Lost Breathe

There are days I look at my Heathens (either as a group or individually) and I swear they are learning NOTHING that the Asst. Zookeeper and I are attempting to teach them.  Those days, sometimes entire weeks, I wonder if it is worth the effort to continually struggle to mold them into what and who we feel they should be.  Some days, I want to do nothing more than scream in frustration, throw my hands in the air, and wash my hands of them.

But there are other days - many other days - where I see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I catch glimpses that they truly ARE learning what we feel they should know.  These glimpses of maturity take my breath away.  This past week, I lost my breath three times - once for each Heathen.

***

The youngest Heathen is currently playing soccer on a tournament team.  He has learned so much this season and has made so much progress.  Mob-ball has turned into a recognizable sport.  Despite the progress made, his team is not the strongest at the tournaments.  I've watched him struggle with defeat, as a team, and discouragement, personally.  We've spent a many a day talking about the important part of sports: learning to work with others, dedication to a commitment, etc.

At the last tournament, his team was eliminated after regular play after a long and chilly day of soccer.  As he came across the field to me, I was surprised to hear his question.  I assumed we would be packing up and leaving the field, heading for home and food (not necessarily in that order).  However, he had other plans.  "Can we stay and watch my friends' team in the championship game?"

And I lost my breath for a moment.  He didn't care that his team was eliminated.  He wanted to stay and cheer for a team that did better than his.  His friends were playing and he wanted to support them.  He had learned to celebrate for others.  Suddenly, the early mornings leaving for tournaments was worth every minute of lost sleep.

So we stayed.  He spent the game learning the names of the other players.  He spent the entire game cheering for them and yelling encouragement.  He sat in my lap as we watched the game together.  Unfortunately, his friends did not "win" - they took second place.  Heathen #3 cheered as his friends received their trophies with genuine joy and pride in their accomplishment.  On the way home, he thanked me for allowing us to stay.

***

Not long after we relocated our Zoo to its current location, the Asst. Zookeeper built a flagpole for me at the end of our driveway.  In March, the flagpole he built was destroyed in a vehicle accident.  It was a very difficult day for us and for me in particular.  I've struggled to regain "normal" ever since.  The flag that was on the pole that day was salvageable, but I hid it in the basement, not wanting to see it.  The Asst. Zookeeper promised to build me a new flagpole once the weather broke or when I was ready.  Despite being well into June, I hadn't asked. 

A week ago, I had the youngest Heathen at soccer practice around 6pm when I received a text message from Heathen #1 asking what time I would be home.  I advised him of our ETA, assuming that he was thinking with his stomach and deciding if he wanted to make a sandwich, or wait until I returned and see if I could be conned into making a late night meal for him.

Practice ended 30 minutes early because a thunderstorm rolled in and we had to clear the pitch.  I came home to find my oldest Heathen at the end of the our driveway, working in the rain to build this:

After pulling the car off the road, I got out in the rain to talk to my Heathen.  Although panicked that he was at the end of the driveway where I'm afraid to go, I managed to ask him what he was doing.  He grinned at me, and then stated that the driveway had looked odd without the flagpole, it was definitely missing and needed to be put back.  He said he thought I would feel better if the driveway was returned to "normal" as well.

And I stood in the rain and tried to breathe as I looked at him.  All I could do was hug him and tell him thank you.   He had used his own money from his summer job to purchase the supplies.  And he was correct - he returned another small part of my world to "normal" that day by replacing the flagpole.  And now, instead of looking at the end of my driveway and shuddering and avoiding it with dread, I find myself focusing on the flagpole and thinking of the Heathen that built it and smiling.

***

My middle Heathen and I butt heads on a DAILY basis - which is common knowledge to all that know us.  Put two pig-headed people in a Zoo that have different viewpoints.  It doesn't always go well.  

Two days ago, I was busy all day.  It was one of those days where time seemed to race past faster than I could get things crossed off my "to do" list.  Although I'm not a stranger to these type of days, this one in particular exhausted me.  It was after 11 that evening when I crawled into bed and decided to check Facebook prior to shutting off the lights.  And I found this posted to my timeline:

He added the comment: Love you Mom.

Heathen #2 had posted it earlier that day.  And it took me a few minutes to catch my breath again.

