I don't really know where to start this morning. In my last post I mentioned that had plans to meet the foster carers for a child we've been linked with. Well, that was yesterday and here's the story...
We were both a little nervous about this meeting. Except for the limited conversations we'd had during the training courses, we'd never met real-life foster carers before and we didn't really know what to expect. Actually, we thought we did. Those we'd met or seen at the training courses were generally quite quiet, reserved and, how can I put it, a bit mumsy, a bit 'farmer's wife', a bit 'always-in-the-kitchen-always-changing-dirty-nappies-always-on-the-go-no-time-for-myself'. Know what I mean? Probably not, but I can't really explain it any other way.
You'll be used to my tongue-in-cheek references by now, I hope, but on a serious note I/we know that we couldn't be foster carers. Just couldn't do it and, on that basis alone, you have to admire people who can. People who are willing to welcome some of the most damaged children in our society, children whose parents betrayed them in any number of ways, in to their homes and give them love, care, attention and a sense of belonging to a real family. That must take a lot, particularly when you never know how long they'll stay and, of course, the day will most likely come when you have to say goodbye. Hats well and truly off to foster carers in general.
Anyway, back to yesterday. Max and I had been discussing the meeting for days, no big debates, just the odd conversation about how we thought it might go, what we thought we might need to ask, that sort of thing. I'm more of a planner than he is so all day Tuesday I was badgering him to sit down for a real chat to discuss the sort of questions we were going to ask etc.
Whilst I'm normally the laid back one and Max is the intense, latin one I felt that I couldn't go in to the meeting with no idea of what we wanted to know. He on the other hand wanted to let it be a very free flowing discussion, raising questions as we went along.
The compromise was me getting up at 5am on Wednesday morning to find out more about The Boy's Brigade and look for alternatives locally as we don't have a branch near us. I did some research in to a medical condition, read the OFSTED report for the child's school and made a list of points I wanted to cover. Most unlike me but this is the single most important thing we've done in our lives so forgive me the deviation from my normally horizontal position on life. I felt better for having a bit of a plan.
Wednesday started normally - me up at 5am, Max finally dragging his bones out of bed aroud 8am when we needed to leave the house no later than 9am. At 8.15am the phone rang and it was our Social Worker. Now, if you've read any of this blog before you'll know that when he calls it's normally to cancel so I wasn't very pleased to hear his voice. However, he was actually calling to tell us that one of the roads was closed on our route to the foster carers' home and advising a different route. Bless him, I take it all back!
20 minutes later the phone rings again and it's the child's foster father! OMG. We've never spoken to his foster carers before. We've heard them on the child's DVDs and seen their limbs straying in to the camera's view but we've never actually spoken to them. Again, I thought the call was to cancel the meeting - no reason for me to think this except our previous experiences with the SW.
He introduced himself and apologised for calling, saying he'd managed to find out number due to Max's unusual surname, and he wanted to tell us that...one of the roads on our journey to his home was closed.
We joked about the fact that the SW had just called to say the same. He then went on to tell me that they'd discovered this blog, by accident almost, and had really enjoyed reading it. That made me think, oh crap, what have I said on there? However, after a few slow breaths I was sure that I'd maintained confidentiality in all respects, and I could breathe easily again. He said that they'd had similar experiences of social workers and suggested that we spend the morning focusing our conversations on the child and that they would give us as much information as they possibly could.
Now. Here's the tricky bit. I know that they will be reading this entry, eager to find out what we thought of the meeting but, as anyone who reads this knows, I'm nothing but honest on this blog and it doesn't serve any purpose unless that is maintained. I don't want anyone to think that any praise, admiration or otherwise is written to pander to any part of the audience, it's not.
I came off the phone and told Max who had called and said "He sounds really friendly, really nice. He didn't have to go to all that effort to find our number and call to tell us the road was closed". And he didn't but this proved to be a good indication of the type of people they were when we met them.
So, we set off and put our trust in the SatNav to get us to the address, avoiding the roadblock. It didn't, it took us right up to it and then turned us around and sent us back the other way. We actually arrived just about on time and everyone was there, waiting.
We were introduced to everyone and made to feel very welcome. Mr FC ("A") made the coffee (a very nice cappucino if you don't mind) and brought out some fruit including strawberries that had been handpicked by Mrs FC ("P") and the child at the local farm the day before. Sweet.
A couple of things struck both Max and I immediately: first, what a lovely home P&A had - the type of home we'd love and the type of home we've actually been looking for over the past 18 months; and, secondly, more importantly, what a warm, friendly, welcoming couple they are. [Apologies P&A if you're reading this but I did promise honesty]
It turned out that I need not have bothered with planning the questions, they had already thought about what we'd wat to know and made sure they had all the info to hand. We were shown another video of the child and we all gathered around the sofa whilst Max held the laptop and we watched, intently, as the child read some extracts from a Captain Underpants book! Hilarious and a perfect ice-breaker.
The discussion was very free-flowing, we talked about everything from the child's daily routine to his schooling, his background and parentage, his behaviour at home and at school, the types of food he likes, how he entertains himself and interacts with others.
P&A put us both at ease from the moment we met them and we're hugely grateful for that. It's the first time they've fostered and, potentially, the first time they'll have to say goodbye to a child and it is clear how difficult that will be. They have formed an incredibly strong attachment to the child, probably the strongest he's ever experienced and the work they have done with him in the 11 months he's been with them is incredible and testament to their commitment. They were so completely different to any foster carer we'd met and they can rightly be very, very proud of what they've achieved.
The meeting helped us to confirm what we thought we already knew - that the child is a perfect match for us and that he would and, hopefully, will fit in to our family very well. I can't tell you how excited we both became when we were told he loves polenta! And wants to visit Italy!
I don't think anyone was really in any doubt by the end of the meeting that we were convinced of the link and intend to proceed. We had a few tears with P and it all got very emotional. P gave us their phone number and said we could call any time if we had any other questions or wanted any more information about anything.
The child's social worker apologised for being presumptious but had already requested the next available Matching Panel date with the local authority and it's 24th July. On that basis, it taking 7 days after that for the formal decision, 'introductions' could start at the beginning of August and we would aim to be 'with child' in time for him to start the new school term.
OMG. That is scary...and exciting...and scary...and exciting...etc.
I'm sure there will be much more to report over the coming weeks, not least the school visits and other stuff. But, for now, the thought of the day is with P&A who are truly inspiring and wonderful people.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
I'm looking for my son...
