Top Tip Tuesday - The Mini-Break

This week I have holidays on my mind, and I have decided to do a special feature on getaways. Hong Kong isn't exactly the kind of place where you can jump in the car on a Friday afternoon and head to the coast for the weekend. People do, but their idea of the coast is South Lantau and since we live there, it's not exactly our idea of a break. While there's something quite appealing about needing a passport to go just about anywhere else, I've always found it slightly frustrating that short road trips are out of the question. This week I thought I'd do a quick list of places for parents to escape to, without the kids. We've only done this once (see April Antics and Modern Dilemmas) and it was well worth the angst it caused in the lead-up. I really enjoyed having a meal with my husband while wearing nice shoes, waking up when we felt like it, and having adult conversations. Of course I was desperate to get home again but another parent mini-break is on the cards before we become a family of four. If you can't bear to be away from your little ones for a night or two, all of the places I've listed would also be nice if you took them along, but a little less romantic...

Macau - Not overly romantic unless you're into casinos and smoking Chinese men around every corner, but Macau is far enough away that you do feel like you've gotten away, but close enough that you could be back home in under 2 hours if you needed to be. We stayed at the Venetian when we visited, but I'm very keen to check out the new Galaxy (especially the Spa) at some point. Ferries run every half hour throughout the day and if you're feeling really indulgent and romantic, there's also a helicopter service. Make sure you make the effort to visit the old town and experience some of the local culture.

Hanoi - Hanoi (Vietnam) is one of my favourite places in the world. We've been there a few times now and we've seen different sides to it each time, it's a truly fascinating place. Hanoi is only an hour and a half flight from HK and there are several flights a day. I should mention that you will probably need a visa to enter the country, so there's no room for spontaneity, but really, how often can you be spontaneous these days? There are many, many accommodation options with hugely varying prices and standards but for a couples retreat you can't go past the Sofitel Metropole, the best hotel I have ever had the good fortune to stay in. It's tucked away in a quiet part of the Hoan Kiem district, but it's walking distance from all the action of the markets, street stalls and the beautiful Hoan Kiem Lake. But you may not want to leave the hotel...

Singapore - Singapore is similar to Hong Kong in a lot of ways, but so different in others. The Singaporeans do luxury very, very well, and with the city being only 2 hours flight from HK it's a tempting option. Wherever you stay, must-do activities include: a trip to the awesome Singapore Zoo, shopping on Orchard Road, dinner at Clarke Quay and a Singapore Sling at the gorgeous Raffles Hotel. Or book a night at the Marina Bay Sands and stay right where you are until it's time to go home.

Phuket/Bali - While I love the idea of lazing on a beach without a sandy little hand dragging me down to the water (actually, I lie, I love the sandy little hand!), a trip to Phuket (3.5 hours) or Bali (4 hours) might be too far for some, especially if you're leaving little ones behind. We had a weekend in Phuket a few years ago (Friday to Sunday) and it was lovely. The only downside was leaving on Sunday afternoon while our friends were still in the pool, getting home at 11pm and having to work the next day... However, there are loads of hotels catering for couples (check out http://www.tripadvisor.com/) and the flight schedules do allow for a decent break if you choose to just go for a weekend. If an afternoon nap, a lazy swim, dinner and cocktails on the beach, a sleep in and a leisurely brunch before your late afternoon flight sound worth the 4 hour flight, then these are definitely great places to try.

Hong Kong - Believe it or not, it is possible to have a mini-break right here in our hometown. I know a couple who routinely book a night at a nice hotel in the city just to catch up and get a good night's sleep. If it's a special occasion and you can afford to splash out try the Peninsula, Intercontinental, Four Seasons, Mandarin Oriental or the Island Shangri-La. Whether you're pressed for time or you just hate the idea of being in a different city to your kids, a romantic 'staycation' might be the answer. For great hotel deals check out Booking.com.

As I said, this mini-break concept is new to me, so I'd love to hear from you if you have any other ideas or recommendations. Here's hoping some of you are inspired and find some useful information here!

