Brave to be home

Once again, several of you called me brave while I was in Oz. Brave for flying halfway around the world with two little kids, brave for being a single mum for a month.

Honestly though, compared to being home alone with the kids today, the trip was easy peesy.

Four hours sleep during a 24-hour journey? Fine. Lukan throwing up copiously on the plane to Sydney? Fine. Lukan just being Lukan on the plane? Fine. A sick, clingy, whiny Lukan for 2 weeks? Fine. Lukan waking me at 5 most mornings? Fine.

Yes, it was all fine because even though I was tired, we were never alone. With new toys to examine, playmates each day and fun excursions, Téo did not constantly demand my attention. And being in other people's homes meant I didn't really have to do anything. I helped when I could, but it wasn't me planning the meals, doing the shopping, or cooking. I wasn't working. I didn't have a house to keep tidy. I didn't even completely look after my own washing.

Today I had to do all these things (except work, that starts tomorrow). Lukan was sick. Téo nagged nonstop for me to play with him. Fusses were kicked up. We were all up at 5 thanks to Lukan... and my goodness does the day drag when you're up that early, it's grey and chilly outside, and you have no adult company. Oddly, tolerance to bedtime screaming also becomes severely diminished.

C is away from tomorrow morning until midnight Friday. I'm thinking I should have stayed in Sydney for another week...