We have been away. Just your last minute, run of the mill quick getaway. To America. It took us 2 travel days and we were there 6 full days. It was to meet these two:
but more on that to come.
Long-haul travelling at 24 weeks pregnant is not to be scoffed at, but it’s hard to call the look anything other than scoffing as I passed fellow jet-setters in the airport with my emerging bump and toddler in tow. People stared. Especially middle-aged women type people. Sure they could have been admiring the miniature-sized Thomas backpack I had stylishly slung over my shoulder, but I think it was the bump. And I was never sure if it was a look of concern or of judgement.
I often underestimate how your body really does demand more of you when you’re pregnant (especially my back, legs and digestive tract). When travelling in the past, I normally adjust to new timezones quickly, but this time, at 24 weeks pregnant, 12.30pm would roll around and I’d feel like I was dying. On my feet. Dead. Sleep or die. SLEEP or DIE. I could not shake the tiredness.
And after adjusting to that 5 hour time difference – oh – like ONE DAY before left, we are now 2 days on from our arrival home and our bodies are struggling to swing back to British Summer Time. This means the Duchess is raring to go at 1am and I am back at work tomorrow. And oh.my.gosh I am actually going to die. At work.
Last night when the awake-ness struck, I thought I’d try to get her to softly sing songs to lull her back to sleep.
Me: Do you want to sing a song?
TD: Yes please, Mummy.
Me: What would you like to sing?
TD: 5 Currant Buns.
I think that is a British song. Do you sing it with Granny? Mummy doesn’t know it. How about another one?
TD: (Indecipherable…I think it was something about bananas.)
Me: Hmmm. Don’t know that one either.
TD: Wheels on the Bus? Mummy, you KNOW that one. You know that one!
Me: Hey, thanks for being patronising. I do know it. And I am going to sing the poo out of it. That bus will be taken to places it’s never dreamed. The WORLD will be talking about that bus.
Call it American competitiveness, but that’s when the plan back-fired because in the haze of jetlag, I was about to show her that Mummy may not know 5 Currant Buns or a good banana song, but she could take that bus to a higher plain.