Finally......

Woo hoo, we are in....  Finally after 5 months of living out of suitcases and turning my sister’s life and house upside down we are finally in our own place.  Okay, perhaps at this stage it is more the banks then ours but nonetheless we now have a place to call home.

All our stuff survived the boat trip out from the UK, all 202 boxes with nothing broken or damaged.  It is utterly amazing how much junk you accumulate and then pay to get shipped across the other side of the world!  Of course there has to be a reason why the broken laptop made its way out here!  Or why the movers thought we would want the broken door handles from our old kitchen or keys to the back door?  Then there are the heavy duty winter coats and boots we have.  Not really needed where the average winter temperature in this city is 11 degrees (Celsius).  We could make use of them and go skiing but since I have a pure hatred of snow brought on by the last five winters in London I don’t think that will be happening any time sort.  Mr P is yet to explain why he thought we would need the snow shovel and sled!

Also I am absolutely sure I cleaned everything before we left but apparently the yoghurt stains on the sofas (don’t worry they are leather) have proven me to be a lair.  The only thing that seems to be missing is a broom and feather duster but I can and have lived without them before.  The boys are ecstatic of course to have all their toys, not to mention their own bedrooms again.

Some things are a bit weird, like seeing all our furniture from London in totally new surroundings.  Going to redial a number on our phone and seeing all our London friends’ numbers or the number to our old local Chinese.  Where once I would be typing this and looking out at a magnolia tree in full spring bloom I am now looking out at palm trees and listening to the noisy sound of cicadas.  It may sound tropical but it is still suburbia... 

I still do not have the settled feeling and still have many decisions to make for myself but at least now I can do it knowing we have a place of our own and that the boys are happy. 

I still wish that we had settled back in Wellington not Auckland as that is where we are from but hey shit happens.  As they say “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”, we were lucky enough to get out here as quick as we did with a job for Mr P. 

So chin chin, here’s to the next 10 or so years in Auckland.  Lets hope they are as good to us as the years in London were...

My Hellish Trip..

I noticed that for this month’s BMB Carnival over at Me, the Man & The Baby the theme is “Travelling with kids”.  So as I have done a fair bit of travelling I thought I would rack my brains for something to share with you.  So this is all about my hellish trip from 2009. 

In August that year we got the opportunity to go back to NZ.  We thought we would take it especially as Son No 2 was only 4 months old at the time so it would be a chance for the family to meet him.  The trip out was pretty uneventful, just the usual bother that flying long haul with children brings.  We finally got to Wellington without the loss of any toys, luggage, and children and thankfully our sanity still intact.

For the 3 weeks we were there I had what I thought was a really bad head cold.  I was taking a lot of cold and flu tables had a permanent high temperature, a hacking cough with night sweats thrown in for good measure.  But typically like any mum I just got on with it.  Well you do don’t you?  We had people to see and places to go plus the boys needed to be looked after.  Mr P was even thoughtful enough to go and visit friends for a couple of nights since it was only a cold!

Because I couldn’t shift it I decided I should go to the doctors as I didn’t really want to travel feeling like, well ‘shit’ to be honest.  The doctor wasn’t impressed that I had left it so long especially as I had travelled from the UK where there was the big swine flu outbreak!  Remember that?  He sent me off for chest x-rays and blood tests and it turned out I had ‘Pneumonia’ and advised against travelling back to the UK until it was all cleared.

So after lengthy and somewhat heated “discussions” with Mr P it was decided that he would go back with Son No 1 and I will travel back a week later with Son No 2.  A week later I was given the all clear to fly and that is when the fun really began.

You hear these fantastic stories of people travelling alone with children and the help you get.  Well that certainly didn’t happen for me.  I had a 5 month old who liked to have a cry before settling to sleep, which is okay when he is in his cot, with his door closed, but on a plane full of people staring at you it’s not.  So I had to hold him for the majority of the flights.  The air hostesses were less then helpful considering I was flying with an airline that is supposed to be the “friendliest in the sky”.  I had one offer of help and that is when I boarded.  Eating and going to the toilet was near impossible while holding a sleeping baby.  I even had to put him on the floor of the air tunnel when it came to collapsing the stroller before getting on the plane as no one was around to help.  Likewise when it came to collecting it once we landed.  I was even told at one point that they weren’t allowed to take the baby. Health and Safety reasons I assume!  With a six hour stopover in Singapore I decided to book a room so we could try and sleep.  Of course we had to go to one of the other terminals for it!  Heathrow was no better, struggling with two bags plus baby and stroller while porters stood by watching or zooming round in their little buggies.  I was so knackered that by the time I saw our cabbie I just burst into tears.  Which for me is something i don’t normally do?

So I left on a Friday night and arrived the following Saturday night in London, all up it took 38 hours door to door including a 6 hour stopover in Singapore.  Of course MR P maintains to this day that his trip home was worse than mine, yeah right!

I must have lost my sanity on that trip because I did it all again the following January.