Category Archives: Fun Mommy

Who’s Calling?

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Last weekend was high co-pay, medically speaking, for my extended family.  Pregnant Sister C had a fever of 102 degrees and had to go to the hospital.  Long story made short… she must have caught a virus, but mama and the baby are doing very well now.  Meanwhile, in New Jersey my dad apparently started exhibiting symptoms of a partially detached retina (floaters, flashes of light, heaviness of the eye, a sudden urge to come out of retirement and fight Marvelous Marvin Hagler) and had to go up to Wills Eye Emergency Room in Philadelphia to get it lasered.  He ended up having to go back for problems and follow-ups several times over this past week.  But you don’t screw around with a medical emergency that can leave you blind, so back and forth he and my mom went.

My dad is kind of a hard man to reach (both literally and figuratively, but that’s a whole different story…).  He does not like to talk on the phone.  He doesn’t even carry his cell with him; he leaves it in his car for emergencies.  When he is at the office he is usually all business, so I hesitate to call him there for fear of interrupting.  But when I haven’t spoken to him in a while and I want to check in with him on the phone in person (and not third party through my mom while he yells stuff in the background), I call him at work.  So the other day while I was driving the Mom Shuttle around town I decided to take my chances so I put on my bluetooth and I dialed his office number.

Receptionist:  Good afternoon, Weiss & Paarz, how may I help you?

Me:  Hi.  May I speak to Bob Paarz, please?

Receptionist:  May I ask who’s calling?

Me:  Sure.  This is Stacy, his daughter.  No, wait!  I’m actually his favorite daughter.  Don’t tell him my name.  Would you please just announce me as “your favorite daughter?”  That would be really fun.

Receptionist: (either scared to death for fear of pissing off her boss or suppressing giggles because she likes my idea, I can’t tell which) Sigh.  Please hold.

My dad:  (tentatively) Hello?

Me: (using a fabulously disguised voice)  Hello!  How are you?

My dad (still tentative, but laughing at me) I’m good.  How are you? (he still obviously has no idea which daughter I am)

Me: (ramping up the fabulousness of my disguised voice and having to suppress my own fits of laughter at the same time) I’m good, but I was worried about you.  Sounds like you had a rough week.

My dad: (continuing to make small talk to figure out who his “favorite” daughter is) Blah. blah, blah.

Me: (escalating the voice to a cartoonish level and decibel, at which point I break character and can’t stop laughing) That was fun!  Sometimes I crack myself up.

My dad:  You’re an idiot.

Jack Bauer: Chloe, I need those schematics now! Bart: Who is this? Jack: I'm Jack Bauer - who the hell are you? Bart: Me? I'm, uh, Ahmed Adoudi. Jack: Chloe, find out all you can about Ahmed Adoudi. Does anyone there know "I made a doodie"? Chloe: Ahmed Adoudi - wealthy Saudi financier. Disappeared into Afghanistan in the late '90s. Jack: Really? Chloe: No, Jack, it's a joke name. You're being set up! Jack: Damn it!

At least I got to talk to my daddy.  So it was a very good day.

Wish me luck for the weekend…

The Time Suck

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

You may have noticed my (complete) lack of blogs lately.  That is because I have been very, very lazy busy lately.  I do have a house to run and five children plus one husband to corral, clothe and feed on a regular basis.  And the Fall season of sports and activities has already revved up to max Q.  But that’s not why I didn’t write during the past week.  I just wasn’t feeling it.  Plus I had very important business.  Donkey Kong Country Returns business on the Wii, to be specific.  And those eight magical orbs are NOT going to find themselves, you know.

Last week was an off week for Kid E.  He had two weeks of camp that coincided with the others starting public school but his first day of preschool isn’t actually until tomorrow.  In the meantime, we have been just hanging out doing not much of anything together.  We have had a blast.  We went to Target a couple of times and did some birthday wish list browsing (I swear the kid headed straight for the Nerf guns and the Thor pointy helmet every time!) and we have played endless hours of Legos, Batman, Mom-Always-Said-Don’t-Play-Ball-in-the-House, and – of course – video games.

It all started with the Atari 2600...

