Welcome to my Tuesday night. I’ve got a sleeping child on the bed behind me, the Ninjago Ultimate Sticker Collection to the right, and a bracelet I bought in Honduras at the age of 20 on my left wrist. Today was a long, skinned-knee, tear-poached face kinda day. But I’ll go back to happier, baby-hippo days first.

Last Friday we went to the zoo in Mérida, where Raines Wilder slid down a slide out of an airplane, ate a form of pink cotton candy, and considered how seeing animals living in the middle of the city makes him feel. But seriously, I’ve never seen more big cats in one place before. There were at least 20. And the White Tiger is the biggest, fattest cat I’ve ever stared at. R kept wanting to go back to the hippos and there I am wondering if these kit cats would ever even be hungry enough to eat us if we were in there with them. One of the jaguars had this huge chunk of meat just lying on a plate below it. Like, I’m so full I think I’ll stay up here and stare next door at the crocodile. Anyway, it was fun and some of the cages didn’t even have locks on them. Um. And the baby hippo who lives right next to the lion pride. So these four lions, who look to be mama, papa, and daughters are all set up on their fancy platform, staring at the hippos all day, every day. Maybe that’s the gate that shouldn’t have a lock on it. But then again, would they ever be hungry enough to eat that baby hippo? After we saw lots of tigers, lions, jaguars, and crocodiles, we moved onto the monkeys. At this point, Raines started asking about where their homes are, so I told him. And then I told him that a lot about zoos, even good zoos, makes me feel sad and I sometimes want to open all the cages and let the animals take over. See, I have a much harder time watching an animal get displaced and strapped into human subjectivity than watching a human get dismembered and eaten by a crocodile (this is true, but does not mean I would choose saving a baby gazelle from a cheetah over saving my kid—or your kid even. But some people, I mean, maybe I’d pray for them and all, but if they were getting got by lion or tiger I’d probably just leave it at that). I believe we were left with the responsibility of caring for and protecting animals (not in lame, mushy, animal-hoarding ways, okay), and this has always been a foundational part of me. But, as I told R, it gets complicated, this whole idea of freeing the animals. It just wouldn’t be best, because then we’d have these creatures wandering through Mérida eating inappropriate things and the military police would probably come and shoot them. Not a good ending. Not really a good beginning. But they’re not starving and Raines decided sometimes it does make him feel sad.

I’ll jump from there to a few side-note flickerings that I was thinking about. Some favorite recollections of previous travel (before boy, before real love) are my in-between or alone times. I would be riding a bus to or from town, sitting at a bar or cafe waiting on a friend, or searing the soles of my shoes while climbing a volcano. I could have full-sentence reflection, if I wanted. I could trace back through my day to note things I should never do again, or remind mindself of new phrases I’d learned. Today, now traveling with R, is the most necessarily present living I have ever done. Sure, I make plans for our following days and look ahead to falling asleep next to my lover in our home, but every day I must be here. I must be now. Because the boy just fell on the rain-washed sidewalk and he just tried to stick his hand into the Bengal Tiger’s cave (’cause we totally could have touched him). I need to be present, to be with him, when he’s inspecting all the dirt-crusted treasure in the street. Like yesterday, he saw this pink styrofoam thing that he really wanted to use for a boat. I’ve gotta be ready to make compromises and to not make compromises. I must navigate our days, intent on making it safely and contentedly to our bed, without having my son feel that all I do is tell him what to do. This is my love, my ministry of the heart, wherein I fail and succeed daily.

This past weekend felt like success and failure and then…exhaustion. We went to Puerto Progreso for a couple days at the beach. It really is awesome to be on the sand, listening to slipping waters and watching my son work so intently on impermanent projects. The first night we stayed at this fancy-looking hotel. And while it seemed clean in the bleach-rising-from-the-floor sort of way, the bed was something a lizard wouldn’t sleep on. So the next day we asked around a bit and ended up meeting a pretty cool South African guy who manages a restaurant and hotel in Progreso. We checked out the room (and smooshed the bed to make sure) and decided to stay there for the night. The guy’s name is Keith and he said he’s been in Progreso for the past 2 years, which is 3 months too long for him. He’s an engineer and heads back to Nigeria via London in 2 weeks (where he’ll be making $200k/yr instead of probably $10k/yr there in Progreso). He was helpful and unsketchy, and it ended up being a good move for us. The only thing we used out sheets for, though, was to wipe the sweat off of our limbs and bodies during the night. Raines Wilder had some hard falls and seemed to contract a less-than-lovely attitude over the weekend.

We’re back in Mérida now and Raines Wilder starts school tomorrow at Estancia Mac Paty (yep). And if you were concerned about whether he’ll be in the midst of a chicken pox outbreak, calm your hearts; I found a new school. I’ll write about our today (may it filter out of heart and mind quickly and leave us in peace going forward) tomorrow.

Such a choppy post, I know. Forgive me and pray for my hips and back and baby and kid.

If you’re wondering, Does he really need that sheet? No, no he does not.

He wanted to climb onto this.

Biggest tiger ever.

Lions next door to hippos

We waited through this super long line to get on this thing, and right as it was our turn the guy looked at me and told me that I couldn’t do it because I’m pregnant. Maybe I’m just eating a lot of tamales–sheesh. Lame.

“¿Es real, mami?” “Uh, creo que sí.”

“

Big hippo, little hippo, big hippo

Beso para el hermanito

Major project: digging this rope out of the sand. It was soooooo deep.

28-weeks pregnant in Mexico, with a gremlin child.

SOL EN MI CARA

The light in our room was just, well, either too much or too little but sometimes lovely

mush brains

I might look serious here because it was early and I was staring at a light cloud filter next to the sun. This is the climate in which mothers jacket their children, and I can feel a drip of sweat running down my chest.

Profile of a belly button

águila

Funny green hat I made for bebé dos.