Fishing for Illegal Activity

Heathen #1 gained a driver's license in September of 2014.  While parents lament this stage - the Asst. Zookeeper and I have totally embraced it.

No milk in the house?  Send the Heathen.
Need gas in your car and the weather really sucks because the temperatures are 20 below zero?  Send the Heathen.
Later in the evening and craving something from Sheetz?  Send the Heathen.
Discover you have no cash in the house and discover you need cash for someone first thing in the morning?  Don't feel like running out to the ATM?  Send the Heathen.

The Asst. Zookeeper and I have actually laid in bed watching TV and tried to think of stupid errands to send him on - just for the power trip and the training of, "You may have a driver's license, but we are still the gods of your world."  So far, it has gone well!

His first vehicle (only "his" in the sense that he drove it, not owned it) was a small truck.  Chevy S10.  It lost a battle with a deer fairly early in its career through no fault of the Heathen.  He sold the S10 and replaced it with this monstrosity.

In his defense, when he purchased it, it was painted flat black.  We discovered the stars and stripes UNDER the flat black the previous owner had put on it.  And to make it even better, the tailgate had "MURICA" on it.  

Heathen #1 happily got this truck running with some elbow grease and a few trips to get parts.  Then it overheated - and hasn't been the same since.  As he travels quite a bit, the Asst. Zookeeper and I decided that a more reliable vehicle was needed and purchased an older Jeep Wrangler.

Now this truck now sits in our yard and the Heathen has been attempting to sell it online.  A few little nibbles have come in, but no bites.

TODAY, HE GOT A BITE.

Three Latino gentlemen arrived in a white box van.  Strange to me, but, whatever.  I will admit to being a bad person and calling the Asst. Zookeeper's phone to make a snide comment that we had a box van show up in our yard and that the illegal immigrants were here to look at the truck.  It was their van that threw me.  It was the stereotypical van used in movies where the back door slides up and hundreds of people are stuffed inside.  

I stayed in the house and watched through the front window as the three men spoke with my son, inspected the vehicle, walked around it, etc.  Everything guys do when looking at a vehicle.  Seemed very friendly.  No red flags going up at this point.

Heathen #1 comes into the house and announces that he needs the title - the guys are going to take the truck.  At which point, I explained to him (again) that the title is in his father's name and his father is at work.  We would have to make arrangements to meet at a notary later and they could take possession of the truck at that time.  Here's what came out of my child's mouth:

"He said he just needs the title. They are shipping it out of the country.  No signature needed."

AND RED FLAG GOES UP!

So I stepped outside my front door in all my Saturday morning glory, with coffee cup in hand.  I probably looked slightly better than this, just swap out the tank top for a hooded sweatshirt big enough for my husband:

I explained the issue of the title transfer.  The one gentleman told me this wasn't an issue as they were shipping it out of the country and they just need the title in hand, it didn't need to be signed.  I explained that I have never purchased or sold a vehicle without a title transfer and that it sounded very strange to me.  He explained that because they were shipping it out of the country, they didn't want to pay taxes on it here.

RED FLAG!

I smiled (nicely - as there are three of them and JUST ME), and explained that I needed to call my husband first to verify this as it is his name on the title.

Guess whose husband was underground?  So I called my father-in-law.  I knew he was going to tell me what I already knew, but I felt the need to verify it. 

He answered the phone and I explained that I had three Latinos in my driveway that wanted to pay cash for Tristan's truck but didn't want to transfer the title.  They just wanted me to hand it to them and they were going to leave.  He verified what I already knew - RED FLAG!

So I went BACK out my front door to explain that the men were welcome to come back when the title could be properly transferred, but that I was not willing to just hand over the title.  I explained that if they drove down the rode with it and hit someone, we would still be responsible for it.  The guy said, "Oh, we not gonna drive it.  We gonna chain it to the van and tow it."

Suddenly, three gentlemen that had been conversing solely in ENGLISH, switched to rapid Spanish and there was a lot a chatter among them.  While I understand that it is easier to converse in your native language, they had not until this point. And it made me nervous.  They were obviously not happy with my decision simply based on their facial expressions and the amount of hand waving taking place.

RED FLAG!!!

The gentlemen all got back into their van and left.  

I have proof!  And the license plate was from Maryland.  We copied it onto the whiteboard in the kitchen, just to be sure.  Sorry for the screen in the photos.  I was weird-ed out enough at that point that we went into the house and locked all the doors.

So, from the whole experience, I have unanswered questions?

