The consequence of being a “jet-set journalist” is that at some point it catches up with you, and you become the jet-lag journalist.   Or, in my case, you become the mother of a mini jet-lag journalist.  My transition from Texas to London was surprisingly easy: my little sweetie behaved as just that on the return Houston – London flight, rather than the hellion he had been on the way over.  He slept most of the way, and looked even more angelic in comparison to the other baby on the flight who screamed most of the way (been there, I told her mom).   I was tired on arrival, but had no jet-lag since.  But I’ve been suffering from indirect jet-lag.  That is to say, the baby’s jet-lag has been keeping us all up at night.  For a ten-month old who’s been sleeping through the night for more than 5 months, this has come as a bit of a shock.   I’ve got circles around my eyes from the 11-Midnight awake hour, and the “it’s 2am, let’s play!” syndrome.  Aside from the circles, the other consequence of baby-lag is that I haven’t had / made the time to post.   But happy to report we all seem to be sleeping on schedule again (she writes with trepidation at 11pm, fearing a late-night wake up call via the baby monitor) and thus the Interdependence Complex will resume with its regularly scheduled programming.

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