Back in England. The flight from Greece was delayed on Sunday so we didn’t end up getting back home until 5am. On a day where Mrs OddFather and I were back at work, the OddDaughter was back at school, and the OddSon was back at nursery. A few days later and I’m still struggling with tiredness. You ever get that feeling you can fall asleep practically anywhere?
Yep – that’s where I’m at.
On the one hand you can say that I had it easiest, since I worked from home. On the other hand – it was I who danced around the airport carrying the OddSon trying to get him to sleep. I was the one that held him asleep on the flight. I was the one that carried him on the stupid 2 minute bus ride from the plane to the airport building whilst juggling the majority of the cabin luggage. It doesn’t help that Mrs OddFather prefers to use something close to bin liners for hand luggage.
Am I over exaggerating? A small chance. But Mrs OddFather doesn’t read these so it’s my word against hers. I thought it would be easy enough to hold him to sleep on the plane. I’ve done it before and it’s been fine. What I didn’t take into account is apparently kids can grow in a matter of months – and holding a toddler to sleep on a cramped Jet2 flight is very different to holding a baby to sleep on a more spacious flight. Any small movement would have dire consequences.
Nobody wants to be the parent of a screaming toddler on a flight. It made going to the loo particularly fun.
In the end, the OddSon slept through most of it and was happy enough when he did have small spells of waking up.
The OddDaughter did pretty well. Slept when we needed her to, woke up when we needed her to – she’s far too big to carry through an airport with three bin liners. My little soldier.
Surprisingly, they both woke up fine on Monday and got ready for school/nursery in decent time. But why am I still feeling the effects? Actually, that’s a silly question. I know the answer already. You see, what it has done is opened the door to the OddSon believing he is entitled to be held to sleep whenever he pleases. Be it 7.30pm in the evening, or 2am at night.
It’s a pattern that is pretty regular these days:
- We go away for a few days
- The OddSon forgets how to sleep on his own
- We return home
- I work tirelessly for weeks to reintroduce his sleep routine
- The OddSon gets back to a good sleep routine
- We go away…
…and so on.
I didn’t think I would miss raising a kid during lockdown so much.
The weather has been pretty shit since coming back to the UK too. Gosh I miss Greece – the views, the unlimited alcohol, the sun, the unlimited alcohol, the food readily available, the unlimited alcohol. There’s something that makes it much easier to deal with stuff when on holiday… I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
The real question I should be asking is, why on Earth did Mrs OddFather book such late flights? Was it to maximise time in Greece? Was it because it worked out much cheaper? Was it so I would purposely miss out on a week of Arsenal celebrations? It’s like she tells me these things but I decide not to listen.
To be honest, it always sounds like a good idea months in advance – but in the moment there are serious regrets.
Perhaps that’s just the price of having quality time with the family – you just need to get through the broken routine on the other side – the crankiness, the crying, the pissing accidents… and don’t get me started on the kids.
