When 5am becomes a sleep in

I have many reservations about writing this piece. I fully appreciate how self-indulgent this whinge might be. But given that one of the main purposes of this blog is therapy for me, then it is a must. Especially as I am now hundreds of kilometers from my wonderful friends who normally listen to this kind of rubbish.

There should be another word for travelling with children. Holiday is far too misleading. And like everything with small people, it’s still wonderful, it just takes a sling shot back into reality to realise what you really signed up for. I do love travelling, maybe even a bit more than holidaying. I have more often than not, spent my time away visiting places, people, indulging in local food and culture and rubber necking. I do love lying by a pool, but I also like the feeling of going to a few places in one trip, plus it gives you and your partner something to talk about!

This adventure is most certainly travelling. It is planning, exploring, investigating, visiting and doing. It is not relaxing, in any way. In fact, it is tiring. But that’s okay, (like I said, bad problem to have being on the road for a couple of months with your kids!) I just need to readjust my headspace a bit. I need to remind myself that this was never intended to be a book reading, beach lying, sun-baking, coffee shop experiencing trip. This was always going to be, and absolutely should be, about playgrounds, takeaway coffee, surfing, kid friendly beaches and fun stuff to do. It is intended to be a change of scene, not life. And at their age, I do think it should be all about the kids, and the surf.

It took me a few days to stop being pissed off that I had still not eaten a meal sitting down, or not cooked one for that matter. That I still had to do loads of washing, constantly negotiate with a wild child and baby proof surroundings. And I am still adjusting to the ridiculous wake up time of somewhere between 4 and 5 every day. This hurts. And as I have said before, not only at that stupid, dark, many-hours-till-sunrise hour, but all day. In fact, I got to meet someone I’d hoped I’d never meet. Some of my friends know him well; that bastard Anxiety. I would find myself short of breath, panicking and this feeling of dread would creep up when I remembered that even when I went to bed tonight, (at 7.30), this would still happen tomorrow. I would worry one of us would be in the car again the next morning, driving them hours up the highway hoping they go back to sleep again. I would worry about being in a camp park with two small children screaming well before dawn. I would worry about what it means for their development all this lack of sleep, or their behaviour by the afternoon, especially when the wild child will not even have a rest during the day.

But now I am becoming accepting of it. Sure, I can’t write very often because I am in ┬ábed at night when they are. And yes there are a few more fights, and even some tears from me, when I get a bit too overwhelmed by it all. But the positives are that at least there was no-one at the hospital at 7am the other morning when we had to take Gordo in with chronic tonsilitis. And that we get to see the sunrise. And that where we are at the moment there are no neighbours. And that unlike one of my dearest friends who has put up with this for months, my kids might cut it out when we get somewhere and they don’t have to share a room.

So now I have my head around it, my body clock around it and can keep myself awake for an extra few minutes to write this, it isn’t so bad. The days are wonderful. We have sun, surf, lots to do, and really we have each other, which is the whole point of this anyway. There could be much, much worse things than waking up to the sound of your two boys laughing at each other, even if it is the middle of the night. And we didn’t need to travel up the coast to find that out, but it sure is a nice way to do it.

 

 

 



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