We had another adventure in Cape Town last week where we went for Two Oceans.
I won’t lie and speak of blissful moments running in the waves, or licking ice cream as we watched THE MOST AWESOME sunset. A) Because they never happened, and b) this trip came with some challenges.
Firstly, you’ve been a bit off for the last few days. I haven’t been able to work out if you’re really sick, or just miserable, and you’ve been flitting from being happy and chatty one minute, to nagging and clingy and saying “I’m sick” the next. But because the “sick” moments don’t last for long and because you refuse help, I haven’t thought much about them. But, to be safe, I’m taking you to the paed for a checkup.
So anyway, we left for Cape Town and usually flying solo with you is great because you’re chilled and co-operative, but shit rolled downhill as I was quite tense – starting with managing a pram, four pieces of luggage and the toy guitar you insisted on bringing. And a very impatient boy who wanted to get on that plane.
I had promised you we would watch the planes from the Slow Lounge, but they were full so we had to wait to get in, and even when they let us in, there was nowhere to sit, and finding a random seat in the back corner wouldn’t do because you wanted your nose pressed against the window watching the planes.
Negotiating a pram around businessmen’s luggage and jackets, we finally found a seat after which followed two loo trips, some nagging to get on the plane, and maybe even pocketing of a drink and snack for the plane.
The flight went well, yet you wouldn’t leave my clutch so I had to walk carrying you, the laptop bag, your Gruffalo case, my handbag and the guitar while pushing your pram. And though I probably would have refused help (we’re cut very much the same), not one passenger offered to help.
Fortunately your spirits improved, we went for a quick sooooshi supper, and then headed to my favourite all-hour shopping spot in Cape Town, the garage on Orange Street. You took your own basket, and shopped for yourself while all the hipsters and weirdos in the shop at 9.30pm looked on (apparently the true weirdos arrive around 2am, we were told by the teller).
You settled well at the hotel, and the next day played Putt Putt and enjoyed ice cream with Saul while I went to a meeting. You also patiently survived the Two Oceans race expo and a short stint at Canal Walk where I HAD TO buy a new camera bag and some onesie pyjamas from Woolworths. We had some more photos taken for the blog, and you were great, despite the wet and a light rain. You also fed some squirrels in the gardens, and loved this.
But dude, the good and “easy” times were few – there was so much whining and so many tantrums, and I don’t really think I have a handle on it. I’m not sure I discipline you enough, and when I’m around and other people are there, you are often clingy and don’t really socialise with them.
So, aside from taking you to the paed to check all is okay, I’m going to try be a little firmer where I need to. I guess I don’t do you many favours by being the good cop a lot of the time, but I hate seeing you sad or sulking. My instinct is to make you feel better immediately, and to prevent the sads and the frustrations. So I often give in. I’ll find the balance and I’ll try harder. This is a work in progress that I’m making my way through.
Next post: the one about the Two Oceans Nappy Dash fun run, which turned into a fun lug, plus my 11th Two Oceans marathon.
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