Kid E loves to watch me play video games.  I don’t mean to brag, but I am exceedingly good at them.  I have been playing basically my whole life, at least since 1982 when they got a Q*bert at the Wawa near my house.  I can play for hours at a time too.  It drives Sheepdog nuts.  Especially when I play instead of write.  Or make dinner.  Or talk to him.  But especially instead of writing.  That drives him a special kind of crazy.  Heh heh.  Little does he know that I am so late in posting today because Kid E and I have played no less than an hour and a half of DKCR and Super Mario Bros.  I have all 3 star coins on seven of the eight levels on World 9… those last two star coins for the total 9-7 win are just so darned elusive!!!

Now, I only play the kid-friendly games.  I have never gotten into Halo or Grand Theft Auto or any of the other blood and guts and breaking of the seven deadly sins-type video games.  I guess I want to defend myself by clarifying that I am not sitting in my basement donning a headset, connected to the internet, living in the same clothes for five days at a time, all while siting in a pile of Cheetos dust.  I just play a little Wii Fit Plus now and again.  And some Wii tennis, baseball and bowling.  And some Harry Potter Years 1 – 4.  And some Lego Star Wars.

I know that playing these video games is completely unproductive and I’m probably giving myself ADD or ADHD, but I do enjoy the mindless entertainment of it all every now and again.  And the Wii Fit games get everybody up and moving.  Not as much as the real thing, but it is a great alternative for the times when it is crazy hot or raining outside.  My thinking is that it is better than television, at least, because video games develop hand-eye coordination and sharp reflexes.  At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

So tomorrow I will send my baby off to preschool and things will get back to normal and I will start acting more mom-like on a regular basis.  You’ll probably see more weekday posts from me then.  And I’ll go back to making real dinners and conversing with Sheepdog and throwing a football in the yard with my kids.

But you shouldn’t be totally surprised if one day you see somebody with the handle “FiveBabyMama” online tearing it up on some video game.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Time for Snack Monsters

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

First order of business…  how many of you were compelled to check my spelling of “prerogative” from yesterday’s post?  Apparently, I have been working on the false belief that it was spelled p-e-r-o-g-a-t-i-v-e for many, many years.  I looked it up in no less than five places and I still didn’t feel comfortable spelling it with an “r” up front.  I honestly thought it was some kind of universal joke, like when the idiot masses say, “lemme axe you a question” or “irregardless.”  But with both the ex- Mr. Whitney Houston and Britney Spears (who remade the song) spelling it the way of the former on iTunes, I finally decided to accept “prerogative” as gospel.

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I don’t want to jinx anything by saying so, but I think that we are all adjusting nicely to the new schedule.  By this time last year, Kid C had already been sent home sick from school and was battling a nasty virus, which I think went on to crush me and Kid E as well.  Kid D had decided he did not want to go to kindergarten and had thrown a tantrum to end all tantrums by the front office of the school (hello and nice to meet you, school principal!).  And Kids A and B were already crushed by an early onslaught of homework doled out by teachers who seemed to have some kind of anger management issues.  This year, even with Sheepdog traveling for work since Monday, we are chugging along nicely.

But don’t worry.  I am not getting all full of myself because this is just The Wiz version of the fall schedule (where we just Ease on Down the Road).  The real thing starts in a couple of weeks when we have to figure out how to drive to all of the sports and activities (practices and games), all of which are very likely to be scheduled on the same day.  And Sheepdog will continue to go out of town for his job (have you noticed the increase in food-borne illness outbreaks lately?  Holy E. coli-tainted cow!).

But I am not complaining.  Having a full schedule means that we have healthy kids who are active and involved and are getting exercise and all of the good things that come from being part of a team.  And my husband has a good, steady job.  And those are all very, very good things for which I give thanks every day.

In the interim, while we still have the time for it, I have decided to spoil the kids with their favorite after-school snacks.  They’re made with apples, grapes, raisins, peanut butter and Nutella.  I don’t think I have ever seen my kids get so excited over food as they do when I make these things.  The 50’s stay-at-home-mom/ housewife part of me gets gooey with pride.  But then probably I’ll snap back to regular me and make them eat cereal for dinner while I drink some wine.  We don’t need these kids getting spoiled or anything.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Keeping Up With the Kids – Feathered Hair

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Hair plays a prominent role in my life.  I am constantly concerned with the concealment of the grey in my own hair, whether I should grow it long as Sheepdog would like or cut it all off for the sake of convenience (oh, how he hates that!), the removal of unwanted hair, whether or not Sheepdog is losing his, and unclogging drains that are filled with the long hair of the four females in this house.