1.  Who drives from Maryland to look at this crap truck?

2.  Who would pay to SHIP that crap truck ANYWHERE?

3.  And, because I am basically a bad person, where they planning on shipping DRUGS or a DEAD BODY in that truck that they didn't want to transfer that title?

4.  Why do these things happen at the ZOO?

Invisible Jet... So Close, Yet So Far Away

I was on top of the world yesterday morning - it was going to be a GREAT DAY.  I intuitively KNEW this was true.  I Just KNEW it was true.  And it was not an "easy" morning either - and yet I HAD IT.

Crawled out of bed when the alarm went off, without having to hit the snooze button a gazillion times.  Popped out of bed - even DAISY-ISH, I dare say, and the Heathens emerged from their blanket nests with less grouching than normal.  So far - I can see the jet in my future!  I had already earned the headband simply by getting out of bed with the first alarm.

During morning preparations, I realized that Heathen #2 was supposed to have a track meet that day at 2 pm - and that his track uniform was dirty, as I hadn't washed it since the meet earlier in the week.  No problem - Wonder Woman rounded up all parts of the track uniform (and gathered up the dirty track uniform for Heathen #1 while I was at it!) - and threw a load of laundry in.  Promised Heathen #2 that I would deliver everything to the school on my way into work.  Disaster averted!  I've now earned the corset part of my costume - the jet it so much closer!

Heathens #1, and #2 left for school, and I have already dressed and showered.  BONUS!  Heathen #3 squeals that he can see the bus coming down the road - NO!  He goes running out the door to catch the bus, asking me to drop off his water bottle at the elementary school as it was in a different room when the starter's gun went off for the sprint to the end of the driveway.  Got it - drop off the water bottle.  Not only did he make the bus, but dropping off the bottle would earn me the little shorts Wonder Woman wears - I'm not even sure what the appropriate term for those would be.

I leave the house at 8:30 - with the track uniform in the dryer, and the water bottle in hand.  I had a 9am appointment.  Dropped off the water bottle on the way - got it to the school just as they were saying the Pledge of Allegiance!  That earned me the wrist cuffs!

Just before my appointment, Heathen #2 calls me from school in need of a clean shirt (in addition to the track uniform) - he had art first period and managed to get liquid clay all over his current shirt.  No problem - Wonder Woman has this.  I shut of the phone for the duration of my appointment.

While at the appointment, I realize that Heathen #2 won't get any lunch before the track meet.  So on my way back to the house, I went past Subway and got a sandwich, chips, and bottled drink to throw in the bag - Wonder Woman thinks of these things.  I headed home to pick up the track uniform.

On the way home, I flipped on the phone to find a new voice mail from Heathen #2 - the track meet isn't today - it's NEXT Friday.  So there is no need of the track uniform, but could he still have a clean shirt.

While gathering a clean shirt from the freshly folded laundry in the dining room, I noticed Heathen #3's report card envelope on the table.  This envelope must be signed and returned - or elementary school personnel can become vicious.  I know this first hand from holding an envelope hostage for several days last year or the year before.  I've blocked the memory because it was so bad.  Avoiding this situation occurring again earns me the gold lariat - definitely worth the sacrifice of a second stop at the elementary school.

I KNOW if this envelope remains in the ZOO over the weekend, it will NEVER be seen again.  And I can't handle another situation like the last time went missing - I still have nightmares that I can't explain.  So I put it on top of the shirt I'm taking for Heathen #2 and out the door I go!  At this point, I know after making two more drop offs at the schools, I will have earned BOTH of my knee-high boots!   Because I couldn't leave one Subway sandwich at home to be discovered by THREE Heathens, I cut it in three pieces and fed it to the dogs.  Gave them the cookies, too!  I kept the water.

Swing through the elementary school, where the office ladies look at me strangely as they've already seen me once this morning.  Swing through the middle school, drop off the t-shirt and put his name on it so that there is no doubting who it belongs to.  And then I get back in my car - in my full Wonder Woman outfit - and I head off to teach.  It's a 40 minute commute and it wasn't great weather, but I was having a great day.  Everything was falling into place.

I knew that once I finished my three classes today, I would have earned the INVISIBLE JET - which is the goal of Wonder Women everywhere.  Few of us admit it, but imagine a method of travel where your Heathens junk would be INVISIBLE when you open the door - not obviously laying on the floor mats screaming, "I'm too lazy to carry the empty water bottle into the house!"

