Life is a Coronacoaster (just gotta ride it)

 'I need you-oo, so stop hiding. Love is a mystery, girl, let's get inside it'.

I mean, Ronan's album is 20 years old, WTAF?! Also, I have always thought those lyrics were 'let's get excited'. Why inside it? Inside what? Coronacoaster got me coronacrazy. 

Annnyyywwayyy, we are on Day 4,569,898 of national emergency/not quarantine/whatever coz who even knows what the rules are anymore, and we are doing okish now! Life at the beach is infinitely better than life in Lima due to all the space and freedom we can enjoy. Emilio spends most of the day running around on the beach, collecting stuff, digging, rolling in the sand and generally having the time of his life. His favourite thing to do is roll stuff down the big dirt hills or push himself around on his knees, forehead in sand...takes 'bury your head in the sand' to a whole new, literal level. Well, they do say that autism and the literal sense go hand in hand. Maybe he's just proving a point?  

I've seen big changes in my boy over this crazy, crazy time. Sometimes I worry that we will have missed an entire year of speech and occupational therapy, not to mention the all important nursery year and learning about humans and relationships and, you know, the fact there are other people in the world besides your mama. It does worry me. BUT, then I send wee videos of what he's up to to my friend and autism guru in London and she is constantly gobsmacked by his progress. Language is developing in both Spanish and English, with 'oh no!' still the dominant phrase, along with 'this one!' which is accompanied by the cutest squinted up eye and point to whatever it is he happens to fancy at the time. I remember reading autism checklisty stuff when I first started searching for a speech therapist and one of the points was whether your child points things out to you - like, 'oh, look at the flower' or whatever. Because I walked into this head first with eyes wide open, I always think I'm more prepared than parents who have to deal with the diagnosis, and often grief that comes along with that. But I remember reading that point and thinking, 'Emilio will probably never do that' and feeling some of that grief. Well. Fast forward a year and we are walking along the road, hand in hand, when up he points to a wee model aeroplane attached to someone's beach house gate and says, 'plane'. Did my eyes fill up and did I immediately text my dad to tell him that Emilio knows what a plane is? Affirmative. Now it's just a normal thing he does. 'Shell', 'beach', 'car, 'cookie', etc. His speech is very unclear so I'm not sure anyone else would get what he is saying, but I do. And it fills me with the hopiest of hopes that he will one day use language in a more conventional, communicative way. Communicating, he is, though. 

Another big massive breakthrough is that I am officially 'Nunny' (coz 'm' is a hard one still). The pain of Emilio choosing Santa Maria Poppins over me, of wanting to play with her, of having MENTAL MELTDOWNS when she left, that pain? That has been replaced with, 'JUST LET MUMMY GO FOR A RUN! PLEASE!!'. HAHAHA. Who knew? I can't remember the last time I was able to pee alone as there is always one member of my family in there, two or four legged. But now we have a 4 year old banging on the door screaming 'NUUUUNNNNYYYYYY' when I try to take a shower. It happened. He loves me. He wants me. He misses me. I know my village will say that has been there for a long time, but I can see it and feel it and it's the most wonderful feeling in the world. Would we have bonded this closely had coronavirus not come crashing in and locked us up together? Who can say. Spending 24/7 together for the last 5 months (and the close to 3 months over Christmas) has definitely cemented us together. Sure, I'm still ready to chuck him in the sea sometimes, or chuck myself in there, but I have a little boy who absolutely knows I'm his mum. Who knows that he is loved, that he has someone who will give him the world if she can and if she can't, she'll fight like hell till she gets it for him. 

Now, if he'd just stop thinking it's fecking hilarious to run away from me EVERY 3 SECONDS, we would be pretty much perfect. 

