No toilet roll, you say? I fear I've heard this one before.

Russell Brand basically has all of the answers and I will default to him on a whim at every single crossroads or question mark. Oh, the sense he speaks. We are heads under water in 'something simultaneously so small and so huge'. We really are. We really, REALLY are. It's Day 3 of quarantine in Peru and your man at the top is getting mighty pissed off that people aren't taking this virus seriously enough. I saw someone out jogging today. What? What a bizzare, unpredictable, life altering world we do live in. 2 weeks ago, my biggest fear was that my baby boy was not going to adapt to nursery life in a big school. 2 weeks ago, I spent sleepless nights wondering if we were going to be talked about, if he would ever be able to make a friend, if we would survive this year. And 2 weeks later, my biggest fear is that this virus is going to make someone I love a million miles away seriously sick and that I can't get home. 

Our reality now is that we can't fly out of Peru. The next reality is that even if these restrictions are lifted, I can't fly with my child because we don't have his citizenship yet. We are stuck in our, thankfully spacious, apartment for 2 weeks but probably more. We are FINE. I still have a job. I will still get paid. The BRUTAL reality of the huge majority of Peru is that they don't and they won't. Our amazing Santa Maria Poppins was on the what's app trying to find a way to get to us so she could take care of Emilio so I could work. The terrified 'I need to get paid' written between the lines was glaringly obvious and it felt so terribly sad that, after a year of working together, I had to actually say the words, 'I will still pay you, of course. None of this is our fault!' 

I wrote that bit on Day 3. It's now Day 10. 

How swiftly this whole thing changes and morphs and causes friction and chaos and love and kindness. The fear and anxiety is palpable. But the love and support is almost tangible. Almost, because social distancing and quarantine. :) Once upon a time, I lived in a city called Caracas in the most beautiful country called Venezuela. It had beaches made from wishes and mountains grown tall by the Gods. How I adored and still adore that place that was home for a while. But it also came with mayhem and madness, guns and guarimbas, shortages and shoot outs. The difference between then and now is that this is a global endurance test; this thing that is putting us in our houses and taking us away from our loved ones and our normal lives is doing the same to the whole wide world. Whilst it is devastating, and just ask my family how utterly devastated and scared I have been, as I'm sure millions of people are, it is truly humbling and heartwarming to find the community who are building themselves back up. This blog has been about becoming a mum to the most exceptional Tiny Human I could ever have wished for - we have been through some fairly challenging times. The fight to get him seemed endless. My village were by my side the whole entire way but somehow it seemed to get lonelier and lonelier as time passed. 

But this? This here virus that's taking the world down? This is bringing us ALL together. The support showered upon me from my team at school is just exceptional - I couldn't ask for better. The Zooms (who knew that would be a thing) with friends, the taking the time to message those we haven't for a while, the cracking up and listening, the freaking out and consoling...it does NOT make this worth it. I am still PETRIFIED. I can't even write the things that I'm petrified of. But, I wanted to just write this and say how unbelievably grateful I am for those people who are going out of their way to make this easier for my beautiful, incredible, creative, destructive, exploradora, whirlwind, curious, hilarious, loveable, exceptional little Tasmanian Devil and I. We love you and we are grateful for you. 

A year in and everything is changing

It's been a while! Coz it's been a little bit busy and a little bit crazy and a little bit so many firsts for us both. We went to Scotland. We did that thing. And it was a truly incredible experience for which I will be eternally grateful. Taking my little boy to see my family, to spend time with his eleventy five cousins and aunts and uncles and friends was exactly everything that I wanted for us both. We did all of the things and went to all of the places, including the Kelpies, which I've been desperate to see for since they were constructed. Just brilliance. All of the nerves and the anxiety didn't disappear overnight, of course, because it was completely impossible to predict how my guy was going to react to the sheer volume of newness that was getting smashed right into his face every single day. But man, did he SMASH it. I quickly learned that provided he knew more or less what was happening, he was able to cope. And more than that, he thrived. It happened when we were surrounded with family in the land of the Mickey Mouse (who is, FYI, the current obsession) and it happened more in Scotland - something just helped him to open up. The happiest little love in all the world. So, so grateful to have had that time with everyone at home.

And then onto the next. We started at Nursery in my big, massive, fee paying school. I mean, Emilio's attitude to the latter part there might be, 'Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn', but it's a thing because it just is. I do not come from a fee paying school background and really do struggle with the concept entirely, however, it is how I've managed to have the life I've had; the one that has seen me dancing round the world through Europe, Asia and South America. But now, here we are, here I am, on the other side of the curtain and quite frankly, my dear, I dinnae like it! Man, that old anxiety came back to haunt like a big bag of haunting, painful, terrifying things. How on earth is he going to cope? I'm about to literally blow his tiny little life and world WIDE OPEN! His old Nido had 6 children and 2 teachers. We have just graduated to 25 children and 5 teachers. Holy actual moly. And then there's the whole 'what will the parents say about him?' and the 'how will everyone react?' and the actual agony of 'what if he really never makes a friend?' My goodness, it is somewhat suffocating. And definitely sleep robbing.

I can absolutely, 100% guarantee that Emilio is the first child to enter my school without a father listed on his matriculation form. He most certainly is NOT the first to have autism. Nor is he the first to have a foreign parent (obvs). He's also definitely not the first to be adopted. But combine that together? We have ourselves another brand new first, ladies and gentlemen. I know a lot of these nerves are what every new parent goes through - the starting school, is he going to be ok, will they 'get' him stressy stuff. I know that. But then you have all the other parents going through the same thing and you can lean on each other and cry into your tea or whatever. It's just an entirely different experience when you're an employee at the place he's going to school and you have already been told that the parents have 'heard about Emilio'. Anyway. Let's see how it all goes. This boy has taught me that absolutely nothing is predictable and that he will continue to surprise me and make me prouder than a big bag of proud things on a daily basis. So let's just see. 

We are SO lucky that school are being incredibly supportive and have bent over backwards to put things in place for my wee guy to succeed. Like, above and beyond support. He has a truly excellent, understanding, caring, committed-to-learning-about-him and all of the many shades of spectrum he brings to life, team - we could not ask for more. 

Watch this space. This boy is heading for the stars.