When flying into Bali last week, I had the pleasure of sitting with both boys, constantly asking “are we there yet?” Now it’s only a couple of hours by plane from Singapore to Bali, so it’s not a long way to go, but obviously, it got me thinking about my own childhood.
As you might have read in a previous blog – “The Datsun is Back” – when we asked “are we there yet?” 1. No one could hear us, and 2. We were suffering spine crushing pain and had a very good reason to be where we were going. Equally, we were regularly in the car for at least three hours, because, let’s face it, Australia is a big bloody place. My boys have not had to suffer too much car pain, as driving around Singapore just doesn’t require the same level of time commitment.
As our holiday in Bali progressed, we had a few more “long” drives, heading out to explore the Island. We saw some awesome stuff and experienced the true beauty of the Balinese people – seriously, if you haven’t been to Bali, go – especially if you have kids. They love kids – even mine.
But every trip seemed like torture for my kids, with them moaning and carrying on all the way – “are we there yet?” Or “It’s been so long Mummy, how much longer…” after about 10 minutes.
OK boys, I get it, you’re not used to sitting in a car and have no capacity to appreciate watching life go by yet. You’ll get there. I love nothing more than watching life and taking it all in. Although that’s hard to do with moaning children for company, and obviously why my Dad bought the Datsun – a smart man.
Some days were really hard for Steve and I. We’re working really hard to give our boys sensational experiences – far beyond what we both had as kids. We want them to be more worldly aware, more international, and incapable of hating another person for the color of their skin or the beliefs they hold dear. We think the world can be a better place if we achieve that, which is our ultimate goal.
In the last 12 months, these little guys have been in five countries, but it appears they’re just not old enough to appreciate the experiences – yet. Maybe one day. I would’ve killed for the stuff we’re doing when I was a kid, but for them it’s boring, or taking too long, or can we get a toy now, or, or, or. It kills us.
Especially when they get to see beautiful vistas like this
Or life in all it’s beauty
Or nature at it’s draw dropping best
Or mythological performances
Or just a lot of bloody fun
Or a private Gamelan lesson with Putu
Or just hours and hours exploring the beach with Aunty Vick and Finley
When my frustration with them builds, I have to check myself, because I know if this was my journey as a kid – no matter how much I believe otherwise – I would’ve also said “are we there yet?” and been a massive, ungrateful pain in my parents’ arse. It just seems to be how kids are built.
One day I hope my kids say Mum and Dad, our childhood was awesome, thanks!
Hopefully they won’t have to spend years in a psychiatrists chair before they realize that.
Yours, without the bollocks
Andrea
