Iguanas love bananas (and other Mexican tales)

Our holiday to Mexico was hot and very humid.  My husband doesn't really like hot holidays.  To be honest we wouldn't have chosen to go there if it hadn't been for my niece's wedding.  I promised her years ago that I'd go to her wedding anywhere in the world and I do like to keep a promise.

I wonder if we'd have gone if Monkey had still been with us.  I don't think we would have done.  I think I would have used him as my excuse not to fly.  It would have been difficult.  Organising medical supplies and special seating arrangements.  The threat of last minute illnesses meaning we couldn't go.  I think I would have found it all too stressful (and conveniently so).  I know (although only virtually) a lady who happily packs up her 2 beautiful daughters with a range of complex health issues and I am a little ashamed.  Most things are possible if you want them enough. 

However, although my motives may not have been pure, with hindsight, I think it would have been the right decision.  It was a long flight and uncomfortably hot most of the time.  The swimming pool would have been Monkey friendly and there would have been some new experiences; sounds and smells and the Mexican people were lovely.  Ultimately though, I think it would have put too much stress on us as a family. 

There's a pressure when you go on holiday that you have to have a great time.  Even without Monkey complications, this was not always possible.  Did I mention husband hated the heat?  Pickle and Wotsit played up occassionally, in a very normal nearly 2 and 3 an a 1/2 year old kind of way, and we disagreed about how to respond.  The music by the pool was loud and the holiday was a little Ibiza-esque at times.  Throw in sickness, diorrhoea, epilepsy and sleepless nights and it would, understandably, have been quite tough and less of a break from day to day routines and difficulties.  I think we'd have stayed closer to home and had shorter breaks.  That would have been fine for me.  And the boys for a long while.  But I thnk there could have been some resentment about not being able to do things as readily as other families. 

I think about this because it makes me cherish our freedom, our ability to do things on the spur of the moment and to realise how lucky we are.  Don't get me wrong, I would give up this freedom for one more day with Monkey but, hey, that's not possible.

So how was Mexico?  I don't know!  I feel a bit of a fraud in that we have visited Mexico but not really seen Mexico.  The hotel was all inclusive and the holiday expensive.  Day trips were even more expensive so we only managed one.  Sitting still is not a family strength.

All that said, we had a great time.  We spent a chunk of time together.  I got to see my niece get married (she looked stunning) and got to know, and love, her new husband.  Wotsit started to talk A LOT (also chipped his tooth in the swimming pool) and Pickle's swimming came on leaps and bounds.  As a result of sharing a room Pickle's heffalump Lumpy is now called Humpy - who knew little boys could be quite so amorous!  And my husband was definitely jealous that his son was having more fun than he was.

We also learnt that, when looking at Mayan ruins (our one cultural trip), the only thing worse than being frazzled in the sun, is being viciously attacked by mosquitos in the shade.  To distract the boys from the heat and the mossies, I decied to give them some fruit (food never fails to distract in our house).  And that is when I learnt that Iguanas love bananas. 

Off we go to Mexico (no valium required)

Actually, we're back but I wanted to write about the build up...

I've mentioned before my fear of flying.  I was doing quite well and wasn't too apprehensive this time.  I had some herbal sweets that were meant to calm me and my friend had given me some of her valium which she'd got from the docs for an upcoming flight to Spain (clearly not advocating sharing perscriptions but didn't see the harm).  My husband knew that I was very unlikely to take them but I gave him permission (I'm surprised he didn't make me sign some kind of consent in advance to absolve him of all responsibility) to administer them if it became necessary (in much the same way he'd give the cat her worm tablets).  

We were leaving on a Thursday and I had everything packed on the Sunday.  This is out of character.  Very out of character.  My preferred state is, in many aspects of my life, to be a little bit out of control and last minute.  However, I have to say, this level of organisation was definitely a key factor in keeping me calm.

My last day at work on the Tuesday and I worked until late so everyone said 'Bye, have a nice holiday' as they were leaving.  This started my nerves a little and I reacted in a way that may have been more appropriate if they'd said 'It's been nice knowing you'.

On the Wednesday I was in sole charge of the little people and had to take the cat to the cattery and do a few last minute bits before driving to the Grandparents who were taking us to the airport the following day.  And then I started to feel sick.  It dawned on me that I was leaving Monkey behind.  I realise this is reasonably ridiculous and we have been on holiday since he died and I hadn't felt like this before.  I think it was to do with the flight.  Anyway, we cut some flowers from the garden and I wrote a little note and we stopped at the church and dropped them off.  I can't remember exactly what I wrote but I think Pickle captured it when a week later he was pretending to write on the wall of the swimming pool 'Dear Alex, I still love you but I am in Mexico'.  Think that pretty much summed up my thoughts.

So, how was the flight?  We flew with my youngest niece (21).  It was the first time she'd flown without her Mum and she was a little bit apprehensive.  I took charge, maintained an air of calm, my children were the best behaved children on the flight (although they slipped down a place or two on the return journey) and it was uneventful - no valium required. 

The jokes get better

Mummy, when is a door not a door?
Pickle's punchline:  When it's a jam pot.

Like his Daddy in every way except his ability to tell jokes, which he gets from his Mummy.