Photo Montage

Years ago, I gave up on posed, professional Christmas pictures of the Heathens.  While some families can make that work, our Zoo is not one of them.  Occasionally we have managed a good one.  However, they rarely capture what are truly my Heathens' personalities.

I changed to using snapshots of them several years ago.  Not only is it more fun, but I get laughs and "I LOVED your Christmas card photo" instead of "they looked so nice."

This year, I started to run out of time and realized I still had not sent out Christmas cards.  Which meant loading the Heathens into a car, driving to a local location that was "Heathenish" to me, unloading Heathens, and giving instructions.

My instructions were: Go stand on that rock and do something.

Here's what I got in response:

 Amazingly, no one ended up in the water or actually got pushed off the rock.  No one was hurt and there was neither tears nor blood - TOTAL SUCCESS!

Although it didn't make the card, this last one is my favorite.  Not only are they all together, but they are STILL (not a common occurrence!).

Merry Christmas from the Zoo.  We hope your holidays are everything you want them to be.

Rogue Sheep & Grumpy Angels

Christmas nativity plays are one of my FAVORITE parts of Christmas.  I've heard people groan about it being the "same story" every year (of COURSE it is - so is Fiddler On The Roof!).  But every group does it a little differently, and I love watching the children age up through the roles.

Many, many years ago, Heathen #1 was a sheep.  His first year in the nativity play, Heathen #2 was too small to participate and Heathen #3 didn't even exist!  And I remember being mortified when MY SHEEP was the one that wouldn't stand where he was supposed to stand.  He was quiet (a small blessing, I thought at the time), but he meandered around the sanctuary and inspected decorations.  When it was time to walk to the front with the other children, he flatly refused.  During the song he was to sing with the other children, his lips were clenched tightly closed.

Ready to cry in my pew as I juggled a very small Heathen #2, all I wanted to do was snatch up my older child and run from the building.  But as I glanced around for the glares I knew I was receiving, I was shocked to see people giggling and pointing and smiling.

No one in that sanctuary cared about Heathen #1's misbehavior - except the Asst. Zookeeper and me.

I remember the following year being a little better and Heathen #1 a bit more cooperative.  Then Heathen #2 was old enough to be a sheep and Heathen #1 graduated to shepherd - I spent most of that year threatening Heathen #1 what I was going to do if he hooked his brother around the neck with his shepherd's crook one more time.  Turned out, that shepherd's crook was the only reason Heathen #2 didn't wander about.  And the congregation smiled and pointed.

The year that the older two Heathens were BOTH shepherds was the year of the battle of the shepherds' crooks - no injuries to report!  We used plastic, hollow crooks which couldn't do much damage.  Despite the Star Wars light-saber type battle in the background of the nativity scene - the congregation was still smiling and pointing.  And telling me at the end of service about how much they loved the "spunk" in my Heathens.

Heathen #3 made his own debut as a sheep and a shepherd when he was old enough.  I had a bit better behavior from the Heathens at that point because I was running the play for several years and could provide "momma looks" when needed during practice.  But, there were the typical small Heathen antics from that child as well.

As the Heathens have aged through the roles of sheep, shepherd, the wise men, the angel Gabriel, and Joseph, and finally to narrator and stage crew, the Heathens have learned their roles - as well as the story in a way that many adults don't.

This year, the oldest two Heathens were originally on stage crew.  However, Heathen #1 was quickly placed on "rogue sheep & angel" duty - trying to keep three small children from escaping the back of the narthex in an attempt to get to the nursery that holds the toys.  By the end of the play, he was exhausted - and I was laughing!

Now as we walk into these nativity plays, we try to guess which of the children will be the rogue sheep or the grumpy angel that won't cooperate - and we look forward to seeing them.  This year, we had both!  And the Asst. Zookeeper and I were thrilled to see them - not only are they adorably cute, but they remind us of the years that it was our Heathens in those roles.

Joseph

The youngest Heathen played Joseph this year - and took his role quite seriously. He did a wonderful job.  All of the children did a wonderful job.

Speaking with the angel, Gabriel

But next Christmas, the Asst. Zookeeper and I will still be laying bets on which will be the rogue sheep or the next grumpy angel.  It isn't a true Christmas nativity play without them.