It's amazing how quickly things can develop after such a long period of, well, nothing really.
Prior to our Approvel Panel we'd been to Northamptonshire's (excellent) Parents for Children evening and identified a child there that we thought would be a potential match. We mentioned this child to our social worker and forgot all about it, focussing on panel.
Two days after approval he called to say that he's spoken to said child's social worker and they'd agreed that we should all meet at our place. A date was arranged and the meeting took place. We had a good old chat, asked a load of questions, did the 'Through The Keyhole' tour of the house and generally had a good time.
We were left with a (slightly outdated - 2009) version of the child's permanance report and, of course, the moment everyone left we had 101 questions that we'd forgotten to ask, this being the first child we've ever discussed in detail. Our social worker said he'd call in a few days to get some feedback and we'd take it from there.
That call came two hours after they left our house and he asked what we thought. We said we'd call back in a few days once we've had some time to absorb the info etc. We had that chat and raised a few questions and concerns over a number of issues. The child's social worker called back and most of the issues were resolved with newer information than that contained in the report.
Since then we've seen three DVDs of the child at six monthly intervals since removal. That's an amazingly strong tool to help you get a true picture of what the child's like.
The child's social worker suggested we should contact all three of our local schools and suggested one in particular that she knew was similar to the child's current school in terms of structure and size.
We're meeting his foster carers next Wednesday to discuss him in more detail and to get a real overview of his issues. Meanwhile (thank you, lord) we've been told that they have friends who are a gay male couple and they are regular visitors to the home. The child seems to be very comfortable with them and the concept is being introduced to conversations more and more within the home.
We've got school visits next week. We both discussed this at length, including with our respective parents to get their input. Everyone seems very positive. We've decided that, pending the outcome of next week's meeting we will agree to proceed to Matching Panel.
Everything seems right about this child. He's at the upper end of our desired age range, 7 years old, but having reflected on this a lot it feels appropriate to us and our situation.
So, looks like we're going to be parents before we're 40 after all. Who'd have thought.
We'll post again after next week's meetings. It's all getting a bit scary now.
M&M (not Eminem!)
Prior to our Approvel Panel we'd been to Northamptonshire's (excellent) Parents for Children evening and identified a child there that we thought would be a potential match. We mentioned this child to our social worker and forgot all about it, focussing on panel.
Two days after approval he called to say that he's spoken to said child's social worker and they'd agreed that we should all meet at our place. A date was arranged and the meeting took place. We had a good old chat, asked a load of questions, did the 'Through The Keyhole' tour of the house and generally had a good time.
We were left with a (slightly outdated - 2009) version of the child's permanance report and, of course, the moment everyone left we had 101 questions that we'd forgotten to ask, this being the first child we've ever discussed in detail. Our social worker said he'd call in a few days to get some feedback and we'd take it from there.
That call came two hours after they left our house and he asked what we thought. We said we'd call back in a few days once we've had some time to absorb the info etc. We had that chat and raised a few questions and concerns over a number of issues. The child's social worker called back and most of the issues were resolved with newer information than that contained in the report.
Since then we've seen three DVDs of the child at six monthly intervals since removal. That's an amazingly strong tool to help you get a true picture of what the child's like.
The child's social worker suggested we should contact all three of our local schools and suggested one in particular that she knew was similar to the child's current school in terms of structure and size.
We're meeting his foster carers next Wednesday to discuss him in more detail and to get a real overview of his issues. Meanwhile (thank you, lord) we've been told that they have friends who are a gay male couple and they are regular visitors to the home. The child seems to be very comfortable with them and the concept is being introduced to conversations more and more within the home.
We've got school visits next week. We both discussed this at length, including with our respective parents to get their input. Everyone seems very positive. We've decided that, pending the outcome of next week's meeting we will agree to proceed to Matching Panel.
Everything seems right about this child. He's at the upper end of our desired age range, 7 years old, but having reflected on this a lot it feels appropriate to us and our situation.
So, looks like we're going to be parents before we're 40 after all. Who'd have thought.
We'll post again after next week's meetings. It's all getting a bit scary now.
M&M (not Eminem!)
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Approval Panel Day
I'm delighted to say that we were approved, unanimously if you please, at our adoption panel on 4th May. It's taken me a while to find time to update the blog so apologies if anyone has been reading this expecting to find out!
It feels a bit strange now. We've completed our assessment, thank God, and done all of the training we had to do for now. We've gone through the pain of waiting for the panel date and now we're in limbo waiting for things to happen. It's fine, really, we did expect it to be like this but it seems strange after all the constant toing and froing of the past 12 months.
I think our social worker was flapping more than we were on the day. For us, given that we'd been told that we were 99.9% sure to be approved, it was part of the process. For him, well, let's just say he didn't get an easy ride with the panel who didn't like the style of his report.
I know that 'panel' is the big event for most prospective adopters, so let's go over the day for those who are approaching or looking forward to this event.
When asked how we should dress our social worker said "well, I wouldn't turn up in shorts and t-shirt if I were you" which is ironic since that's the way he's appeared at our house several times before during the assessment!
So we opt for a suit with an open-necked shirt - a tie is probably too stuffy and, bored of watching the clock at home, we decide to leave early and get to the council's offices in good time. Max drives in his usual Italian way and we arrive there VERY early, park at the far end of the car park so we can kill some time walking, and then take a stroll along the canal to waste even more time.
We've been told to arrive at 1005 for our hearing at 1015 so we rock up to reception, having seen enough ducks and canal lock action, at 0945 to be met by what can only be described as the most miserable, sour-faced woman I've ever met and, believe me, I've met a few. OK, so she's not interested in our excitement, it's a long time since she had children and, to be honest, if I worked on a council's reception desk, dishing out plastic badges and parking permits I'd probably be pretty miserable, too.
She tells us we can 'wait in there' which, we assume, means we should proceed through the double doors and take a seat, helping ourselves to tea and coffee whilst we wait. Only one problem with that. We enter this cavernous 'waiting area', filled with comfortable sofas, low tables, a vending machine and a fridge marked 'Children only', to find that the meeting room where the 'panel' takes place has a thoroughly modern and un-council-like glass wall so we can see the 12 members giving another couple the once-over.
We try to find seats that don't face the glass wall, so we can't see their faces or what's going on, and spend a considerable amount of time debating who is going to approach the tea/coffee making facilities which are cleverly placed on a table against said glass wall.
