Yes, most of the blogs I post on here are about all of the fun adventures we’re having here in Sydney. And trust me, we are having a blast!
There are tantrums. There are crying jags. There is stress and anxiety and the general pressure of parenting.
There are moments of just sheer exhaustion.
There are days where we have fun playing and learning. And then there are days like today where I’m standing in Woolworth’s, having made all of my supermarket selections and am headed towards the check out when The Little Moo suddenly bolts out of her stroller and runs down an aisle. I am then forced to abandon said stroller and my filled grocery basket in the middle of the meat department to keep up with her. I yell, “Stop!” And “Freeze!” And, “If you don’t stop now, you’re not getting an orange on the way home.”
The potential prospect of my little fruititarian not being allowed to have her citrus of choice is usually what will turn her around.
This time… to no avail.
It turns into a day where I have strangers staring at me as I run like a maniac after a two-year old who is a maniac. Strangers staring at me because they hear my American accent. Strangers staring at me because I am awkward in all ways and running is certainly no exception. Strangers staring at me as my toddler laughs because she thinks this is a game. Strangers having absolutely no reaction, but my face gets hot as I believe they are all staring at me.
And then, once I catch my speed demon, I firmly tell her that she needs to sit nicely in the stroller as I strap her in. Her response is an immediate scream of, “OUCH! Don’t lock me in here! You’re hurting me! Pleeeeaaaase stop hurting me!”
And then… the water works! Tears! More tears! Sobbing!
She’s on her way to the Best Actress Oscar Winner 2033!
I’m mortified. My face is now at five-alarm fire levels and the heat has moved through the rest of my body. The stress-sweats have officially spread.
I consider completely abandoning ship, leaving the basket behind (maybe The Moo too) and booking it out the door.
I reconsider when I think about the contents of this evening’s dinner sitting in the basket. Not to mention, I don’t know what kind of security camera system they have. I’d hate to try to come back tomorrow only to find my sweaty picture hanging on the entrance door with a giant red X over my face and the words, “Sorry, mate,” written above it. Even in their rejection, the Aussies would be polite.
And who knows if they’d alert the immigration office. Could I lose my Visa?
Not willing to face deportation, I try to ignore Moo’s screams as I head for the self-check out line, finish as quickly as I can and escape through the automatic doors.
So please rest assured, while we’re having a blast, it truly isn’t all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.
Though, yes, it is sometimes rainbows.
More to come,