Category Archives: parenting

I Am Not The Biggest Loser… or Am I?

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Hot Mama check in!

On this morning after the finale of the whatever-th season of the show, I am sad to report that I am, in fact, not The Biggest Loser.  I didn’t completely win over your hearts with my hard work, charm and cunning game play during my transformation from giant, lost, aimless person who once upon a time had to sleep with scuba gear, into a svelte, appropriately muscular bombshell whose legs are now so thin that they do not touch and the stage lights shine all the way through them and even hideous bike tights look good on me.  I did not have an emotional reveal when Jillian broke me down with her repeated screams in my face that I was lazy or dumb and would never amount to anything if I didn’t follow through on something.  I did not train to box like Sylvester Stallone did in Rocky IV, in a barn using only railroad ties and farm equipment.  I did not fall off of the back of a treadmill and then have to endure watching the clip in slow motion along with a Ka-Boom! sound effect over and over on promos for the show throughout the season.  No, none of that happened to me.

But I did watch the show.  And I did occasionally eat cookies while watching (don’t we all?).  One time I think I ate a cupcake or two, which made me feel all bad-ass and rebellious.  I wondered if trainer Bob had a girlfriend or a boyfriend or both (no matter to me… just wondering).  And I was conflicted by Jillian’s angry motivation techniques and weirded out by her forced facial expressions.  And I decided that I didn’t, then I did, then I again didn’t like the two new trainers.  And that Allison looked tired all season, so maybe she’s pregnant again.  Imagine the stress of losing your post-baby weight while working on that show!  And I also felt bad for not working out enough and for not feeding my family with all-natural, whole foods all the time.  I mean how do people do it?

I have struggled with my weight throughout my adult life.  I was active and fit as a kid and maintained that all the way through high school.  I was residually muscular and fit through most of college, but years of a steady diet of cheap beer and 2 a.m. cheese steaks will eventually take a toll.  My wedding dress (aside from the hideous 80’s New Jersey mafia princess theme) was not a size to cry over, but I certainly wasn’t wearing the tag on the outside to brag about it.  I had Kid A almost three years later and took pregnancy as a license to do my best impersonation of the Michelin Man.  Over the years (and after the pregnancies) I would go up and down on the scale, which (I know) is the worst possible thing for your body.

I have read so many books and tried so many things… Stop the Insanity, The Cabbage Soup Diet, Atkins, gym memberships, body typing, yoga, boot camps, P90X, personal trainers, food diaries, juicers, Weight Watchers, Windsor Pilates.  I won’t ever take “magic” diet pills, but if there is some sort of well-produced infomercial that shows me how eating tree bark or jumping up and down on a trampoline every day will help me lose weight, then you can probably count me in!  It is absolutely no wonder that the diet and exercise industry is a kajillion-dollar one.  A few years ago I finally figured out that my body was not meant to be stick-figure thin, and that wacko diets and crazy exercise routines did not lead to long-term weight loss and overall good health.  Duh, right?  It is easier said than done.

Nevertheless, I keep on fighting the good fight.  I got frustrated recently when, shortly after turning forty, I was working out more than ever and eating fairly well, but I kept gaining weight.  Are you kidding me?  This just sucks.  So now I am following my doctor’s advice to cut out carbs temporarily and keep on working out.  He made me stand up and gave me the once-over.  Then he said that my body did a very good job of distributing my weight evenly.  Then he added, “On the plus side, if you ever had to endure a temporary famine, you would certainly make it through.”  Nice.

Keep my eyes on the prize and my hands on the plow.  That is what I want my kids to see me doing instead of some kooky food plan or unrealistic workout routine.  And I know that they are always watching and learning from me.  I’ll keep cutting up fresh veggies and serving fish for dinner, but sometimes we will have pizza or mexi-food or cupcakes.  And today I am going back on the treadmill, both literally and figuratively.  I may never be mistaken for a runway model, but someday soon I could be a big loser.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

All or Nothing

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

This Week (Argh!)