We're relieved of our dilemma by the sight of the 'chair' of the panel rising from her seat, looking directly at us and making her way towards the door separating us from the lion's den. OMG, what does she want? Is she coming to speak to us? Why? Aaaaaagh.
'She' introduces herself as the 'chair' of the panel and apologises that they're running a little late - we'd been warned of this by our social worker. She also comments on the fact that our social worker has not yet arrived - it's 1015...our call time. I assure her that he's most likely on his way and that we're used to his to-the-bone timings.
Then he arrives, 1017, apologising for being late, wearing a pair of casual chinos and an 'I'm not a social worker at the weekend' shirt. We feel over-dressed but then we always do when we see him!
He then does what he always does - says something stupid that throws me. "Hello, hello. So. Nervous?" to which I reply, truthfully, "No, not at all, quite relaxed actually given the circumstances". So there. "Well, you look nervous." Thanks. Thanks a lot. That's really helping.
We're just about to sit in front of a panel of 12 people we've never met, who will, at their own admission, spend 30 minutes deciding the future of our 'family'. If they say no, we're back to luxury holidays, a new car every year and the carefree life that we led until now. If they say yes, we're most likely going to adopt a child at some point. Why would we be nervous?!
Then we get this:
Social Worker (SW): "OK, OK, they're running late. Do you want to stay sitting here or would you prefer to sit in a smaller, quieter meeting room whilst we wait?"
Me: "No no, we're fine here, no problem."
SW: "Well, we could always move to the little room and wait there if you want"
Me: "Really, we're fine here"
SW: "They provide this little meeting room, just around the corner there where people normally wait. It's just so that, if the medical examiner needs to come out and ask anything, they can do it in private, but if you're OK with them doing that here then that's fine."
Me: "Yep, absolutely fine. We're fine here"
SW: "OK, tell you what, why don't we go to the little meeting room around the corner? They prefer us to wait there. Shall we?"
Well, why the hell didn't you just say that? Arse.
The "little meeting room around the corner" is accurately described. It's tiny. A round table with four chairs and window...overlooking the courtyard...and an identical glass wall so we can see in to the panel meeting room! Not helping.
Anyway. Chit chat, chit chat, chit chat and then the 'chair' returns to tell us that they're ready to begin. They want to speak to our SW first, then they'll call us, and then they'll make their decision. OK? Oh, I think, we have a choice. Of course we don't. It's fine.
So, off our SW trots to be asked questions about our assessment, about our lives and our general ability or inability to parent an adopted child. Normally takes about 15 minutes. This time it takes 30.
We get bored of sitting in the little meeting room around the corner and take a wander back to the nice waiting area with the sofas. Just as we get ourselves a coffee, having managed to find a way to hide behind a pillar and extend our arms to reach the coffee jugs without being seen, the SW re-appears, looking flustered. This is not a good sign. He's looking red and sweaty which is not a good look and we know from our time with him that it means there's something wrong.
We ask what the problem is and get "oh, no, nothing, it's fine, I just got a grilling - never had a response like that from a panel before, very strange" [Now I'm nervous!] "No, no, nothing to worry about, they've got a problem with me, not you, anyway, let's go in if you're ready..."
Are we ready? About as ready as we'll ever be. This is it. We open the glass door, on the glass wall, and enter the lion's den. The room is set out with tables in a big square, with a handy atrium space left in the middle - a void over which they can watch us, analyse us.
We smile, say "hello" to the general assembly, more smiles...no response from the panel. However, undaunted, we take our seats, opposite the 'chair' and she manages a small, very small smile. Everyone else just fiddles with papers and avoid eye contact.
There are microphones on the table, like they have at the UN, and a 'How did we do' questionnaire for us to "rate the experience".
The 'chair' introduces herself by saying "Hello, I'm Xxxxxx, I'm Chair of the adoption panel. First of all I'm going to ask everyone to introduce themselves, then I'll talk about your application and ask some questions. Everyone else has specific questions and they will ask them next. Then we'll ask you to leave the room, have another quick chat with your social worker and then we'll vote and make our decision."
Fair enough. That seems quite straightforward. Nothing too much to worry about.
So, one by one the panel members introduce themselves, they get to us and we introduce ourselves and it continues around the table until we get back to the beginning.
We get asked questions about: thoughts on the age of our potential adopted child, whether it should be a boy or a girl; we're asked for more details on our plans for adoption leave; a couple of questions about things we'd said in the report; identification of a guardian for our adopted child (they made a lot of this) and about parenting styles.
In all there were just eight questions, which we thought was a very low number. Apparently there are normally four or five, so eight was high, but it didn't feel like it.
We weren't asked any questions about how we would cope with the 'two gay dads' question, nothing about dealing with bullying, nothing about our mixed heritage (English and Italian-South African), nothing about our history/life so far.
It was all very, very straightforward and manageable and we were right not to be nervous...until our SW told us we were!
I managed to get a joke in when asked about our experience of interacting with children - I told them I was quite used to it after five years with Max! That got a giggle and some affectionate smiles...from everyone but Max!
That was it. We were asked to leave the room whilst they chatted with our SW and voted. We retreated to the now perfectly acceptable glass fishbowl of a waiting room and waiting for the vote, Eurovision style.
Our SW appeared five minutes later to tell us that we had, of course, been approved by a unanimous vote. We were relieved. We didn't start dancing around the room or anything crazy but we felt relieved. It felt a bit odd though. We didn't really know how we were supposed to act or, in fact, what we were supposed to do next. Should we stand, say "thanks" to our SW and leave or should we sit, bask in the glory and soak it up for a while?
Well, this was answered quite quickly by the stream of panel members exiting the meeting room to get coffee, toilet breaks etc., each of whom came over and individually congratulated us, telling us that they were sure we'd make great parents.
That was it. All over. All approved. All happy.
Next step...finding a child. More on that later...gotta run...
It feels a bit strange now. We've completed our assessment, thank God, and done all of the training we had to do for now. We've gone through the pain of waiting for the panel date and now we're in limbo waiting for things to happen. It's fine, really, we did expect it to be like this but it seems strange after all the constant toing and froing of the past 12 months.
I think our social worker was flapping more than we were on the day. For us, given that we'd been told that we were 99.9% sure to be approved, it was part of the process. For him, well, let's just say he didn't get an easy ride with the panel who didn't like the style of his report.
I know that 'panel' is the big event for most prospective adopters, so let's go over the day for those who are approaching or looking forward to this event.