Love and Marriage (Lost Post #3)

This post comes from way back in September. Before you read it I have to say I adore my husband. I'm very lucky that he is such an involved dad. We were never at each other's throats, even though this post might give you that impression. This post was written at a time when our nerves were frayed and we were seriously sleep deprived, and had maybe temporarily forgotten how much we adored each other. The post is incomplete, but our story won't be...


This week I have had lots of time to indulge in my favourite pastimes, one of which is blogging. That's because my husband is in London and, at night after J goes to bed, I have the evening stretched out before me with nothing to do but whatever takes my fancy. I always achieve an awful lot (and eat more than my fair share of chocolate) when D is away, and I have to be honest, after two weeks of having him at home, I was quite looking forward to this trip. I know I sound like a terrible wife, and if you have a husband who works a regular 9-5 job and is never at home, you're probably hating me right now. But trust me when I say, you really can have too much of a good thing (the good thing in this case being my husband).

It wasn't always this way. Back when I was young and single, all I wanted was a boyfriend; someone to watch movies, hold hands, and dream of a future with. When I finally got a boyfriend and I decided he was "the One" I spent an awful lot of time wishing we lived together. When that happened it was a natural progression to wishing we were married. Naturally, a year or two after we were married, I started talking about babies. I was always looking for the next step, wanting a little more. I believe that you have to have something to look forward to, something to work towards. Since we became parents the one thing I've been wishing for is for my husband to be at home more. Last year when I was pregnant, D took on a second job. Mostly for the extra money but also because he is the kind of guy who needs to be busy, and he felt that he had too much time on his hands. His second job ended up being more work than his actual career. He worked 9-6 on his days off and still took calls once he was home. He worked every day of the week and, with a newborn baby at home, I found it really hard. The final straw came when he went to work for a day and was on call at his "proper" job. He called me at 4pm that afternoon to tell me he'd been called to fly to Vancouver that night and would be home as soon as possible. I was furious! He'd been gone all day and would only be home to have dinner and pack his bags before going away for 4 days. We both agreed that it simply wasn't worth it. We were both exhausted and cranky, and D was missing out on too much of J's growing up.

It took a couple of weeks but eventually he worked his way out of the 2nd job and now it's more of a hobby. I got my wish, and I have my husband at home, sharing the parenting, when he's not away on a trip. He's home a lot... To those of you out there going it alone most of the time, this probably sounds like a luxury, and it is at times. But it definitely creates a new set of challenges. A good friend warned me when I was pregnant that a little one can really test your relationship. She said that we should be prepared to fight more often. I like a good heated debate but my husband is such a pacifist he could work for the UN, so I had my doubts about that. After a couple of sleep deprived weeks we realised it was true, and it continues today. We do fight more and most of the major disagreements we've had over the last year have occurred at times when we've spent a lot of time together. I'm not sure if that's because we've had time to realise that we disagree or if we're both worked up because we're getting on each other's nerves. I think it has more to do with our levels of fatigue than fundamental differences of opinion, but we've both realised the importance of being on the same page when a little person is involved.

We generally agree on how we want to raise our son, which is a great start (apart from the whole christening debate, which remains unresolved!). But what we've realised through our attempts at co-parenting is that we could work on our communication skills. Shouting commands at each other over the baby's screams or grunting apathetically with exhaustion aren't cutting it apparently. One particular incident that highlighted this concerned J's routine. From the day we brought J home from the hospital I was completely focused on how our days were going to run. I let him call the shots for a couple of months and then decided that we needed a routine of sorts. Feeding, playing and sleeping were all mapped out in a very flexible, but consistent plan, based on the little man's changing needs. The trouble was, it was all in my head. I explained to our helper what I was doing each day and she knew what was going on because she paid attention, but my husband would come home and have no idea that we'd just spent 4 days teaching J to self-soothe. It wasn't until I overheard my husband comment one day on how lucky we were that J napped and ate at roughly the same time every day, and that it was purely by accident, that I realised I had never explained to him that I had been working my butt off while he was away. Initially he had no idea that J and I were like a well-oiled machine, following a carefully orchestrated routine, and I was terribly upset that he couldn't see how hard I had worked to achieve that. I now have J's routine written down on the fridge and I make sure everyone in the house knows when I make changes, but it's taken a huge effort on my part to remember to talk about it (I'm a bit more relaxed 6 months on!).

