We did the unimaginable and drove all the way up the coast for a little holiday. We thought we were smart. We thought we could do it...
We had a grand plan. We always do. That's what parenting is about. Plans, hope, dreams...
It was New Year's Eve. We watched the early fireworks at 9pm and then headed off. The car was packed already {with a surf ski on the roof - one of the whole reasons for having to go by car instead of plane} and we were ready for the trip ahead. We gave Lacey a bottle and thought she'd sleep the whole way. I envisioned a quirky and almost romantic start to the new year. We'd listen to the radio as we drove along, hear the countdown and give each other that knowing glance, accompanied by a smile and wish each other a Happy New Year.
Oh no. That is not how it happened. Lacey slept until about 11:45pm. And that was it. At midnight she was screaming. Unhappy to be sleeping upright and in her car seat. I was in the back seat with my body contorted just so she could nuzzle her little hand down my shirt {which is her thing she does at the moment for comfort}. Happy New Year.
She didn't sleep from just before midnight, all the way until her weary little eyes couldn't stay open any longer at 4:30am. We watched Hi-5 DVD over and over again. My eyes couldn't stay open, as much as I tried. My body was twisted, my eyes ached for some much needed sleep {and a comfy bed}.
We got there though. Eventually. The only problem was that we eventually had to get home again.
And when we got home I wanted to kiss the dirty backpacker trodden ground of Bondi. We were home. I think that's all we said for the first hour of getting inside. Home. Home. Home. Home.
Do you have any road trippin' tales to share?