In my short time as a blogger I have written about Kid E’s mohawk, Kid A’s hair looking like mine did in high school, boys’ lettuce hair, and my big Jersey girl hair in general.  It is not like I have a shallow obsession with hair – mine is usually pulled back in a boring ponytail every day – but stuff about hair just seems to come up.

So when Kid A was on Facebook the other day and she made the comment that one of her friends (the one who wants to be Kid F) got her hair feathered I thought, “Well, that’s an interesting choice.  But I guess even the 70’s styles are an improvement over the leggings and tunics and neon crap from the 80’s.  I mean, Madonna made cool videos and all but her hair was over-processed and frosted and ugly.  Charlie’s Angels were way more fashionable.”

As Kid A tells it, I then made a wind-blown whooshing/ flipping movement with my hands on both sides of my head and asked to see her picture.  I wanted to see what an updated feathered hairdo looked like.  Um, it was nothing like I thought.  Less Farrah Fawcett and Scott Baio; more Ke$ha and Steven Tyler.  Much, much more.

Feathered hair, then (belt buckles optional)

... and now (face glitter and talent optional)

Feathered hair now refers to putting actual feather extensions onto your own hair as a type of accessory.  Feathers can be straightened, curled, washed and blown dry.  You can go to a salon and have it done or you can DIY with glue or micro beads and clamps.

I also found out that what type of feather you use makes a big difference.  The best ones come from roosters, but salons are having a hard time keeping them in stock and many activists liken wearing these feathers to having an abortion or wearing real fur.  So, unless you wish to have someone potentially give you a red paint shower as you walk down the street, you should probably stick to the synthetic ones.

I think I’ll just stick to trying to stay one step ahead of my grey hair.  That’s enough to keep me busy for now.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Ouch, That Burns or Why I’ll Never Wear a Low-Cut Dress to the Gun Club Again

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Sheepdog and I went on a date yesterday.  It was actually a double date with new friends, Fat Bastard (self-named, but he’s not even fat – he’s just old) and his Very Cool Wife.  We had talked about things that we have in common and settled on a casual dinner.  But first we decided to bond over shooting some guns.

Sheepdog is always up for a little target practice at the range.  He probably goes once a month to shoot and to grope the cool new merchandise on the shelves.  And by “grope” I do mean moan softly while he touches and fondles the guns inappropriately.  His latest obsession is an AR-15, which is a semi-automatic sport rifle that one would apparently use to shoot most kinds of varmints.  That man really loves guns.

Sheepdog's latest mistress

So our new friends are from the arctic tundra (or Wisconsin) where they apparently grow up with not much else to do but hunting and ice fishing.  The saying goes that the four major food groups there are cheese, beer, fish and venison.  And everybody from there either has a friend, relative or a pet named Brett.  Anyway, they were totally up for some fun with guns so we swung by their house and picked them up.

When we got out of the car there was some talk about me being too dressed up.  I kind of was, but you have to understand that I own sweatpants/ pajamas and I own dresses.  I have nothing in between.  So I had opted to wear a summer dress and (as a favor to Sheepdog) some high-heeled sandals.  We were going out to eat afterwards, so it wasn’t completely unreasonable that I would be in a dress.  It was just a little weird and out of place at the shooting range, but I certainly didn’t care.  Sheepdog, of course, thought it was hot and was all for it.

So we are at the gun club and we put on our eyes (protective glasses) and ears (Monster Beats by Dr. Dre headphones) and we pick out our target practice sheets.  Sheepdog gives us a little safety reminder class and he sets us up in Lane 10.  Very Cool Wife is up first and she shoots the Glock once to get a feel for it.  Then Mrs. Jack Bauer up and busts a cap or two (or fifteen) into the neck and torso of the terrorist holding an RPG.  She was completely bad ass.

By the time I was up I was still a little nervous, as it has been a while since I last went shooting.  I am a safety girl, so I asked Sheepdog to give me yet another rundown.  Soon I felt comfortable enough to shoot.  I like the standard black and white target dummy with a red “X” over his heart.  I shot the crap out of that thing.  I loved the power of the gun in my hands, even though I have never been able to get the grip just right.  I always end up with blood on my thumb from the recoil.  I didn’t empty the magazine, but I was satisfied for the moment and let Sheepdog finish that one out for me.

