We missed our flight.
My heart drops. After a red-eye alternating between a toddler slung over our laps and cradling our 3 mo old daughter, my husband and I were both exhausted. Between a departing flight that was an hour late, a huge line at customs and phones that inexplicably didn’t register the time change – we had missed our connection from Mexico City to Cancun.
The fam was already wearing thin from all the schlepping after flying from Quito to Las Vegas only days before. And I felt a surge of panic.
It would be almost another ten hours before we reached our destination.
And at that moment, I wasn’t sure I had it in me.
If it was just me and the hubs, we’d sigh. Grab some coffee and grumble about the inconvenience. But with kids, it’s not so easy. Regulating their happy place takes a lot of work while traveling. The basics like making sure everyone is fed, watered and adequately rested is a huge challenge and setbacks like a missed flight can be disastrous.
As we stomped through the airport, we became that gringo family. Angrily cursing at each other as we dragged a stroller, car seat, roller bag, backpack, duffle and two kids to the food court. That feeling of accomplishment I had when our son made it through three hours of airport bullshit starting at 4am diminished quickly with the distressing news that we were nowhere near out of the woods yet.
One terrible processed meat wrap and a coffee later, we were at our gate. A plane. A bus. A sweaty unnecessarily long wait on plastic chairs for our rental car. And two hours squished in the backseat and we were in Tulum.
Four days later and I’m not quite sure how I feel about the whole World Schooling thing.
Because it’s been hard.
The cumulative lack of sleep and disruption to our routine has my 4 yo son acting – quite frankly – like a maniac.
Our AirBnB is super bare bones. The kitchen lacking basic cooking essentials. No hot water. Weird lighting. Loud doors. A power outage for most of last night.
I don’t have any of my things.
And it sucks.
Instead of lounging by the pool and lazy afternoons at the beach, most of my energy is spent towards getting myself and the kids settled in the unfamiliar.
Enforcing new rules in this new space.
Like closing the doors because of mosquitos. Something we don’t do in Ecuador as our dogs roam freely. But that is critical here.
And building a weekly rhythm from scratch when all your typical components are gone.
Like school and friends.
With two more weeks left, I’m tired and feeling defeated. Like I’m not really the person I want to be. The get up and go gal. And that I need those comforts of home to function more than I’d like to admit.
Or maybe it’s just learning I need to do.
And tomorrow is another day. We have a new room. Hot water in the shower. A vegetable peeler and cutting board. And bikes. We’ll start off the day at the park before breakfast for some yoga. And get out to the beach before the hottest part of the day.
Baby steps are small.
But they’re still in the right direction.