Approximately, 35 minutes into my commute, I made a HORRIFYING realization.  Truly horrifying.  I don't even know why the thought popped into my head, but it did.  A quick glance in the rear-view mirror confirmed it, but I reached into the seat behind me to swipe frantically one-handed across the empty seat, because it couldn't possibly be true.

I was 10 minutes from having to teach - and my teaching bag was still sitting in the kitchen at home.  I had three college classes to teach, and only the writing utensils in my purse.  No lesson plans.  No lecture notes.  No example problems carefully chosen to illustrate a specific principle.  No review for the test coming up.  And, for my third class, NO TEST that they were to take.  I had NOTHING but three hours of students and despite having "fixed" and "taken care of" everything that had popped up between the hours of 6 am and 11:40 am - I wasn't getting my invisible jet today.  No Invisible Jets when you drop a ball THAT big.

I did make it through the classes - I'm one of those nerdy teacher-types that saves everything online.  It was simply a matter of pulling it off the computer once I arrived at the classroom.  The students only knew something was "off" because I told them about it - it helped decrease the stress before they took their math exams.  So it served a small purpose.

But when you see me flying around in an Invisible Jet - you will know I have had an EPIC day as a Zookeeper.  Don't worry - I already have the outfit! I just need the JET...

Animal Hats and Old People

The top to the Jeep has been removed - but it was still a bit chilly. The Heathens knew I was going to squawk. 

"It's too cold! Swimming season isn't over yet!  You'll all get sick and I'm not staying home with any of you!"

So they donned long sleeves and hats without being told, impressive in and of itself (I may be making progress on the whole "training" issue). And then they decided that they wanted ice cream and claimed they didn't need any money, they had their own. 

How does a Zookeeper argue with this?

So I sent them out the driveway to enjoy the first beautiful afternoon we've had in months.  And they returned in a reasonable amount of time, all in one piece, with pink cheeks and all grinning like fools. 

And then they told me that they specifically waved at every old person they could find while they were out. 

Did I mention that they were all wearing animal hats? And were waving to old people while wearing the animal hats?

If you do not consider yourself to be old, but saw them waving at you - sorry.

If you do not consider yourself to be young, and they didn't wave to you - sorry.

If you saw them enjoying the beautiful day and being silly in a Heathenish-type of way - you are welcome.

Happy Beautiful Day, Heathens!

Flying Heathens - Similar, But Not To Be Mistaken With, Flying Monkeys

 

The younger two Heathens are currently airborn - somewhere over Cambria, Indiana, or Somerset counties in a small plane with the Asst. Zookeeper at the yoke.  They weren't sure whether to be excited or terrified as they boarded.

The Asst. Zookeeper started working on his private pilot's license several months ago.  For a man of few personal needs, flying is something that makes him glow with happiness.  I can hear them above me, but I keep loosing sight of them in the clouds.   They were thrilled that they got to wear headsets with attached mics. I worry that they will talk the entire time they are in the air!

Headed for the runway - notice the little Heathen face in the back window.

Take off!

Landing!

Taxiing back to the hanger  - again, notice the Heathens in the back window.

Touch the clouds every chance you get, Heathens - whether in real life or just in your imagination.  Life is SO much better when we are REACHING for something.

(The plane is in the lower left corner of the photo.)

Your Mama Was A Microwave.

For the past four days, people have felt the need to make comments to me, in my Heathen's hearing, that I wish they wouldn't.  

"Another teenager in the house.  Look out!"

"Good luck with a new teenager!"

"Will you survive another one?"

And I've chuckled and made the socially acceptable responses.

But the truth of the matter is, I'm EXCITED for Heathen #2 and the next several years.  He's no longer a baby that needs to be cared for every second of every day simply to survive.  He's no longer the impulsive toddler that must have his hand held constantly.  He's no longer the little boy that left for kindergarten and asked me that first day if I thought he was smart enough to go to school.  He's not even that "boy" anymore.

I still see flashes of each of these ages in my Heathen, almost daily.  He is still the infant, that in an instant of uncertainty, he needed a hug and asked me if he could have a second one as soon as the first ended.  He is still the toddler, that in an instant of nervousness looked around the room until he found me standing and grinning at him and I saw him calm instantly.  He is still the little boy that wants to be smart enough, that when he brought home a medal and announced he made it to states asked me, "Do you think I can do it?"  And these little pieces of the small boy he once was are the things that, as a Zookeeper, make all of the laundry and trips to the grocery store worth it.

But he's turned the magical age of THIRTEEN.  The next few years will truly start to show me what he will become in the future.  The clay project that I started years ago is starting to take shape and harden, and I'm curious as to what he will become.

