Category Archives: family

Wrangling the Entropy Tip #4, I Excel at Excel

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Each Wednesday of my vacation I am featuring a post by a noted guest writer (read: anyone in my family who responded to my pleas for them to pick up my slack – I’m on vacation for goodness’ sake!).  Last week you may recall that Sheepdog wrote an inspirational piece on DIY projects.  Today I am proud to introduce another character from my cast of crazies, the incredibly organized Sister D.

Sister D is in her early thirties, a stay-at-home mom to three kids (a 1-year old daughter, a 5-year-old son and an almost 7-year-old son, who is on the autism spectrum with PDD-NOS).  She has been married to B-I-L #3 (the Trash Man) for 8 years.  They keep moving around because Trash Man keeps getting promoted, but they have thankfully stayed put in Kennesaw, GA for the past couple of years now.  I just love that they are nearby.

Sister D is the youngest of the Paarz sisters.  She is creative and smart and a perfectionist.  She is a great mom and a loving wife and a loyal friend.  When she calls to catch up with me I tell my kids to leave me alone because I am on a very important call.  She is super fit because she works out and eats well.  She constantly challenges herself with marathons and other physical activities that make my head hurt.  She likes the finer things in life and she works hard for them too.  She is currently vacationing in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, which is where she intends to spend summers with her children and a Mexican nanny as soon as she can convince our dad to buy a house there.

So, without any further ado, I present Sister D and her nuggets of wisdom…

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I EXCEL AT EXCEL by honorary guest writer, Sister D

I thought for my first guest blog I’d write about my crazy oldest sister.  Oh, wait…nevermind.

I have to admit…I don’t remember learning about entropy.  I was an engineering major (for a little while, anyway), though admittedly I did attend most of my sophomore year physics classes still a little saucy from the night before.  (C’mon…Buckhead bars closed at 4 AM.  I scheduled 8 AM classes to allow for my afternoon nap.  Do the math.)  Anyway, I don’t know a whole lot about entropy, but I do know that I can get in and out of a grocery store with 3 young kids in tow in 20 minutes.  This is how I do it.

Go to your local grocery store.  If you’re lucky, you can get an aisle directory from Customer Service.  If you’re not, don’t worry…you either get to look like an idiot as you take notes every time you go into a new aisle, or you can alarm the store manager as he wonders why you’re taking pictures of the signs in each aisle.  No matter how you obtain the information, take your list of what items are in each aisle and put them in a spreadsheet that looks something like this.

Print out several copies, hang one up on your refrigerator and instruct your self/family/babysitter to write items under the appropriate aisle heading as they run out or start to run low.  I also laminated one copy of my list with all of our regular items pre-populated in the fields so I have something to cross-reference as I plan my grocery trip.

So what are you going to put on this fancy list?  If your family is like mine, they probably expect you to feed them.  Planning meals is one of my least favorite tasks, so I only did it once.  I came up with 24 meals and have sets of four meals that cycle every six weeks.  We will always have enchilada chicken the same week we have tilapia piccata, but the last time we had those meals was six weeks ago, so no one seems to notice.  I evenly distribute my chicken/fish/beef/pasta dishes so that each group of four has a good variety and leaving three nights open per week allows for a little bit of spontaneity.  I fill those spots with Daddy’s-out-of-town-so-we’re-eating-cereal, seasonal meals with finds from the farmers’ market, events we attend so they’ll feed us, or dinner out.

Meal Primary heading Secondary heading Week
Broccoli & beef pasta Beef Pasta 1
Fajitas Chicken Mexican 1
Chicken baked with stuffing Chicken 1
Italian grilled pork chops Pork 1
Enchildada chicken Chicken Mexican 2
Chicken gorgonzola Chicken 2
Tilapia piccata Fish 2
Roasted turkey breast Turkey 2
Lasagna Beef Pasta 3
Chicken stir-fry Chicken Asian 3
Chicken sausage & peppers Chicken 3
Chicken casserole Chicken 3
Chicken and veggie pasta Chicken Pasta 4
Tomato mozzarella garlic chicken Chicken 4
Lemon garlic salmon Fish 4
Turkey chili Turkey 4
Spaghetti Beef Pasta 5
Tortilla soup and tamales Chicken Mexican 5
Chicken & dumplings Chicken 5
Pork tenderloin Pork 5
Tacos Beef Mexican 6
Chicken and spinach vodka pasta Chicken Pasta 6
Chicken parmesan Chicken 6
Pepper steak Steak 6

Old People Are Dirty

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

The other day the kids and I all traveled to Vineland, New Jersey (the largest city in the state measured by total area – 69 square miles, home to the largest farmer’s cooperative on the east coast – the Vineland Produce Auction, and the birth place of Welch’s Grape Juice) to visit my maternal grandfather, Henry, who now lives in the New Jersey Veterans Memorial Home there.