Next up: Visit number 3 of 6 post-adoption, via Zoom. I LOVE our Post-Adoption Lady (PAL). She makes me cry every time but in a good way. She is the antithesis to my pre-adoption lady. Remember her and her 'your life must be so terrible, leaving home at 17!' nutsness? And her 'But why don't you want your OWN child? You're still young enough!' Pfffff. Anyway, PAL is delighted we've moved to the beach and absolutely thrilled at Emilio's progress, my commitment/overbearingness about what to do next in terms of school and country and support and all of the things that are driving me absolutely motherfing crazy at the moment...but she is on board. I know that everyone and their granny is all 'well, if you'd told me a year ago, coronavirus blah blah blah'...but honestly. Honestly. If I'd known that my first year with my son was going to look a bit like a walk in the park compared to our second year together, because, well, we are SO together, I'd have done whatever everyone is saying they'd have done if they'd known. Attachment Disorder, Autism, Trauma, Tantrums, Meltdowns, Difficulties Communicating, Freaking Out At Being A Single Parent In A Foreign Country, Trying To Manage With My Village For Support, Going Back To Work And Leaving My Child With Our Nanny: these things I had covered. These things were able to be rationalised and cried about and flipped out about but ultimately handled because they're normal. That I was doing. Being flung into a global pandemic with semi-recently adopted autistic child and all of the things and Absolutely No Access To Any Support Whatsoever, Not Even My Village? No. No, this I did not envisage. But. BUT. We are ok. PAL thinks we are doing great and is supporting my application to get Emilio's citizenship in the UK with the end-goal of getting us there at some stage. 

That plan is out the window and up in the sky at the moment. You know how much I am craving home. Well, you who know, know. I want my baby to have our whole Village and to learn how much he is loved by so many people who barely even know him. My wise, wise friends here - this Village that is right here - they tell me that I need to make his life bigger, not keep him to myself. And. They. Are. Right. And we are so lucky to have all the people who love us...but it's going to have to wait. Because Coronacoaster. I miss everyone, the same as everyone in the world does. But this isn't forever. I promised Emilio a huge life and I keep my promises. 

Love you all xxxx

And so to the beach (#quarantinechaos2020part3)

So often I read about how healthy it is to journal or create or whatever to keep your mind healthy. So, so often. I've made the terrible mistake of following all these hippy dippy, soul searching, heart filling, human bettering type people on insta. They make me think, 'Yes! Yes, once Emilio is asleep, I will start to write a book. I will do that thing.' But then, you know, Emilio is still awake at 10pm and I want to stick my head in the oven because I know he'll be up at 3am and I have a full day teaching ahead (at home) and loads of planning to do, Seesawing to check, resources to make, etc. So, blogging has been on my mind but has been outwith my physical and mental capabilities for the most part. As has journalling. Do people actually still journal?? Is this what this is? Who knows. 

We are on day 101 of one of the strictest lockdowns in the world. The way our lexicon has evolved baffles me from time to time. Lockdowns. What the actual? I used to laugh at myself when I said things like, 'Why are you licking your shoe?' and now I'm just bamboozled that my kids are regularly saying, 'J, you're on mute. You need to unmute. Your camera is off.', you know, during a phonics lesson. What is this world? I think it needs to mute. Mute coronavirus. Just mute it. 

Although lockdown was very much still under military control and one was likely to be arrested for breaking it in some small way, I decided to move to the beach. Literally within about a week, I'd made the decision, found a place and started the process. Now, those who know me well would not be entirely surprised; spontaneity is one of my more prominent characteristics... But, I think, during a global pandemic, with the number of beings and belongings and logistics and barriers in my way, one would caution a bit of consideration here. Nope. I'm doing it. End of. And so I did. Life in Lima was hideous. Solely survival. Although we were very fortunate to have a large apartment and a garden, the surrounding neighbourhood was terrifying for me when I was allowed to let Emilio walk outside. He doesn't respond to his name, he doesn't understand danger and he is prone to just tanking off. And. He. Is. Fast. Going for a walk with 3 dogs (including bloody liability puppy) and him was just so, so stressful. So the thought of an empty beach (it's winter), a house right on the beach front where I can hear and see the sea morning to night was just too appealing. And here we are. Through bloody mindedness, a fantastic moving company and sheer will, we are living at the beach. 