When asked how we should dress our social worker said "well, I wouldn't turn up in shorts and t-shirt if I were you" which is ironic since that's the way he's appeared at our house several times before during the assessment!
So we opt for a suit with an open-necked shirt - a tie is probably too stuffy and, bored of watching the clock at home, we decide to leave early and get to the council's offices in good time. Max drives in his usual Italian way and we arrive there VERY early, park at the far end of the car park so we can kill some time walking, and then take a stroll along the canal to waste even more time.
We've been told to arrive at 1005 for our hearing at 1015 so we rock up to reception, having seen enough ducks and canal lock action, at 0945 to be met by what can only be described as the most miserable, sour-faced woman I've ever met and, believe me, I've met a few. OK, so she's not interested in our excitement, it's a long time since she had children and, to be honest, if I worked on a council's reception desk, dishing out plastic badges and parking permits I'd probably be pretty miserable, too.
She tells us we can 'wait in there' which, we assume, means we should proceed through the double doors and take a seat, helping ourselves to tea and coffee whilst we wait. Only one problem with that. We enter this cavernous 'waiting area', filled with comfortable sofas, low tables, a vending machine and a fridge marked 'Children only', to find that the meeting room where the 'panel' takes place has a thoroughly modern and un-council-like glass wall so we can see the 12 members giving another couple the once-over.
We try to find seats that don't face the glass wall, so we can't see their faces or what's going on, and spend a considerable amount of time debating who is going to approach the tea/coffee making facilities which are cleverly placed on a table against said glass wall.
We're relieved of our dilemma by the sight of the 'chair' of the panel rising from her seat, looking directly at us and making her way towards the door separating us from the lion's den. OMG, what does she want? Is she coming to speak to us? Why? Aaaaaagh.
'She' introduces herself as the 'chair' of the panel and apologises that they're running a little late - we'd been warned of this by our social worker. She also comments on the fact that our social worker has not yet arrived - it's 1015...our call time. I assure her that he's most likely on his way and that we're used to his to-the-bone timings.
Then he arrives, 1017, apologising for being late, wearing a pair of casual chinos and an 'I'm not a social worker at the weekend' shirt. We feel over-dressed but then we always do when we see him!
He then does what he always does - says something stupid that throws me. "Hello, hello. So. Nervous?" to which I reply, truthfully, "No, not at all, quite relaxed actually given the circumstances". So there. "Well, you look nervous." Thanks. Thanks a lot. That's really helping.
We're just about to sit in front of a panel of 12 people we've never met, who will, at their own admission, spend 30 minutes deciding the future of our 'family'. If they say no, we're back to luxury holidays, a new car every year and the carefree life that we led until now. If they say yes, we're most likely going to adopt a child at some point. Why would we be nervous?!
Then we get this:
Social Worker (SW): "OK, OK, they're running late. Do you want to stay sitting here or would you prefer to sit in a smaller, quieter meeting room whilst we wait?"
Me: "No no, we're fine here, no problem."
SW: "Well, we could always move to the little room and wait there if you want"
Me: "Really, we're fine here"
SW: "They provide this little meeting room, just around the corner there where people normally wait. It's just so that, if the medical examiner needs to come out and ask anything, they can do it in private, but if you're OK with them doing that here then that's fine."
Me: "Yep, absolutely fine. We're fine here"
SW: "OK, tell you what, why don't we go to the little meeting room around the corner? They prefer us to wait there. Shall we?"
Well, why the hell didn't you just say that? Arse.
The "little meeting room around the corner" is accurately described. It's tiny. A round table with four chairs and window...overlooking the courtyard...and an identical glass wall so we can see in to the panel meeting room! Not helping.
Anyway. Chit chat, chit chat, chit chat and then the 'chair' returns to tell us that they're ready to begin. They want to speak to our SW first, then they'll call us, and then they'll make their decision. OK? Oh, I think, we have a choice. Of course we don't. It's fine.
So, off our SW trots to be asked questions about our assessment, about our lives and our general ability or inability to parent an adopted child. Normally takes about 15 minutes. This time it takes 30.
We get bored of sitting in the little meeting room around the corner and take a wander back to the nice waiting area with the sofas. Just as we get ourselves a coffee, having managed to find a way to hide behind a pillar and extend our arms to reach the coffee jugs without being seen, the SW re-appears, looking flustered. This is not a good sign. He's looking red and sweaty which is not a good look and we know from our time with him that it means there's something wrong.
We ask what the problem is and get "oh, no, nothing, it's fine, I just got a grilling - never had a response like that from a panel before, very strange" [Now I'm nervous!] "No, no, nothing to worry about, they've got a problem with me, not you, anyway, let's go in if you're ready..."
Are we ready? About as ready as we'll ever be. This is it. We open the glass door, on the glass wall, and enter the lion's den. The room is set out with tables in a big square, with a handy atrium space left in the middle - a void over which they can watch us, analyse us.
We smile, say "hello" to the general assembly, more smiles...no response from the panel. However, undaunted, we take our seats, opposite the 'chair' and she manages a small, very small smile. Everyone else just fiddles with papers and avoid eye contact.
There are microphones on the table, like they have at the UN, and a 'How did we do' questionnaire for us to "rate the experience".
The 'chair' introduces herself by saying "Hello, I'm Xxxxxx, I'm Chair of the adoption panel. First of all I'm going to ask everyone to introduce themselves, then I'll talk about your application and ask some questions. Everyone else has specific questions and they will ask them next. Then we'll ask you to leave the room, have another quick chat with your social worker and then we'll vote and make our decision."
Fair enough. That seems quite straightforward. Nothing too much to worry about.
So, one by one the panel members introduce themselves, they get to us and we introduce ourselves and it continues around the table until we get back to the beginning.
We get asked questions about: thoughts on the age of our potential adopted child, whether it should be a boy or a girl; we're asked for more details on our plans for adoption leave; a couple of questions about things we'd said in the report; identification of a guardian for our adopted child (they made a lot of this) and about parenting styles.
In all there were just eight questions, which we thought was a very low number. Apparently there are normally four or five, so eight was high, but it didn't feel like it.
We weren't asked any questions about how we would cope with the 'two gay dads' question, nothing about dealing with bullying, nothing about our mixed heritage (English and Italian-South African), nothing about our history/life so far.
It was all very, very straightforward and manageable and we were right not to be nervous...until our SW told us we were!
I managed to get a joke in when asked about our experience of interacting with children - I told them I was quite used to it after five years with Max! That got a giggle and some affectionate smiles...from everyone but Max!
That was it. We were asked to leave the room whilst they chatted with our SW and voted. We retreated to the now perfectly acceptable glass fishbowl of a waiting room and waiting for the vote, Eurovision style.
Our SW appeared five minutes later to tell us that we had, of course, been approved by a unanimous vote. We were relieved. We didn't start dancing around the room or anything crazy but we felt relieved. It felt a bit odd though. We didn't really know how we were supposed to act or, in fact, what we were supposed to do next. Should we stand, say "thanks" to our SW and leave or should we sit, bask in the glory and soak it up for a while?
Well, this was answered quite quickly by the stream of panel members exiting the meeting room to get coffee, toilet breaks etc., each of whom came over and individually congratulated us, telling us that they were sure we'd make great parents.
That was it. All over. All approved. All happy.
Next step...finding a child. More on that later...gotta run...
Monday, 25 April 2011
Well, well, well...the report is finished
Ye of little faith, or should I say ME of little faith?! After a last minute dash to the line the report is complete. Who would have thought? Remembering that our SW 'lost' our applications forms and his child's stomach acid destroyed our meeting notes, nothing short of a herculean effort from all sides means the report was completed and submitted on time. Amazing.
Our final session with the SW was an interesting one - his manager had seen the report and corrected it with red pen. She's clearly one for grammatical detail, particularly surrounding the use of the comma, but we were reassured by the SW that he was "amazed there were so few mistakes" and that there were "normally lots more than that". Despite this he is "very good at writing reports" as it's "what he does and does well". Whatever.
I'm never sure whether SWs are just trying to make us feel better but he did say that we has a very strong application and, in his six years of writing assessments he's never seen such a strong case. Nice words, particularly if he means it.
He did add a cautionary note though - he feels we'll be inundated with child profiles and has urged us to think long and hard about each before making any decisions to proceed. He thinks we could easily select a child early on and miss out on a better option a little further down the line.
I suspect this is a problem for most couples post-approval. We've already discussed three children with him before approval so if that's anything to go by then there will be plenty of options. We're confident in our requirements though and will stick to our guns...until our hearts are melted by a particular profile.
Panel is set for 3rd May and we've "nothing to worry about". We're still nervous. Approval is a foregone conclusion and we know that. We've got to convince a panel of 12 people that we're well placed to adopt a child, a child that will thrive and develop and grow in our care. We know we can do that, but they don't know us.
The report reads well and there's nothing in there that we're worried about. Our SW has done a good selling job and it quite accurately portrays us and our life together.
From the very beginning we always said we would be totally open and honest about everything, there was no reason no to. Whatever decision the panel make will be the right one if it's based on the information that we've provided. If we're rejected then I may not feel the same way but there's been nothing to suggest we won't be approved and barring it all going belly up on the day we're quietly (is blogging quiet?) confident.
I'm rambling, I know. Must be the excitement, the fear, the trepidation, the known and the unknown. We're in a weird place right now where everything hangs in the balance. May 3rd can't come soon enough.
If nothing else happens before 3rd May then I hope the next post will be one of celebration and lots of exclamation marks.
Wish us luck...
Our final session with the SW was an interesting one - his manager had seen the report and corrected it with red pen. She's clearly one for grammatical detail, particularly surrounding the use of the comma, but we were reassured by the SW that he was "amazed there were so few mistakes" and that there were "normally lots more than that". Despite this he is "very good at writing reports" as it's "what he does and does well". Whatever.
I'm never sure whether SWs are just trying to make us feel better but he did say that we has a very strong application and, in his six years of writing assessments he's never seen such a strong case. Nice words, particularly if he means it.
He did add a cautionary note though - he feels we'll be inundated with child profiles and has urged us to think long and hard about each before making any decisions to proceed. He thinks we could easily select a child early on and miss out on a better option a little further down the line.
I suspect this is a problem for most couples post-approval. We've already discussed three children with him before approval so if that's anything to go by then there will be plenty of options. We're confident in our requirements though and will stick to our guns...until our hearts are melted by a particular profile.
Panel is set for 3rd May and we've "nothing to worry about". We're still nervous. Approval is a foregone conclusion and we know that. We've got to convince a panel of 12 people that we're well placed to adopt a child, a child that will thrive and develop and grow in our care. We know we can do that, but they don't know us.
The report reads well and there's nothing in there that we're worried about. Our SW has done a good selling job and it quite accurately portrays us and our life together.
From the very beginning we always said we would be totally open and honest about everything, there was no reason no to. Whatever decision the panel make will be the right one if it's based on the information that we've provided. If we're rejected then I may not feel the same way but there's been nothing to suggest we won't be approved and barring it all going belly up on the day we're quietly (is blogging quiet?) confident.
I'm rambling, I know. Must be the excitement, the fear, the trepidation, the known and the unknown. We're in a weird place right now where everything hangs in the balance. May 3rd can't come soon enough.
If nothing else happens before 3rd May then I hope the next post will be one of celebration and lots of exclamation marks.
Wish us luck...
Friday, 15 April 2011
Some people should not adopt!
There is nothing to say about this article but just be grateful they're not actually adopting!
Chaos, child vomit and lost paperwork
Unbef**kinglievable. Words can't express my anger and frustration but I'll try to enunciate.
Our social worker called on Tuesday and asked if he could come around on Wednesday evening. He then cancelled that and said he's come Thursday at 1930. Fine. Later than ever before, and a bit odd him coming in the evening. I should have known there was something wrong.
He said that he wanted to go through our Prospective Adopter Report and have a few questions to fill some gaps. Fine, there's a lot to go through when you're pulling two lives apart.
So, he turned up on time (tick) and we did the normal pleasantries - coffee and lemon drizzle cake - and then took our places on the sofas. All pretty normal so far. For no good reason I chose to sit in an armchair rather than the smaller sofa and I noticed the SW becoming agitated. Odd.
Then he says "Oh, erm, oh...er" and I ask him what's wrong. "Oh, it's just I wasn't expecting you to sit in that chair, you normally sit there on the other sofa." Yup...get me making decisions about where to sit in my own home. "Erm...and...er...it's just that I've got this huge hole in my trousers and I thought you wouldn't notice because you'd be sat where you normally sit". Seriously. Who needs to adopt when you have a SW who's enough of a child for all of us!