Grumpy Angel - 2015

She stood where she was supposed to stand.
Then she SAT DOWN and was swinging
her feet.  Definitely our favorite part of this
year's nativity play!

Be Polite To The Dust Bunnies - They Live Here

Dear Zoo,

I know that you currently feel unloved and unappreciated considering your current state of dishevelment.  Please know that it is not that I don't care for you.  I just have had to choose between upkeep and Heathens.  Unfortunately for you, the Heathens have won.

The semester is almost at an end and I will have a chance to get you "caught up" and clean.  Discarded objects will no longer clutter every horizontal surface.  Dishes will no longer be stacked on the counter.  Floors will be vacuumed and shelves will be dusted.  Laundry will be gathered up and the floor will no longer be home to randomly discarded socks and shoes.

Belongings will get tidied up and put back in their places.  Papers will be organized and filed away or discarded - not placed in stacks to be dealt with "later."

Until then, please bear with me, Zoo.  I do love you - you house my Heathens so well and give us a safe place to call HOME.  But this semester has been a rough one.  I'll admit to hardly keeping my head above water on many days.

I know you understand my need to choose the Heathens first.  With the oldest Heathen so close to leaving, that need is even greater because I can see the change growing closer.

Zoo, your time to shine will come soon enough.  Until then, please be polite to the dust bunnies. (I hear they can be rather friendly.)

Love Always,
The Zookeeper

The Road Less Travelled - But An Excellent Road

It happens every fall on Facebook.  The pictures of college acceptance letters start to pop up with increasing frequency along with pictures of ecstatic parents and high school seniors.  "She got accepted to her first choice!  We couldn't be more proud!"  The excitement is palpable.  And I grin every time I see such a post as I remember getting my own acceptance letter.

And, yet, when these same parents talk to my oldest Heathen, they attempt to TALK HIM OUT of his choice.  "Have you thought of college?  You should think about going to college instead."  And Heathen #1, understandably, comes homes irritated and sometimes downright angry.  He knows that he has made the best choice for HIM.  And he knows he has our full support.

It is with GREAT PRIDE that I announce Heathen #1 has chosen to continue to lead a life of service following high school graduation.  He has chosen to join the US Navy and currently has a ship date of August 2, 2016.

The Asst. Zookeeper and I FULLY SUPPORT his choice for his future.  Not only is it an excellent choice for him, but both of our families are NAVY families (with the random person in a different branch occasionally).  We've raised our Heathens to serve and help others - how could we not support his choice?

And for the parents that have felt the need to ask me, "Are you okay with this?"  My answer is: it really isn't MY choice.  I can be a supportive Zookeeper and sign the delayed entry program papers (which I did).  Or, my Heathen can turn 18 in March and sign himself - and leave wondering if his parents support his choice, if he made a good choice.  No Heathen deserves to leave home with extra feelings of self doubt.  Leaving home is momentous enough.

So, to the adults who feel the need to "poo-poo" my Heathen's choice of a future: mind your own business.  You won't hear me ask YOUR child if they are ready for their students loans that will take them the next 30 years to pay off and aren't they worried that they won't find a job with that choice of major?  You will hear me CONGRATULATE your child on their choice of a future that fits THEM.

Have the decency to give my Heathen the same courtesy, please.

Well done, Heathen.  The Asst. Zookeeper and I are VERY PROUD of your choice in a future.

Together When Separate

My Asst. Zookeeper is an amazing man - mostly because he lives with and deals with ME on a daily basis.  For twenty years now, he has been my solid ground through the winds of life.

He is not a fussy, emotional man.  He is "fuzzier" with me than he is with any other human on Earth - including our Heathens now that they are older.  He is definitely a no-nonsense type of person.  He dislikes drama vehemently.

In so many things, he is my polar opposite.  But it works for us.

Last week, on one of my commutes to work, I remember thinking of something funny and also thinking that I had to remember to share that thought with the Asst. Zookeeper since it was something I knew he would appreciate.  This led me to the thought:

Does the Asst. Zookeeper think of me during the day while he is away?  I think of him frequently when things strike me as funny, or ironic.  I think of him as I watch other people deal with life and I consider how he would have dealt with a particular situation.

