Olde Sydney Town

Well, I'm on holiday for two weeks right now. Left work on Friday afternoon with a spring in my step therefore and plenty of relaxation in mind. Very busy few days before I left making sure everything was sorted in my absence but got there in the end so happy days indeed.

Day 1 of the holiday was then spent heading to Sydney for a lightening trip to catch up with a few of the boys down there. Being one night only, a small backpack was the extent of my luggage as I caught the airtrain from Eagle Junction.

Arrival at the airport wasn't met with much joy though, as it ended up taking 45mins just to get through check-in and security. The whole 30mins prior to your flight thing must surely be a thing of the past. Flying on standby through staff travel, there were a few moments where I wasn't sure if I'd make it on though. Alas, received my boarding pass as boarding commenced and it was off to Olde Sydney Town for me.

Sydney was hotter than expected and a new pickup system at the airport forces you to wait under the sun. Pickupers also have to get a ticket before proceeding to the pickup point so typical Sydney Airport and its need to implement the most inefficient way of doing things as possible.

Meeting up with the boys, it was then a trip down to Coogee for a swim. Bought back plenty of memories of my time living in Sydney as the place hasn't changed too much. Foreshore park filled with backpackers drinking and BBQing, a game of cricket going on on the Village Green further back, and hardly a speck of sand to be seen as it seems all of Sydney has come down for a swim. Can only imagine what Bondi must have looked like.

A dip and a throw of the ball was thoroughly enjoyed. Although our 35-36 year old skills weren't quite what they used to be. Plenty of mistimed classic catches but the water below made the impact quite enjoyable. Like being a kid again.

From there, we headed up for a few beers at the Coogee Palace. Looking very run-down compared to my times there nearly ten years ago but a top spot still looking over the beach from the northern end. Made even better by the "Guess the song and get a free Corona" special on at the time. As a result, we spent longer there than we expected but I must say those Coronas went down very well as songs such as "Highway to Hell" and "Little Lion Man" were far too easy to guess for this crew.

Back to the digs and quick showers and co, before hotfooting to the Clovelly Hotel to begin our night out. Already pretty packed with afternoon drinkers, we settled in to take in some Super 15 rugby and catchup again over memories of nights past. The place was certainly jumping shortly after as the band started up and we headed outside to escape the noise and attempt to maintain our conversations. We must be getting old.

Its funny though, this little corner of the world in Sydney. The eastern beaches really are there own little enclave as it appears the only reason people leave is to go to work during the week. The rest of the time, everything is at their fingertips. From the beach, to pubs/nightclubs. And a lot in between. Cafes, restaurants, cinemas, schools. Even a university and a race course.

Anyway, approaching 11pm, the decision was made to head back down into the Coogee to the infamous Coogee Bay Hotel. The busiest pub in Australia when you consider its ATMs hand out more money than any other in the country.

Been a long time since I'd been to 'The Bay' so quite an experience going back. Again, not a lot has changed. A beer garden that stretches forever. Nearly every nationality represented amongst the patrons. Including those who are still there after an afternoon swim at the beach. And plenty of security roaming around keeping them all in check.

Ahh, the memories. Actually, the memories aren't great from then on. Not sure why. Must have had a drink or two (or a bit more).

Yes, a top night was had with no idea as to when we actually got home. Surely a good sign. Or bad one depending on your point of view. Awesome to catch up with the Sydney boys and tell all the old stories and recall all the good times we've shared. If only we could do it all the more often.

Alas, it was a lightening trip down so a mid-morning flight back to Brisbane meant a quick exit to the airport and bon voyage to Olde Sydney Town. It wanted to hold on to me for a bit longer though as I spent 4 hours waiting for my delayed flight following a system crash for the airline. Oh well, you got to take the good with the bad when you're getting free flights.

So that was my adventure to Sydney over the weekend. Not compelling reading I know but keen to do a bit more journal-type posts rather than sounding like a feature journalist most of the time. Not everything has to be serious and informative.

Here's to my holidays anyway. And until the next time,

EDM.

Some Of Life's Displeasures

(at the risk of sounding like a grumpy old man)

Getting served weak-ass coffee that tastes like milk warmed up after specifically ordering a strong one

Beer that is brewed at a certain brewery at Milton (how do you spell it again?)

