Jetlag with Joy
By Joe Barker
Finally, we'd landed, shuffled through immigration, and were in a taxi bound for home. I breathed a great sigh of relief: we'd survived what had seemed an impossibly long journey and the worst was now behind us. The more experienced parental travelers among you will be shaking your heads sadly at this naivety and thinking, What a fool—he’s forgotten the jetlag! He has days of random sleep patterns, unexpected tantrums, and naps that either don’t happen, or never end, to come. And you are right; I have all those hurdles to jump. But despite these horrible-sounding challenges, I love jetlag. There are undoubtedly tough moments, but I find the benefits to be more than ample compensation.
This uncharacteristic positivity may be because of the excitement of being home: one of the advantages of being an expat is that at both ends of a journey it feels like you’re going home. This is especially true after a long stay when there are always irritations you are happy to leave behind, and things you are starting to miss from your other home.
Joy in the morning
It has taken me a while to learn to love all jetlag, but I’ve always loved flying to the UK from Thailand. Giddy with joy at being back in my childhood home, I spend a couple of days going to bed at 8pm and leaping out of bed at 4am filled with boundless energy and enthusiasm. By the time the local inhabitants—my parents and such siblings as are around—get up, I've walked their dogs, emptied the dishwasher, done the laundry, mended our bikes, and, full of a sense of productivity and usefulness, I am ready to join them in a second breakfast where, while they are still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, I overwhelm them with my exuberant plans for the day. Thankfully, for the peace of mind of the permanent residents, this unnatural state of affairs cannot last long and by day two or three, I'm back on UK time and my usual unhelpful, sluggish, and, above all, quiet self in the mornings.
My relish for these early mornings has only increased with the addition of children. First Marty, and now Alice, have shown a fine appreciation for misty, early morning walks. Having fed them their milk and me my tea, we take the dogs out to enjoy the sunrise. It’s cold and crisp and beautiful, and it's hard to know whether it’s the dogs or children that are having a better time. Either way, their joy only increases when Grandfather comes out to throw a ball for them, and I sneak inside for another cup of tea. Having the children fed, dressed, and exercised shortly after 4am gives everyone the impression that I’m a competent and caring husband and father, which simply adds to my insufferably self-satisfied air over that delicious second breakfast.
The bubble pops
This year, through no fault of jetlag, it all went wrong. Halfway through the flight, Marty's nose started running. Little did we know it, but this was a bad thing. When we came into land he complained that his ears hurt; not unusual when you land, we said, and thought no more about it. Turns out this was also a bad thing. For the next few days he had horrible earaches whenever he lay down. Apparently this can happen if young children fly with runny noses. It was terrible. We'd put Marty in bed propped up on cushions, but at some stage in the night he'd snuggle down into his bed, and then it was just a matter of time before he woke up screaming with discomfort. Snatched from our sleep, I would prod my wife until she took Marty downstairs to press warm cloths to his ears while the pain abated and he slowly dozed off. Naturally, at the precise moment at which they got back to bed, Alice would decide that it was now morning, and that I'd better come and help her walk the dogs.
Fortunately, this only lasted a few days until Marty's ears popped back to normal, but it really took the edge off our magical early mornings. It was still lovely having the sunrises to ourselves, but I would have enjoyed watching Alice and the dogs play on the lawn so much more if I'd had just a little more sleep.
Nightwork
It’s been harder to learn to love jetlag in Thailand, although the discovery of melatonin pills helped a lot. With the certainty that the pills will eventually get me back on a sensible sleep schedule, I can embrace the productivity advantages of midnight sleeplessness. Wide awake when all the world is sleeping, I use this time to catch up on my emails, reading, and, most importantly, Netflix.
Vive la révolution
My wife has always imposed a, frankly draconian, ban on napping and early bedtimes after flights, believing, in the face of all the evidence, that what works for her in overcoming jetlag will also work for me. However, even the most dictatorial of spouses are powerless in the face of young children's sleep schedules. Last year after a sleepless flight, I was cruelly kept up until 9pm, only to be reawakened an hour later by Marty, whose body clock totally disregarded my wife's commands and insisted that we needed at least four more hours of play before we could consider turning in for the night. I do not wish to dwell upon those nightmare hours of play, suffice it to say that befuddled by drowsiness, I did not relish this extra time with my beloved son.
Even the meekest worm will eventually turn, and the next day I rose up and demanded unlimited nap and bedtime rights.
Unlike less lovable dictators, my wife knows when to change her mind and learn from past mistakes. So this year napping was in, and there would be no attempt to sort out my body clock until the children had sorted out theirs. I napped in the car back from the airport and again as soon as we got home, then I went to bed at the same time as Alice. This meant that I was refreshed and raring to play when Alice decided that she’d been napping not settling down for the night. When mommy and Marty headed to bed, Alice and I enjoyed a second dinner, baked some bread, chased each other round the kitchen, wrote thank you letters, and rediscovered favorite toys we’d not seen in two months. A spurt of productivity and fun that was all the better for being done when the rest of the world was asleep. Fast forward to the wee small hours, and as Alice and I started to yawn, mommy and Marty were just waking up, ready to pop down for a belated midnight snack. We passed each other on the stairs and perfect harmony prevailed.
Having survived that first challenging night back, we soon settled into a routine. While Alice and I went to bed early and then got up and played in the middle of the night, mommy and Marty would stay up playing till 11pm and then get a sensible night's sleep.
A week later and our sleep is back to normal. Alice and I throwing balls and giggling together while the city sleeps is now just an enchanting memory, but I’m already looking forward to doing it all again next year.
About the Author
Joe and his wife Diane moved to Thailand in 2018. Since the arrival of their son Martin in 2021 and daughter Alice in 2024, Joe has been a stay-at-home father. The whole family enjoys BAMBI playgroups and Thai beach holidays. Find Joe on SubStack: BangkokDad bangkokdad.substack.com/