And I decided that he probably thinks of me in the same manner.  After 20 years together, we function not only as individuals, but as a single unit.  We still love nothing more than to sit and talk, sharing our day.

Turns out I was wrong.

Today, at approximately 9:30 am, my phone rang with the Asst. Zookeeper on the other end of the line.  He had called simply to tell me about the rainbow he saw on his drive to work.  He said he knew what was at the end of the rainbow because it sprang right out of the mountain on one side of the road and went over the roadway.  He had driven under the rainbow.  It was SO AMAZING that he wanted to show it to me because he knew I would love it.  He pulled to the side of the road and tried taking several pictures with his phone but they just didn't show how awesome it really was.

So he called to tell me all about it.  And it was the greatest five minutes of my morning.  Something that I will never forget.

He may be rough and rugged.  He may not be "cuddly" very often.  But I am in his thoughts, even when we are separate.  Nothing is better than that.

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. 

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.  

Tagged for First Communion

The Zoo attends church.  The youngest Heathen was deemed (by the Asst. Zookeeper and myself) as old enough to participate in Communion for the first time.  He attended his Sacraments class at the church and learned the three parts of a Sacrament (an earthly element, God's command to participate, and a covenant of God's forgiveness).  He met with the pastor and learned the process of participation.  We read the scriptures that we were to read and discussed them.  He was prepped and ready.

I, on the other hand, was struggling to get ready.  Once I gave finals at the local community college, I had one week to prepare the house for family and church friends to descend upon us.  I will readily admit that my Zoo tends to fall apart in the month leading up to finals - the laundry, the vacuuming, the dishes - it all falls to the wayside to make way for grading and testing and assessments that must be accomplished by a set deadline.  The end of April leaves the Zoo looking like a tornado went through it and left no survivors.  And that is a KIND assessment.

So I spent the week leading up to his first Communion scrubbing, dusting, vacuuming, putting away, washing, etc.  I spent time picking up all the dead-fall sticks in the yard, mowing, and prepping the yard to be invading by all the cousins that were coming to play for the afternoon.  And 1.5 acres is a lot of yard to prep for an "invasion."

As I am cheap, I spent an entire day preparing food.  Cooking, boiling, prepping a meal for 50+ people that could be prepared ahead of time, but could be ready that day with little effort the morning of the event.

And I will admit to spending a lot of time stressing about making the event "perfect" for the littlest Heathen.  This was his first big event.  He had watched the older Heathens have important events for years.  After watching patiently for years, it was finally his turn.  I wanted it to be everything that he wanted it to be.  I understand the pain of watching the older boys and having to always wait for it to be your turn for the "big day."

Despite a less than desirable weather forecast of thunderstorms, I spent the week praying for an afternoon of beautiful weather.  While we were prepared for the rain, it would be so much easier if that many people were not packed into my house.  I have no idea how many times that week that I muttered the prayer, "Please, God.  I'm asking for a few hours of sunshine.  Amen."

We made it to church that morning with time to spare.  We were thrilled to see the amount of family and friends that had joined us on this occasion.  I'm a strong believer in celebrating with other people.  Not only does it feel good on my end of the participation, but it makes those celebrating feel loved and cared for.  We added several pews of family and friends to the regular congregation.  Heathen #3 was thrilled that people came - there is always a fear in his head that by the time it is his turn to do something, people will be bored and no longer come.  He grinned with pride due to the showing of those family and friends.  I couldn't have been more happy for the show of support.

Heathen #3 waited impatiently throughout the service to reach Communion.  When we were called to come forward, he moved confidently to the front.  He knew what he needed to do without hesitation.  When he was handed the bread and said, "Amen," we crossed another milestone line in the family. While we had always participated in Communion as a family, with the younger children receiving a blessing, for the first time, all the Heathens were old enough to join the Table.  I struggled to hold back my tears.  The Zoo sat at the Lord's Table for the first time as a complete unit.  The Asst. Zookeeper and I had managed to fulfill another baptismal vow.  The vows we made when the Heathens were baptized strike me very deeply.  We've been careful to fulfill them - otherwise, there was no point in having them baptized.

