Ha! How melodramatic is that? Couldn’t resist that title, think I’ve always been partial to a bit of that film noir looking into middle distance business. Technically it is true. By the time you read this I will be on a plane flying to the other side of the world. Possibly stepping out onto that other side. Hey; perhaps it’s your side of the world. Hello.
This past week has hosted a calamity of chores getting ready for our holiday. Plus my in-laws were visiting and we all got sick. I got (correct verb?) insomnia. Matt had a thousand loose ends to tie up at work. We had to buy a new suitcase and bits to entertain the kids. A dozen first world problems for you to roll your eyes at. Not to worry, none of it tempered my labrador-esque enthusiasm. I can’t tell you how ready/not ready I am for this trip. Not ready in the sense that I have no idea how we are going to manage with the kids for an insanely long series of flights, unsure I’ve packed the right things, worried I haven’t booked enough dinners and activities, worried my accommodation bookings are not actually booked, convinced something important will be lost or broken or stolen or dropped in the gap between the train and the platform. But also ready, so ready, for a holiday and an adventure and some sun and the trip of a lifetime.
For a person who loves to travel, someone who has referred to themselves as a nomad, I am a pretty nervous traveller. I am not cool and calm. I’m jumpy and moody and tend to forget important details due to the stress hormones flooding my brain. My Dad very recently asked me exactly when our flights are. Good question. Well? Morning? Night? More good questions, Dad (I had no idea). When I travel I stupidly, consciously, leave lots of things to the last minute as if I’m unsure the trip is really, really going to happen and, of course, cannot sleep for nights before. Tired, highly strung, forgetful and excitable. All good indicators for successful travelling with small children.
I’ll confess to you here: I tried to convince Matt to cancel this trip after we’d booked the flights. The logistics were overwhelming me. I thought we were being crazy. Two little kids? Europe? All that effort / money / time / organization? Truth – I didn’t think I deserved the trip. I don’t quite know how to explain that last bit except trust that you too sometimes have those same feelings. About not deserving good stuff. Especially stuff that requires a bit of effort but that will ultimately end in reward. Like – oh, it’s too hard, I actually kind of suck, give it to someone else. Things you are secretly passionate about. Things that make you scared and excited at the same time.
By the time you read this you’ll know we didn’t cancel the trip. That Matt didn’t so much gently encourage me as baulk and remind me we’d already paid for the flights (+ delivering me a little “keep the crazy in check, lady”). You’ll know that I gave up on the deserving/not deserving debate; it goes nowhere and helps no-one. You will know that we are in the middle of surviving toddler travel tantrums and jetlag and a full change of clothes from someone’s wees/poos/vomit. That we are about to walk (stumble) out of an airport, stepping onto a country none of us have ever been to before. Hearing a new language. Smelling new smells. Tasting new tastes. Three weeks of adventure, European sunshine, surprises, mishaps, and new. So much new.
You will be hearing from me.