I was just sitting here feeling happy that we only have two more weeks in addition to this one until the Canberra job is finished. Then I realised we only have four weeks after that until we leave … eek! I think I feel the first stirrings of panic setting in …

I had a great weekend away with some very lovely girls, we ate and drank, we talked and laughed (yes, and bitched). We raised money for Breast Cancer research. It was great to get out of Mummy headspace - although I’m a little bit afraid that I spoke more about my children than is strictly appropriate, given the circumstances, sorry girls!

I was glad to have the break but coming home to them was so good … even though they ran out to greet me with grotty faces, in their underwear, they were so beautiful. I even enjoyed the mundane repetitive chores like dinner and bathtime, even though they usually make me want to hire a nanny or three and run away to join the circus.

I also came home to two massive new suitcases, each approximately the size of a small African nation. Lovely husband bought them this weekend. He picked up the bags and said to the sales assistant “I’m looking for your biggest bag” … “Sir, you’ve got it right there”. You should see the size of these things - if he had actually managed to get anything bigger we could have stuck wings in them and saved on airfares.

Looking at those bags, I feel like we’re really making progress with the whole “packing up our lives” project. Now we have boxes and bags … next stop, packing.

I am getting really concerned at my lack of concern for this upcoming jaunt. It’s not normal. Last time we did a long haul trip (September 06) I started having nightmares (yes, literally) about four months before we left about the flight. And that was in the free and easy days of parenting a single child. A single child who wasn’t utterly incapable of understanding boundaries, gravity, “no”, sitting quietly or behaving in any way resembling calmness Sophia.

If I think rationally about this, I know we are going to be spending a good proportion of the time chasing her all over the plane. Meh.

It’s not just the flight. We plan on having the children share a room. When Hugo was a baby, even a toddler, the bedtime routine was sacrosanct. You don’t mess with the routine. Or else. Soooo … two children, one bedroom. We’re going to get so much sleep, aren’t we? Meh.

Even so, my brain keeps saying “meh. It’s going to be fine!”. When it comes to travel, I am not a “meh” person. I am not a “whatever will be will be” person. I am a worried, I am prone to anxiety, I need to plan down to the last contingency for everything. I don’t understand why I’m not a basket case yet? Is it all going to hit me, one day (in about 13 weeks time no doubt)?

Or is my brain so consumed with “Business class … free pyjamas. FREE PYJAMAS!” that I’m not seeing the bigger picture?

On the other hand, this lack of concern means I don’t have my usual “running on adrenaline” energy getting ready to go.

Meh.

Scandinavia. Which means either Copenhagen or Stockholm. It’s good to finally know.

So I’ve been doing a bit of ‘research’ on Copenhagen and Amsterdam (I <3 wikipedia). Both cities are described as having ‘mild’ winters … this translates into numbers very close to zero. Sitting here, enjoying a mid-winter day of 22 degrees celcius, that really doesn’t sound so mild to me. When we have a zero in our temperature report, it’s usually part of a bigger number, like 2-0.

The other interesting fact is the prevalent use of bicycles to get around the city. Hmmm … bet you’d all pay to see that!