I’d love to say it’s been mostly great. But it has been two really long weeks.
“Housewife’s holiday?” yelled a cheeky retiree outside the toilet block today, as I was frantically rounding up the kids.
Holiday indeed. Some days I think I need a holiday from this holiday.
But travelling wiith 21-month-old twins is pure masochism.
Double the trouble to rescue from the wheels of reversing grey nomads.
The outback roads are endless and dusty.
The twins in unison: “Out, out, outside…”
”Me: “Look an emu. Look a kangaroo. Look some sheepies, baaaa. Can you see the elephant? I just saw him. Look out the window, quick, if you keep quiet you’ll see him too…
Let’s sing Twinkle, Twinkle? No, I’d prefer to bang my head in the dirt than sing The Wheels on the Bus one more time.
Okay, okay, I’ll sing it. Just please don’t whinge anymore.“
There is no personal space (even less than usual if that’s possible?), doing laundry is an accomplishment, and you seem to spend your life grocery shopping in overpriced supermarkets only to come “home” with mangy, bruised apples and “100% beef” sausages that are full of carrot and breadcrumbs.
But the tiny things make it worth it: the pink sunsets, the starry skies, when the kids are happy collecting rocks by the side of the road, when there is a cold beer with dinner, when we discover amazing people in unexpected places, when I get handed a freshly brewed coffee in the morning, (and the kids leave me alone for 5 minutes to drink it) and when we wake up and there is nothing that needs fixing on our 1960’s Airstream!