We're moving in one week to South
Africa. Whereas once upon a time a move meant booking a ticket,
packing a couple of bags, making sure you had somewhere to stay for
the first few nights and possibly some transport from the airport,
now it is a rather different enterprise. Moving with two small
children it seems is not quite so simple. Moving now requires a whole
month of boring admin – especially when most of your stuff is stuck
in the middle of a revolution. Then there is the detailed planning
for the actual flight. They say that if you breastfeed a baby, flying
is simple. Not so in my case. My baby, who is very mild mannered in
almost every way, has two hang-ups – he will not feed unless it is
dark and there is no noise, and neither will he sleep unless those
conditions are met. My experience tells me that darkness and
quietness may be hard to come by. Particularly with a lively two year
old by your side. So as I prepare for what will certainly involve
long stretches sitting underneath a blanket with my baby screaming in
my ear (meanwhile hoping my 2 year old has not gone awol), I remember
those days where the most I had to contend with was a bad movie and a
fat person taking up more seat than they paid for. I did not know I
was born.
However, it is not all bad. There is no
longer any boredom involved in flying. And perhaps because of the
sweat, milk stains and tears, I reckon it makes you a better person
in the end (although I don't promise to give any sign of this as I go
through it). Looking after small kids has definitely made me more
likely to: talk to people I don't know; carry heavy things for people
who are struggling; and give up my seat on a train. I wish I could
say the same for the deep tiredness it leaves you with...
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