I’ve been irregular on this blog because I’ve been busy. Ironically, because we’re going on holiday. To India for two weeks, no less. The whole thing was beset with problems.

First, it turned out I didn’t actually have any leave, and would technically be borrowing leave from a contract I hadn’t even started (or signed) at the time. My boss assured me it wouldn’t be a problem, and with V breathing down my neck, we booked tickets. Only to discover right after that it was indeed a problem and the stress of working out the leave went on for a month.

Then, in order to take this leave, I had to juggle like crazy at work, and make other people dance too. Unlike previous years when I was not in charge of anything and thus could blithely take off, this year, I need to ensure that I sign off on my project before I leave. The perils of responsibility.

But mainly, I don’t even want to go to India with the kids. I do not usually spend 24 hours with my kids for days on end. I do on weekends but the adult-to-child ration is 3:2, which means that there is some breathing space for all the adults involved. Even if I deserve a dose of Mommy Boot Camp, transplanting the whole experience to another country, where the kids will be thrown out of their usual routine and naturally more on edge, doesn’t make sense to me. Actually, Benji I can manage. It is Mimi, who is full of beans on a good day, that I worry about coping with.

I felt obliged to take the kids to India for the sake of the grandparents. This is not a holiday for me. It is going to be labour, pure and simple, and because I have done this before with one child, I know what I’m in for. Last time, I was optimistic. This time, with two children and my SIL not going to be around to help me navigate, I’m like a deer staring into headlights.

I might have felt better if I were just going to Bombay and not to my in-law’s place in Bangalore as well. At my mum’s place, I can get things done and get help in a way that is just not possible at my in-law’s, where I am uncomfortable myself, leave alone when trying to make two babies comfortable.

Frankly, I am dreading it and have sort of been in denial about the whole thing all along. Except that it is now upon me. I feel like I am about to start an episode of Survivor.

Wish me luck.