Growing up beside the sea has made me a water girl forever. She speaks to my soul. Like Moana! When I lived in Edinburgh, I always, always said I missed the sea. When I lived in Caracas, although I had my mountain, I missed the sea. When I moved from Miraflores to Surco...you get the picture. So throw in a global pandemic, trying to teach via Zoom, etc, whilst parenting my child alone, looking after a home, pets, cooking, cleaning, etc. MY GOD, I NEEDED THE SEA. I feel so unbelievably fortunate to have been able to pull this off. 

We also got our Santa Maria Poppins back part time. For a number of reasons, but really because I was feeling so much pressure to do better and be better at work, I had to. It's wonderful and it's awful. Emilio is delighted and I am in pain. Someone else is now looking after my child, instead of me. If you know, you absolutely bloody well know. It has also brought on loads of behaviours, like I knew it would, and it's so hard for him to understand when she leaves and when she's coming back - even with our visuals. It is just hard. But we are gradually getting used to this new way of being, I guess, sort of. Santa Maria is staying two nights a week so that's a thing to get used to for all of us, never having been in this situation before. It's weird and I hate it. But it's necessary so we have to find a way to make it work. We were on our own for 12 weeks and I did not realise just how much stress I was under. I said this to a friend this week; I knew I was talking about how awful it was, how I was always terrified Emilio was going to do something to injure himself while I was working, etc, but I did not realise just how unbelievably crippled I was with stress. Only after moving here and my nanny coming back did I recognise that the level of cortisol pumping around my body for the previous 12 weeks was dangerously high. DANGEROUSLY. 

You live, you learn. 

We are still trying to figure this out. I make mistakes daily. I'm still in fight or flight, but it's easing off. Emilio is up and down but mainly happy. What more could a person want? He knows he is loved. He is happy. He has a beach to play on and a mum who would do anything for him and a nanny who plays with him all day long. The conflicting feelings this last part brings on is my own stuff to deal with. But for now, we are surviving and maybe now, laughing a little bit more often. 

How are we coping? #quarantinechaos2020part2

Some gorgeous people have reached out recently to ask how I'm managing everything during this mental, mental time in our history. Some other gorgeous people's ears are bleeding from the amount of whining I'm doing at them. To them. Thank you, village, and sincere apologies. 

As I sit in my living room/art gallery, surrounded by chaos and animals (see photos for ref), whilst Emilio has a (newly reinstated and much appreciated) nap, I'm wondering why I'm deciding to blog rather than clean up some of the chaos or do some of my work. Sanity would be the reason. Writing about this process really helped focus my brain and keep calm when things were not in my control and people were demanding hand delivered papers to request information I'd already requested 5 times etc, etc. So perhaps it will help now as well. Let's see. 

Coping? Not really. Barely surviving at the moment would be a fairer description. Whilst being hyper aware of just how unfair this pandemic is on people with no home/income/too many people to feed or other devastating circumstances; whilst being smacked hard in the face with the crushing inequality we have created in our society; I think it is fair to say that we, who are priviliged, are still living our own personal hell (thanks for that, Halc). Trying to juggle teaching from home, even with the extra help I'm getting, running a home, looking after Emilio and 4 animals, doing Emilio's distance learning, cooking, shopping, washing, cleaning...it's not working. It truly is not working and I am truly not coping. Fortunately, I have an amazing friend who comes over to hang about as we are in the same building and who has looked after Emilio so I could go to the supermarket. Without her, we wouldn't have made it this far. It is exhausting. My house is a constant bombsite, there are never no dishes to wash, I'm never on top of my work, Emilio gets ignored for too much time while I'm trying to work, my animals are neglected and we have eaten sandwiches for dinner far too often. But yes, we are all still alive...though I don't know if this bloody puppy will see the end of the pandemic. Nightmare dog. Nightmare. Never get a beagle and 3 is too many dogs - in case anyone was wondering. 