Without a hitch, Heathen #3 participated in his first Communion.  He did it without hesitation - he has been to the rail his entire life and watched those older than him.  He even managed the event without spilling grape juice on himself, which is what he was originally worried about.

We had a beautiful afternoon of weather for the luncheon we held at the Zoo.  Our family and church friends spent several hours congregating in the yard and watching the children all play outside.  God had granted my request for cooperative weather.  I was thrilled and made sure to thank Him.

The day was a complete success.  Heathen #3 declared it the best day ever.  And that made all the hard work and hours of preparation worth it.

Fast forward from Sunday to today (Thursday).  I was sorting laundry in the basement.  In Heathen #3's laundry was the blue dress shirt he had worn to church.  He had neglected to unroll the sleeves before placing the shirt in the wash.  Smiling as I thought of that day, I unrolled the sleeves of his shirt.

And discovered that the large cardboard price-tag was still hanging from its plastic tab to the left armpit of the shirt.  He had worn the shirt for several hours that day - and never taken the price tag off the shirt.

I stopped in stupefied thought:  Had I noticed the tag on his shirt that day? (Obviously, the answer to that question was NO.)  Had the tag been visible to others at any point as he was wearing a full, button-up vest over-top of the shirt? (Maybe.  Maybe not.)  Had anyone in the congregation noticed the tag hanging from his armpit? (No way of knowing the answer to this one.)

Finally, I simply removed the tag and threw it away.  And decided there was no point in asking anyone if they had noticed.  The tag was not the important part of the day.

But I will start searching the Heathens for tags on new clothing prior to an event.  Lesson learned.

Quiet, Hidden Tears & Lies

To my Heathens,

I've made such efforts to hide some things from the three of you.  And I will continue to do so.   Mostly, I do this because it has been for your own good.

I'm a firm believer that life is an adventure and it should be approached with an attitude of excitement and opportunity.  And yet, every time your life gains an opportunity for adventure, I "lose" something in the process.  This is as it should be.  That is the role of a Momma - to be outgrown.

None of you have EVER been homesick, regardless of where you have gone.  You have missed home, but never to the point that you felt the need to abandon the adventure you were currently embarked upon.  I've made a point of sending you off on any adventure with a smile and a promise to be there when you were ready to be finished.  A promise to listen as you recount all the events of your adventure with joy.  I've focused you on everything you could do or learn or be while you were on your adventure.  And I've done it so many times.

You all made me feel loved when you ask if I missed you while you were on your adventures.  And I have lied to you every time, and told you no, that I was excited to see what you did or accomplished or learned - and that doesn't leave time for missing you.  And I would NEVER let you know how often I simply sat in a chair and wished that you were home, because I was homesick with you gone.  The three of you and the Asst. Zookeeper are my home.  Many times, I cried quiet, hidden tears - where none of you could see them.  With each adventure, you "outgrow" me just a little bit more.

I lied to all of you the first time you left for summer camp, the first day of preschool.  I lied again the first day of kindergarten and then I made sure to save my tears for after you were gone.  You can't experience the full adventure if you are worried about how the Momma feels while you are gone.

And now, we are roughly three weeks from another lie.  It just dawned on me this morning as I was putting Heathen #3 on the bus and waving goodbye.  I've been standing at a bus stop and waving goodbye to an elementary school child for the past 12 years.  Sunshine, rain, snow, cold - I have waved goodbye and smiled at you from the driveway as you left on your adventure for the day.  And I only get to do it for another 16 days - and then that chapter of my life closes forever.  I will no longer have young children.

While I truly am excited for the next adventure of middle school for Heathen #3, this marks the end of an era.  No more bus stops for me.  No more holiday parties to visit the Heathens.  No more having lunch with you.  No more of it.  Because the adventure will change, and it will be more your adventure than our adventure.  And, in the fall, you will head out the door for the bus without me.  And I will hover in the window, just like I did when you older brothers headed out the first time alone as well.  And I will do it with tears in my eyes - just like I have twice before.  But you won't see them, because I won't let you.  I refuse to spoil your adventure.