I have always called him “Pop Pop,” but my kids call him “Pop Pop Pop” or “3 Pops,” so as to differentiate between him (my only living grandparent) and my dad, who they call “Pop Pop.”  I don’t know why no one was able to come up with more unique nicknames in our family, but that’s what they are called so we just deal with it.  Although there was an attempt one time by Kid C to rename them, when she referred to my Pop Pop as “Pop Pop Fancy” (I guess from all of the Pop-ping) and my dad was (logically) “Pop Pop Plain.”  But those never stuck.

So we drove a little less than an hour to see 3 Pops, who is doing well health-wise for an 80-plus year-old man, except that he has circulation issues with his legs.  He is not a petite man by any stretch of the imagination – he was six feet, five inches tall at his tallest and I’d bet he was pushing three hundred pounds – so he can’t really walk on his own anymore.  Instead he drives around in a pimped-out, mac daddy electric wheelchair.

When we first got there he gave us a tour of the place.  No matter that we had been there several times before.  He just wanted to show off his visitors, which apparently is how you brag in the Home.  Imagine the sight of us in the halls… me and the five kids marching along with Pop Pop Fancy leading the parade in his Master of Ceremonies Hoveround.  He was a superstar!  We filed in and out of room after room, meeting friends and nurses and chatting them all up.  We shook everyone’s hands and many of them asked for and got hugs too.  I’m sure I got felt up a couple of times, but it was for the veterans so I wasn’t going to complain.

We took 3 Pops with us to a nice italian restaurant called Martino’s for some yummy lunch.  He is a regular there, so all of the waitresses came over to say hello and ask how he liked his spicy mussels (apparently a standing order for him).  Then we stopped at the store to pick up some fresh peaches, strawberries and navel oranges for him to keep in the fridge in his room.  He sure does love him some fruit!

Ernie and Pop Pop Fancy cruising the courtyard garden. Note that Ernie is wearing his favorite sombrero from The Awesome Hat Collection.

Back at the home we made another round of the halls to see if there was anybody who we might have missed on the first pass.  This was when we met my favorite couple of the day, Ernie and Mary Webber.  They had just recently celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary and they live in a room in the home together.  Mary is a little sicker and requires more care than her husband, but she still knew that she had some visitors and she just lit up when she talked with us.  I wondered to myself if they sometimes did it in their room.  How sweet would that be?  Ernie had an extensive hat collection that he insisted the kids all try on and he also had a beautiful vegetable and flower garden that he started in the courtyard that he showed us with immense pride.

It was clear that 3 Pops was ready for a nap, as it had been a busy and exciting day, and even his wheelchair was moving a little slower than usual.  We all hugged him and said our goodbyes, and the girls promised to write more letters (another way to get bragging rights in the home).  Kid E made me cry when he uncharacteristically climbed up into 3 Pop’s lap in the chair, grabbed both of his cheeks with his sweaty little hands, and gave him a giant smooch (you thought I was gonna say that he told him he wasn’t ugly, didn’t you?).

So we all piled into the car and headed back to the marina.  It was an all around great day and a really nice visit.  I was very proud of all of my kids that they did not even once stare, point, or ask embarrassing questions out loud when we were there.  No one mentioned that it smelled weird.  No one poked the people who were asleep in the hallways.  They were respectful and kind and interacted with everybody it made me very happy.

As we pulled into the driveway at my mom and dad’s house, I yelled out to the kids, “Now everybody should go to the bathroom and everybody should definitely wash their hands.”

Then Kid D replied, “Yeah, because we sure touched a lot of old people today!”

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

I Suck at Moderation

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Since we started this vacation and until reinforcements arrive (T-minus 54 hours until Sheepdog is here!), I have removed many of the standard limits which I usually impose upon my kids.  There have been no bedtimes, they may or may not have showered or bathed, Twizzlers and Smarties have become their own major food group, Kid D has learned two new slang/ curse words, and no one even knows where their shoes are anymore.  And we are all thriving!

Of course I’m kidding.  The first few days were fun and exciting and all “Let’s Eat the Forbidden Fruit!” but now the kids are just overtired, dirty and have stomach aches and splinters.  Many of them fall asleep in public places in the middle of the day and/ or burst out in tears for absolutely no reason.  And one of them is always not talking to another one for some reason.  It’s like the first few days of Lord of the Flies.

This kid's mom must be Super Fun! He fell asleep in the middle of a party.

Apparently, my kids crave order.  They may think that they don’t want rules and limits, but I know that it makes them feel safe and secure and keeps them young for just a little while longer.  And they may think that they want to grow up right this minute, but that’s not what is best for them.  And I see it in their behavior and their language and their demeanor every single day.

See, I have been trying this little experiment for years now.  I may take naturally to being a drill sergeant kind of parent, but I also want my kids to have memories of growing up in a house with a mom who was fun and silly and a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of girl.  So every once in a while (vacation is a great time because everything gets upended anyway) I let Captain Chaos run the show.  And every single time it is fun for a few days.  Until it is not so fun anymore.

So maybe tonight I’ll make a healthy dinner, but we can go for a walk to get ice cream afterwards.  And instead of banning video games today, I can set a time limit so that nobody plays for eight hours straight and gets all crazy-eyed and combative.  But I’ll tell you right now that Kid E is going to bed by 7:30 tonight and every single night thereafter.  Because a grouchy, unrested Kid E is always miserable.  Moderation be damned.

When we lessen or reduce our extremes we are more likely than not heading toward normalcy.  And who doesn’t want to be normal?  Moderation has the best chance of survival in the long run.  It is just so hard for me to put it into practice.  It is one of my Life’s Big Struggles.

What I am figuring out, slowly but surely, is that moderation is the way to go.

Isn’t it always?  [Buzzer sound].  I guess I still have a lot to learn.

Oh!  Now I get the saying, “All things in moderation, even moderation.”

This is not going to be easy for me.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

I Got That From My Daddy

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Big Bob is the man I can lean on for knowledge, advice and support, and tuition for college

Following the rules, crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s, and double-checking my work… I got that from my daddy.

Love of the water, love of boats, and love of big storms… I got that from my daddy.

Playing it close to the vest, having just a few close friends, and a dislike of talking on the telephone… I got that all from my daddy.

Confidence in my position even when I’m not 100% sure I’m right, taking charge when someone needs to step up, and wanting to give my all to everything I do… I got that from my daddy.

Taking care of my yard, keeping my car uber clean (in and out), and having a clutter-free desk… I got that from my daddy.

Freakish strength, big thighs, and a love of anything grilled… I also got that from my daddy.

Always showing affection to my spouse, showering it upon my kids, and embarrassing all of them with public declarations of my feelings… I got that from my daddy.

The desire to take my shirt off and dance like a crazy person after getting tipsy at big, formal family events… Thank Goodness I DID NOT get that from my daddy.

Of course my dad has his faults, but that just makes him human.  He is sometimes socially awkward, dresses like he rides the short bus, and has been known to take a nap in the middle of his own parties.  But he is also brilliant at his job, an excellent provider, gives great advice, and is fiercely loyal to my mom.  He does not open up easily, but I have never once doubted his love for me.  He gives great speeches and is incredibly sentimental.  He is an excellent driver, not afraid to get his hands dirty, and would do just about anything for his wife, children and grandchildren.

I want to wish a very Happy Father’s Day to the best daddy a girl could ask for.  Thank you for setting the bar high, inspiring me and always encouraging me to work hard.  You set a great example for everyone who knows you and we are lucky to have you in our lives.

I love my daddy,
Oh, yes I do-oo.
When he’s not near to me
I’m sad and blu-ue.
I love him truly, I do-oooooo.
Oh, Daddy, I love you!

xoxo,

Daughter A

Wish me luck for tomorrow… (I got that from my daddy too!)

Thirteen Hour Car Trips Will Almost Always Lead to Drinking

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Our vacation this summer is going to be spent at my mom and dad’s house in Somers Point, New Jersey.  They live in a marina in a not totally kid-friendly house that is close to the beach.  It is an all-around awesome place, except for the lack of kid-friendliness and the fact that they only have three bedrooms and not enough beds to house the seven people in our family without blowing up some extra sleeping arrangements.  Fortunately, for space reasons, my parents are in Mexico for the first two weeks of our visit.  For the last few days of our trip, we will all cram into the house, go to the beach, celebrate the 4th, eat and drink together and basically remind one another why it is good for children move out of their parents’ house when they grow up and have families of their own.

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On Wednesday morning at 1 a.m. Kid E wandered into my bedroom and climbed into my bed.  About an hour later he informed me that I could take him back to his bed because he was no longer comfortable.  About an hour after that my alarm went off, signifying the incredibly early start of our very long travel day.