For at least a few minutes that day, my Heathen had recognized a quality in himself (and his mother) and accepted it.  He had the (possibly fleeting) maturity to OWN his quality and to think in terms of how it can affect those around him.  He managed to do something for at least a few minutes that many adults struggle with on a daily basis.  

And he never asked that day if I had checked Facebook.  And he hasn't asked since if I saw what he posted.  He simply put it there for me to find.

***

So, the struggling is worth it.  The frustration of civilizing Heathens is worth it.  None of them are yet a "finished product" but I can see the end goal.  So, I'll refrain from throwing my hands in the air and screaming in frustration on certain days.  Civilization wasn't built in a day.  Neither is any Heathen civilized in such a small bit of time.

Flight Bug Bites Again

After spending hours listening to the Asst. Zookeeper talk about his flying lessons, Heathen #1 wanted to try flying. He thought his father was setting up for him to do a ride-along during one of his lessons - like the younger Heathens had done. Heathen #1 was wrong.

The Asst. Zookeeper set up a flying lessons for Heathen #1. 

Yesterday, Heathen #1 sat in the pilot's seat for the first time. I strongly believe a new addiction was born. 

The Asst. Zookeeper, the flight instructor, and Heathen #1.

Pre-flight.

In the pilot's seat and the prop is turning!

Headed for the runway!

Take off!

And, for those of you panicking at the thought of a 17-year-old flying, YES, my heart was in my throat.  But his instructor has logged more than 5000 hours as an instructor.  I've flown with this man and was very comfortable.  My Heathen was in safe hands.

Besides, how will the Asst. Zookeeper and I ever reach the "empty nest" stage if we don't teach the Heathens to fly? (Sorry - had to do it.  It was TOO GOOD to pass up!)

The Last Day

It's taken me a few day to back away from the most recent "last day of school" and recovered from the emotions and the drama that the day unveiled.

The morning prep for school was fairly uneventful, other than Heathen #2 frequently mentioning that his "prison term" was almost up and he was being "paroled" for the summer months. I told him that he wasn't being paroled for good behavior - which he declared, "hysterical, Mom. Hysterical."

Heathen #2 headed out the door for the bus with more spring in his step than I've seen in nine months. Heathen #1 finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, grunted goodbye in my general direction, and pulled out for the high school. 

Heathen #3 and I gathered his flowers from the kitchen and we headed for the bus stop. We've always given the teachers flowers on the last day of school - I am under no hallucination that I have calm, quiet, "easy" heathens. You've survived the school year with them - you earned flowers. 

This year, we also had flowers for Ms. Sylvia - our morning bus driver. After several years of seeing her smile every morning and her cheery hello and her wave, it was the last morning one of my Heathens would board her bus.

The End of an Era:
Heathen #3 on the LAST day of elementary school.

I've stood at an elementary bus stop for twelve years now. Heathen #1 waved goodbye for the first few years, but outgrew it by third grade. Heathen #2 also waved goodbye from the bus window for a few years, but third grade ended it as well. 

Heathen #3 has dutifully waved goodbye to me from the bus window EVERY DAY for five school years. I had mentally prepped myself for the "last wave."  I was going to take his picture as a memento of his last day of elementary school. 

And... HE DIDN'T WAVE GOODBYE.

He sat down in his seat and didn't even look at me. I felt cheated! How could he not wave?  He was in a good mood when he got on the bus. I was completely confused by the lack of his wave. 

With only about two hours until the Heathens started returning from school, I headed out to run a few errands. I managed to arrive home just before Heathen #2 got off the bus. I was ready to photograph a happy, grinning Heathen. This is what I witnessed instead:

Heathen #2 came home next, and I finally understood the lack of a wave. 

He headed straight for his bedroom where he curled up on his bed and cried for 20 minutes. I had forgotten how hard the last day is for my little quarter-circle need. After about 45 minutes, I coaxed him out of his room with a promise of cuddling and watching Box Trolls with Momma - and no brothers. By the time the movie ended, he was fine. 

Heathen #1 came home last. I figured he would be so excited - he was now a senior!  Only 1 year left. It was so anticlimactic:

So I forced him to celebrate:

Unfortunately, it rained Friday night and we couldn't do what I had planned to celebrate the last day of school. But, Saturday night was perfect. 

