In Australia, at my parent’s house. Finally, more than a week after landing, this trip is starting to make sense.
Prior to now there was just being squished into my seat on a full plane next to scruffy teen headed to Thailand for a surfing holiday who clearly relished my son’s wiggling and screaming for most of the 1.5 hour flight (almost as much as he relished the fact that during the five minutes when Dominic actually got quiet – 20 minutes before landing and right after they put the fasten seatbelt sign on – Baby Ratbag deposited a giant poo in his diaper).
And then there was almost missing the flight to Sydney because of the delay landing from Vientiane, and a loooooong powerwalk through Bangkok airport carrying smelly Baby Ratbag and dragging my hand luggage.
And then a broken change table, resulting in an ignominious and messy diaper change on the tiled floor of the gate lounge.
And a sick, teething, over-stimulated and overwhelmed baby who woke up screaming about every 1.5 hours the first five nights we were here, even when he was sharing my bed.
And a sick mama.
I could go on, but I won’t. Suffice to say I’ve been delighted to cross paths with a couple of friends in Sydney and Canberra and I’m grateful to my parents and some aunts and uncles who facilitated the logistics of the front end of the trip. But …
Oh. My. Word.
People. Traveling with a baby is Hard. Work.
But now we have traveled. And we are here. And it’s cool and quiet. The African Tulip trees are blooming in a scarlet riot. Wallabies keep invading the yard and I carry Dominic over to the window or out on the lawn to watch them hop around. He points and looks confused and giggles, which I understand because, really, they are perfectly ridiculous animals. I listen to Dominic shriek with laughter while he’s playing with my parents and being here makes more sense.
Tomorrow I’ll post the winner of the launch giveaway – the launch is going well, by the way. I’ve been thrilled and humbled by some of the things people have said and written about the book. Later this week I’ll put up a writing-related post I started working on before we left Laos. But for now, I think I hear some ice cream calling my name.
Dominic and the bloodwood tree we planted to commemorate his birth.
He’s winning this growth race, hands down.
He’s got a way to go to catch the Illawarra Flame tree now, though: