When the Calm is FRIGHTENING

The school year is in full swing here at the Zoo - activities are underway, the Heathens are drowning in homework, and I have to sign at least one paper and provide at least one Heathen with money on a daily basis.  Today, I signed a math test and money was requested for a field trip.  All is well.

The Zoo functions at optimal levels when the level of "insanity" is directly proportional to the "lack of time available."  The Asst. Zookeeper and I have always been this way - and the Heathens have learned it as well.

This is typically an asset to the lifestyle we lead.  For example, prior to the beginning of my typing, our day went as follows:

by 6 am - alarms start blaring in various rooms of the house

by 6:30 am - dogs have given up patiently waiting for people to wake up and have begun to get obnoxious in their want of the outdoors

by 6:33am - dogs start cycling through the backdoor and patiently wait as I walk to the bottom of the stairs to start hollering for Heathens to get out of bed

by 7 am - Two Heathens are prepped for school and putting on their shoes (I actually have a 7 am alarm set so that we don't lose track of time in the mornings!); 3 dogs have gone outside; I have consumed at least one cup of coffee (sometimes 2); dishes from breakfast have been washed (if I'm feeling up to it)

between 7 & 7:30 am - I holler up the stairs for the oldest Heathen a minimum of 3 times for him to get moving; I start computer work for the day (either lesson plans or household stuff or volunteer items).

7:30 am - the oldest Heathen finally leaves, and the Asst. Zookeeper starts to get ready for his day;  I'm still working in the dining room, where I remain until 9:30 am

9:30 am - I prep dinner and throw it all in the crock pot as I KNOW the evening is busy.  By 10 am, I'm in the shower.  By 10:45, I'm ready to leave, having made an errand list to attempt during the day.

11 am through 3:30 pm - involves a 45 minute commute to work and teaching 2 college courses, followed by running a few errands and the matching commute home

3:30 pm - as I pull in the driveway, the younger Heathens are getting off the bus;  I enter the Zoo to discover that the oldest Heathen did indeed put water on the stove to boil (per my text).

4 pm - all Heathens are eating dinner prior to evening activities (including scouts and a committee meeting);  At 4:15, I took a scheduled phone call from the college. Everyone is finished eating by 4:45.

Here is where today became FRIGHTENING - from 4:45 pm to 6:30 pm, NOTHING has happened or is scheduled to happen.  Strangely, no one had homework.  I already had prepped everything needed for my meeting tonight.

And, while there were things I COULD DO, there has been nothing I HAD TO DO.  I've paced through the house several times now with the feeling that I am forgetting something important.  I will discover it any moment now and then life will be back onto its normal break-neck pace.

But until then, I'm just not sure how to handle this!

The Last "First" Day

Senior Year for Heathen #1 - need I say more?  He started a count down to graduation at his 17th birthday in MARCH.  He's not excited in the least.

So my Heathen #1 is a senior.  And if one more person asks me if I am upset that he is a senior and will be leaving soon, I may just HIT them!

What does it mean that my oldest Heathen is a senior?
1.  I survived the years of sleeplessness that goes with having a young child in the house where you wake up at every little creak and lie awake waiting to see if you are needed.
2.  I learned to change diapers until he mastered potty training. It was a fierce battle, but I finally proved to be more stubborn then him.
3.  I survived his elementary school years  - where a stubborn, outspoken little boy doesn't always fit in very well.
4.  I watched him attempt to make friends and succeed.  I watched him attempt to make friends and fail.
5.  I've watched him learn that failure is not the end of the process - that it is always worth another try.
6.  I struggled watching him through the middle school years which are painful for even the luckiest of children.
7.  I watched him discover who he is, and accept that who he is, is a pretty cool guy.
8.  I've watched him grow by inches and learned to look up to him - both literally and figuratively.  Although still a teenager, he has strong common sense.
9.  I've watched his independence grow and learned that my opinion is not always welcome, of even needed.  I've also learned that when he asks my opinion, it is because he still seeks guidance.

And the most important:
10.  I've learned that being sad that my Heathen is a senior would be contradictory to everything I've attempted to teach him over the years he has been part of my life.

He doesn't belong to ME.  He belongs to himself.  He should face new adventures with enthusiasm - and everything can be considered an adventure, even a trip to the grocery store.  He has to be able to make decisions that HE can live with and that will allow him to sleep soundly at the end of the day. Doing something on your own is respectable, but ask for help when you need it.

So, NO - I refuse to be sad that my oldest Heathen is a senior.  He has a great future ahead of him and I am excited to see what paths he chooses along the way.  On the first day of kindergarten, I told him that school was a grand adventure and he was finally old enough to start that adventure.  His adventure is not ending, it is still only just beginning...

Heathen #1 - first day of school: SENIOR
August 26, 2015
 

Not only did a get a hug and kiss goodbye, he smiled for
the first day photos.  It has been several years since that happened!

The Dreaded Years of MIDDLE SCHOOL

This school year involves such big milestones for our Zoo.  Two eras are ending and a third era is beginning.  My mind, while usually the quality of Swiss cheese, is struggling to keep up.

For the first time in 12 years, I do NOT have a Heathen in the elementary building.  And it is such a relief!

Don't get me wrong, my Heathens were happy there and made enormous leaps and bounds in their educations.  I believe that their teachers were all behind the "big desk" not because it meant they were in charge but because they felt a call to teach - a vocation of meaning.  I cherished the cards made with little hands dipped in paint, and asking them to tell me about their drawings because I couldn't tell WHAT it was they had scrawled on the paper.  I loved eating lunch with them and watching them interact with their friends.  Halloween parades, holiday parties, Valentine cards - I loved it all.