I found sky lanterns several weeks ago. The boys have done them before and really loved them. I bought them each one. So we lit them Saturday night and sent them up in the field behind out house. 

It was peaceful and the Heathens stood and watched them with us until the fuel burned out and we lost them in the night sky. 

The stress of the school year is over. The stress of the upcoming year has yet to start. The Zoo simply gets to BREATHE and BE for the next few months. How lovely. 

Good Exhaustion

It was one of those days - the Zoo set alarms for 4:15 am and hit the ground driving/horseback riding/flying.  Pick your mode of motion - we were at it!

At 4:30 am, my own alarm went off - solely so that I could make sure Heathens #1 and #2 were up and headed for the barn. It was Silver Shoe Competition day 2 and they needed to be at the barn at 5:30. 

Once I knew they were up and moving, I will admit to being a bad Zookeeper and going back to bed until the "get ready for

church" alarm went off at 7:30. Roused the youngest Heathen and got him moving. The Asst. Zookeeper and I game planned through the church-prep process so that we knew how the day was going to go. 

At some point before I left for church at 9:15, the oldest Heathen returned from his barn run and flopped down on the couch - to relax. For a bit before heading to work at the river at 11am. No rest for the wicked!

Two of us attended Sunday School and church, and then raced home to change. And headed right back out the door for the Ebensburg Fairgrounds for the horse competition. 

Horse competitions are the equivalent t of swim invitationals. You spend hours to see you Heathen "do something" for less than 45 seconds. We arrived by 1:30 and left at 8pm - Heathen #2 was in the arena less than five minutes total. 

The Asst. Zookeeper used the early evening to take another flying lessons - he's quickly closing in on his solo flight. As the youngest Heathen and I were headed up Rt 219, we saw an airplane making a low sweep over the airport (checking for deer on the runway).  We knew it was the Asst. Zookeeper!  We managed to get to the airport in time to see him land. Heathen #3 had the camera.

Sunset over Ebensburg Airport.

And the sun is completely down now and the Heathens are started into the showers.  And I'm exhausted and so are they. But it was a great day. 

Evil Has A Name

Kudos to the mothers that work full time and still manage this time of year.  We have (as of yesterday), started into my least favorite season.  I truly don't know how the full-time working mothers manage.  Actually - that's a lie.  I know how they do it.  They give up sleep and sanity.

Spring is supposed to bring sunshine, warm afternoons, cool evenings, butterflies, children laughing, a sense of ease and calmness as the school year winds to a close.  Birds should be chirping and baby bunnies should be hopping through the grass that has finally turned green.

ALL of those things are happening right outside my window!

With this absolutely LOVELY time of year comes a particular form of evil.  This evil rears its head occasionally throughout the year, but spring is its favorite season.  And the evil has a name.  It calls itself HEALTH FORMS.  Occasionally, it uses other aliases - Medical Forms, Physical Forms being the most common.

Heathens can go NOWHERE and do NOTHING without this evil being required.  And the evil is different for every activity.  Even if all three Heathens go to the same place at the same time - they each must have their own evil!  And if the Asst. Zookeeper or I volunteer to help - we require our own evil as well!

I dedicated my entire day yesterday to the completion of this evil - at least to the point where I can put it all in a folder and take it to be signed by various medical professionals (and pay $5 for each signature - which is really just a stamp!).

Yesterday's evil tally:

Zookeeper - 2 health forms, one requiring a physician signature.  Guess who had to schedule a physical because the last one doesn't fall into the required dates!  Yeah.

Asst. Zookeeper - 1 health form requiring a physician signature.  I know he needs a new physical.  And I know what he's going to say when I tell him - he HATES going to the doctor.  This will be like trying to talk a toddler into toilet training when they are quite happy with their diapers.  Lots of bribes will be used.

Heathen #3 - 3 health forms, one requiring a signature.  Just have to pay to have it stamped.

Heathen #2 - 2 health forms, one requiring a signature.  Again, payment for a stamp.

