Packhorse

I have just unpacked the last bag from our weekend trip to Sydney.  We went down to visit The Architect who is down there for work at the moment.  It was such a nice, whirlwind visit but I am tired.  We packed Taronga Zoo, breakfast with friends, Surry Hills Markets, Luna Park, Darling Harbour and a catch-up with my cousin into the weekend.   I’m so tired I almost feel dizzy.  And!  This is my first time traveling on my own with the two chilluns.

I know girlfriends who do long-haul trips with two or more children on their own.  I know they do it with the aplomb of a veteran.  This is mainly assisted by them residing overseas, meaning regular visits back home to Oz (and these visits are often on their own with the kids).  I always applaud their efforts, which they shrug off with the ‘it’s no big deal’ attitude that only somebody who does this regularly can possess.

I used to sit in awe of them, secretly assuming that I will never, ever be in that position.  With my myopic vision, I thought there wouldn’t ever be a time that I would travel with the children sans The Architect.  So imagine my surprise when I found myself in just such a position.   The Architect is currently down in Sydney working, so we flew down this weekend to visit him.

I worried about Little Warrior.  I worried about his current stage of screaming and throwing things.  I worried about how I would discipline him and keep him quiet on a plane surrounded by strangers.  And most of all, I worried about how I was going to carry all the in-flight entertainment we would be BYO’ing.  The ticket was for hand luggage only, so you can see my dilemma.  DVD players, iPads, bento boxes full of snacks, asthma medication, drink bottles, toys, surprise presents (in anticipation of breakdowns), Chupa Chups, jelly beans.

The. Works.

When there’s two adults to share the carrying duties, it doesn’t feel like much.  But with just me, I ended up sharing the love with the two children.  I loaded their hand-luggage up with their entertainment, food and drink.  And despite doing this – my handbag still looked like it was nine months pregnant with triplets.  But I did it, and it all went (relatively) well.  The only downside I would say, was boarding from the tarmac.  With two little ones, three pieces of luggage and schlepping all this down stairs, across the tarmac and then back up again, success hinged on whether Little Warrior would walk on his own.  The first time he did it.  The second time he refused, which resulted in my walking like Quasimodo carrying/dragging two pieces of luggage in one hand and my bulging handbag and a 13kg child on the other arm.  Polynesian Princess, God love her, dutifully pulled her luggage and carried her little handbag.  She’s a good one…

And so tonight I will pour myself a congratulatory drink and then, this packhorse is packing it in and calling it a night.

Until next time peeps...

xx