I duly moved back to my normal position and he settled down...to then tell us that he was "very, very sorry and feels very embarrassed" (more than the trouser hole - must be bad!) and that he'd "misplaced, not lost, misplaced some of our application forms and meeting notes". He "can't find" the 21 page application form with more than 100 questions about my life in it. He's "sure it's somewhere, probably in someone else's file" and has "definitely not lost it" and we must believe that he takes the security of our data very seriously...despite what he's just told us.
So, the upshot is that we have to spend three hours going over things we're previously talked about. We repeat dates, locations etc. for all house moves and school changes, we go over my employment history. All easy enough.
He's fortunately been able to type up many of his notes from his meetings with Max, it's just the majority of my stuff he's lost. Well, that's OK then. I try to reassure him that it's OK and that these things happen. He tells us we've still got one piece of info to give him and I tell him that us forgetting is the trade-off for him misplacing our forms.
He tells me "that's not the biggest trade off, but we'll get to that". Really? There's more?!
Yes there is. He's "very, very sorry and feels very embarrassed" (there's a theme developing) but most of the notes from my initial one-to-one meetings with him have "become damaged" and he only has fragments of them. Hmmm...how did they become damaged? "Well, this is very embarrassing and I'm very, very sorry, in fact I'm going to stop saying sorry, but my son got sick in my car and vomited on a pile of papers and they all became very soggy and I've had to throw them away".
Really? Really? You THREW AWAY the notes that you took in two meetings when I opened up my entire life to you? Threw. Them. Away.
We were both speechless. So he's got none of the answers to the 100 or so questions about my life, he's lost the family trees that we produced, the chronology forms that we completed and needs me to go over m life again to "fill the gaps"...and if we could do it by Monday morning that would be great because his report has to be completed for panel by Thursday in preparation for our meeting on 3rd May.
Apparently he's never missed a deadline yet. We got a different story from his colleague the other day and I'll be amazed if we make it. There seems like a lot to do.
The adoption system is not broken, it's people like this that slow things down and delay things. It's people like this that make people like us feel it's not worth the effort and that has a dramatic and negative impact on the children we're all trying to help. Shame on him for being this way.
On the plus side, we're apparently going to meet social workers for two children we've identified as potential matches although, at this stage, I find it hard to believe anything he says so we'll wait and see.
More soon...
Our social worker called on Tuesday and asked if he could come around on Wednesday evening. He then cancelled that and said he's come Thursday at 1930. Fine. Later than ever before, and a bit odd him coming in the evening. I should have known there was something wrong.
He said that he wanted to go through our Prospective Adopter Report and have a few questions to fill some gaps. Fine, there's a lot to go through when you're pulling two lives apart.
So, he turned up on time (tick) and we did the normal pleasantries - coffee and lemon drizzle cake - and then took our places on the sofas. All pretty normal so far. For no good reason I chose to sit in an armchair rather than the smaller sofa and I noticed the SW becoming agitated. Odd.
Then he says "Oh, erm, oh...er" and I ask him what's wrong. "Oh, it's just I wasn't expecting you to sit in that chair, you normally sit there on the other sofa." Yup...get me making decisions about where to sit in my own home. "Erm...and...er...it's just that I've got this huge hole in my trousers and I thought you wouldn't notice because you'd be sat where you normally sit". Seriously. Who needs to adopt when you have a SW who's enough of a child for all of us!
I duly moved back to my normal position and he settled down...to then tell us that he was "very, very sorry and feels very embarrassed" (more than the trouser hole - must be bad!) and that he'd "misplaced, not lost, misplaced some of our application forms and meeting notes". He "can't find" the 21 page application form with more than 100 questions about my life in it. He's "sure it's somewhere, probably in someone else's file" and has "definitely not lost it" and we must believe that he takes the security of our data very seriously...despite what he's just told us.
So, the upshot is that we have to spend three hours going over things we're previously talked about. We repeat dates, locations etc. for all house moves and school changes, we go over my employment history. All easy enough.
He's fortunately been able to type up many of his notes from his meetings with Max, it's just the majority of my stuff he's lost. Well, that's OK then. I try to reassure him that it's OK and that these things happen. He tells us we've still got one piece of info to give him and I tell him that us forgetting is the trade-off for him misplacing our forms.
He tells me "that's not the biggest trade off, but we'll get to that". Really? There's more?!
Yes there is. He's "very, very sorry and feels very embarrassed" (there's a theme developing) but most of the notes from my initial one-to-one meetings with him have "become damaged" and he only has fragments of them. Hmmm...how did they become damaged? "Well, this is very embarrassing and I'm very, very sorry, in fact I'm going to stop saying sorry, but my son got sick in my car and vomited on a pile of papers and they all became very soggy and I've had to throw them away".
Really? Really? You THREW AWAY the notes that you took in two meetings when I opened up my entire life to you? Threw. Them. Away.
We were both speechless. So he's got none of the answers to the 100 or so questions about my life, he's lost the family trees that we produced, the chronology forms that we completed and needs me to go over m life again to "fill the gaps"...and if we could do it by Monday morning that would be great because his report has to be completed for panel by Thursday in preparation for our meeting on 3rd May.
Apparently he's never missed a deadline yet. We got a different story from his colleague the other day and I'll be amazed if we make it. There seems like a lot to do.
The adoption system is not broken, it's people like this that slow things down and delay things. It's people like this that make people like us feel it's not worth the effort and that has a dramatic and negative impact on the children we're all trying to help. Shame on him for being this way.
On the plus side, we're apparently going to meet social workers for two children we've identified as potential matches although, at this stage, I find it hard to believe anything he says so we'll wait and see.
More soon...
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Time for a second opinion
Just back from almost three weeks in South Africa and I'd almost forgotten that we had arranged for another social worker to come for our 'second opinion' meeting today at 3pm. We were a little nervous because we'd been unaware this meeting was part of the process - it is for everyone, we're not special!
Anyway, the social worker arrived and we had a nice chat. She's quite direct and many people think she's a bit scary but we actually really like her - she's got loads of experience and really wants to help...even if she looks like she wants to beat you to a pulp and steal the wheels off your car on the way out.
It was a little awkward to start with because she's not been involved in our assessment until now so she's only read the Prospective Adoptive Parent (PAP) report, which our social worker hasn't actually completed yet...even though he should have done.
We talked about our lifestyle, our family situation and standard stuff about boy vs girl, why we'd chosen the age range we have and whether we'd considered the impact on our life going forward.
