Can I tell you about our weekend?

We jumped into the car and drove to the beach. We spent the day eating icecream, counting and sorting stones, searching for fossils… and finished up eating fish and chips on the wall watching the sun go down. So far, so normal, why blog about this? It’s surely just another regular weekend?

Well, no.

When I say all, I mean we 3 – me, OH and Big. We could not have done this with Small. He wouldn’t have enjoyed the car journey, we could never have navigated his buggy down the cute but inaccessible streets, he can’t hunt for fossils or throw stones as he isn’t independently mobile and the fish would have been too chewy. He would have cried, he would have extended his little body in disgust. We would have been miserable.

Thank goodness for respite. Social Services – staggeringly – have upped our respite considerably. This is due in no large part I suspect to my crying over them every time we meet…

Whilst we were sat on the beach Small was with his DP provider and her family. They went to the park and fed the ducks. He returned home full of beans having clearly had a brilliant time. I think the time he spends with them is like the time he would spend with his grandparents if we would trust them to have him. He has their full attention (they’re not trying to sort the car insurance or hang out the washing) and they treat him. It works for all of us.

And I don’t feel guilty for having time apart. I revel in it. I walk up stairs, I go down narrow streets. I sit. And when he returns, we’re ready to go again.


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