You Win Some; You Lose Some

I don’t like the zoo. It’s crowded and hot and the animals stink and are boring. Why do we have Zoos? I asked myself as I pushed our double stroller up the crowded narrow path to the “Large Cats.” I mean battling crowds of sweaty people, on a hot October afternoon to see wild animals from such a distance as to make them appear smaller than a color illustration in a book, borders on ridiculous. To make our afternoon venture even more absurd, October is apparently past the St. Paul Como Zoo’s regular season which means the majority of the animals are inside, some exhibits are completely closed, and the park closes “early” (read: forty five minutes after we arrived).

But Ryan was golfing and the sun was high and bright in a cloudless sky and a promise of a trip to the zoo was enough for Twila to let Ryan leave that afternoon. We saw the back half of a zebra and an uncharacteristically active tiger bounding from rock to rock about a hundred yards away. I was hot and sweating from pushing the heavy, unwieldy stroller all over the place, so the highlight of the trip for me was finding a shady bench on which to sit and nurse Jada. Twila got a three-dollar, deformed snow cone that dripped profusely from the tip of the cone…so it was her highlight too.

As we sat cooling off in the shade, Twila looked at me, smiling with bright purple lips and said, between bites of crunchy ice, saturated with I-don’t-want-to-know-how-much artificial colors and flavors, “Mom this is a great date.”

I learn so much from Twila’s optimism. She didn’t mind that it was hot and the animals were all-but absent, she was thrilled because we were on a zoo bench instead of a park bench. Anything novel peaks her sense of adventure. We played “Jack and Annie” of the Magic Tree House series, which basically just means we are at the zoo but referring to each other as Jack (me) and Annie (Twila). It makes even the most mundane tasks seem exciting (“Come on Annie, let’s wash our hands for dinner;” “Hey Annie, should we brush our teeth before we get in bed?”)

That night, Jada’s nose started running like a stream of clear, thick mucus. It was too soon after the zoo for her to have contracted it at the zoo which means we were those people that make going to the zoo such a likely place to pick up a cold (sorry to all those whose kids get sick today). For the last two nights Jada has been too congested to sleep longer than an hour without needing to be rocked, readjusted, propped up or nursed.

As I dragged myself to the bathroom at four thirty this morning, I felt like I had sandpaper between my eyelids and eyeballs. It’s the kind of tired today that doesn’t make you feel sleepy; it makes you feel like you are on another planet. The bright colors are brighter, the lights are lighter; everything feels surreal and disorienting.

But the weather is so idyllic in Minnesota this week, it is hard to complain about anything, even sleep deprivation. We pulled the dock out yesterday but not before sitting on it with two of my siblings in the warm afternoon sun and having the traditional end-of-the season-beer. The lake was glassy and silent. All around, the trees enclosing the lake were auburn, magenta and burnt-orange. The water was still warm when we stepped in to heave the paddle boat out and detach the dock.

Twila waded in the shallows, finding empty snail shells and gathering small rocks for her collection. Jada sat on a towel in the grass, sneezing; each time grinning, and signing more to our deep amusement.

So I’m tired; but it is heavenly here. You win some; you lose some. I decided to walk Twila to school today thinking some fresh air and exercise might chase the cobwebs out of my brain. But we didn’t leave enough time and the air is still; the sun hot. So I was sweating profusely when I finally dropped her. The stroller’s harness for Jada is malfunctioning but I didn’t have time to sort it out on the way so Jada was laying sideways by the time we turned around to head for home.

I had to stop several times to make adjustments which caused me to want to walk all the faster since my precious, private, quiet time was melting away like butter on toast. In my last stretch of the walk, I was so hot and sweaty, having severely overestimated the wardrobe I would need for a walk on this afternoon, I finally yanked my cotton tee-shirt off, risking that my nursing bra might not look as much like a sports bra as I wagered it would. But it was worth the risk to feel the fresh air cool my bare skin.

It is so completely still now as I look out over the lake that not a colorful leaf stirs on the oak trees overhanging the water. Occasionally a tiny yellow aspen leaf drops, unprovoked, and flutters to the water. Jada sits, quietly playing (for now) and occasionally sneezing, causing her to laugh and sign more.