In roughly three weeks, you will all be promoted to the next grade.  Heathen #1 will become a senior in high school.  You have repeatedly commented this year that your junior year is flying by.  Then you ask if I will miss you after next year, when you are gone.  And I lie every time, and tell you that I won't miss you because you will always have a place in this house.  And I know that as long as I keep food in the fridge, that you will come visit me.

I will admit to already having panicked over the thought of you leaving - not because I don't trust you to care for yourself and make smart decisions.  But because, you are part of my home.  And a piece of it will be moving on to another adventure.  My role will change again, as another chapter of my life closes.  You will be old enough to understand my tears - but I will still attempt to hide them.  I refuse to spoil your adventure.

In roughly three weeks, Heathen #2 will be an eighth grader.  A true teenager.  And someone that is starting to spread his own wings and find out who he is and who he wants to become.  This is something I can only encourage, but you will have to do the work yourself.  And when you falter, which you will, I will continue to support and guide.  But I will cry for your stumblings behind a closed door.  This is not an overnight process and I can't make it any easier except to suffer with you, but where you cannot see because I would never want you to feel as though I didn't believe in you.  You are embarking on the adventure that will lead to you becoming your own person.  It should be faced, on your part, with excitement and the thought of possibilities.  I refuse to spoil your adventure.

For years, I have watched other mothers cry their tears in front of their children and tell them they will miss them horribly.  I've watched them cry and lament what they are losing as their children grow.  And I have watched those children worry about their mothers instead of focusing on their "big adventure" of camp or school, etc.  I have watched these mothers look at me with disdain, as though I didn't love my Heathens as much as they love their children because I was "obviously happy" to see them go.

I've chosen to look for the adventure in life, and I love my life.  I am happy.  I have a three Heathens and an Asst. Zookeeper that create my home, wherever we happen to be.  How could I raise you to have a sad outlook on life when adventure has served me so well?

So, I will continue to hide my tears, and cry quietly where you can not see me.  And I will continue to push you all to look at the adventure to be had - whether it is in the day ahead of you or the next chapter in your own lives.  Because that is what a Momma does - teaches Heathens to look for an adventure and approach it with an attitude of possibility.

All my love, Heathens, will always be yours - no matter where you are in life.
Momma

Gilly Boy Vs. Oreo Cows

Our Zoo exists on the edge of a 90 acre farm. And the farmer and his family are fabulous - they have given the Heathens free run of the property. What more could a Heathen ask for?

In exchange, when he is out of town for work, we provide a few sets of extra hands around the farm. Currently, the farmer wanted to round up the cows and separate out the one-year-olds because they are all bulls. 

The trouble is that these are field cows. They don't ever come into a barn and are never handled. They are not the tame cows you see at dairy establishments. Seeing a human within 100 yards makes them run the opposite way. 

We set up a round pen in the field near our house and baited it with a round bale of hay. And we let the cows alone for several days so that they would get comfortable being in there. During these days, Hearhen #1 and the Asst. Zookeeper brainstorm about how they are going to get close enough to through the gate shut without the cows seein them coming and bolting out of the pen. Last time we separated cows, it involved a contraption that could be triggered from afar.  And one time we borrowed horses and riders from friends and did it like cowboys. Anything is possible at the Zoo. 

Heathen #1 claimed he could do it if he put on his gilly suit and crawled across the field. He received this suit as a Christmas gift several years ago and he randomly drags it out of the closet for different things. I responded with a comment to the effect of, "No way."

This week, we looked out in the afternoon. And all the cows were happily in the pen. And Heathen #1 decided it was time to attempt his plan. So he donned his suit, drove around the farm to the far side of the field and army crawled the entire length of the field. 

And the dumb cows never noticed him!  Our horses, in the adjacent field, saw him and pitched a fit the entire time he was in the field crawling - running around, snorting and stomping. The cows didn't take the hint. 

Can you find the Heathen?

He threw the gate on them in one try!  He was quite proud of himself - not that I blame him. Who else would crawl on their belly through a field to capture a dozen cows and think it was a grand adventure? Just my Heathen.