We had an argument recently over something fairly inconsequential, but because we hadn't communicated how we each felt about it, it escalated to the point where I ended up sending D an email to let him know exactly what was on my mind. I was so sleep deprived and emotional that any time I tried to talk to him I just got upset. It's not an approach I recommend, in fact, it seems crazy now, but our whole world has been turned upside down this year, so it makes sense that the way we would normally do other things has changed too.

P.S. Marriage, like parenting, is a work in progress. And something we've learned since I wrote this post is that dates and mini-breaks are essential!

Now You're One...

I had this fear that if I didn't keep blogging while I was away that people would stop reading. That hasn't turned out to be the case fortunately but I did feel it was important, today of all days, to check in. Our time in Sydney has been a rollercoaster ride of loving then hating the place we used to call home, but I'll write more about that later.

Today I have to write to acknowledge that it is my beautiful boy's first birthday! I looked at him last night smiling up at me and was overwhelmed with love and pride. He's by far the best thing I've ever done and I'm amazed every day by how much he has grown and developed without any input from us. His personality has bits of both of us but he is a unique and special individual, and I never expected that from a 1 year old. Every day he gets better and better and I really feel blessed to have him in my life, and to have the opportunity to spend so much time getting to know him. We have been attached at the hip this week, on our own in a studio apartment in Sydney. He has been a bit unsettled by the trip and hasn't let me out of his sight. It's nice to be so needed but at the same time I'd really like a bit of peace to go to the loo and have a shower! I'm afraid it's not going to be a pleasant birthday for him but it will certainly be memorable. We're both sick with different bugs and have spent most of the day so far asleep. It's a far cry from the fun day with friends that I had planned but I figure, since he's too young to know any different, we can always celebrate another time.

I realised earlier today, with just a hint of irony, that I spent the 9th of December last year in pain and doped up as well, just in a different way. Despite that, it's still a very significant day. I'm sure it probably has a lot to do with hormones but I have nothing but fond memories of the day our son came into our lives, and his birthday will always have meaning for me, more so than my own ever has. I'd love to share the story of his birth with you all but I am about to collapse with exhaustion so it will have to wait for another day. I do, however, want to say how thrilled I am to be celebrating this milestone. I thought I'd be a bit sad at having to admit that my baby was not a baby anymore, but the opposite is true. He's such a sweet, good-natured little boy that I couldn't ask for more. Except maybe more time. Waiting for J to arrive was the longest wait of my life and as soon as he was here it was like life went into fast-forward. I cannot believe it's been a year since our lives changed so dramatically, for the better, forever. I want time to slow down but at the same time I can't wait to see what the next year holds. Happy Birthday my lovely boy.

The Tyranny of Distance

I love Christmas. Mostly the few weeks leading up to it, the day itself is always an anti-climax, but everything else, the carols, the shopping, the food, is the highlight of my year. I've decked the blog in honour of the season and I'll be dedicating a few posts to the good, the bad and the ugly of Christmas this month, but today I want to write about travelling, something many of us do at this time of year.

We're leaving tonight for Sydney and we'll be away for two weeks. I'm stressed and anxious about the flight, I'm not organised enough, and as much as I'm looking forward to the time away (especially given the horrendous state of HK's air this week!) I'd rather just stay where I am. I always go through this trauma for a few days before going to Australia; the thought of repatriating just for a short time always brings up mixed emotions for me and there are times when I think it would be easier just to stay in Hong Kong. They say that home is where the heart is, and I definitely feel like I would be at home anywhere as long as D and J were with me. But there is a part of me that will always belong in Sydney. As much as I love going back to visit I know it can never be the same as it was when we lived there. People have changed, we have changed, and life has gone on without us, but at the same time everything is so familiar and the same. It's strange going back and having to stay in hotels and hire cars, it makes me feel homeless. At the same time I feel comfortable because I know my way around, but I feel like I don't belong. It unsettles me and I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions. I want to stay and pick up where I left off, I want my son to grow up on the street we used to live on and I want our friends to get to know him. For a long time I refused to acknowledge on the Australian immigration departure card that I was merely a "visitor," I always ticked the box next to "resident departing temporarily." I held onto the hope that I would return sooner rather than later, and was in complete denial about the fact that I was no longer a resident in my own country.

