Losing her toys

Occasionally I wonder how much my daughter takes in. Behind her big gummy grins, waving arms, wide eyes, raucous babble and determined screams, what does she actually know? And think?

Regular readers will know I'm in the midst of hell relocating back to Sydney after two years living in the UK. It's a big move for the three of us and to be honest over the past month or more, I've thought of little else. (With the obvious exception of the increasingly chic wardrobe of my favourite Duchess). It really has taken over our lives. The move that is. Not the Duchess's wardrobe.

While I've devoted many many minutes to reconciling my own feelings of disconnect and unease with all of this change, it dawned on me tonight*, that I've given very little thought to what on earth my daughter is making of all this. Of course her daily needs are still being met. Food, shelter, rest and love. And for the most part, she has had her mother. Her father, however, has been absent, getting on with the business of work.

When I stop and think about it, her world has flipped upside down. Possibly more than mine. Because at least I know what this is all about. I know this is home, I know why this is happening and I know the endgame. But what about her?

A few weeks back we packed up all her toys and either shipped them home or sold them. But as far as she knows they just disappeared. Ditto a lot of our furniture. Then one day her nursery was reconverted back into the study she would never have known, it originally was. Her cosy, colourful little room was suddenly ugly, taken over by a big built-in desk and cork book shelves. Again, as far as she knows, her nook just vanished.

Then we went to an enormous airport, hopped on an enormous plane, and sat** there for an enormous amount of time. We hopped off briefly only to shower in a strange place, eat a bagel in an equally strange place and re-enter the ultimate strange place. Another plane.

When we finally disembarked for good, her sleep was all flipped around and barely anything was familiar. We stayed in new places, new faces popped up, as did new dogs, new babies, new toys. New everything. Basically everything she has known, changed. That was almost two weeks ago and, give or take some hellish wakefulness initially, she seemed to adjust beautifully.

To keep her on her toes I also threw in her first solo endeavour - two nights with her maternal grandparents – which from all accounts was delightful and without drama. I returned to find her content as ever and the following days were fine.

And then, tonight, she lost it. Completely. Not just a one-off moment of frustration but an afternoon and evening of complete misery. Not even a bath – normally beloved – could placate her.

The next day brought little relief. She continued to eat and sleep as normal but was decidedly unhappy and out of sorts for a few days. There was no temperature, no physical sign of illness and no obvious explanation for her uncharacteristic despair. Unless, of course, I consider the fact we sold her toys, took away her nursery, deserted her for a few days and turned her world on its head. Could that be it? Perhaps there is an obvious explanation.

*I wrote this last week but have only just arranged internet (a post in itself).

**By 'sat' I mean I dreamed of sitting still, watching movies, reading magazines and sleeping, all the while roaming the aisles, returning stolen earphones, food items and blankets to our fellow passengers and willing our delightful-but-sleep-resistant toddler to close her eyes.