Thrown into this whole mix is my son's neurodivergent brain and intelligence and bloody mindedness and sheer curiosity for the world. I have tried to flip this on its head and be grateful for the fact he is desperate to succeed at whatever he decides he wants - the paint off the top shelf, for example. Literally nothing will stop him. So I am grateful for that. But it means that nothing is safe. Ever. Today, for example, before 12pm, here are a list of things that happened: 

• He got the step for washing his hands and dragged it into my closet, having shut my bedroom door as I was trying to send emails, climbed up and then climbed onto the shelves to retrieve his paint. There is now blue paint on most of my shoes.
• He threw corn flour in the swimming pool. 
• I set up homemade chalk making. He then threw that all over the tiles outside literally a minute after we made it. 
• He poured all the remaining rice I have into the blender. Then he poured all the remaining laundry detergent on top of that. Thankful he didn't manage to switch it on as plugging electrical appliances in has become a new fascination. 
• He threw my work ipad onto the floor tiles. It is still in one piece. (His own tablet went swimming last week when he pushed it down the slide into the pool.)
• He took off all his clothes, his current favourite thing to do, and then proceeded to jump around behind me as I was Zooming my kids. 

I think there are a few more but my brain is fried. You get the picture. A few friends have asked why I don't get Santa Maria Poppins a permit to come and move in here. Firstly, because I don't think it is fair to ask her to be away from her own daughter in these troubling times. Secondly, because I'm scared she'll bring the virus to us and I can't afford to get sick. And lastly, because after a few weeks of unbearable behaviours and meltdowns, Emilio is pretty happy most of the time. I can't throw another change into this melting pot of madness and expect him not to react. I don't know how he'd react but I do know that my anxiety and nerves are shot to shit and that I wouldn't be able to cope with new behaviours. So, for now, and for who knows how long, this is our life. 

Sending love to everyone out there and eternal gratitude for you who are listening as the world experiences a collective anxiety attack (thanks Sam for that!). xxxx

Chaos in Quarantine (#quarantinechaos2020)

Day Who Even Cares? And also Who Even Knows? It's week 4 of our new normal and we have had further restrictions slapped upon us; now, there are men and women days.  Days in which the people born with the XX chromosome can gleefully, maskfully, glovefully skip to the supermarket, bank or pharmacy, do those jobs that need done and get the hell home as quick as quick can be. Those days are Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. XY types go on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and hold up all the lines in the supermarkets as, in these parts, they've never been sent the 'big shop' before. Sundays are for quedo-ing en sus casas. Dinnae go oot at all, that is. Blessed be the fruit, under his eye, etc, etc. The parallels with dystopian Atwood settings are, frankly, stark. However, I am actually quite excited by the prospect of going to the supermarket tomorrow (women day) and only seeing women. Not suggesting for a second that I'd fancy this idea as a long term way of living, but as a wee novelty, it'll be interesting for sure. I am entirely unsure as to what non-binary people, or anyone whose gender may not be the one with which they were born, are supposed to do. Entirely unclear. May the odds be ever in your favour, friends. 

Whilst these measures may seem Handsmaid's Tale-y, they are clearly necessary. People are still being totally ignorant, or naive, or rebellious, or whatever, and choosing to go out in groups or couples or herds or whatever. I mean. It's not fair to assume that everyone is getting the same message because CLEARLY the message in different countries is a different thing. And obviously not everyone has internet. Or TV. Or family. So sometimes the daily messages by our President may slip through or just aren't understood? I don't know. He's getting ripped for sounding like a primary school teacher at the moment but if you aren't going to follow a simple instruction like STAY IN YOUR HOUSE, then what do you expect?? It's a frightening place at the moment, this here world in which we do live, but it's more frightening how little attention so many people are paying to this thing that's ripping through the planet like a cull.