I go through this angst every time I go back. I torture myself by window shopping at real estate agencies, and spending quality time in all my favourite spots. Then the reality sinks in and I realise that when we visit Sydney we see her at her best. Our friends all make time to see us, we've saved up so we have more cash than we would if we were paying rent, we don't have to battle traffic or work in dead-end jobs every day. We don't get involved in the politics of the place or rely on the local infrastructure in any way, it's all good when you're just a "visitor." I also struggle at the other end of a trip, when I have to come back to HK, and my husband has to drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane (quite embarrassing sometimes...). On returning to Hong Kong I slip into this depressed fog for a few days; I don't unpack, I mope about the house complaining, "it's not like this in Sydney," and "when I was in Sydney I could buy this/do that/go there/be happy..." (yes, I'm a delight to live with). Viewing a place through holiday eyes is very much the same as wearing rose coloured glasses, and I have to constantly remind myself that if we did stay in Australia life would be much much harder. Not to mention all that we'd be leaving behind.

The fact that our families are there is the main reason we go back as often as we do, but it adds to the emotional wrench I feel at both ends of a trip. It's lovely that people care and that they want to spend time with us. I would complain a lot more if we went back and no one made a fuss. My father-in-law will be meeting us at the airport on Thursday and I'm absolutely delighted that someone will be at the gate to greet us for the first time since we moved here 3 years ago. Of course we want to see as many people as we can but we've learned from experience that it can be absolutely exhausting trying to please everyone. Despite the fact that that's simply impossible to achieve, we do still tie ourselves in knots trying, but we always end up disappointing someone. No matter how much running around we do, we can never see all of our friends and all of our families, and we're often forced to make a choice between the people we want to see and the people we have to see. I always leave feeling as if I could've spent an extra month there and still missed people. Being there reminds me of all the people we're missing while we're away, the babies we don't get to watch grow up, the family members who grow older every day, and whose time is limited. I'm so happy to see everyone but so sad at the same time. Noticing that my father's hair is greyer and my mother is thinner every time we see them, that I've been away long enough to notice these changes, breaks my heart. It sounds completely selfish but one year I'd really like to go back and not see anyone, to avoid the heartache. I'd love to take my boys to a small beachside town and have a proper Australian holiday, just the three of us, another impossible dream.

It's not just the emotional aspect of the journey that takes a toll. It's a real physical and logistical nightmare sometimes. Our first trip back to Australia with J was a marathon effort. We flew from Hong Kong to Sydney, then Brisbane, then Canberra and back to Brisbane again. J racked up more air miles in that month than most people do in a year. We also spent several hours driving to places outside of the capital cities. The poor little guy was so overwhelmed and exhausted by it all that it took weeks for him to adjust when we came home. When we went to Melbourne in June we decided that we'd stay in one place and ask people to come to us. It went well (still completely disruptive for J's routine, just less exhausting) but there were a few family members who couldn't come and see us, and that has complicated things even more for this next trip. If we tried to fit everyone in we'd literally spend most of our time in the country on planes or in cars travelling to and fro, all for a brief visit, where we'd probably be greeted with a comment like "what a pity you can't stay longer."

Unless you've lived overseas and had to return home with a small child in tow, it's hard to comprehend exactly what's involved. Some family members have never travelled and they seem to think it's much simpler than it actually is. "Just jump on a plane," they say. We've had a few visitors come through Hong Kong since we've been living here, and while we wouldn't want everyone rocking up on our doorstep, it would be much easier if more of our family came to us. I don't think you can fully appreciate how difficult it can be to travel overseas (packing, check-in, immigration, 9 hour economy class flight etc) with a baby until you've done it for yourself. It's an exercise on the scale of a small military operation. I'd like to think that there would be fewer demands placed on our time if more people understood how little of it we have and how complicated it can be. Maybe that's just wishful thinking, or maybe that's a selfish way of looking at it, either way a little time spent in our shoes would benefit a few people.

