They were removed from their mother abruptly after a long string of awful boyfriend choices and drug choices.
They arrived with 5hrs notice a big solicitors bill and no plan other than to keep them loved and safe.
I absolutely adore them. It is however the hardest thing (emotionally and physically and just everything) I've ever done. I don't know how my boyfriend and I have survived but what we are doing has never been questioned and always felt entirely right in my soul (I sound like a hippie)
I do feel that I don't know what my role is though as they have a mother (however awful) who I constantly have to be positive about (we even send letters and gift packages, mothers day was a bit of a killer but they have no clue what she is like as have been very sheltered from it) she insists on calling daily and criticising me, how I treat them ....you treat them as your own being her primary line. I don't point out it would probably be worse that I treat them as space invaders and with resentment and or treat them like she did and hang out in crack dens, because that's just not mature on my part, so I smile and grin and bare it.
I think the hardest thing is thay I will never be their mum, But do the job....I think. I also don't really want , if I'm honest, to have my own. I'm in my mid thirties this is such hard work, now is not the right time to throw a newborn into the mix, and I don't want to have a baby in my late thirties. I also never want to change a nappy again 😂
It's all so weird. I thought if I ever had kids they would be mine, and I would have a family who were perfectly in tune, like the modern day Von Trapps, although wearing Boden and the White Company instead of curtains. Now I'm just thankful it's still raining so the h&m t shirt is in the tumble and looks like it has been ironed once, and the kids and I and my OH leave the house at the same time and without any tears tantrums or toilet incidents. 😆