taking her out for a 'girly' shop, followed by a Chinese meal (at her choice) and then 2 hours in the local swimming pool she replied to her Grandad, when he asked if she had enjoyed herself ' 'It was the worse day of my life!?  Are your little charges the same?

So we have now been back for seven weeks we hid easter eggs in the garden on Easter Sunday, we do regular 'sleep overs' at our house ' one at a time so that each of the children can have some prime time with us.   And we have offered their parents sleep overs which by the look at the bags under their eyes they desperately need.   They compromised on a 'shopping spree' last weekend ' so while we played golf with the children their parents bought up Blue Water followed by a trip to the cinema to see the Davinci Code.  I'll wager they both fell asleep through that.  We were present at our grandaughter's fourth birthday where we met a group of tired, exhausted Mums who all stayed over at our daughter's home while their children ran riot all over the garden and had a wonderful time.   The parents probably enjoyed it more their glasses of wine, cups of coffee and gorgeous nibblies a welcome break from left-over lunches!   And just a unique opportunity to sit down and chat without having to worry about the 'little ones'.

Things to do with grandchildren???  The trip to the golf range was an experience our nine year old considers himself at least equal to, if not better than Tiger Woods ' and can see no earthly reason why he should bend his knees when he hits the ball ' let alone hold his clubs in the conventional grip.   Swinging the wood like a cricket bat, according to him, is much more successful.   However, after a few disastrous hits and the sight of his younger brother hitting straight, high balls down the range, he did condescend to try our way and was delighted with the result.  Our granddaughter, however, was told off by the Pro. for making a noise, spent the whole time displaying a ?builder's bum?  but confidently hit over 75 balls all over the place.   I think, just for now, Tiger needn't be concerned!

One thing that has disappointed us which we think needs addressing in this Country ' is the standard of pre-school education and care ' or lack of it.   Our granddaughter goes to a Montessori school for four mornings a week and we find it a delightful experience, for us as grandparents and for her as a pupil.   The kind, efficient approach of the staff, the welcoming handshake for each child, the firm discipline and the no nonsense philosophy seems to us to give the children a clear picture of what is expected of them and what they can expect.   All the children seem to enjoy their time there and are always happy to return.    Unlike another pre school which our granddaughter went to where surly staff paraded inside the entrance, nobody welcomed you or your child and not surprisingly the children didn't seem to want to go there.

Our four year old was no exception.   The cost of sending one's children to this school was astronomic.   Their inability to meet the standards they claimed to keep was alarming.   It seemed to us that the parents who took their children there had no alternative this was the best they could find and because they needed to have their children cared for while they worked they felt obliged to accept, without complaint, the facilities on offer.   To us that is 'moral blackmail'  - to feel unable to voice concerns or to make a genuine complaint because you are afraid to lose a place in such an establishment is wrong.  Especially as we believe the Government are now paying towards this facility.   What do you think?   And, have you had similar experiences'

We are so glad we live in the IT age and that we have kept abreast of all the changes over the years.   Our grandsons are so bright and clever with all the technology and we would hate to be called 'old fashioned'.   Its bad enough just being old.   The  question frequently asked is  'when are you going to die'?   And, 'do you want to be burnt or planted??   'We think you should be burnt and planted in the garden with Guiness and Pimms'  (their two deceased cats!!)  We haven't thought of an answer yet except to say we want to be around to see them collect their degrees or take up their first jobs.   They also want to know if we are going to be angels and can they still talk to us.   Our answer so far is to tell them that when we die if they want to talk to us they should look out of the window at the moon and we will be able to hear what they have to say.  What else can one do?

We just feel that these years ' when the children are so young ' are the special years ' they are the times you remember all of your lives ' sitting with a grandparent listening to a story, or cooking some cakes or making biscuits, or planting seeds in the garden, or painting a picture, or taking the dog for long runs through meadows knee deep in buttercups and daisies (as is the case at the moment), or watching the dog blissfully leap into the River Thames having a wonderful time.  And then, at the end of a busy day, laying in bed and having Grandma read a story, or sing a bedtime song (completely out of tune) ' all snuggled up after a lovely big bubbly bath ' that's what being a grandparent is all about and hopefully what a grandchild will remember forever.   And finally, when all the shouting and the tears and the tantrums are over having a little hand rest on your gnarled, freckled one, and a young voice saying 'I love you' .   That's worth all the house moving and the heart ache that's what life is for isn't it??  And hopefully, our children will be glad that their children have grandparents that love them so much.

 from our old diary of a stressed mum .................