Heathen #1 - 3 health forms, one having to be completed ONLINE, printed, taken to physician for stamp, than SCANNED and SUBMITTED ELECTRONICALLY.  This took me almost 2 hours yesterday as this system required usernames and passwords for two different systems and they couldn't be the same - they had to be different from each other!

I currently have an entire FOLDER of evil to take to the pediatrician for stamping - at $5 or $10 a page.  Plus the time it takes to get there and wait for them to do the stamping.  And the trees I've killed to print the evil.

Health Forms ready for signatures.

Definitely my LEAST favorite part of spring.

The Power of "No"

I used the hated word again, and this was the response I received:

Heathen #3 - utterly disappointed in my response to his request.

Heathens believe I use this word simply to make them miserable. That I enjoy their agony and misery. That I am always on a "power trip" and that I use this word without thought or consideration. 

All parents know this word - although I'm sure there are many who use it far less (and some that use it far more) than I utilize it. 

NO. 

I remember my own parents using the hated word and thinking them completely unreasonable. And now, that is the role I play in the Heathens' lives. 

Someday, they will (hopefully) understand that it is a word used for teaching so many important things to small heathens everywhere. It starts as a word meant to keep them safe, and then progresses to being used to squash unacceptable behavior. It is used to set limits - to create safe boundaries for growth at every age. 

I love the age span in my Heathens. Sometimes, I believe it is all that keeps me sane. At any given point, since the third Heathen's birth, I live with the "before, during, and after" of every age. The oldest obviously does everything first and the Asst. Zookeeper and I wage battle against whatever behavior/ milestone is reached - we are a tenacious pair. 

The middle Heathen then reaches the same stage, and we have the "after" version to look at. Usually, it gives us hope that the battle can be won. Sometimes, we decide on different tactics, but the battle is still waged. And we have a "before" that we look at and hope doesn't hit this particular stage. We hold out hope for an "easy" period without battle on one of our three fronts. 

But, at least for tonight, this battle is won on behalf of the Zookeeper. NO. Heathen #3 cannot stay up a little bit later. And the battle is won because the Heathen accepted his NO with gracious silence, his head down on the arm of the couch, and a quiet, "Yes, ma'am."  The battle of arguing our point and yelling at a parent to try and win has been abandoned on the Heathen's part. 

Next time he asks, I may just have to say YES. 

Better Than His Momma

I have a character flaw - actually, I have many. But one in particular stuck out today.

I read one of those goofy things on Facebook that said something to the effect of, "Wrong my child and I will never forget."

This is one of my biggest flaws. And I'm aware of it. I struggle to see things from the other person's point of view and I attempt to understand the intent behind the action. Sometimes, I am successful. Sometimes, I am not. 

Heathen #1 came home from school today announcing that he had to move an object for a group. This group eliminated a program that he and Heathen #2 were planning to participate in this year - thus "wronging" my children (not just ONE of them, but TWO of them!). 

I explained to him that there were plenty of involved people in the group and that more than one of the participating families owned a truck or SUV that was capable of moving this object. I was upset that the group could cancel something that was valuable to my Heathens, and then still ask them for help. 

After arguing my point, Heathen #1 calmly looked at me and said, "They didn't ask. I offered to help. That's what my mother taught me to do - offer help when help is needed and I'm capable of helping."

Then he just stood and stared at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Try not to smile, Mom. You know I'm right."

While this is a slightly older photo, this was the look on his face.
And his hands WERE on his hips.  Heaven help me.

And I will admit that it was like being punched in the stomach. He was absolutely correct. That IS what we've tried so hard to teach our Heathens. But my flaw didn't allow me to see the situation that way until the Heathen re-framed the situation in a way that I could "understand."  And I will admit, I had a hard time not smiling.  He not only proved his point, but he did it objectively and without raising his voice - and he was irrefutably correct.

Heathen #1 left shortly after our conversation to move the object in question. The program being eliminated was not directed solely at my Heathens - it just felt that way because it was something that they love.  However, Heathen #1 saw the situation for what it truly was - a program elimination, not something about he or his brother personally. 

And Heathen #1 was correct in stating that was what he was taught - to offer help where he sees a need. Too bad that his mother needed a lesson refresher today. 

Heathen #1 humbled me this afternoon. 

Well done, Heathen. Well done.