So the four of us rotated for a while and we each took turns with the different target sheets.  Bullet casings were flying left and right as they discharged.  We were trying shots with both of the guns that Sheepdog brought and we also experimented with distance shooting.  We were having a good time.  It was really fun.  And then…

I was shooting the Glock 9mm again (which is definitely my favorite handgun).  Now, everybody develops a certain stance when they are shooting.  Some people stand loosely and some are more rigid in the knees and elbows – there are dozens of variations.  I choose to stand with my legs apart and my arms fairly close together, while my elbows are a little relaxed.  Risking TMI, I will tell you that this actually causes my boobs to get pushed together, which is neither here nor there except that one of the bullet casings flew up into the air upon discharge and then promptly fell into my cleavage.

One minute I was thinking about protecting my family from bad guys, super proud that I was pumping lead into the target’s face, throat and heart, and the next minute my twins were screaming in pain from the burning hot shell casing that was trapped in between them.  My survival instincts were strong but I was still all Safety First, so I promptly placed the handgun on the counter facing downrange.  But let me tell you that my hands were fishing around for the hot metal in my bra toute de suite.

It hurt at the time, but fortunately my boobs are just fine.  The burn was very mild and almost completely unnoticeable by this morning.  And I got a lesson that I hope all of you will learn from as well… don’t ever wear a low-cut dress to the gun club.  There’s good reason why everyone else there is in crew neck t-shirts and jeans.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Keeping Up With the Kids – LAX Bro Slang

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I’m going to start a new post category today called Keeping Up With the Kids. I will include all sorts of ways that my kids make me feel old (tumblr.com, anyone?) and how I am compensating for/ coping with such abominations. Let’s remember that (in my own mind) I am about nineteen to twenty-two years old, despite the fact that my body is screaming otherwise at me. I still think I am totally cool and hip and in touch with the youth of America. And I’ll also tell you that my sisters and I make fun of (note: present tense) our mom for not knowing any slang or how to upload music to her iPod or even how to turn on her cell phone. So I am continually paying attention and trying to follow what the kids are saying and doing. I’m really just trying to keep up with them so they don’t start making fun of me…

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Yesterday Kid A (asked to come), Kid E (everyone else asked that he go) and I went over to Sister B’s house (she is having her turn out-of-town at the beach… I’m so jealous) because she said we could borrow some DVDs. While I was inside I took a look in her nightstand to see if she kept anything untoward in there (she totally DOES!)… just kidding. And that’s what you get for not submitting a guest post. Thanks for letting us borrow your movies, Case. I love you!

…sorry, I got sidetracked… so we were on our way over to Sister B’s house and as we were turning into her neighborhood I watched a teenage boy pull up to the traffic light in a rusted up, old Bronco with a raised body and muddy tires and I said, “Did you see the size of that?” And Kid A said, “That’s called ‘lettuce.'” And I was all, “I thought it was a lift kit?” and she looked at me like I was drunk.

“That boy’s hair, mom. When boys – usually lacrosse players, or ‘LAX bros’ – grow their hair out long like that it is called ‘lettuce.’ And when they tie it back they use a ‘flow band.'”

That is some fresh lettuce for a football player, Tommy.

I was learning new, hip jargon and I didn’t even have to look it up on urbandictionary.com! I felt so cool, so in touch. I kept asking her the proper ways to use these new words, and I kept attempting new combinations and possible scenarios. But for some reason my brain wasn’t working right and I kept calling it “cabbage.”

So by the time we got to Sister B’s driveway and we got out of the car, Kid A had just about enough of me and our Lesson of the Day. I was still screwing up all of the words and I didn’t want her to be frustrated with me so I started to do the Cabbage Patch dance real smooth, you know? Then I took out my ponytail and I let my own giant hair down. And I asked Kid A if she had a ‘lettuce wrap’ to tame my awesome ‘flow.’ Then I got hungry for some chinese food.

Kid A just sighed and then I think she posted something about me on her tumblr.com account.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

The Economic Upswing Starts at Home

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

My weird, yet very imaginative kids have had a lot of down time this summer.  They have read through every book, watched every movie, played every card game, exhausted every toy.  We are almost seven weeks into summer break and they have now resorted to developing elaborate new businesses.

