I come to you from Bali…

I come to you from Bali. From a make believe world of plunge pools day-time naps and domestic paladins who appear each morning to wash breakfast dishes, make beds, remove laundry and then disappear on scooters into the tropical sunset. It’s day three possibly four, I’ve lost count. I’m now at the sunscreen for make-up and bathers for underwear point of the trip – I haven’t worn underpants in days which isn’t nearly as exciting for my husband as it should be. Did I mention we’re here with our four “children”?

Those inverted commas are because it’s hard to refer to your six foot something nineteen year old as a child particularly if you’re asking for one of “his” beers that you’ve most definitely paid for. For those of you who have been around here for awhile you may remember my “children” as the little travellers one, two, three and four rarely named but often written about. I’ve told the stories of their cuteness, our travels and how they were born in different countries – those “little” people are now 17, 19, 20 and 23. I know, I can’t believe it either. From pre-school, cancer diagnosis(es) boarding school, university acceptances, summer jobs and here we all are, in Bali just the six of us together.

For those of you who were once me and when I say me I mean the people looking for the best tips on travel cots, strollers and how to entertain a child on a long haul flight I’m here to provide an insight into your future family holiday with teens and young adults.

Firstly I’m going to make things really easy for you. There’s one fact that you’re going to have to accept and the sooner you do the sooner things will run smoothly. Ready for it?

You’re a loser.

In the nicest possible way, you’re just not quite cool enough to roll with this crowd.

Yep, just repeat after me “what would I know, I’m a loser”. Write in on your hand, pop it in your phone and just keep it there as a reminder when you get confused on why your “children” are looking at you with disdain because you’ve struck up a conversation with a stranger, attempted to speak the local language, or had a little jiggle to a particular piece of music.

Why are they looking at me like that? Oh that’s right I’m a …

Here’s the good news though, and this one is big. It doesn’t matter if you’re a loser because your days of getting up early with the kids are now gone. Your “children” will not be up for breakfast, actually they may not even be up for lunch. Your mornings are now completely your own. You can now get up and go for a long walk, read a book, cook your own breakfast without the dietary requirements of a toddler, actually, you know what? You possibly even have time to learn a new language, change your hair colour and undergo root canal before they get out of bed.

While you’ll still be asking questions of your “children” the content is going to be completely different. When peering into the fridge rather than who drank all the milk you will ask “why is there only half a bottle of vodka left?” Instead of providing counsel for the overuse of bubble bath or play dough you will look incredulously at the misuse of the Gofood app with the surprise arrival of a starbucks grande frappe triple flip one pump no foam delivery.

It doesn’t matter how far you travel from home you will still be the oracle of the lost and found and head of the tourism department. It’s not your kitchen, it’s not your house, it’s not even your country yet you’ll hear “MUM, where’s the saucepans? Mum, are there any more towels or MUM are the night markets open every night?

Does it sound awful?

Weirdly It’s not, it’s actually more than a lit bit wonderful. The bit they don’t tell you about when your toddlers grow into teens and adults is that you still see them like noone else see’s them.

In the middle of reading your summer blockbuster you’ll look over the top of the page and find yourself grinning at your 17 year old son doing handstands in the pool, duck diving on his own happily keeping himself amused. For a split second your mind will wander to a different pool in a different country, he’s three and your husband is squatting down ready to rocket ONE…TWO….THREE….he launches with him on his shoulders and throws him giggling into the air. He’s always loved the pool.

Your other son will turn on Al Jazeera news and discuss world events wanting to engage and get your opinion on current affairs – he often has more details than you and offers his own thoughts. You look into those eyes and think of the constant wonder he’s had with how things work and why they work the way they do.

The second child, the Starbucks assasin has a constant string of questions. Mum, Dad, what do you think is…Mum, Dad, why do you think…Mum, Dad, do you feel… Mum, Dad, what’s the best decision…eventually her father asks a question in return “what do you feel is the most important quality in a partner” without hesitation she answers “emotional intelligence” which is interesting because she has it in the truckloads.

The eldest continues to tolerate us. At 23 she’s working, saving, studying, and very much an adult. She’s the one who sent us all the link for our tourist visa’s and shared the information on how to get the code for customs. Her boyfriend drove her to the airport while the rest of us caught a taxi in a mad scramble possibly leaving the house unlocked and the door open (I know we’re a disgrace to international travellers everywhere), she of course got to departures before us – but I still see her wide eyed and ready for her first day of preschool “carry up carry up” she says climbing up my leg as we make our way through the car park in Kuala Lumpur both of us terrified with the idea of spending the day apart.

And there it is, the question and answer to family holidays as your children grow. I think it was Jane Caro who said (and I’m butchering it but this is the general gist) from the moment your child is born it’s a process of slowly letting go. Holidays with small children are intense and hands on you have to have your best game on if everyone is to make it home alive. Holidays with big children are an exercise in learning to be hands off. You don’t want to come for a walk? Okay. You don’t want to go to the beach? Alrighty. You want to go to the place down the street? Bingo! I’ll grab my shoes.

How do you make sure you don’t lose yourself in the process? Are you still being yourself which is of course a total loser, remember?

As you make your way into the restaurant the kids are talking about how embarassing Dad was in the taxi “he kept asking the guy how to say different words” I laugh along when traveller two says that his father asked how do you say “turn right” and the taxi driver replied “turn right”.

I’ve been exactly the same as G, being in Bali has provided the flashback to our Jakarta lives and language – I can feel my bahasa coming back in fragmants. I see the kids cringe as I stumble through but to be honest the kids cringe at pretty much everything I attempt – my days of being the champion in their toddler lives is long gone, so what to do?

“Selamat Malam Pak! Satu Lagi Bintang? Terima Kasih Banyak”