THEY'RE HERE

 They've arrived.

Been here 48 hours.

Mum and baby. 

Would have filled you in earlier, but Parent and Child (P+C) is wall to wall.

They're asleep, it's 1.00am as I write.

She's called Parisa, late teens, baby is named Brax, three months.

My role is to observe and advise, in that order. And, obviously, ensure Brax's safety.

It means being close to them in our home at almost all times. Day and night there's a camera focussed on Brax's cot and I carry the tiny monitor that's paired with it day and night.

I have to keep a meticulous record of everything I see.

I've been specially coached by Blue Sky how to record everything on a special P+C form.

The key is to be objective rather than subjective.

My Blue Sky social worker got back to me after I filed my report for Day One and advised;

"You know that bit where you say Parisa heard Blax waking up and was happy to go to him and lift him out of his cot.."

Me; "I remember."

SW: "The judge could ask you 'How did you know she was happy?"

Me; "Ah. I see."

SW; "So, what led you to believe she was happy?"

Me; "Well, Parisa smiled. And said 'hello darling' in a soft voice, lifted him up with care and cuddled him."

SW; "That's what you report. The facts."

A penny dropped. Well, two pennies actually.

Penny One: The court doesn't want my opinion, it wants the facts."

Penny Two: What I'm doing in P+C is observing the parenting and recording it so a court can decide whether the Parent can retain the Child. If Yes the Local Authority investigates a permanent placement for the pair. If No the Child goes into care, possibly adoption. The Parent goes their separate way.

Big responsibility, but made easier by knowing my opinion doesn't count. All I'm doing in passing on an accurate record of things that actually happened.

And so, you ask, what sort of things are happening?

Well, mostly meetings! Our house is a meeting house. Parisa has her own social worker, Blax has another. They both visited on Day One. My Blue Sky social worker was all over everything. Blue Sky's P+C officer is in the loop. We've had not one but two virtual pow-wows with half-a-dozen professionals, some of whose roles I only partially grasped, but they have a part to play.

Even Parisa's mother showed up on a quarter screen during one such gathering.

I'm OK to give my opinion here;

I'm afraid I'd describe her as rather stony, hair pulled back flat on her head, grey skin like you often see in smokers. Unable to look at us, hardly spoke.

Didn't say Hello to her daughter, who was in attendance and on-screen.

Or Goodbye to her when we wound up.

I'll finish with this titbit; Parisa's Local Authority had to send a van to collect her stuff and bring it to our house.

I expected a wee driver and a runaround van. Then this thing I can only describe as a truck pulled up and two big fellas started unloading.

When they'd done we had bags in the hall, in the kitchen and in the living room.

I counted them; thirty six full-size bags of stuff.

Of the bags, thirty were black bin liners.

Not like dear old Blue Sky; they have a huge stash of proper suitcases, believing as they do that no child should ever see their life in a bin liner. Perisa's Local Authority hadn't caught up with that caring protocol yet.

Mind, thirty six!

Not sure if the Blue Sky luggage storage might have been stretched.

Might have been a case of "Dividends all round!" for Samsonite shareholders...