Kid B did it first.  She told us to check our emails repeatedly, which contained print ads for her new restaurant.  Then she sent us promos with “unscripted” video reviews from Kid D and Kid E (“Come to the new… What is it called again?  Oh yeah, come eat at… wait, what is the name?  I can’t say it right.  Well, the food is yummy and you should go there!”).  Then she bugged us to no end about it.  So we finally gave in and walked into the dining room/ patronized her establishment.  She presented us with detailed, realistic menus.  We were encouraged to order meals, which she actually prepared for us (Jackpot!).  It was mostly breakfast food and it was good.  Then she presented our table with a bill.

Normally I would just play along and give her fake money (invisible, Monopoly, counterfeit… anything we had lying around).  But for whatever reason I was in a really good mood (probably because I didn’t have to make anybody breakfast), and I could appreciate all of the effort she put into making the menus, meals and promotions.  So I gave her real money to pay the bill, plus tip.  Two brand-new twenty dollar bills fresh out of the ATM, to be exact.

Kid B played it so cool.  She did not bat an eye when she saw that she was getting legitimate United States greenbacks for playing a game.  She just continues to do her waitress-y things and asked if we would like any change (as a family we have frequented a restaurant or two, so the kids know the routine), took her money and ran.

This is Kid D's drawing of me (candid) playing Super Mario Brothers on the Wii. I am just happy that I was not on the toilet when he decided to draw me.

What struck me as funny (but in hindsight I really should have predicted) was how quickly many more new businesses started popping up all around our house.  Kid C started an art studio where a customer could commission a drawing or painting.  Her artwork was spectacular!  Not as original, but just as hardworking and eager, Kid D opened a business called “Pictures Without Picture Frames.”  He did not wait to be hired, but drew on spec his renditions of whatever you were doing when he happened to decide he wanted to draw you.  Even Kid E got in on the action with a toy store.  He sold toys that he didn’t happen to be playing with at the moment (“Um, no, actually that isn’t for sale.  I am playing with that.  And that one too.  No, THAT one is my favorite, so sorry but you can’t buy it either.”).  Funny enough, I got bills from each and every one of them too.

So of course I went back to the ATM and paid every single one of them with real money.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

I Love the Beach

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

We spent this whole past weekend on the beach.  It was fantastic and I was in heaven.  I absolutely love everything about the beach.  I love the feel of the sand under my feet and between my toes, the chill of the ocean water in June, the smell of the salt as it sticks to my skin, the sound of kids yelling as they jump around in the surf.  By the end of a good beach day I am just a little crispy and a little tired and my hair is extra curly.  If it is a great day I get to see the diamond sparkles from the sun reflecting on the water as I go over the bridge, and it all just makes my soul happy.

I don’t even mind that getting my entire family onto the beach can be a cartoonish endeavor.  There is lunch for seven (picture twenty slices of bread on the counter… that’s one sandwich each, plus one for the ride home for the boys and Sheepdog – the boys are always so hungry!), drinks and snacks, the cart, the tent, the blanket for laying in the tent, the giant cooler on wheels, the chairs, the plastic toys, the beach towels, the boogie boards, and the frame backpack to carry Kid E.  And let me point out that my family is not one bit unique in bringing all of this stuff down to the beach.  We are surrounded by almost a hundred families who are toting around the same stuff for a glorious day of sun, surf and sand.

And those of us who love it will do it day after day after day after day.  All summer long if you’d let us.

I remember my very first beach day with Kid A.  She was born in January so she was just about six months old when good beach weather rolled around.  I was bound and determined to navigate the beach with kids as easily as I did when I was young and single and would take the NJ Transit bus from Absecon to Atlantic City with only my beach chair and a tiny beach bag.  And I was determined to do it by myself because Sheepdog does not love the beach as much as I do.

I found a parking spot just a couple of blocks back.  I had a pack-n-play cabana thing (it had a cover for shade – awesome!) with wheels on one side that I decided to open up and pile everything into so I could just wheel it down to the beach.  I carried Kid A on my hip and the plan actually worked really well.  Until we got to the beach block and I smelled something horrible.  Kid A had a blow-out and, as a result, both of us were now covered in baby poop.  I was just seconds from crying (alright, I totally broke down in the middle of the street) when some angel woman who lived there invited us in, gave me a clean shirt and let me get Kid A cleaned up.

