Back from a road trip that took us deep into country NSW for a wedding, and deep into the hell of sharing a hotel room with two excitable toddlers. I feel like I've been away for a month. I'm out of touch with blogland, buried in dirty washing and my body is groaning from all the driving.
Staying with two small children in a hotel room is not relaxing. A 'family suite' with 'built-in-spa' means an L-shaped room and a grimy, triangular bath. It may have been the height of luxury in 1984, but somehow, Keith and I didn't feel the urge to squeeze in together with some coconut bubbles and a bottle of Lindemans and toast the town of Dubbo. Also, the 'family suite' can suck balls. Toddlers do not recognise the authority of the invisible wall, so 'L-shape' just meant bedtime was a total nightmare. (Although Ivy never had so much bed-jumping fun in her little life.)
Ted, who is approaching two with increasing force of personality, was like a hurricane on legs. He runs, constantly. He is unstoppable. Used to a composting toilet, he found the water version in our hotel bathroom fascinating, and spent most of his time splashing his hands in it furiously. When dragged from the toilet, he was delighted by the toddler-sized fridge, and over and over, opened it, took out the butter, presented it to me and announced 'Bah!'
He's teething, and has diarreah.
Did I mention we all lived in one room?
Before we left for the wedding, he threw his head back and spilt my lip open. It still stings.The wedding on a cotton farm in central NSW was beautiful, but Teddy farted loudly during the ceremony. Long, groaning farts with a sqeak at the end. He used them to punctuate the vows, and to emphasise the final prayer. 'Amen, said the priest, and 'amen', murmered the congregation, and 'brraaaaaaaaaaarp!' announced Ted. The three rows nearest were shaking with laughter and the bride and groom both heard his commentary.
Apologies all around. Luckily for Ted, he is adorable with the equal impact that he is destructive.
Anyhoo, we are home, I am looking forward to getting some tough-love displine back in action, staying out of the car, boycotting McCafe (what else is a caffeine addict on holiday to do?) , catching up with my correspondence, putting the house in order and preparing to winter with a barbarian toddler.
Despite the headache, and the backache, and the incredible amount of mess we generated (basically we drove home in a recyling bin), Keith and I spent hours of the drive wondering how we could take 12 months off and drive the family around Australia.