“Let’s get this party started,” I mumbled, 98% sarcastic, as I dragged myself out of the warm bed and put on my clothes and pulled my hair up into a ponytail.

By 3:45 a.m. I was easing out of my Georgia driveway with Kids A – E fully seat belted inside, an insane amount of beach gear zipped into a gigantic Thule bag on the roof, and too many bikes racked onto the back.  I may have looked like Jed Clampett, but I felt like The Bandit, (North) East bound and down, hopeful that I could avoid the Smokeys as I hauled ass along the I-85 and I-95 corridors.

As far as long car trips go, this one was really good.  We stopped just north of NASCAR’s Mecca (Charlotte) for some breakfast, but that was our only break other than one pit stop for gas (the kind that makes the car run) and one “I have to poop right now!” false alarm from Kid E when we were just 60 miles from our destination.  So, it was really two gas pit stops (LOL: fart joke).  The traffic was fairly light, road construction was minimal, and the Po-Po must have had a Beef and Beer Fundraiser somewhere else, as they were not occupying many of their standard access road hiding spots along the highways.

We pulled into our destination just after 5 p.m., very ready to stretch our legs and eat some dinner.  Luckily, my mom is awesome and she left two trays of lasagna and two pies for us to eat.  I stuck dinner in the oven, enlisted Kids A, B, and C to carry our gear in and unpack, disassembled the bike rack, and detached it from the trailer hitch.  Then I proceeded to sit on a beach chair and do nothing while the older four kids rode their bikes, RipSticks and scooters around the gloriously flat and virtually car-less street out front, all while Kid E squirted everyone with water guns.

Mommy's BFF

I said another silent prayer of thanks for our safe arrival, the minimal in-flight fighting and “Are we there yet?” queries, and for the ability to put the pedal to the metal and make it here in just over thirteen hours.

Then I did some quick math in my head, figuring that I had basically been up since the middle of the night.  I realized that one of my kids is a new swimmer and another can’t swim at all and we are staying in a house that is surrounded by water.  The kids had car trip fever and they had now begun fighting and trying to run each other over with their bikes.  Sheepdog is not due to arrive for another whole week.  How am I gonna do this all by myself?

So I opened a bottle of wine and proceeded to drink the whole thing.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

“Sweet Pea” Weighs In on Home Repair

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Through the miracle of technology, today’s post is being published in absentia. I am currently on the road (about 5 hours into a 14 hour trip) with Kids A-E, as we are heading to the beach for a few weeks. Sheepdog has graciously agreed to fill in for me, and while he may not be as quick-witted, he certainly is a lot less dimwitted. I am very grateful for his contribution and I certainly second the message that you can do a lot more than you think. Especially when you learn to delegate. Ta-da!

Also, I believe that doing your own work and home repairs will contribute to the de-pussification of Americans, which really needs to happen soon. Nobody does their own stuff anymore. Did you know that they had to add a fight class to basic training in our military because so many new recruits had never been punched in the nose up until that point in their lives? We need to toughen up, people! So start by fixing your own lawn mower. And there’s nothing wrong with a well-deserved punch in the nose.

P.S. Do not think about breaking into my house while I am on vacation. Sheepdog is home with all of the guns and he is always looking for an excuse to shoot someone. Plus, I think that absolutely everything we own is in this car with us right now. Seriously, these kids sure “need” a ton of stuff.

-Stacy

The people who came up with the whole Idiot Series really tapped into a huge market, didn't they?

HOME REPAIR: DON’T BE AFRAID TO FAIL by honorary guest writer, Sheepdog

In one of the recent posts, Stacy mentioned that I replaced our ailing dishwasher. Don’t be impressed – anyone can replace a dishwasher. Installing a dishwasher is a small job. There are only three connections: electricity, water and the drain. Stacy could have easily done it given a bit of notice and more time. I challenge and encourage everyone to try to do that next home – or auto – repair project on your own. You will probably learn lots and enjoy it more than you think.

I replaced the dishwasher because I hate waste and inefficiency and paying someone to do something I can do myself seems wasteful. Also, I wanted to make sure it was done right. I have had to redo several jobs I paid people to do incorrectly and/or inefficiently. Whenever I am looking at a project, the first thing I do is make sure I am not biting off more than I can chew. You can go online and quickly learn whether the job is beyond your ability. I analyze whether the task requires a technician or a craftsman. I can replace a dishwasher but finished carpentry requires a craftsman, an artist, and I don’t currently have the skills to do it correctly, or the time right now to learn them. But don’t underestimate yourself. Kid A recently helped me refinish our wooden front door and it turned out really nice – and I am proud every time I look at it. Err on the side of trying to do it yourself. Don’t be afraid to fail. Worst case scenario, you hire the person you were going to hire anyway.

