Having a baby is no holiday
Perhaps the low point was when, dashing towards a stadium in Tianjin for a Stefanie Sun concert, we were pelted with trash lifted off the ground by strong gusts of wind.
Perhaps it was when, after lugging 100kg of bags to the station at the crack of dawn to catch a 550 yuan (S$110) train to Shanghai, my usually organised sister realised that she forgot to bring her passport.
Or maybe it was when, after carrying a stroller up and down thousands of stairs to get to the obsessively guarded Tiananmen Square - a stunning, wide-open expanse whose sense of history is as palpable as its lack of sheltered places - the heavens opened and it started to pour.
Or maybe the deepest troughs were less dramatic moments. Like the equal parts relief and self-loathing we felt when we relented and changed the baby's soiled diaper just on the train seats. No one batted an eyelid, but we knew we had let Non-China humanity down.