Many years of trial and error and so much new gear later (some indispensable – like the frame backpack, some a complete waste of money – like the Happy Cabana), I have a system that works.  Sheepdog is still not as much of a beach fan, so it has continued to be important for me to do it single parent style.  It has gotten easier with time because the kids require less stuff as they get bigger and they can help me carry things now too.

But despite the years of practice at planning and packing for the beach, even the best of us can mess it up sometimes.  After seeing a flying ad banner from WaWa about Hoagiefest, yesterday I heard a mom next to us sigh, “Oh crap, I totally forgot the sandwiches!”  I often forget to bring a camera or the extra beach chair (which means someone is sitting on the cooler).  When the kids were little I would forget to bring extra diapers or a change of clothes (trust me – this is key for keeping them safe from sand rash on the drive home), or enough towels, or something else that seems critical when you forget it.

I swear that I did not drug them.

But then there are the awesome days.  These are the days when you bring everything you need and nothing you don’t.  The days when you get a great parking spot.  The days when you not only remember the beach badges, but you have enough for everyone in your party.  The days when the seagulls stay away from your lunch and you brought enough food to satisfy even the hungriest kids (and Sheepdog!).  The days when the water is just cold enough to cool you off and there aren’t too many shells on the ground or flotsam and jetsam in the waves.  The days when you get a great spot near the lifeguard stand and nobody comes and sets up their camp right on top of you and proceeds to smoke stinky cigarettes all day long.  The sun is out, but occasionally some cloud cover drifts by to cool things off.  There are no bugs, but not too much wind.  The kids play hard in the surf all morning, then chill out in the afternoon.

These are the beach days that bring me joy.  That I get to spend them with all of my kids (and Sheepdog!) makes it that much more special.  I actually prefer it this way over the days when it was just me and my one beach chair.  And after two really great beach days in a row, my soul is extremely happy.

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 Have to Start Somewhere

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

…mid-sentence, so I can introduce you to my lack of formality right from the beginning.

Right now my life revolves mostly around my husband and our five kids.  My husband (“Sheepdog”) is an attorney and a cyclist (road and mountain).  The kids (“Kid A,” “Kid B,” “Kid C,” “Kid D” and “Kid E”) – three girls followed by two boys – go from high school all the way down to pre-school, so we are dealing with a huge array of life experiences.  I want to write about them because (1) I like to write; (2) they provide endless funny, scary, sad, exasperating stories that are sure to entertain; and (3) having something to do is probably better for me than watching DVR’d reality shows all day.

Many people tell me that I am good at managing a large family.  Organization comes very naturally to me.  Honestly, I love what I do most of the time.  There are always periods of adjustment (the start of a new sports season or new school year) and times of desperation (when everyone is sick or when I try to do too much of anything), but I have an incredibly supportive husband and generally really great kids so we usually make it all work.  The balance comes from having a good system with a fair distribution of responsibilities, but also a wicked sense of humor because you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

I really like the idea of reminding people that nobody is perfect and nobody has the ideal life, no matter how awesome it may seem from their Facebook page.  I hope that I am able to write as openly and candidly about the times that I screw up as I am about the things that make me proud.  I am actually convinced that it will make for better reading when I focus on the former.  Fortunately I like to make fun of myself and I have ample opportunities to make a mess of things.

I am a little obsessive-compulsive, although that has surprisingly subsided slightly with age (Sheepdog may argue with this point).  I make my bed every day.  I love a good schedule.  I like potty humor.  I love zoos.  I do not love animals.  I love sleep and the beach.  I may get a little orgasmic if I can sleep on the beach.  I can be judgmental.  I do not like working out, but I do it because I dislike being out of shape more.  I like being a stay-at-home mom because I can wear sweatpants to work, but I feel bad that I do not take more time to do my hair or put on makeup every day.  I can be ornery.  I am not very politically correct.  I like to be good at things.

I have been blessed with good health and good luck and a good family.  I realize that the world can be a very scary place if you don’t have those things.  I believe that positive thinking and consistent hard work can make a big difference.  I believe in the power of shared experiences and how hearing about somebody else going through something similar can make you feel less alone.  I hope that you will read along as I go through and tell you about my life experiences and that you might laugh and cry and scream.  Both with and at me.

Welcome to my world!

Oh, and wish me luck for tomorrow…