I am lucky. I learned to fix things at an early age. I grew up in West Virginia. To say rural would be redundant. Things were pretty spread out. I spent lots of time on bikes, mini-bikes and motorcycles. These were fun but also important to get to the ball field or friends’ houses. We didn’t have lots of money and I was hard on equipment, so I had to learn to fix things or be stuck at home. I was also lucky to have a dad that encouraged me (sometimes forced would be more accurate) to help him work on his trucks and around the house. Some of my best childhood memories are of listening to Mountaineer football games on the radio with my dad while we changed the oil, did a grease job or a break job on one of his work trucks. These experiences gave me confidence to do other projects later.

Even if you didn’t grow up wrenching, it’s never too late to learn. When looking at a new project, I usually start on the internet. But it is tough to beat getting help from someone with experience, so ask your mom or dad or a friend for advice or to help. Head down to the local VFW, buy some guys some beers and then turn the discussion to your project. You will be amazed at how many guys would love to help. Just be prepared to be referred to as “Nancy,” “Sally,” or “Sweet Pea” all day. This is part of the fun and a little humble pie is good for all of us. If none of these are available or the options make you uncomfortable, the next time you hire someone, stay while they do the project. Watch and ask questions. Remember, you are paying them.

Once you have decided you are going to do a project and have some information, I suggest applying the following principles to all projects:

  1. Read the directions carefully – This is a habit I developed in engineering school and it applies to home projects too. I usually read directions at least three times: the first time to get acquainted with the subject matter, the second time I highlight and the third I take notes. I almost always supplement the directions with internet research.
  2. Prepare – Think the project through. I assemble all the tools and material I think I will need before I start. This should include things like buckets and towels if you are working on something with water (I always spill some water). Trust me, take the time to learn where all the shut off valves are located before you break the water line.
  3. Plan to fail – Plan enough time to complete the project without having to rush. Anticipate setbacks. Almost every project will have some kind of unanticipated obstacle. A good rule of thumb is that the project may cost double what you expect and take three times as long. This is true whether you are doing it yourself or paying someone.
  4. Relax, take your time and enjoy the process – If you are rushing you increase the likelihood that you will make mistakes and that you will not enjoy yourself. I used to rush through every project. It is a good way to mess up. I remember the time a friend and I replaced the clutch in my mid-80’s S-10 Chevy Blazer. We put the pressure plate in backwards. We figured this out at 10 p.m. and I needed the truck the next day. The four-hour job became a nine-hour job (we stopped to curse… a lot). We were more meticulous the second time. Take your time and the project will go faster – slow down to speed up.
  5. Retreat and call reinforcements if necessary – Ask for help if you get in over you head. No need to trash the equipment or your house. You can still hold your head high. You gave it a shot and you will definitely learn something when help arrives.
  6. Check your work – I test everything before buttoning it up. When I replaced the dishwasher, I left all of the trim off and ran a cycle to make sure nothing leaked before closing it all up. You will usually see problems right away if you made mistakes.

Don’t be afraid to fail. In my experience, too many people (me included) too often let fear keep them from doing things that would be enriching and enjoyable. WIth a little preparation you will be amazed at what you can do. Plus, experience is the best teacher. The more projects you do, the more you will learn and future projects will be easier and less intimidating. What you learn replacing the dishwasher will help you when the garbage disposal dies. You will enjoy the sense of accomplishment in a job well done. I almost always appreciate home improvements more when I do them myself than when I pay someone. The confidence you gain will carry over to other aspects of your life. These projects will help you to continue to learn and grow. So give it a shot and enjoy!

The Toothless Ladies Loved Me

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Not one, but two of the younger kids got up in the middle of one night over our crazy weekend.  They were each complaining of some malady for which I would normally prescribe a simple dose of ibuprofen, so I dragged my still sleeping body to the medicine cabinet and rooted around in the dark for the familiar bottle.  Problem: no ibuprofen.  No big deal, as I can just give them acetaminophen instead.  More rooting.  Bigger Problem: no acetaminophen.

I actually had to turn on the light and check, but I had absolutely no kid pain relievers in my entire house.  No liquid, no pills, no melt in your mouth things.  Nothing.  To their utter dissatisfaction I gave them each a drink of water and said that the problem was probably just dehydration and I sent them back to bed, vowing not to forget to buy every kind of kid pain relief medicine the very next day – just in case.