Now that I've done nothing but complain I do have to say that I can't wait to get back to the city I love so very much. I'm going to take my son to Bronte Beach, walk along Sydney Harbour every morning with a coffee and my beautiful boy, I'll shop until I drop in the malls that have everything I've not been able to buy in Hong Kong, I'll eat in my favourite cafes and laugh till I cry with friends I haven't seen all year. Then we'll go and see my parents and the town I grew up in. We'll look out over the vast open plains and breath deep lungfuls of fresh country air, we might even convince Pop to take us out to get a Christmas tree. We'll sit with my Nanna and she'll tell me stories of when her babies where J's age and I'll probably cry when I say goodbye, because she hasn't been well this year and she and I were cut from the same cloth. And my husband won't have to drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane because we don't live there anymore. Hong Kong, for better or worse, is home.

An Open Heart

Since this is something new for me I think it's important to clarify that this blog isn't meant to be a whinge about motherhood, but a celebration of it too. My first post was a bit negative and I feel the need to back it up with something a little more positive. So here's how I feel about being a Mum. I never had much direction in my twenties and had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. All I knew is that I wanted to be a mother, and now that I've realised that dream my ambition is to be good at it. Motherhood is everything I imagined it would be and more, and for the first time in my life I feel like I'm doing something that I was meant to do.

A family member once told me that motherhood is a "heart opener" and I can't think of a better description for it. There are times when I hold my son and look into his beautiful eyes that I feel a love I never thought possible. I want to take those moments and freeze them for days when I'm cleaning pureed carrot out of my favourite white t-shirt, and other times when I might forget for a moment how lucky I am. I feel a primal sense of protectiveness towards my son and know instinctively that I would do anything for him. This new love has made me more empathic and compassionate and, I think, a better person. I now find joy and excitement in the simplest things. Like the grin on his face when he first sees me in the morning or the sense of pride I feel when he reaches each milestone. One day last week we were eating lunch and J said "Mama" for the first time. I know he doesn't know what it means but they have to be the sweetest 2 syllables ever uttered. He has now worked out what makes us laugh and repeats things through the day and waits for a response. Our junior comedian is so cute we can't help but laugh. Yes, my heart is definitely so open and full of love I feel it might burst some days. Like tonight when I discovered the meaning of unconditional love. J had just finished his dinner and was 3/4 of the way through his bedtime bottle when it all came back up, projectile style. Shocked, I tried to catch it and ended up wearing most of it. This has never happened before so I was torn between revulsion ("yuck I'm covered in vomit") and distress ("what's wrong with my little boy?"). J was unaffected and so excited by the prospect of a second bath in the space of an hour that we wondered if he'd done it on purpose. After cleaning myself up and establishing that J was fine, I sat with him on the sofa and attempted the bottle again. I had already planned to write this post and was thinking I was going to have to dig pretty deep at the moment to find the positives when I looked down at J and noticed that he was gazing up at me adoringly. His huge grin made me feel as if I'd passed a secret test; the "proof of unconditional love test". In that moment the drenching I copped was forgotten. I just hope I don't have to take that test again...

On the flip side, this newfound and often overwhelming love and openness has made me worry more and feel hurt more deeply. There are times when I've been left searching for an inner strength I never knew I had. Like in the early days of colic and reflux, when we were left feeling completely helpless as our son screamed day and night for no apparent reason. When tragedy struck close to home recently I remember talking to my husband about the days when the biggest things we had to worry about was whether or not we could afford a holiday, or what movie we should see on a Friday night. I couldn't believe how silly we were to worry about the things we worried about. We had it good back then, if only we knew it. You've probably worked out by now that I am, by nature, a worrier. It runs in my family, and my grandmother assures me that I'll still be worrying about my children when I'm 85 and incontinent. The worrying might keep me awake at night but it means I appreciate and value what I have all the more. So bear this in mind when I'm complaining about sleep deprivation, jackhammers and projectile vomit, and I promise to write about the good times as well.