Day Two BBQ ~ Good Times, Bare Feet, and Giant zZz zZz's

By reading this next post it will soon become clearly apparent to you why I used a little side-bar to introduce baby Amelia and her older Kiwi-kuz, Tui. Not only does it benefit you Canadians who must be scratching your heads over keeping track of all these Kiwis, but it also helps me keep it straight in my own head as well.

    By the time we finish this series of posts recording our latest trip home, you should have a faily good grasp on some of the little peeps we rave about from time to time, and you'll be better able to appreciate how exciting this all was for little Charlotte. 

    Remember, we are in New Zealand for no more than 18 hours at this point and before we'd even had our first piece of Vegemite toast, we were surrounded by family all gearing up for a backyard BBQ. 

    "It's all right, Charlotte. You can take your shoes off and have bare feet - all day today. Go nuts."

    

    Of course, we were really stoked to see all our whanau (family), but the truth be told, we were all starting to really feel the affects of jet-lag and fatigue after forcing our bodies through fifteen different time zones. Oh, and switching from -10 degrees Celsius, to +29 degrees C with 75% humidity. 

    Jet lag and activities aside, perhaps the biggest upset was that we had also managed to lose Michelle for a couple of days. She didn't make it home with us from the airport, but instead, continued on to Canberra visit dear friends of ours in Australia.

     The point is; although we were tired, disoriented and things all seemed a little out of whack; we were happy to be there, and weren't going to let the details get in the way of a good party.

    

    So, faced with the situation we were in, Charlotte made short work of getting acquainted with all these new Aunties, Uncles and cousins...

...(not to mention, helping herself to all the Easter chocolate left out on the table)!

    She seemed to cotton onto everyone relatively quickly and before long, was heading off with Aunty Catherine, Amelia, Lily, Tui and Angela to the Playground around the corner. Guess what - Tig managed to find herself an Orion! (That's my girl).

   The boys took advantage of the glut of willing baby-sitters, to roll out the Chilly Bin and catch up on long forgotten "war-stories" (as well as strategic updates on the state of Regan's beard - Roger Beard)... 

     Aunty Dianne Donaldson made an appearance before her shift at the hotel, although her hairy-hubby Condon was away overseas searching for the missing Malaysian airliner. For me, it was just like old times, but with the clock wound up to the giga-watts and an itinerary that was squeezing us so hard, it made Charlotte's eye's pop out on stalks.
    While excited to be surrounded by all these wonderful new people - who we knew to be our family this trip, unlike the last because we were too young - we still had a few moments where things all got a little overwhelming.

   At one point, I found Charlotte sitting in the car port on her own, close to tears, but stoic all the same. She was trying her level best to be polite in spite of how she was feeling at that particular moment.
   Realizing I'd neglected her a bit, I allowed myself a healthy dose of father's guilt. Poor kid. She'd done really well to this point. It seems the combination of jet-lag and funny New Zeelund accents nagging had added to all the uncertainty going on. (On top of all that, I'm sure it didn't help the situation much that dear Tui had fallen in love with Charlotte's LeapPad. Normally that would be fine. We just didn't know our new kuzzy well enough yet to realise she wasn't going to keep it).

    Realising young Charlotte was on her last legs, I suggested we go inside and take a nap. In spite of how she was feeling, Tig conceded that she was tired, but was staying up because she didn't want to upset Aunty Lucy; (I think she was also keeping half an eye out for her elusive LeapPad. Haha, it's a reasonable disposition when you're only four).
   Snapping out of my catch-up with Denny & Swede; I put my beer down, grabbed her up in my arms, and assured her that although there were a lot of strangers running around, that these people were her family.
    "Everyone here loves you, Charlotte; don't you know."
    She acknowledged my explanation with a small nod, and seemed to do so with the maturity of a 30-year-old. [Sometimes she just snaps out of being a crazy four-year-old kid that won't eat broccoli and say's things like, 'poop', and 'fart', and 'bum' - and for some reason decides to relates to you directly one-to-one, as if I was her equal].

    Anyway, there sitting on our Chilly Bin (Cooler/ Esky) we blocked out all the noise and craziness of New Zealand. We assured each other that we were going to enjoy our vacation and that the best way to do that was to do whatever we needed to to be comfortable.
    "If you need a drink, just then help yourself. If you need to pee, just pee. If there's anything else you need, just ask. That's just how we're doing things right now..."
    "But I just want to go play in my room," she whispered, hesitant that I might snap at her for suggesting it.
    "You're allowed to take a nap, Tig" I told her, realizing the conversation was reversed from the usual circumstance. Normally, the work 'nap' equates to WWIII in our house. Today, it was music to her tired ears.
    "Don't worry about your LeapPad, Tui is just playing with it for a while. She's learning her ABC's"
    "Daddah, I have grass all on my feet!" (this said with a worried expression in her voice).
    "That's OK. In New Zealand, we don't wear shoes, and we can sleep in the daytime when we want to."
    "Can I have no underpants, like Tui doesn't?" she asked quizzically, desperate to be just like the other kids.
    "Mate, I'm not wearing any now," I admitted with a grin. I whacked my butt to emphasize the point in an attempt to make her laugh. It worked, she giggled beneath the stationary tear on her cheek. "Undies are only for the snow."

    That's when the wee girl let out the four-year-old-Canadian equivalent of a fifty-year-old's sigh. Quitting her stoic quest upon the Chilly Bin, she leaned in for a cuddle with her Dad. I scooped her up and carried her through to her room where she curled up under 'Stripy' (her blanket).
    No sooner had I tucked her in, did she began to drop off into a deep and much-needed sleep. I offered to close the windows for her to quiet the noise of the radio and the party - but to her credit, she said, "No Daddah - we don't do that here in New Zealand." ("We?" Ha - that's my girl).
    As it turns out, all she needed from her father that day was permission to cuddle up in her room. I kissed her on the forehead and tucked her in with another blanket with the promise that I'd come check on her soon.
    Man. It felt so good to be back home. I was so happy to be in that place I loved so much with my little girl, in this familiar place with all the laughter, sunshine and the warm.

    Poor Tig: Two more beer, and forty minutes later, I checked in on her, and she hadn't moved an inch...

    ...two hours on, and it was clear that she was gone - no point waking her for supper now, she was well committed to catching up on some zZz zZz's!

By 7pm that night she'd been sleeping for five hours straight, and there was a peacefulness about her that totally impressed the insomniac in me...

    Whew! We made it, finally! Even though not all of us could fully appreciate where 'here' even was - we all knew it was a pretty good place to be.
    Exhausted from our marathon journey, and not really in any mood nor shape for partying - but regardless of the shape we were in, one thing is for sure - we were surrounded by people who love us, and there was peace of mind in that for both of us somehow.

    "No worries kid," I whispered through her bedroom window. "Sleep it off for now, because tomorrow's another day."