The DAOR

The Husband, C and myself are back in England after our Christmas holidays. As always the Day After Our Return (DAOR) is chaos. The DAOR sees the washing-machine working on full loads all day long, things are put back into their place and the heaters are back on to try and warm the house. The DAOR is when we visit the supermarket and stock up for the rest of the week because the fridge and cupboards are bare empty. During the DAOR C always acts up that bit extra – mainly because I suspect she misses the gallons of extra attention everyone bestowed onto her during the holidays. As a super attention-seeker and lover of the spotlight, it takes some time for C to realize that her audience has been reduced to just two, and those two are sometimes not the kindest of audiences. Those two try their best but at the end of a long holiday and even longer day, giving a 100% of their attention to a dancing baby is not possible. Therefore C resorts to mirrors, because she has learnt that she always has a willing and happy spectator looking right back at her whenever she craves attention. And therefore by the end of the DAOR we are dead-tired, sitting on the sofa trying to keep our eyes open, but dying to jump right into bed and set sail to the land of dreams. With us two, it’s always a dare to try and see who can last out the longest. However on the DAOR we’re both too exhausted to care.

On the DAOR we once again become accustomed to life sans nannies, and to being just us three again. It is the latter point which I miss sometimes when on holiday. Before I explain, please do not misunderstand me. I love our families and all the help they give us with C. Their help whilst in Malta is one of the main reasons why I look forward to holidays there. However at the same time I miss the intimacy our little family has in England. We’ve become used to doing whatever it is we please without having to give out an explanation to anyone. And in Gozo, it’s totally different. Gozo is a small island, but contrary to what everyone seems to think, we don’t know the whole of the island and we do keep things to ourselves. However you do find the know-alls, the small group of people you meet whilst having a cup of coffee or when walking down the road, and you have a cranky baby, and they feel the need to come over and offer their ‘kind words’. “Oh, poor thing is crying! Perhaps she’s feeling too hot under her coat?” “What a cute baby! (take C’s hands and…) But her hands are rather cold!” And the one I detest most – “But what is wrong with her? Why is she crying?” To the latter I once responded, a bit rudely too, “If I knew what was wrong with her, do you think I would still let her cry?” At this, the individual in question, gave me a frosty look and kept on walking. That’s small island life for you, I guess.

But like I said, you learn to separate the well-meaners from the others who just want to butt in. Sometimes however, it’s just one word too many, a restless night, a bad case of PMS or a crying baby, and one sentence can throw you over the edge, turn you into a monster and make you yearn for the quiet and isolated life away from all. In our case, England.

12 Days Later And We’re Back Home!

After twelve days on holiday, we’re back home. A couple of hours later than originally scheduled, but we made it. For the third consecutive flight back home, we’ve had all sorts of mishaps happening. In January our flight returned back to Malta after a small explosion happened on board after around fifteen minutes of flying. Last February we lost our flight and arrived home one day later than planned. And yesterday we landed in Stansted Airport instead of Gatwick Airport, meaning we had to spend an extra hour and half on board a coach just to get to Gatwick, due to an accident which happened on board a Virgin Atlantic flight.

I’m starting to slightly fear our next trip.

Unlike me, Cesca didn't mind the disruption we had yesterday. She had her own seat and seat-belt and slept the whole way to Gatwick. And woke up with a smile!

On a brighter note, Malta was great. The holiday passed in a jiffy and it was a real blast. I met friends’ and relatives’ babies, I met online bloggers (now that was a surprise Giselle!), I went to a baby shower on a Monday and the baby was born the following weekend, we went to a friend’s wedding and I met up with people I haven’t seen in over eight years, we ate and gorged on everything possible, we made use of Nanna Mo’s babysitting offers and managed some couple time, we met up with A’s ex-course-mates for dinner, spent a wonderful day in Malta where we lunched at the excellent Da Pippo in Valletta, had a divine hot white chocolate and strawberry cupcake at Angelica’s, caught up with friends and gossip, got a bit blonder (thanks Lara!!), and less hairier (thanks Lil!!) Exciting news was received, important decisions were taken and I can’t wait till we set the ball rolling!

We enjoyed the water fountains in St. George's Square in Valletta.

I can not imagine him in the middle of summer...poor thing!

The super-delicious strawberry cupcakes from Angelica's in Valletta! With fresh strawberries inside...yummy!!

One of the cutest places I've visited in Malta. I loved the attention to detail and the hot white chocolate!!

Valletta from Sliema on one of the few warm days we had there!

As far as C was concerned, we left for Malta when she had started saying ‘mama‘ over and over again. She’s now added ‘boom-boom’, ‘wa-wa‘ (especially when the radio’s on in the car) and ‘ma-ba’ or ‘mamba‘ – I’m not sure what she’s saying exactly but I’m thinking it’s her trying to join ‘mama‘ and ‘boom-boom’ together. She discovered balloons and spent an hour playing with one her Nanna Mo gave her. She is now officially a better eater than myself since she mustered the taste of fish and managed to keep it down on Easter Sunday (all thanks to Nanna Viv’s insistence. Poor child). Her new hobby is removing and throwing on the floor any spectacles she sees. She has now passed the 11kg mark and my poor back has started feeling the strain. She had her first haircut – more like a trimming of her original baby hair. She has started playing peek-a-boo, with one hand only, sort of waves goodbye (whenever she feels like it), and she hates being in her push-chair. The latter is really bothering me, because at times she spends the whole time in her push-chair straining against it, waiting for someone to pick her up. At least no cries or screams are involved. However it’s no less annoying, I’m telling you.

Cesca and her new BFF...

Thankfully, till now, she does not miss me nor show any sign of separation anxiety at any time whenever I leave her. She smiles to everyone, will let anyone hold her and is everyone’s friend as long as they keep her entertained. I’m hoping she stays like that as long as she can. If only to give me a break every once in a while.

I have just finished the unpacking, put C to sleep and am quietly having a cup of coffee before she wakes up and I have to start worrying what to cook because I have not been out all day. It’s the weather you see. I’m not sure what season we are in any longer because the view from my home suggests winter is on its’ way, not summer. We have had rain, hail and strong winds all day long. And to think we left a sunny England only two weeks ago!

I might just regret leaving my coats and boots in Malta…