I did, in fact, forget to buy them the next day, but I remembered that night as we were passing a drug store on the way home from my niece’s birthday party and asked Sheepdog to stop so I could just run in quickly.  I hit the pain management aisle with a vengeance and a hand basket, which I quickly filled with every flavor and style of ibuprofen and acetaminophen that they sold.

Missing a tooth doesn't always mean that you are trashy

At the sole checkout line (which was at least four or five people deep… big rush at the drug store on a Saturday night) people were waiting and bored, so they were checking out the candy display, the magazine headlines and each other’s baskets.  Mine must have caught someone’s eye and a couple of ladies in line behind me started asking me what was up with all of the drugs.  As I looked up to answer I noticed that they were both missing several teeth.  No big deal, but I just wondered how they had each lost their teeth… poor oral hygiene, too much Mountain Dew, bad genetics, bar fights?  Being toothless tends to convey a less than Miss America kind of image to me, but I wasn’t going to be rude or treat them any differently.

Our wait in queue went on, as the clerk was apparently unable to press buttons and put things into bags at the same time, so my conversation with the toothless ladies also continued.  I sneaked a peek at their future purchases and saw that they were buying some kind of ointment, the latest National Enquirer, a couple of tubes of potato chips and a twelve pack of some really cheap beer.  They seemed ramped up for quite a night and based on their shopping haul I had so many great questions on the tip of my tongue, but opted not to ask most of them.  They did tell me that their other friend was coming from a few towns over to hang out for the night, but first she had to settle some things with her boyfriend.

It was finally my turn at the register and the clerk also commented on the quantity of drugs I was purchasing.  Maybe there is a new screening that they have, similar to the one where you have to show your driver’s license when you buy Sudafed because it is used in making crystal meth?  I don’t know.  I explained again that I had completely run out of medicine for my kids and I was restocking.  Then the standard follow-up question to that statement was posed, “Well, ma’am, just HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU HAVE?”

“Five,” I answered, somewhat bored with the common reaction that inevitably was to follow.  I usually hear comments like, “You must have your hands full!” or “That sure is a lot of kids!”  But these folks didn’t say any of that.  I was actually kind of let down by the lack of enthusiastic response to my revelation of having borne an entire basketball team.  I may be tired of the standard responses, but I wanted them to say something.

So, as I grabbed my bags and receipt and walked out the door I looked back at the clerk and the toothless ladies and I added, “…and they all have the same Baby Daddy!”

As I walked through the drug store exit I heard roaring peels of laughter and even a couple of woo hoo’s.  Those toothless ladies sure loved me.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Having a Lot of Kids Will Almost Always Lead to Drinking

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

This past weekend we were heavy two cosmonauts (temporarily).  Sister C and her husband traveled to Jekyll Island for a wedding and her oldest two kids stayed with us.  My nephew is seven and my niece just turned five.  They are good and get along well with my kids.  So we threw them into the pot and told them to hold on tight for a bumpy ride.  Seven kids over three days was gonna be FUN!

Friday was Day One.  I was getting my hair cut and colored (I have the Catch-22 of giant Jersey Girl hair that grows super fast, yet started turning grey when I was only 25 years old) because my sparkles (what I call the evil grey hair when it shines next to my naturally dark hair) were lighting up like a Christmas tree.  My appointment was early, so I just asked Kid B (Kid A sleeps like the Teenage Undead until noon if you let her) to watch them all until I got back.  Sheepdog had made the mistake of deciding to work from home that morning without checking our schedule first, so he got roped in on the babysitting gig too.  Actually, the Wii ended up babysitting three of them, as the boys played video games until their eyeballs were just about to pop out of their heads.  The girls went upstairs and dragged out the $17,000 worth of American Girl Doll equipment, clothes and furniture that we have in a closet and played until their little fingers were bleeding from working those tiny buttons.  I gave them spaghetti and meatballs for dinner and ice cream cake for dessert, then they were off to bed!  Everybody was happy.