But that "book" of my life (I can't label 12 years as a "chapter.") if finished.  The youngest Heathen has boarded the bus for MIDDLE SCHOOL.

Despite years of watching his older brothers turn into little monsters that rolled their eyes and made huffing noises when disgusted.... Despite giving hugs and promising me (without promoting!) multiple times, and quite sincerely, that HE would NEVER behave like that....  Approximately 24 hours before the first day of school, IT HAPPENED.

Heathen #3 huffed at me in disgust and ROLLED HIS EYES at me.  It was like his body just KNEW that he was going to be an official 'middle schooler" and had to make sure that he was possible of making both the noise and eye movement that are guaranteed to make me want to shake a Heathen!

The world can relax; the Heathen can officially make the noise well and the eye roll was practically professional in quality.

I watched parents at the 5th grade orientation with their children - and you could tell which parents were there with their oldest child.  Internally, I was laughing at them as they practiced walking their child from room to room without allowing the child to even look at their own schedule.  I giggled inside as I watched parents talk to the teachers instead of letting their child introduce themselves.

But I choose not to be a helicopter parent and I've been on the Middle School Merry-Go-Round for seven years already - this will be year number eight.  Once the youngest Heathen and I arrived for the orientation, I handed him the schedule and said, "Get going - find your classrooms, introduce yourself to your teachers, and ask if there are any special supplies that you will need.  I'll follow you."  The only trouble we had was the fact that I no longer have the ability to dart through a hallway of children nearly as quickly as the youngest Heathen.

All was well - despite a small case of nerves the night before the big day.  By the end of day one, Heathen #3 was a confident middle schooler and knew where he needed to go.  But Lord, save that child's life if he rolls his eyes at me again anytime soon.

Heathen #3 - first day of school: 5th Grade
August 26, 2015

While the youngest Heathen is just entering the Middle School, the middle Heathen is entering his final year at the same building - MUCH to his delight.  In Heathen #2's case, Middle School has been the stereotypical awful experience.  He has finally learned that his life is MUCH safer if he doesn't roll his eyes at me and he has ALMOST learned that the huffing noise will send the Asst. Zookeeper off the deep end - although the noise does slip out from time to time.  This Heathen is still working on learning who HE is, not who someone else is.  And he is learning that who HE is, is who he is supposed to be.  So, in his last year at the Middle School, I hope he continues to grow as a person.  I hope he finally comes to terms with the grade on the paper doesn't correlate to the type of person you are or will become.  I want him to continue to be HIM - as he is the only Heathen #2 that I have.

Heathen #2 - first day of school: 8th Grade
August 26, 2015

 So I sent my "middle school bookends" to school together for the first time in years.  And I found it a bit awe inspiring to look from one to the other and think, "This was what you looked like and is similar to who YOU were four years ago!  And this is how much YOU are going to change in the next four years!"  It was exciting - I had the ability to see both into the past and into the future at the same time.

My middle school bookends: 5th and 8th Grade!

Batten down the hatches Middle School - you get
TWO Heathens this year!

 I didn't forget about Heathen #1 - but this year, he has earned a post of his own.  So I'll just slide in a photo of all three.  What an amazing year it is going to be!

Egbert's Arrival

When the Heathens were much younger (ages 12, 8, and 5 approx.), we had a motor home that the Heathens dubbed "Rover."  Our Zoo made a habit of naming motorized vehicles when the Heathens were little.

Rover was well-loved.  He made several memorable trips with the Heathens - Canada and Niagara Falls, Assateague Island and the wild horses, etc.  The trips were not only memorable for the destinations, but for the events that happened along the way.  If you want to look back on these trips, I documented them here and here.

Unfortunately, Rover was old when we bought him.  And his transmission didn't live as long as the Heathens would have liked.  After we sold him, we never managed to pass one up for sale on the roadside without the Heathens asking when we would buy another one.

So, with his Heathens in mind, the Asst. Zookeeper called me about two weeks ago and wanted to take me to Hollsopple.  Not the town that usually pops to mind when you think of a date with your husband.

But, here is what the Asst. Zookeeper had found in Hollsopple:

After the purchase and transfer, we took the RV home.  Heathens #2 and #3 were with us. And they dubbed the RV "Egbert."  I followed behind in the car as Egbert headed to the Zoo.

In typical Zoo fashion, the adventure began almost immediately.  The Heathens wanted to stop at the Asst. Zookeeper's parents' house to show them Egbert - the Heathens needed additional people to get excited with them and grandparents are GREAT about doing that.  However, when it was time to head home again, Egbert wouldn't start!

Despite checking the fuel, jumper cables, etc., we had to call it a night and leave Egbert at Grandma's house.  It was just too dark for the Asst. Zookeeper to be able to see anything under the hood.  The Asst. Zookeeper spent time online once we arrived home researching the problem.

It is INCREDIBLY handy to have a mechanic and an electrician at the Zoo. The man is worth his weight in gold.

The next morning - the Asst. Zookeeper had Egbert running and home in less than an hour.  The Heathens have spent many a night in Egbert while he is currently parked in the backyard.  While we haven't managed to take a trip just yet, the Heathens have had just as much fun planning trips.

Where will Egbert take us?  No one really knows.  But I'm sure it will be a memorable adventure. And that's all that matters here at the Zoo.

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.