She said there wasn't much to talk about, really, as there are no major issues with any part of our application and she's confident that it will go through Approval Panel with no problems.
She's confirmed that she will support the approval of our application to the Panel, which is great news and confirms everything that our main social worker has said so far.
He's coming again on Thursday evening with the PAP report and a few final questions before we go to Approval Panel on 3rd May. Not long now!!!
Anyway, the social worker arrived and we had a nice chat. She's quite direct and many people think she's a bit scary but we actually really like her - she's got loads of experience and really wants to help...even if she looks like she wants to beat you to a pulp and steal the wheels off your car on the way out.
It was a little awkward to start with because she's not been involved in our assessment until now so she's only read the Prospective Adoptive Parent (PAP) report, which our social worker hasn't actually completed yet...even though he should have done.
We talked about our lifestyle, our family situation and standard stuff about boy vs girl, why we'd chosen the age range we have and whether we'd considered the impact on our life going forward.
She said there wasn't much to talk about, really, as there are no major issues with any part of our application and she's confident that it will go through Approval Panel with no problems.
She's confirmed that she will support the approval of our application to the Panel, which is great news and confirms everything that our main social worker has said so far.
He's coming again on Thursday evening with the PAP report and a few final questions before we go to Approval Panel on 3rd May. Not long now!!!
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Life is a rollercoaster!
I knew it had to come at some point. Everyone we've spoken to has said that you can't remain positive throughout the entire process. Believe me, we've tried, but there are times when it just seems a bit too much and we've been going through that difficult period for the past couple of months.
However, we're getting through it and we're still as committed as we were, even if we've been asking ourselves that question more often...every day if I'm honest. Really, there are so many challenges along the way that sometimes you take a step back and say "wouldn't it just be easier to forget all this crap and get a dog?!".
Since my last post (apologies for the intermittent musings) we've almost completed our home assessment sessions which have, on the whole, been enjoyable and positive. Of course, your life is laid bare for all to see during the process and the questioning and probing can seem intrusive and unreasonable but you have to be objective, understand why you're being asked the questions and answer them as honestly and openly as you can.
I remember one of the early sessions, before Christmas, when we were interviewed separately. I said that Max finds it hard to be without his family. He's Italian, he's used to feeling the warmth and love of a large family, big get-togethers, meals, family parties etc. He misses that with his family in different parts of the world. I said that he needed to know that everyone around him like him, loved him. Our social worker (I'll paint a picture of him later!) said "so he's neurotic?". No, he's not. He's sensitive, loving, caring and enjoys being around his family. "Oh, but I'd call that neurotic". Oh. I wouldn't. I'd call that being Italian.
Our social worker (SW) is an interesting guy. A divorced father of two who feels "robbed" by the fact that he can't carry and bear children. When he first visited he spilt coffee down his shirt and I didn't think anything of it. Offered him something to wipe it off with and carried on chatting. By the time he'd done the same thing in the following two sessions I got the impression it was a test so, even when he spilt some on the floor, I deliberately didn't make a fuss and carried on chatting about my life!
I'm not sure if it was a test but you get to the point where you think everything is designed to test your reaction. To be fair, he doesn't know me otherwise he would have given up trying to get a reaction by now!
We've had some great comments from him about how forward-thinking we are and how clearly committed we are to the process. We must be, we're almost two years in and there's no child on the horizon just yet...or is there?
I mentioned in my last post (4th December) that we'd identified a child at the Argos-like 'Parents for Children' evening. Well, we got tantalisingly close to meeting her SW...but got pipped to the post by a "heterosexual couple who were already approved by panel". Shame. It's all of a sudden become a competition - we knew it would be, but not quite yet.
However. We were told just after Christmas about another child who seemed to fit our criteria and appeared to be a potential match for us. We were told of her horrendous start in life and, whilst I can't go in to any detail, it is heartbreaking to hear it. Children are resilient but there must be a limit.
Anyway. This child appears to be perfect for us and our SW agrees. After a couple of false starts (literally - the first meeting was cancelled because her car broke down!), we were due to meet the child's social worker - an important meeting as you have to get them on your side, too - shortly before we went to approval panel on 8th March.
All was going well. We'd had medicals, the authorities had made all sorts of inquiries about our lives to relevant bodies and we'd submitted CRB (Criminal Records Bureau) checks. Then I get a phone call, out of the blue, from our SW.
He tells me that there's a "query" over my CRB check and whilst he doesn't know what it is, everything has to go on hold until it's resolved.
A CRB check is effectively a check of your police records to show any arrests, convinctions etc. I've never, ever been arrested or charged with an offence, other than some minor traffic offences which I'm told don't count. So, I spend a good hour wracking my brain trying to think what the problem might be.
Then I twig. My brother was convicted of a driving offence about 18 months ago. So, I call our SW and mention this to him, asking if it could be the problem as we're twins. He assures me that it won't be this. So now I'm really confused. Then he calls back to say "do you know what, it could be that".
Now I'm happier knowing that this is probably just an admin error and a misunderstanding, so I call the CRB and speak to a supervisor there, explaining the situation, hoping that they can resolve it. The simple result of a long conversation is that, no, they can't.
So, our SW tells me that he has to cancel our visit from the child's SW because, even though they think they know what the problem is, they can't be sure and, in reality, I could be an axe-wielding homocidal maniac for all they know, which of course I'm not. Let's be real. I've been absolutely and painfully honest about everything throughout the process so far, if they were going to find anything serious like this they would have found it before now.
Anyway. Not only do they cancel the meeting with the child's social worker but they also cancel our panel approval date and put it back two months to 3rd May. Now, I understand the reasons why they have to do this, I really do but, if I'm honest, it hit us both really hard. There were tears and anger, frustration and more anger. We got to the point where we both said, let's just call this off and stop putting ourselves through this.
I'm pleased to say that, despite that, we've come through it. I've done what the process calls for - I've sent photos to CRB, spoken to the Police on the phone for hours and I was fingerprinted by the Police last Thursday. Hopefully now they can prove that I'm not actually my twin brother, using a different name to avoid my criminal past catching up with me.
The fact that we have the same surname, date of birth and that we've shared some addresses in the past seems perfectly reasonable when you're a twin. It's a shame the law doesn't see it that way!
