The wind is whipping our white sheets into the air and I am just waiting for these billowing sails to fly off our balcony. Sam would be ecstatic if he weren't sleeping *praise hands*, as his one true joy is watching fabric flutter and fly into space. His other joys as a six-month-old are: doing the worm crawl (knees up - belly flop forward - plank - repeat), mangoes (predictably), bouncing, laughing at nearly everything, and growling.
Photo: Mosi and Samuel at Bombo Beach
We've been on some good adventures lately, making our way through the beaches, the capitol, and the mountains. Right before Christmas, we took the train two hours south to Kiama (pronounced Kye-am-eh. I know, on point with the phonetics) and stayed in a little motel on Bombo Beach. We did pretty well for our first overnight trip out of the city. Sam slept in his little tent and we managed without a kitchen.
Photo: Hot morning (and Boo) at the Bombo waterfall
Somehow on Saturday we made our way to Seven Mile Beach without a car but with the delightful help of a bus driver named Keith, who saved us a two hour walk in the sun through pastures and wide stretches of farmland dotted with spindly gum trees and palms. He shouldn't have let us on because we had the wrong bus passes, but I think he took pity on the two sweating parents carrying a big baby on the side of the highway.
Photo: Samuel sleeping in his favorite position at Bombo
Once we got to the beach, I finally got six-year-old Katy's birthday wish: to be in a real-life Lisa Frank painting. I kept expecting fuschia dolphins and neon green and purple turtles to leap out of the sparkling water. Instead, Mosi and I took turns walking up and down the sand eating slightly sandy turkey-avo sandwiches with salty salty chips - Sam in the carrier - while one of us surfed small waves with our instructor. Not even the sand-spitting wind and lack of rainbow penguins took away from that good day, leaving us sore and sunned and spent.
Photo: Waterfall at Bombo
We passed the rest of the weekend with walks through town and on Bombo beach, not cooking but eating thick slices of pizza and bananas with peanut butter, some cucumbers and avocado-with-a-spoon. We bought a flat cap for Sam to match Dad so he could be the baddest baby around. Finally, we succumbed to a wind storm while trying to get to Kiama Beach on Sunday and took the early train back to the city.
Photo: Flat caps for Christmas
Since then, we've been up and down New South Wales and Australia's Capitol Territory. A friend I haven't seen in TEN YEARS showed us around Canberra, to the National Galleries, atop the arboretum and another high hill for a view of the very planned city, to a brewery you'd want to frequent every day, and to see the most Aussie thing of all: tons of kangaroos. Finally! They really are fun, with their quiet bounding and their joeys and their boxing-ready little arms. Not afraid of us. Though I was a little wary of the huge male rolling around in the dust with his massive thighs and come-at-me stare. I was surprised that I liked Canberra, what with all the crap Aussies (and Bill Bryson) say about it.
From Canberra we drove to Jindabyne ('Jindy' to the locals), with it's pristine alpine lake and summer ski town feel. Sam took his first chairlift so we could walk ( I hesitate to say "hike"...there was a raised metal path the entire 2 km route if you want to know the real story) up Mount Kosciuszko. Tiny white alpine flowers and mossy pools led us to a point where we could see the layered bluish haze of other mountains in the distance. It felt good to do something active as a family that was easy. Usually one or both of us are attempting to wrangle, rock, feed, comfort, or distract Sam at the beach or in the car or at a cafe. This time, Sam literally slept the whole hike and woke up in time to experience the wonder of taking a chairlift down the mountain.
Photos: We made it to the top! Ok, we were 5 km away
In reflection, it's been a lot of effort to adventure - even close to our home here - with a baby. Sometimes it doesn't seem worth it: breaking routines and established sleep-play-eat patterns can be a recipe for an unhappy Sam and stressed parents. Sometimes, it's NOT worth it. I didn't tell you about the Blue Mountains trip, but by the end of it, I decided we will never go on a day trip that takes more than an hour of transit. We were too beat once we arrived to even go for a small hike, and Sam was restless and discontent.
Since this happens so often, we learned we need a "home base" - which means staying overnight or deciding on a quiet spot where we can put Sam down to play or to nap - we have our go-to's in our favorite places. Renting a car so we can halve the transit time. Treating ourselves to a really good beer in a strange place. Leaving earlier to be home by Sam's bedtime so we don't implode.
Photo: The baddest baby around
Mosi and I also need a lot of grace and humor on our adventures. He does a great impression of Sam as a snobby French aristocrat that does me in every time. We are so much less cool than I want to be, but happier than I thought I could be.
Photo: All three of us! At a park near our home
To be honest, my expectations are often unmet by reality, and I don't often deal with it with the grace and wisdom of my aspirational self. I love that we get to see beautiful places together, and much of the time, it IS worth it. So worth it to take risks and somehow laugh when things go terribly wrong, or praise God when things somehow go unexpectedly right, and someone helps us out, and we catch the train. It is worth it to see the wonder of God's creation and show Sam this incredible world that can be so beautiful and terrible all at once, and to hopefully teach him to be bold and unafraid in the face of it all.
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