Tequila (ever since my bux weekend)

Fast food that doesn’t look anything like the picture in the ad

Seafood (to all the seafood Nazis out there, not everyone has to like it so stop frickin’ trying to convert me)

People who can’t walk in a straight-line along busy city streets

People who play their iPod so loud the whole train carriage can hear it (Britney still sounds like shit from here)

People who talk in the middle of movies (why don’t you just wait for it to come out on DVD)

People with hotted-up cars that scream ‘look at me’ but then complain about getting the attention of the police

Shops that put the milk that is due to expire today at the front of the shelf

Bosses that get their old and new roles confused

Work colleagues who complain about being ‘soooo’ busy but then spend most of the day on the phone/internet/facebook, etc

Carlton, Essendon and Hawthorn supporters who bemoan it’s been ‘soooo’ long since their last premiership

New AFL teams trying to poach young talent away from clubs who are just starting to re-emerge

The current Australian cricket selectors (too many frickin’ examples to type them all out)

Listening to the barmy army signing “Take your fkn stars off our flag” (makes the skin crawl on this republican)

Rugby union referees who think the game is about them

Rugby league (for my father-in-law)

Listening to sportspeople talk about themselves in the third person (“Michael Clarke has to do the right thing by Michael Clarke”)

Any dealings with bank and telecommunications call centres (where all the uninterested and incompetent must go to work)

Prime Ministers and Premiers who get spooked by polls (if it’s not popular but is still the right thing to do, just do it)

Hypocritical Opposition Leaders (Tony, how can it be OK to have a levy to fund an election promise but not to help rebuild a State?)

Journalists using emotive language to slant a story rather than stating the facts (we were always taught to at least try and be seen as objective)

Media reports that merely repeat what’s said in a press release (believe me, this happens all too regularly)

Getting to the pool and realising you’ve forgotten your goggles

Mapping out a running route and then discovering it’s mostly closed due to recent flooding

Tradespeople saying they’ll be there between 8am-12pm and then turning up at 11:55am (to his credit, at least he turned up)

Neighbours who think the whole street wants to listen to them practicing their accordion

Off the top of my head anyway.

EDM.

Man (and Woman) Vs Toddler III

The story continues….

The usual dinner and bathtime routines completed, I then took the son upstairs to our room to read him some books. I’d noticed some suggestions on the interweb around the importance of set routines before bed and thought this would be a good time to introduce a new one for our son.

He enjoyed the first three books and then pointed to another. We read that and still no signs of tiredness. ‘Here we go again’ I thought.

I then found another book and all of a sudden, two pages in, the son let out a big yawn and stretched his arms. Not sure where it came from, but I said to him “Do you want to go to sleep buddy?”. And then was completely gobsmacked when he nodded a yes in reply. In a flash I was up carrying him to his room and kissed him on the forehead as I said goodnight.

I left the room with him still awake and stood at his door. Time seemed to stop as my heart beat faster and my ears were pricked for any kind of noise. And then it began. The crying started up and I retreated downstairs to go through it all again.

Taking note of our experience that continually going in just seemed to make the son angrier and more upset, I decided to just let him cry for as long as I could take it and not go in at regular intervals. I also decided I couldn’t just sit there and listen to the screaming so put my iPod on as I made dinner and tucked into a nice glass of Shiraz.

Dinner finished, I looked up at the clock and took note that it was 30 minutes since I put him down. Earphones out, and there it was. The son was still crying. But as I listened more intently, I could hear that it was a very different cry. More of a moan than a cry. More of a protest than a scream.

I decided I needed to persist as the crying was not that intense and me going in would surely result in him starting up again. The next minute went slow. And then the next one even slower. ‘Cmon little man, just go to sleep’, I found myself muttering.

Another minute went by so I tried to occupy my mind with other matters. Anything but the sounds coming from upstairs and the reminders of my upset son.

Then all of a sudden the crying stopped. I walked half way up the stairs and listened carefully. Another minute went by and still no noise from the son’s room. Could it have worked? Could he have finally given in?

The answer was yes. It had worked in getting him down to sleep without any assistance at all. The true test though, was going to be when he woke during the night. As that had been the real battlefield.

Totally spent after all the comings and goings of the last few nights, I went to bed early and readied for myself for the next onslaught. I went down in mere moments and slept like I’d never slept before. Eventually awakening to the sounds of the son crying once again.

But this time, it wasn’t midnight or 3am. It was 6am and the sun was peaking through the gaps between the window and blind. “You beauty” I thought as I quickly walked into the son’s room and hugged him intensely with pride. He smiled back at me like he knew exactly what was going on and he was proud of himself too. A real father-son moment.