Saturday was Day Two.  We had a 1st Birthday Party to attend for my youngest niece later in the afternoon, but it was sunny and hot in the morning so we decided to get everybody dressed and ready for a day at the pool first.  Nine sandwiches, drinks, snacks, towels, bathing suits and eighteen flip-flops (well 17, as Kid E still has the boot on his left foot), and an assembly line of sunscreen later, we headed off to the neighborhood pool for some cooling off.  I was Mama Duck with my seven little ducklings marching behind me along the side of the road.  As we walked I heard the dreaded rumble of thunder off in the distance.  Crap.  We decided we could eat lunch at the pool while we waited the required 20 minutes before being able to go back in the water after thunder and we pressed on.  No sooner did we get to the pool than another boom of thunder rocked our ears.  Double crap.  The skies still looked blue and the clouds were not menacing, so everybody just ate lunch and we hung out for our second penalty.  As it goes, just seconds prior to the end of the waiting period, yet another thunderbolt crashed somewhere far away.  Despite our insistence that it was just a neighbor bringing in his trash cans, the lifeguard went all hard-core and shut us down again.  Third strike and all, we gathered our things and headed back to the house, never having even dipped a single big toe into the cool pool.

After our complete bust of a pool day the kids all complained that they were hot and sweaty and sticky from sunscreen and they all wanted soapy showers before the party.  Sheepdog was adamantly opposed and suggested we just hose them off in the backyard.  But I conceded to their request, mostly because they went straight into pj’s the night before.  By the end we depleted the hot water supply from our not one, but TWO hot water heaters, but everyone was clean, cool and dressed for the party.

Now the party for my other niece was in Kennesaw, which is forty-five minutes away no matter how you cut it.  The big monster truck that I drive all of the kids around in only fits seven (especially with all of the car seats), so we had to formulate a plan on how to get there.  We had the option to take two cars, but after much discussion we opted to take the truck and just put two people in the waaaay back, using body and boyfriend pillows for back support.  Sheepdog and I both grew up in the 70’s and have ridden seat belt-less on the hump in the back seat or in the empty bed of a pickup truck.  Hell, the “infant car seats” from when we were babies were basically laundry baskets that got put on the front seat next to the driver.  And we’re both fine, so we decided to Old School it.

I am considering this for my next car, as they say they were able to fit 13 people into it.

One dumb ass decision by Sheepdog and me, a driver who fell asleep at his wheel and two busted up cars later, we were getting a fire truck escort over to the right shoulder on GA-400S.  Our girls riding in the back saw that the driver was nodding off and called to Sheepdog to PLEASE GET OUT OF THIS LANE RIGHT NOW, DADDY.  He told them that it was fine, yet turned on his blinker and attempted to move over in the bumper-to-bumper traffic.  As the girls continued to let him know that they were frightened and he (and I) countered for them to calm down and that no one would really drive while asleep, but we were moving over nonethele… KABOOM!  He rear-ended us.  Fortunately we were going under 15 miles per hour and not even one person was hurt (the guy’s car is a different story – he lost his entire front end).  Oh there was some screaming at first from the jolt of the impact, but the kids really were troopers.

You really can’t even imagine how bad the sleeping driver felt when he learned that he just crashed into a car filled with seven little kids on their way to their cousin’s birthday party.  Why not just run over some nuns and orphans while you’re at it?  But, like I said, everyone was just fine and we went on to the party and had a great time celebrating and visiting with even more aunts, uncles and cousins.

So Sunday comes afterwards.  Day Three was a hot and sunny once again, so we decided to just go balls to the wall and attempt the pool one more time.  Suits, check.  Gear, check.  Food, check.  Sunscreen, check.  You know the drill by now.  Mama duck and baby ducks.  And on this day there was no thunder.  As a matter of fact, it was a fantastic day at the pool all around.  The kids had fun, swam like fish, and Sheepdog and I managed to keep an eye on everybody and we even got to spend some time hanging out together.  By the time we gathered out things almost four hours later we had four or five more kids who came back to the house along with us, everybody a little sunburned and everybody a little worn out.  It was a great end to a (mostly) fun weekend.

After Sister C came to gather her chickens and take them back home, and Kid A took off to go to dinner and the movies with her friends, and Kids B and C were invited to sleep over at their friend’s house, I made a simple dinner of burgers and dogs for Sheepdog, Kid D, Kid E and myself.  As I was standing at the grill I said a prayer of thanks that we were all safe, and I made a promise that no one was ever riding without proper seat belt restraints under my watch again.  And then I came back in the house and opened a giant bottle of wine and I proceeded to drink most of it.  Because having a lot of kids will almost always lead to drinking.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Let’s Agree to Disagree

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Everything comes down to the He'n and She'n

Sheepdog and I have a great relationship.  He is the yang to my yin.  The out to my in.  The pragmatic to my fly off the handle.  We make a really good team.

We met when we were both twenty-years-old in college.  We got married just one month after graduating.  We were babies.  We both say all the time that we are so fortunate that we still liked each other after we sobered up.  True story.

