Home sweet Dubai

We arrived back in the sandpit on Sunday, but it’s taken me until today to resurface – because, despite there being a tiddly three hours’ time difference in summer, I always develop a flu-like case of jet lag when travelling eastwards (pathetic, I know!).

My pilot DH has to put up with me lamenting about needing to sleep, but never at the right time (at bedtime, I’m bog-eyed with a fidgety wakefulness for hours), and believe me, he shakes his head at me, absolutely dumbfounded that anyone could be so utterly *hopeless* at jet lag.

While this should only apply to mums travelling back from the US or Canada, with an 8-hour-plus time change, it's not far off.

She’s travelled back from the US. I have no excuse.

“But I think I was still on a mid-Atlantic time zone after the US,” I protest, with a yawn. “You have to fight it,” he responds, at a loss.

And so it goes on: me plodding through the day, which has a surreal, otherworldly quality when you’ve just landed in the post-apocalyptic 43° heat of the desert, and unable to sleep at night; him business as usual despite having flown to six different time zones while we were away.

Aside from the insomnia (which the kids also have. Ugh.) and the wading through hot treacle, the other thing about arriving back in Dubai after a long period away is the brain dump that takes place while travelling. Simple things, like the route to your local retail centre, making a packed lunch, or locating the cupboard in which mugs are kept, require deep thought, while grocery shopping feels like a thousand-piece 3D puzzle.

Still, even though I drifted onto the highway today in a daze rather than into the supermarket car park, and have climbed the staircase a total of eight times tonight to soothe the two riving insomniacs upstairs, it feels good to be home.

EDITED TO ADD: At 11.30pm and decamped to the children’s room with my laptop, I can now say, hand on heart, jet lag is the SCOURGE of summer travel. Sigh.

INSOMNIA: What thoughts run through your mind in the dead of night?

Two-year-olds – could they be any more mercurial?

One minute full of joy and laughter, the next minute angry tears rolling down their red-hot faces as frustration takes hold.

LB had a terrible tantrum yesterday. Everyone else went off on an errand, leaving him and me behind. To say he was devastated is not an exaggeration. He flung himself at the front door, his little fingers clinging to the letter box, and screamed like a banshee for a good 30 minutes.

The only thing that stopped his uncontrollable sobbing was spending the next half an hour standing by the road waiting for the car to come back.

Then, last night, he had another treat in store for me. I’ve mentioned before that he’s not a good sleeper. In LB’s case, it’s not a run-of-the-mill night-time disturbance that’s easily dealt with. He wakes up with full-blown insomnia and it keeps us both up for a couple of hours while he tosses and turns.

It’s really very annoying – and tiring.

Here are some of the random thoughts that went through my mind in the small hours last night, after my mum (who has also been getting up in the night, bless her) deposited a wide-awake LB in my room:

– “In the morning I’ll google diseases that make small children wriggle so much at night.”

– “Has my sister-in-law forgiven me?”

– “Should I get a proper job?”

– “Maybe I should research little-known reasons for night-time fidgeting right now. My iPhone’s by the bed.”

– “Why are beds in England so narrow? This double bed is only just big enough for LB and me. Someone – probably me – is going to end up on the floor.”

– “I wonder if my sister-in-law got my email. Perhaps it got lost.”

– “Is it worth trying to go back to Dubai via Nice and get DH to meet us there? I wouldn’t have to do the long Dubai flight by myself with the kids.”

– If LB goes to sleep in the next half hour and it takes me another half an hour to get to sleep after that, I’ll get another three hours’ sleep. That’ll be ok.”

– “I really had better research what wriggling could be a symptom of right now. Or would LB just want to play games on my iPhone?”

– “We could take the Eurostar to Paris. BB would love that. And do Eurodisney. Could I face it? How crowded would it be at this time of year?”

– “Oh god, it’s 5.06am. STOP fidgeting and GO TO SLEEP!”

– “Should I give him medicine?”

– “Perhaps my brother’s cross with me too?”

– “What should I buy my best friend for her 40th birthday. Crikey, I can’t believe we’re turning 40. How did that happen? Weren’t we just teenagers?”

– “DON’T kick me! You just nearly gave me a nose bleed.”

– “Why isn’t LB talking in sentences? He’s nearly three. When my friend’s boy was three he could read the health and safety notice at nursery. That’s amazing.”

– “I wish I lived closer to this friend. It’s been so nice seeing old friends with shared history while in England.”

– “Oh no, is that light creeping round the curtains? I’m not in the mood for the bloody birds to start chirr-uping.”

– “Should we try counting sheep together? 1-2-3. No, it’s just bonus stimulation time for him. Can I remember anything from that baby yoga class?”

– “If I had a proper job, I wouldn’t be in such a mess with my invoicing.”

– “He’s sleeping – at last! Only lightly, but he’s lying still. Now I just have to get myself to sleep. Right here goes.”

– “What if Catherine the Great doesn’t come back to us after her vacation in the Philippines?”

– “Can’t sleep. The edge of the bed is really uncomfortable and I daren’t move for fear of waking him. Feeling panicked about getting to sleep now.”

– “Omg, what will I do if Catherine doesn’t come back?”

– “Oh no, I can hear people going to work.”

– “Should I give myself some medicine?”

– “Agggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

This post was inspired by the very talented Mrs Dubai.
Image courtesy of animalclipart.net