Look Nigel! An adopted child.

Look Nigel! An adopted child.

Something that’s always slightly fascinated me since bringing Nemo home is the sheer look of shock on peoples faces when they realise he’s exactly what it says on the tin . . . A child. The gasps of “but he’s so beautiful” ” but he’s so clever” and the good old fashioned “I just can’t believe he was up for adoption” never ceases to amaze me. What were you expecting an extra head? Third eye? A sodding tail??

What does an adopted child look like exactly? What ‘Type’ of child did you expect to be ‘up for adoption’ * I hate that phrase ‘ He’s not a bloody e-bay listing. Can we just STOP saying that please. Thank you. Whilst I’m on the topic; What does an abused child look like? SCENE; A beautiful summers day, Nemo’s on a very strict bug hunting schedule. ENTER; The Gossip Hunter. “He looks so happy! Nothing serious must have happened to him. He can’t have been abused or anything?” * I hope you all feel as sick as I did right now.

Someone crippled with anxiety, depression, infertile? What do they all look like? Is there some art gallery somewhere I’m unaware of? It’s 2020, I thought we didn’t do labels? Yet I’ve found as soon as some people discover he’s adopted they start looking for one. He’s just a child. Like any other, he loves dinosaurs, jumping in puddles and eating cereal out of the box. He’s. Just. A. Child. A bloody wonderful one at that.

  • Top Tip; Start thinking of some spectacularly good come back answers to these questions now. There’s nothing more infuriating than pacing up and down your kitchen afterwards imagining all the brilliantly eloquent, passively aggressive things you should have said. You want to be able to suck it to them right there and then. If I had my time again I would have said something along the lines of; ” Seen as you’re open to such personal conversation starters, do tell me about your latest bowel movement. Did you wipe from front to back?”
Step into my office

Step into my office

“Is there some reason my coffee isn’t here? Has she died or something”

The Devil Wears Prada



You can’t have a baby; You throw yourself into your job. 

You get promoted

You get promoted 

You buy another handbag 

Five years down the line, you’re still throwing yourself into your work because it’s better than throwing yourself anywhere else.

Payroll Sharon is telling everyone ‘you’re a hard faced cow, who doesn’t like kids and just wants to expand her collection of expensive shoes and bags. ‘   (less gossiping, more focus on the accuracy of my pay packet please Sharon.) Time. is. money. Actually, whilst i’m on this topic can we;

STOP MEASURING WOMEN’S SOCIETY CONTRIBUTION LEVELS BY HOW OFTEN THEY PRO-CREATE!!!

Because you could argue  (Sharon) that these women are selflessly allowing your gene pool to benefit by not adding to the increasingly, overly- populated planet. (Hi Greta, HUGE fan instagram.com/notafictionalmum)

Could.Argue. My belief; You get one life, that’s a fucking privilege. You must do whatever it is YOU want to do.  

I can remember the early days, the fun ‘trying for baby days‘ when you didn’t have to set an alarm by it or threaten your husband to get back to the house within the next 30 minutes ready for duty OR. ELSE!!!!  I remember taking a promotion during these days, turning to NFD saying;  *And I quote; “Yea, i’ll take it. Will only be about a year before I’m pregnant anyway, the extra money will come in handy for all the baby stuff.”

Let me tell you; the only thing that money came in handy for was fertility bills followed by holidays to soften every blow. 

The only part that shames me about  this period in my life, was that I used to sodding well go along with it!!!! Somehow, it became easier to play along than tell anyone the truth. I was living such a lie. Secretly, I was in so much pain. I’d actually lost my voice, my real voice. I know what you’re thinking;  ” She’s got no problem finding it now.” 

I went into work the day after Mother’s day.

The day prior to this, I’d miscarried.

A colleague turned to me and said; ” She’s not interested in hearing about what people got up too with their kids at the weekend, she’s practically allergic to them” 

I laughed. 

I cried. 

I Cried. 

I Cried. 

*For the rest of my days, nothing will top watching payroll Sharon’s face when I waltzed on in explaining I would be off on Adoption leave by the end of the week.

Drop. The. Mic.

*Payroll Sharon is a fictional character based on . . . .someone else.