Next Week (Ahhh!)

It really does work out to be all or nothing, doesn’t it?  This last week of school is just insanely busy.  Then next week starts summer vacation and there will be (relatively) nothing on our schedule.  I’ll bet that by mid-week next week at least some of the kids (and maybe me too) will have started the “I’m bored!” chant.

Today we all have our heads spinning.  I got almost no sleep last night, at least nothing in a consecutive chunk.  Everybody has at least one project, one deadline, one thing that requires our immediate attention.  Except Kid E, and he is sick.  Sick as a dog, because that’s how All or Nothing works.

I just wanted to let you know that I get overwhelmed sometimes too.  Today is one of those times.  Today I feel like I have to do it all…so for you, I’ve got nothing.  And I’m sorry.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Are You There God? It’s Me, Crazy Lady.

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I am suggesting a different type of prayer in the bathroom, but do whatever works for you

This morning started off swimmingly… I awoke with a start just after six a.m. as what I perceived to be Godzilla (turned out it was only Kid D) was stomping down my hallway, yelling at top volume about nothing in particular, turning on every light along his route and opening and closing every door “just because.”  Of course he woke his little brother, who was up too late last night and desperately needed to sleep in this morning.  Kid E came into my room in a foul, foul mood… extra whiny, croup-like coughing, hug-me-but-don’t-touch-me, “I gotta pee” and just plain miserable.  Kid C was upset that her hair wasn’t looking just right and wanted me to straighten it for her (she has been ten-years-old for about five minutes… no I am not using a heating appliance on her hair.  What is this?  Toddlers & Tiaras?).  Kid A was harboring residual teenage anger at me for not trying hard enough to rearrange the schedule for her to go in late to school yesterday or be able to see her boyfriend tonight, and somehow (and I DO NOT understand how), Kid B managed to sleep through all of this and almost miss her school bus, thus requiring me to drive her to school this morning.

It was too early (well, anything before ten a.m. is technically “too early” in my book).  I hadn’t even put my contacts in yet, let alone started my coffee i.v. and all of this was barreling down on me already.  Let me check the calendar – wasn’t Friday the 13th just last week?  And, dammit, when is Sheepdog coming home?  The “Yelling Mom” part of me wanted to shout from the rooftop for all of them to just shut the front door.  Sometimes you can stop the insanity by simply being so loud and insane yourself that your over-the-top meltdown trumps everything else and they all stop to watch your spiral into complete lunacy.  I’ve done that before and it can be effective.  Kid C was about two-years-old or so and having a nice screaming fit in the car seat behind Sheepdog, who was in the driver’s seat.  We hadn’t even pulled out of the driveway yet and I had had enough, so I turned around from the passenger seat and I looked at her and I just screamed at the top of my lungs.  Let’s just say that I caught everyone off guard and it’s probably a good thing that Kid C was still wearing diapers at that moment, but she stopped her fit.

So I’m lying in my bed this morning, having pulled all of the pillows over my head to pretend I am anywhere but there and chanting ever so softly, “Eff, eff, eff, eff, eff, eff me” and basically being the guest of honor at my own little pity party.  I was going over the planned events for the day and dreading all that I needed to accomplish was never going to have enough time for and basically setting a really bad tone for my day.  And I already knew that the kids were queering up the mojo this morning, so they wouldn’t be any help.  But then I stopped.  I mentally popped all of the black balloons at my pity party.  I remembered something that Sheepdog is teaching me, and I began to meditate.

Meditation for Moms is not easy.  True meditation calls for silence and a mental escape to your happy place.  How am I ever supposed to do that when I’m usually being beaten over the head (either literally with a toy or metaphorically with constant demands or questions or requests)?  I’ll let you in on a little secret.  Tell them all that you have to poop, then lock yourself in the bathroom.  It usually buys about two minutes of uninterrupted time, which is just enough for a quick request for peace, patience and clarity.  My family thinks that I poop all the time.  It is such a great plan that I don’t even care if they tell their friends.