Emilio and I are rollercoastering through this, like everybody else. The weekend was absolutely hideous. Not least because I was awakened to find Picasso decorating the apartment. With paint. Without a paintbrush. I'm still cleaning up. He hasn't been 'up and destructive in the night' for a while so I'm inclined to believe that the caged animal/boredom/lack of understanding of just WTF is going on, is taking its toll. I have to laugh at stuff like this. So there's paint everywhere. So what? It's been suggested to me by countless people, (people I love and adore and am grateful for their advice), that I do This, That or the Other to stop him doing This, That or the Other. After 14 and a half months of living with my little Tempera Terrorist as one friend described him, I can honestly say that NOTHING will stop him. No baby gate. No things up high. No locked box. No change of location. No telling him (obviously). No hiding things. Nothing. This child has a determination and a curiosity for life that equals no other I know. Where I put things, he will get them. Where I try to stop him, he will find a way. Where I put barriers, he will bulldoze through them. And when I'm sad or stressed or overwhelmed or feeling like I can't do this, those feelings can almost paralyse me. They can make me feel like the biggest failure as a mum, as a person. They can make me feel like someone else would be a better mum for Emilio. They can rip my heart apart and smash my soul to pieces. But when I'm calm and rational and reflective, I am unbelievably grateful and proud that I am raising this incredible Tiny Human to believe that he can do ANYTHING. NOTHING will stand in his way, NOTHING will stop him. When I'm in that frame of mind, which is the majority of the time, I know that I'm doing the absolute best for my son and that he is doing his absolute best for me. My heart is fuller than Santa's belly at Christmas and my soul sings like a bird gloriously soaring through mountains. I have an exact picture in my head of Santa and of the guacamayos in Caracas right now. Heaven indeed. 

Be safe, friends xxxx

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. 

50 shades of anxiety

And a long illness that was. Uff, the guilt of going to work and leaving your child to be looked after by someone else...said my friend, the only worse one is stuffing them full of calpol and sending them to school. We had basically a week and a half of being at home with the not feeling well and the hell and the beauty that it brings. Coz it's rubbish when they're sick but it's gorgeous to be all cuddly and snuggly and he just wanted me. One morning, he was clinging to me and crying his heart out and we were just laid on the sofa for about half an hour until he calmed down. Where did my head go? What about the last time he was sick? Who cuddled him? Who held him? Who loved him? Anytime I think I've got a handle of this - the autism, the adoption, the trauma, the newness...something else hits like a big bag of hard things. I've said before that I never know which bit the behaviour is coming from, but sometimes I just need to sit back and think 'love'. Just love and that will be all I can do for the moment. 

This weekend was brutal. I broke my toe, whilst on the phone to my sister and turning to run to the kitchen where I heard Emilio climbing on something...did not find out what because an offending metal legged chair was in the way. OUCH. Just massive, massive OUCH. Then dogs had to go to the vet. Then to a big park where I thought we had lost Bridget forever, twice. Emilio ran in one direction, Bridget the other. I'm aware that this happens to all toddlers but when he responds to NOTHING and it can be dangerous...anyway. Then we all piled back in the car and drove to deliver some backpacks my kids at school made for Venezuelan refugees arriving in Peru. Hours of traffic, screaming child, cooped up pets, going NUTS mummy. However, all was right by the time I was eating homemade veggie haggis and nattering away with some lovely friends who ALWAYS SHOW UP. Thank you, fabulous humans. 

We are on the countdown to coming home for Christmas. I cannot tell you the levels of anxiety this induces. Reckon I used to be a fairly laid back person, go with the flow, etc. Now. NOW. Sheesh kebab. I worry about not having the right cereal in. I worry about not doing enough PECS or play or not speaking enough (HAH!) or playing enough with friends or a million other worries. But the thought of travelling...JEEZ. That sets off a whole range of rollercoaster panic waves about moving home next year. Where will I work? Where will Emilio go to school? Will he need a special school? If that's the case, where's the best one? How will I make sure I get a job that's close to that one? Where in the country is that? How will I afford it? Will he even get citizenship? If I go to the west, will I even fit there after 20 years away? And how, HOW, in the name of chuffery am I old enough to have lived away from home for 20 FREAKIN' YEARS?!!?!?!!?

As I say...50 shades of anxiety and it's not my favourite colour. 

We are about to start the rest of the paperwork nonsense for getting us out this country. That thing where I send my nanny to the machine to get Emilio's birth certificate because I can't get it. Me. His Mama. I cannot collect it from the machine but literally EVERY SINGLE OTHER PERUVIAN HUMAN can. Awesome. That bit has been achieved. That bit that states I'm his birth mum. I mean... Stage 2: get the permiso. That permiso that will permis me, Marianne Kelly, to take Emilio out of the country. Yes, that's right. Marianne gives permission to herself. I mean, again...

Anyway, watch this space. It may well ABREEEEE (private joke with myself!)