It helps that we are on the same page about so many of the big things… finances, religion, politics, discipline, priorities, work ethic, what color to paint the house.  Those things really matter when you are dealing with the day-to-day crap that can sometimes drive a couple apart.

But, like every other couple, we don’t always see eye to eye.  Sometimes Sheepdog can be a dummy and he doesn’t see things my way, i.e. The Right Way.  Our disagreements certainly aren’t marriage-ending or earth-shattering, but they are ongoing.  For example, these are a few of our always-on-the-table points of contention:

  1. Tattoos.  Him:  Has two already.  Negotiated for new tattoos every time I suggested we should have another kid.  Another tat would be so freakin’ cool!  Me:  Hell no.  I have a Sharpie.  C’mere and let me give you another “tattoo,” mister.  Oh, and wait until Kids B and/ or C (Kid A wouldn’t even think about it) come home with tramp stamps.  Let’s hear how you feel about tattoos then.
  2. Guns.  Him:  Grew up in West Virginia, where they apparently issue “Baby’s First Shotgun” upon pre-school graduation.  He is a proud, sticker-weilding member of the NRA.  Me: Didn’t touch a gun until Sheepdog taught me to shoot empty beer cans with a 12-gauge, double-barreled shotgun in college (romantic?) and paper burglar targets with a Glock 19 a few years ago.  I respect the gun, but will always be a little scared of it.  I’d rather not even think about them, frankly.  I always manage to forget the code to our gun safe.
  3. Camping.  Him: Avid outdoorsman who would choose to live in a lean-to if I agreed.  Loves everything about the outdoors, including wiping with leaves.  Me: I only use Cottonnelle Ultra.  I see no point in camping.  Camping is for people who are not smart enough to know where to find a 5-star hotel.
  4. Girls in (Really) High Heels.  Him: The higher, the better.  All women should be required to wear high heels when greeting their man at the door after a long, hard day at work.  And nothing else.  Me: I wear flip-flops year round.

We have always called each other out on our B.S.  If I can count on no one else (well, before we had children who couldn’t wait to tell me that my hair looked crazy or that I am wrong about the facts), then I could always count on Sheepdog to give me the hard truth, or at least his version of it.

Except for when he wants some.  Then he knows he had better see things The Right Way.  And maybe I’ll even put on some heels.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

My Sons and Their Girlfriends

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

During the last week of kindergarten Kid D came home from school and announced with both disgust and pride that, “Two girls in my class told everyone today that they loved (me)!”  He made a sound like he was gagging, but I swear I also saw the faintest hint of a smile.

The other day when we were bowling Kid E  noticed an older woman (she was, like, at least five-years-old) in the lane next to us playing with her family and announced to me, “She’s cute!  I’m gonna go over and say hi to her!”  and then he actually did.  He is still sporting a mohawk and foot cast – he’s rocking the Bad Boy thing so seriously that I’m soon going to suggest he get a tattoo.

And yesterday within minutes of us arriving at the pool Kid D had two different girls come up to him and ask if he wanted to swim with them.  He spent the rest of the afternoon playing pool games and having diving contests with his little girl friends, making sure to come back to me every once in a while to check in and throw me the occasional “I love you” or hug.  Were they genuine or did I sense a touch of obligation?

One of Kid D's first girlfriends. She was such a little tramp.

Good Lord, I can not fathom that I am losing these boys to girls already.

There is a saying that gives me chills and is the root of the fear in my brain with regard to my sons growing up and leaving me forever and it goes something like, “A daughter is your daughter for the whole of her life, but a son is a son until he takes a wife.”  You just know that some pissed off mother-in-law said that first, and she probably muttered “bitch” after she said “wife.”

Now I completely get the irony of the situation because Sheepdog has a mom and, technically, I guess I took him away from her.  But that doesn’t really count because (A) he wanted to move away from West Virginia more than anything, so he left and I just went with him; (2) my mother-in-law and I are completely different people with very different approaches to parenting (we’re talking for this argument’s sake); and (d) Kid E is completely different from Sheepdog (while Kid D is EXACTLY the same, but that doesn’t help my point at all, so I am choosing to ignore it).

I know that these boys will all grow up and move out and move on to their own lives someday.  And when that “someday” comes around I will even (maybe) be saying that I look forward to it.  I guess I realize that the boys will go away on their own, regardless of whether or not girls play a part in the decision.  But for now I like having my baby boys close by and I like that they rely on me and occasionally come find me for an “I love you” or hug, even if it is obligatory.  I’m taking whatever I can get.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…