Alone for just a few precious seconds, I quietly whisper, “Are you there God?  It’s me, Crazy Lady.”  And I ask for help and strength and patience and creative solutions and generosity of spirit, because all of those things are missing or almost depleted from my stockpiles.  I pray for the Kids and I pray for Sheepdog, especially if they are struggling.  And I also ask for thinner thighs, even though I’m not supposed to do that.  And then, if I have time, I pray for the people who I don’t really like, especially the idiots.  By then there has almost always been at least one knock on the bathroom door and I am pulled away from thoughts of warm sand between my toes.  But by then it is okay.  I take a deep breath as I flush the toilet for effect, ready to face what challenges lie ahead of me today.

Can I get an Amen?  And can Sheepdog please come home soon, because this single-parenting thing is definitely for the birds.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Special Events Day

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Today I am volunteering at my kids’ school for Special Events Day.  I used to be the kind of mom who just sent stuff or money in when they needed things, but I am trying to be a better person and a better mom, so this year I am a Room Mom (sorry, “Classroom Coordinator” so we don’t offend any dads) and a Team Mom (times two – how about that!) and I’m signing up for all sorts of things, left and right.  Last year the school had a similar Special Events Day, but I did not volunteer.  I don’t know if they failed to advertise or I was just not paying attention (most likely), or what, but I have been regretting my lack of involvement ever since.  This was a subsequent article that appeared about it in a local publication:

Elementary School celebrates “Public Safety Day” with Secret Service

Once a year, various law enforcement, fire and emergency agencies across the metro area pick one school to hold a comprehensive “Public Safety Day.” This year, a local Elementary School was chosen, and the Secret Service’s Operation Safe Kids program fingerprinted nearly 800 students.

The following agencies participated in the event: FBI, Secret Service, Georgia State Patrol, U.S. Army National Guard, U.S. Postal Inspectors, Homeland Security, ICE, ATF, McGruff the Crime Dog, Fulton County Schools Police Department, Johns Creek Police and Fire Departments, Roswell Fire Department, U.S. Probation Service and the U.S. Fugitive Service.

Now, except for the mailmen (really?!?) and the McDog, this is my ideal school volunteering scenario.  I couldn’t have written out a more dreamy guest list if I tried.  I can’t believe that I missed it!  I am a girl who appreciates all types of good-looking men, and even when you take an OK-looking guy and you put him in a uniform, his hotness quotient usually goes up at least a couple of points.

So when they announced that this year the theme was going to be Health-Wellness-Fitness-Safety and the Atlanta Falcons will be running their Junior Training Camp, I wrote an email to the volunteer coordinator that said the following:

To: Volunteer Coordinator Lady
From: Me
Subject: Special Events Day Volunteer
***************************
Ooooh!  Pick me!  Pick me!
Do you still need volunteers for this?  I will certainly lend a hand if 
there is a chance that it involves football players.  Or even if it doesn't, 
but I can't promise I'll be as excited about it then.

So I wished and hoped and crossed my fingers and was ecstatic to find out that I was chosen as a parent volunteer.  (How hard up are they for help, right?  That was my real email.)  So I brushed my teeth and put on my most flattering mom sweatpants and Kid A’s Falcons shirt and got ready to go meet some professional football players.

But no such luck.  I just got back from the Special Events Day festivities.  There weren’t any football players there because of the ongoing NFL lockout/ walkout/ strike/ freeze, or whatever it is being called.  The Falcons sent their Community Outreach team to run the show, which was entertaining (except for the dancing, A Night at the Roxbury style) and fun.  I had a great time throwing football passes to the fourth and fifth grade kids all morning, and we got some good exercise too.  Everybody worked up a good sweat.  And when our event was over, we followed the whole school outside to the playground where we all got to watch a helicopter take off.