When Heathen #1 had a birthday a few days before, Heathen #2 saw my Facebook post that said Heathen #1 brings me happiness.  And he asked me what he brings to my life - doesn't he bring me happiness as well?  And I grinned, and as the evil Zookeeper I am, I told him he would have to wait for his birthday to learn what he brings to my life.

Here's what I posted the day of Heathen #2's birthday:

"Happy 13th Birthday to Heathen #2.  You are not an "easy" child - but that is because of your strength of personality.  It will serve you well as an adult.  You never fail to amaze me in your search for dedication to fairness - especially when so often it is not your own cause that you are championing.  You will my life with laughter, which is more valuable than money,  You make me a rich Momma.  Happy Birthday, Heathen.  We love you."

Later that day, he asked me if he truly brought me laughter.  And I asked him, "Who sat in the car with me the morning of your birthday and argued about whether you were holding up 13 fingers when people ask you how old you are or if you're only holding up 10 fingers and 3 thumbs or 11 fingers and 2 thumbs (depending on the appendages used?"  And he grinned, and walked away.  But the walk looked a little more confident.

On Saturday, we had lunch at a local restaurant.  Right inside the door is one of those claw-machines, where for 50 cents, you can attempt to grab a stuffed animal.  My Heathens (and the Asst. Zookeeper) love them.  If the Asst. Zookeeper has one dollar bills in his pocket, they magically find their way into those machines - and the Heathens know it.

Heathen #3 managed to snag a stuffed dolphin, but was the only successful one.  After eating, Heathen #2 got one more shot at it, but still came up with an empty claw.  As we were walking away from the machine, from behind me I hear, 

"Whatever.  Your mama was a microwave." (directed at the claw machine)

Yes, Heathen #2, you bring my life laughter.  And, in a world where things can seem to go so wrong so often and people are so serious so much of the time, that is a very valuable thing to bring to some one's life.  Happy Birthday, Heathen #2.

The "Unimportant Middle" Birthday

I've often been mentally struck by the importance placed on certain birthdays, and the lack of importance placed on others.  I've noticed this myself as I've aged, the "lack" of BIG ONES coming up - the milestones that are supposedly so important in our development as humans.  In reference to Heathen #1's 17th birthday (having just occurred in the past week), I found myself guilty to this same lack of importance.

Last year, EVERYONE was excited for his birthday - it was a BIG ONE - he would be able to drive a vehicle.  Random strangers at the DMV were congratulating him on turning 16.  He counted down the days until he could apply for the permit, and then the 6 month period until he could take his test.

This year, in February, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, he replied that he wanted a GoPro camera (he's been asking for one now for several years - but the Zookeeper is cheap and Heathen #1 is notoriously hard on property).  And, I looked at my oldest son and said, (and I'm ashamed to quote myself, but I will), "You're only turning 17!  That's not important! It isn't 16 or 18 or even 21!  You'll ONLY be 17 - that's nothing special."

The post about the GoPro vs. "The Podium" is a separate post.

I've frequently thought about my comments since the day I made them - and I've decided I was WRONG.  "17" may be THE MOST important birthday a Heathen experiences in his lifetime. It marks the last year of childhood where 99% of mistakes are forgiven and expected because the Heathen is still learning.

At 18, we expect small heathens to magically be children one day and adults the next, just because the "number" associated with their age changes.  This mistakes are suddenly life-changing and unacceptable.

So, in this thought pattern - to my oldest Heathen at the beginning of your LAST year of childhood:

The Asst. Zookeeper and I look at you with a mixture of wonder, pride, worry, and mixed emotions - and sometimes that is all in the span of 60 seconds.

Wonder - we really thought, at many points along this path (and probably many more to come), that we had "screwed you up."  That we had handled a situation so badly that you would never recover to be a normal, functioning adult.  So far, so good!  While you have a few years left under our guidance, for the most part, the large "shaping" is done.  The Asst. Zookeeper and I are in the polishing stage - and the finished product is starting to be recognizable.

Pride - You have proven to be a productive member of society and to be the owner of a thoughtful and kind heart.  There are times where the kindness and consideration you display shames me due to my lack of similar reaction.  When you offer assistance, when you stop to help, when you stop to chat with those who need a kind word - my heart swells.  And when I chastise you that we don't have the "time" for something, and you look me in the eye and say, "but you taught me this is how we behave," you are teaching me as well,

Worry - there is so LITTLE left in your life that I can "fix."  That has been my role in your childhood - to fix things.  Whether it was a broken toy (which we immediately handed to the Asst. Zookeeper) or a broken social situation, my job was to "fix" what could be fixed.  And, as you have aged, to assist you in fixing things yourself.  We have reached the stage where my role is mostly as a coach on the sidelines - and then, only if you choose to ask and listen and consider the opinion offered.  As I am a "control freak," this leaves me in a state of mild panic.

