Letting go of social expectations
We wanted our adopted sons to have the most special first Christmas in our home, but it all went wrong. Here’s what we’ve learned…
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The children’s faces have been pixellated as per their fathers’ wishes. Read more about our ethos here
I’m not sure at what point we realised we had totally ballsed it up, but I remember looking into my son’s eyes after Christmas dinner as I attempted to calm him down for the umpteenth time that day, and feeling a wave of self-doubt and regret.
In our mission to accomplish the perfect Christmas, my partner Andrew and I had failed to put our sons in the heart of our decision making processes. James’ outward excitement disguised what his eyes had been telling me for the last five hours: he was worried, uncertain and tired.
That night, as we read the boys’ their bedtime story, James seemed momentarily unphased by all the dramas of the day, but I was not happy in our shortcomings as parents.
Starting a family
Adoption had always been always been our first choice for having a family together. Andrew and I shared a view that the world didn’t need any more children, but many existing children needed a home.
Stock image. Photo: Lareised Leneseur/ Unsplash
Our twin sons James and Ed moved in with us in the summer of 2018. Fast forward seven months and we were preparing for our first Christmas as a family of four. Andrew and I wanted it to be perfect and felt the pressure to make that happen. What ‘perfect’ meant, we didn’t know, but we thought we would feel it when amidst the flurry of planning and shopping, we had achieved it.
I think it’s accurate to say that most, if not all adoptive parents feel this need. The need to make everything perfect. Though Andrew and I will never know the full story of our children's past, the ins and outs, we do know Christmas and their birthdays lacked particular attention and were not really celebrated. It was an isolating experience for them and we wanted to change that for the better.
That’s partly why we made lots of plans for their first Christmas with us. Andrew and I decided to spend Christmas morning at ours, following by a trip to his parents later in the afternoon, before flying to Ireland on the 28th to spend New Year with my family. It would be busy, but idyllic - we thought - surrounded by all the people we loved and who loved us.
A perfect Christmas for our boys, spent with their forever family and getting to know their new relatives. The reality was stark. All they wanted to do was lounge around in their pyjamas, playing with their new toys in the house they were still adjusting to calling ‘home.’ Instead we spent long periods away in other people’s homes.
The boys with their Christmas Eve boxes. Photo: Damian Kerlin
The big day
Christmas morning came and James and Ed’s smiles when they came first, said it all. Their were only four and their eyes were round when they saw all the presents under the tree for them.
We thought they would spend the morning under a mounting of wrapping paper, but opening their presents took time - much longer than we expected - as they found all the excitement overwhelming. We realised they needed to stop for breaks to focus and explore what they had already opened, rather than blitzing through the presents in a continuous stream.
Even though we’d been up at 6:30am, we were still opening presents come 11:00am, and with Andrew’s parents planning dinner for 1:30pm, 40 minutes away, time was running away from us.
If you haven’t yet tried hurrying children to open their presents so you can get them showered and dressed…don’t. The tantrums which followed from already heightened emotions, tumbled down on us all, with wrapping paper thrown around in anger and frustrated screams filling our living room.
Regret
With each passing minute, the tension between Andrew and me grew as we tried to settle James and Ed, whilst keeping everything moving along. Why didn’t we get up earlier? Couldn’t dinner be pushed back?
Finally, we managed to get both boys washed and dressed, having promised them every treat possible. We hurriedly packed the car and once we began unpacking at Andrew’s parents, realised we’d only packed the new toys belonging to one of our boys.
Stock image. Photo: ConvertKit/ Unsplash
Once more, those feelings of tension started to rear their head, and I had to take the boys out of the living room and into the hallway in a bid to defuse another tantrum. This time, I took a Stretch Armstrong to the eye.
Thankfully, our traditional festive dinner was a delicious and welcome distraction, and naturally the after-dinner lull followed. Soon, the toys James and Ed had agreed to share became old news and they longed for the ones we had left at home.
They grew irritated, tired and started heckling one another. We knew they wouldn’t have a nap, as this was difficult enough to enforce in our home, so we gave in and let them play on our phones. We felt gutted that we had given in to screen time so early in the day, but with evening plans on the cards, we saw this as an opportunity for the boys to have some time out, rest and settle down.
That evening, Andrew’s sister hosted a Christmas party with the rest of the family present. Although the boys had met everyone before, having all 10 of their aunts, uncles and cousins in one place was both exciting and overwhelming. They skirted from person to person excitedly, not really engaging and as the only young children present, they had everyone's attention.
Crowded
The excitement, the emotion, the decorations, the presents, the chocolate, the noise, all-consuming and conflicting meant for more tantrums. They started to vie for the attention of those present with screaming or throwing things when no-one was looking.
Andrew and I tried to be the force of calm with a few drinks to sooth our nerves, but it didn’t bode well. We had differing ideas about discipline and approaches to take with the boys and as tension reached boiling point, we had an argument in the hallway.
Damian and Kerlin with their children on a busy festive day out. Photo: Damian Kerlin
That night, we got into bed exhausted, with the boys squished in between us. We hoped the day had tired them out, but no. Their bodies had just about given up, but their minds were racing. They spent the night tossing and turning, their elbows in our ribs, hands in our faces and we held them close, reassuring them into the early hours.
It was a relief to feel them their tiny bodies slowly calm down, comfortable enough to cuddle us back and whisper 'I love you' as they finally drifted off to sleep.
Reality versus expectation
It was in those final moments before sleep came that I ran everything through in my head and realised where we’d gone wrong. Our children, through no fault of their own, had been in three homes before the age of two. They are children whose worries of potentially being moved again brimmed to the surface whenever they were away from our home - their base.
In our excitement to plan Christmas activities and adventures, and our endless buying of presents, we forgot about the much needed routine and structure the boys needed. Set meal times, their 7pm bedtime, and the comfort of sleeping in their own beds. Our children had grown used to our home and being away from it so soon was having a detrimental impact on them.
Christmas had become all too much for our children, whose past trauma, house moves, neglect and inconsistent parenting, meant they were finding our idea of a perfect Christmas completely overwhelming.
Moving forward
Reeling from the season, Andrew and I agreed that the next Christmas, the same thing wouldn’t happen again. There was a feeling that because we had spent Christmas with Andrew’s parents, we would spend the following Christmas with mine, so on and so forth till the end of time. I thought, absolutely not!
By the end of January 2019, I’d rung my mum and informed her that Christmas from this day on for our family of four would be spent in our own home, with an open-door policy for loved ones to visit. But that would be the extend of our socialising.
That Christmas, we did just that, spending a lovely few days at home just the four of us, seeing family on boxing day. We began prepping them with information about our scaled back plans as far ahead as November.
Damian and Andrew with their sons, ready for a Christmas day swim. Photo: Damian Kerlin
We had Christmas Eve boxes, so the boys could open some presents the day before and avoid that awful sense of overwhelm on the day and went for a swim in the sea when the mood struck us.
This year, the day’s pace will be led by what the boys need. Be it a nice walk in the park, or hours spent sitting in our pyjamas and only moving to get a drink or open another box of chocolates.
Tradition and social expectation is something we have binned. We tried what we thought we ought to be doing instead of what we knew we should be doing and it backfired. Now, we’re setting our own parameters for Christmas and there are no hushed hallway arguments between Andrew and I, no tantrums or meltdown from the boys, and no Stretch Armstrongs to the eye either… it’s a winner all around.
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