And that seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Despite some trepidation from the wife and I over the next few nights, the son continued to sleep through and has now even started to wave goodnight to us as we leave his room at sleeptime. Not too mention the odd time when he has motioned toward his cot to say he’s ready for sleep now. What a transformation for him, and what a transformation for us.

So that is the story of our sleeping son. Another Man v Toddler tale, encompassing all the aspects of a good thriller. A battle of wits between two clever adversaries. Full of suspense and intrigue. Hope and despair. But then culminating nicely into a rounded ending where the heroes win the day and everyone lives happily ever after.

At least until the son gets sick again that is. And then all bets are off I'm sure.

EDM.

Man (and Woman) Vs Toddler II

The story continues….

Night 3 ended up being the worst night of the whole process. Obviously the son realised he was in a war for his sleeping freedom and he wasn’t going to give up without one hell of a fight. “I will fight them on the streets. I will fight them on the beaches….”.

Again, the start of the night was better and he was down after about 40 minutes. Mind you, I think that was because he was absolutely exhausted as the new regime was completely messing about his day sleeps as well. He’d been a good day sleeper for quite some time and was going down for nearly two hours each day.

Alas, the last few days had thrown a spanner in the works and those sleeps were now down to only 45 minutes. Just to add to our tiredness as it stopped us from catching up on some sleep during the day.

So while 40 minutes wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good either. And there were some terse words between the wife and I as we questioned the tactics being used and were struggling to see any light at the end of the tunnel. Massively influenced by our own exhaustion levels and loss of the ability to think and act in a rational manner.

The son then woke at midnight, again, and it was game-on for nearly 3 hours. He didn’t scream the whole time but it was just short breaks of a minute at most before he’d wind up again like an air raid siren. Total utter screamfest.

Again, it was horrible to listen to and the wife ended up outside on the balcony hoping she wouldn’t be able to hear it. But she still could. Which then caused even more anxiety on our part as we worried about the neighbours hearing it all as well.

We extended the periods between us going in and settling him down. Alas, the requirement that we leave him in the cot still awake so that he learns to self-settle was proving a real hindrance. Because he’d just start up again as soon as we left and it just seemed to make him even angrier. In turn, it would then take even longer to get him to settle back down and stop crying.

Come 3am then, and with all life and sense of purpose drained out of us, I gave in and let the wife go in and settle him back to sleep. He was down and out in mere seconds but we felt defeated. We were losing this war badly despite the odd battle win.

So far from ultimate victory, we were like the British Army at Dunkirk in 1940. But where was our Winston to rally the nation and stare the enemy down.

The books and routines we’d read actually mentioned some timeframes for likely success. 3-15 nights was the answer. That’s not an answer. Having a range like that is the same as saying ‘hey, we haven’t got a clue how long it’ll take. Give it a go and hope for the best’.

Well, the son certainly wasn’t a 3 night prospect now and in all likeliness we were going to be doing this for over two weeks. Lord have mercy!

I actually woke the next day and said to the wife that perhaps we should stop it and try again in a few weeks. It was a thoroughly weak moment but I was a beaten man and seeing my wife as upset as she’d been was taking its toll on me and my determination to succeed.

To my wife’s credit she said no, and that we needed to keep going to ensure the last three nights were not wasted. So the decision was made to continue. Death or glory as they say.

The wife also woke the next morning with some stomach cramping and a massive headache to go with it. She was being a trooper though and told me to go off to work anyway. As the day went on, she got worse and worse to the point that she drove over to her parents house so that they could help out with the son.

Once work finished, I headed over there as well and said to her that perhaps she should spent the night there and rest while I took on the son for another night. At first, she said no but after some coaxing from her parents, she reluctantly agreed and pretty much went straight to bed at 6:30pm just after the son and I returned home.

Now, this sounds pretty underhanded, but I was glad to not have the wife around that night as seeing her so upset was making the task that much harder. It was emotionally draining having to witness the anguish of our son. But it was also exhausting having to continually convince the wife of what we were doing.

So without her there, I could do it my way and not be questioned about my sense of empathy or kindness. Because I knew we weren’t being cruel or unkind. This was for the son’s greater good, and that in fact, we were being kind in trying to teach him to self-settle and sleep so much better.

To be continued….

EDM.