Mixed emotions - while I am sad that your literal childhood is ending shortly (you told me the other day that there are only 364 days left until you are an adult), I am waiting with baited breath to see what lies ahead of you.

ENJOY your last 364 days of childhood.  While I haven't enjoyed every single one of the 6,206 days of your childhood so far, I wouldn't trade ANY of them if it meant missing seeing who you choose to become in the next years.

Happy 17th Birthday, Heathen #1.  You bring me happiness.

Podium Vs. GoPro

GoPro cameras arrived on the scene a few years ago - I was only aware of their appearance on the electronic scene because Heathen #1 added it to every "wish list" he was asked to create - birthday, holiday, regardless of who asked - it was on the list.  A homeless person could have asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and this new gadget would have been the response.

While the Asst. Zookeeper and I don't consider ourselves to be cheap, we also were NOT willing to drop that type of cash for a teenager.  We have maintained a budget, whether it was holidays or birthdays - it has never been a "free for all" with the checkbook.  The Heathens do not own iPads, etc.  If it is deemed needed, that is different.  But we differentiate between our needs and our wants in this house and we stick to them - which occasionally leaves an unhappy Heathens.

The Regional PIAA swim meet was held the last Friday and Saturday of February.  We originally threw Heathen #1 into a pool at 4 months of age - and we only waited that long because he was born in March and it was an outdoor pool.  He's been swimming ever since.  He swims like a fish - that doesn't use his tail.  He drags his size 14 feet through the water behind him like cinder blocks.  If I had a quarter for every time I yelled at him to kick his feet, I would never have paid a swim team fee in the past 8 years.  I've paid the fee every year and he continues to drag his feet.

This year, on the first day of the meet, he jokingly asked me if he made podium, if he could have a GoPro camera.  He was joking and being silly - but I looked right at him and said, "You make podium and I'll stop at Best Buy on the way home.  You won't get anything for your birthday, but I'll buy it today."  He was shocked.

Heathen #1 is a good swimmer - mostly by luck.  He swims because he enjoys it.  If he places, great.  If he doesn't place, whatever.  Which is a great attitude for the most part - but it occasionally drives me crazy.  The Regional swim meet is one of those times.

Let's start by qualifying what it means to "make the podium:"
In a relay event - only the top 3 teams are placed on the podium and receive medals (this Olympics).
In an individual event - the top 6 are placed on the podium.

Because I was only able to attend one of the two days, I stipulated that I wanted photographic evidence of "podium."

He had four chances - 2 relays and 2 individual events.  The Heathen boarded the bus with a mission.

First event was a relay - while they dropped time, they only placed 4th = NO PODIUM.

Second event was his 200 free - again, he dropped several seconds, but he only placed 8th = AGAIN, NO PODIUM.

Looking at the next day's events, he was seeded 6th in the 100 back stroke - which is excellent for all of the non-swimmers.  He looked at the time for the boy seeded 7th and stated that was the only boy he needed to out swim to make podium as their times were so close.

Saturday came and he headed for Regionals and the Asst. Zookeeper went to watch as I was taking Heathen #3 to a different swim meet several hours away.

Third event - 100 back - he dropped a ton of time - and still only placed 7th = NO PODIUM.

At this point, I'm a three hour drive away and my heart is aching.  I knew the Heathen was trying.  The Ass. Zookeeper said he swam a fantastic heat - it just wasn't quite enough.'

Last event was a relay - and the team took THIRD = PODIUM for the HEATHEN!

I received the following photos on my phone:

HE MADE PODIUM!  And, because it was ridiculously late at that point in the evening, and I was three hours away, I took him to Best Buy the next day to purchase the silly GoPro camera.  He might have pushed just a little bit harder for this swim meet because he had a definite goal in sight.  He might have made podium without the "carrot" dangling in front of him - we will never know.  What I know is that my Heathen earned himself a small piece of recognition as part of a team that he will always remember.  And I will always remember receiving this pictures and cheering loudly in a crowded hallway of swimming parents and yelling, "my son just got THIRD place at REGIONALS!" and that they all cheered with me.  Well done, Heathen.  See what happens when you KICK you feet instead of DRAG them like ANCHORS behind you?