So, we're back on for approval panel on 3rd May and hoping that the CRB check is clear when they run it next week. They'll then send the clearance certificate to the local authority and, hopefully, our SW will start talking to us again rather than making me feel like a criminal. Which I'm not.
Given the reasons that children are removed from their parents and placed for adoption, the irony of ME being made to feel like a criminal is not lost on us!
I can honestly say that we've enjoyed the process and learned from it every step of the way...right up to this happening. This has made us realise that there's no guarantee we'll be approved by panel. We have always thought, as our friends have, that we would make great parents and great adopters. Things like this make you doubt that...even when you've done nothing wrong.
I'll leave you, for now, with the words of our SW as he was leaving our home following a three hour visit recently. "Oh, guys, just one more thing. Your medical reports have come back. You're both overweight. That's not a huge problem, but it's something to be careful of. I think you should probably eat less."
Our SW is about 250lbs!!!
More soon.
However, we're getting through it and we're still as committed as we were, even if we've been asking ourselves that question more often...every day if I'm honest. Really, there are so many challenges along the way that sometimes you take a step back and say "wouldn't it just be easier to forget all this crap and get a dog?!".
Since my last post (apologies for the intermittent musings) we've almost completed our home assessment sessions which have, on the whole, been enjoyable and positive. Of course, your life is laid bare for all to see during the process and the questioning and probing can seem intrusive and unreasonable but you have to be objective, understand why you're being asked the questions and answer them as honestly and openly as you can.
I remember one of the early sessions, before Christmas, when we were interviewed separately. I said that Max finds it hard to be without his family. He's Italian, he's used to feeling the warmth and love of a large family, big get-togethers, meals, family parties etc. He misses that with his family in different parts of the world. I said that he needed to know that everyone around him like him, loved him. Our social worker (I'll paint a picture of him later!) said "so he's neurotic?". No, he's not. He's sensitive, loving, caring and enjoys being around his family. "Oh, but I'd call that neurotic". Oh. I wouldn't. I'd call that being Italian.
Our social worker (SW) is an interesting guy. A divorced father of two who feels "robbed" by the fact that he can't carry and bear children. When he first visited he spilt coffee down his shirt and I didn't think anything of it. Offered him something to wipe it off with and carried on chatting. By the time he'd done the same thing in the following two sessions I got the impression it was a test so, even when he spilt some on the floor, I deliberately didn't make a fuss and carried on chatting about my life!
I'm not sure if it was a test but you get to the point where you think everything is designed to test your reaction. To be fair, he doesn't know me otherwise he would have given up trying to get a reaction by now!
We've had some great comments from him about how forward-thinking we are and how clearly committed we are to the process. We must be, we're almost two years in and there's no child on the horizon just yet...or is there?
I mentioned in my last post (4th December) that we'd identified a child at the Argos-like 'Parents for Children' evening. Well, we got tantalisingly close to meeting her SW...but got pipped to the post by a "heterosexual couple who were already approved by panel". Shame. It's all of a sudden become a competition - we knew it would be, but not quite yet.
However. We were told just after Christmas about another child who seemed to fit our criteria and appeared to be a potential match for us. We were told of her horrendous start in life and, whilst I can't go in to any detail, it is heartbreaking to hear it. Children are resilient but there must be a limit.
Anyway. This child appears to be perfect for us and our SW agrees. After a couple of false starts (literally - the first meeting was cancelled because her car broke down!), we were due to meet the child's social worker - an important meeting as you have to get them on your side, too - shortly before we went to approval panel on 8th March.
All was going well. We'd had medicals, the authorities had made all sorts of inquiries about our lives to relevant bodies and we'd submitted CRB (Criminal Records Bureau) checks. Then I get a phone call, out of the blue, from our SW.
He tells me that there's a "query" over my CRB check and whilst he doesn't know what it is, everything has to go on hold until it's resolved.
A CRB check is effectively a check of your police records to show any arrests, convinctions etc. I've never, ever been arrested or charged with an offence, other than some minor traffic offences which I'm told don't count. So, I spend a good hour wracking my brain trying to think what the problem might be.
Then I twig. My brother was convicted of a driving offence about 18 months ago. So, I call our SW and mention this to him, asking if it could be the problem as we're twins. He assures me that it won't be this. So now I'm really confused. Then he calls back to say "do you know what, it could be that".
Now I'm happier knowing that this is probably just an admin error and a misunderstanding, so I call the CRB and speak to a supervisor there, explaining the situation, hoping that they can resolve it. The simple result of a long conversation is that, no, they can't.
So, our SW tells me that he has to cancel our visit from the child's SW because, even though they think they know what the problem is, they can't be sure and, in reality, I could be an axe-wielding homocidal maniac for all they know, which of course I'm not. Let's be real. I've been absolutely and painfully honest about everything throughout the process so far, if they were going to find anything serious like this they would have found it before now.
Anyway. Not only do they cancel the meeting with the child's social worker but they also cancel our panel approval date and put it back two months to 3rd May. Now, I understand the reasons why they have to do this, I really do but, if I'm honest, it hit us both really hard. There were tears and anger, frustration and more anger. We got to the point where we both said, let's just call this off and stop putting ourselves through this.
I'm pleased to say that, despite that, we've come through it. I've done what the process calls for - I've sent photos to CRB, spoken to the Police on the phone for hours and I was fingerprinted by the Police last Thursday. Hopefully now they can prove that I'm not actually my twin brother, using a different name to avoid my criminal past catching up with me.
The fact that we have the same surname, date of birth and that we've shared some addresses in the past seems perfectly reasonable when you're a twin. It's a shame the law doesn't see it that way!
So, we're back on for approval panel on 3rd May and hoping that the CRB check is clear when they run it next week. They'll then send the clearance certificate to the local authority and, hopefully, our SW will start talking to us again rather than making me feel like a criminal. Which I'm not.
Given the reasons that children are removed from their parents and placed for adoption, the irony of ME being made to feel like a criminal is not lost on us!
I can honestly say that we've enjoyed the process and learned from it every step of the way...right up to this happening. This has made us realise that there's no guarantee we'll be approved by panel. We have always thought, as our friends have, that we would make great parents and great adopters. Things like this make you doubt that...even when you've done nothing wrong.
I'll leave you, for now, with the words of our SW as he was leaving our home following a three hour visit recently. "Oh, guys, just one more thing. Your medical reports have come back. You're both overweight. That's not a huge problem, but it's something to be careful of. I think you should probably eat less."
Our SW is about 250lbs!!!
More soon.
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