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The last few weeks have not been the best health-wise.

I’ve been wracked with a confusing pain and fatigue in every joint, leaving me unable to complete the most basic of tasks – let alone care for my daughter in the way that I am used to.

I've been filled with panic and have spent hours catastrophising about our mother/daughter bond falling apart or disintegrating before my very eyes… 

My husband urged me not to worry. 

He Reassured me that our mother/daughter relationship was strong enough and that he could step up until I was back on my feet.

“How will that work?” I thought, dismissing the idea.

But.. he took her to school.

He took her to swimming.

He took her iceskating.

He did her homework. 

he cooked her tea.

he made her breakfast.

He read her stories and he put her to bed.

Initially I was crestfallen… then I realised something wonderful was happening.

Their relationship was blooming!

As I sat around the house aching and worrying about the future, panic stricken about possible outcomes, I’d suddenly be distracted by the sound of her tinkling laugh from the bathroom. I’d go up to find them in the bath surrounded by dolls, engrossed in a game involving voices and characters I’d never heard before.. 

“Hello. What are you doing?” I’d enquire.

“Playing” would come her short response and I’d be dispatched back downstairs.

Other days they’d swing past me with her on his back, her feet thrust onto his hands always deep in conversation or mid laugh. - This particular manoeuvre had a special name but I couldn’t tell you what having never really been privy to it . 

“Pick me!” was a cry I got used to hearing around the house; along with the more bizarre “Nose me!” – an unusual greeting they developed. 

In short they became inseparable and it was a joy to hear them laughing up and down the stairs and around the house.

The moral of this mawkishly sentimental tale? 

THE HOUSE DIDN’T FALL DOWN JUST BECAUSE I WAS UNWELL AND UNABLE TO DO MY USUAL STUFF!

Worth remembering, for all of us parents I think…

Long Live the King!

My parents are agnostic and I was not brought up with any kind of religious belief, practice or ritual. 

When as a family we moved to a small village in the Midlands which had a quaint old village church, my parents thought it might be nice to give me and my brother some religious instruction via the church’s Sunday school but we rebelled - having had no prior involvement and therefor feeling out of place.

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7 Years

My mother lived to just 62, far too young of course and her death seemed illogical and unjust at the time. However, just how young she was is only now starting to sink in - more than 16 years later.

I'm 55 this year, just 7 years younger than she was when she died. 

7 years! It will fly by...

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Therapeutic Parenting.

We get it!

We not only understand the benefits of therapeutic parenting, but we now have plenty of first hand experience of it working, of it regulating our son with Reactive attachment disorder in a way that ‘normal’ parenting simple does not.

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Bounce Back Blog: Equally Best


...." The notion that the father trumped everything simply because of ‘blood’ made me feel vulnerable and I confess fleetingly made me consider if my new role as a father could ever be quite as significant without that blood tie...

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Coping Mechanisms.

So for those of us attempting to support our children who come with a range of trauma and problematic starts in life; we spend a considerable amount of time observing - thinking about and trying to work with their coping mechanisms...


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All Was Good.

My siblings and I grew up being told by many around us what good parents we had and I guess we have always accepted that at face value...

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