The day really was special and I felt good about volunteering at my kids’ school, being a participant in our community, and contributing something.  I did it for my kids and their classmates.  I didn’t need to see young, strapping men who made their living being fit and strong and athletic.  I don’t need to be some dirty old lady who gawks at hot guys (not that there is anything wrong with that) and demeans them the way men often do to women.  So I gathered my things and headed out.  And when I walked out of the main office and into the parking lot, this is what I saw…

And I smiled.  I didn’t even see any of the ever-reliable firemen from Ladder 61, but I knew they were there.  I skipped back to my car, just happy to be me.

Volunteering really is good for you.  I think I’m going to keep it up.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Wrangling the Entropy, Tip #2

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I’m back today with another post on the laws-of-science-and-cowboy-metaphor-heavy installment, “Wrangling the Entropy.” I have been trying to organize a ton of crap and needing to rely on this stuff a lot lately, so I am totally going cheerleader for it today.  Ready? OK…

Tip #2 – Charts, Forms and Calendars

Today’s tip to Wrangle the Entropy has to do with one of my favorite things… visually appealing organizational tools.  I like color, I like art, I like pretty things that draw the eye, but most of all I like to kiss (keep it simple, stupid).  So I use all of these things to centralize and organize all of the things that I have to deal with to take care of my family business.  There are lots of very expensive software programs and products out there that claim to help you organize your life, but very few of them will actually do it.  Don’t waste your money.  There are many inexpensive and even free (gasp!) things that you can use to keep up with your Kardashians.

Charts are extremely helpful, especially for the little kids. With this kind of visual reminder, you will encourage them to be more independent and prepare for the events of the day. Use a magnetic dry erase board in their room with a 7-day format (you can buy them pre-printed or make a grid yourself). You can find pictures online and print them out on your home printer onto magnetic sheets (available at office supply stores) and use those to let them know what is happening on each day, even before they are able to read! For example, use a picture of a school bus on the days that they have school, or take a digital picture of their teacher and turn that into a magnet. A picture of a tooth or a stethoscope (or a syringe, depending on how much you want to scare them) can let them know they have an appointment coming up, and a cake or balloons can alert them to a celebration. Depending on the kid and their level of independence and ability to follow directions (yes, I’m talking about Kid C getting lost in the hallway between her bedroom and the bathroom), you may want to make a chart to remind them what to do each day when getting ready (clothes, cereal bowl, toothbrush, backpack, coat – whatever you want the routine to be).

Behavior charts are also useful for many families with young kids. These should be posted centrally so that you and the kids are reminded regularly to reward positive behavior.  My sister posts hers right outside of the playroom.  Use stars or stickers or whatever is handy (the price bar codes off of fruit work great too).  When Kid D Was three years old I found that a sticker for each good behavior (eating what we ate without complaints, staying in bed through the night, etc.) did the trick, especially when he could trade in five stickers for a new Thomas train.  Now we have about two hundred fifty of those die-cast metal trains in a drawer somewhere.  I should have charged him ten stickers a piece.  I am such a pushover.

I don’t eat this well. Only the Kids do.

Forms are also helpful for the repetitive, mundane stuff that comes up regularly.  My most used forms are simple word documents that I keep on my computer desktop.  The “Lunch Log” is printed out each Sunday and the kids fill it out to their liking.  The rule is that they have to check the fridge and/ or pantry to make sure that we have what they are writing down.  If we don’t, they are supposed the add the missing item to the grocery list.  It encourages them to have a balanced lunch, help with grocery inventory, and anyone can pick it up and prepare lunches from it for the next day.  This is most helpful when the kids scatter after school to their various sports and activities, and no one gets to complain that their lunch isn’t what they asked for.

I recently got a message from a middle school teacher that I was “the most organized parent” after using this form. So maybe I encrypt a little voodoo in there. I’ll never tell.

Another really helpful form that I use all the time is the “Reach the Teacher.”  I got the idea from a magazine years ago and I tweaked it to fit my needs.  You just set it up with your contact information and update it every new school year with their new teachers, schools and grades.  When you need to send a note to school, you just check the appropriate boxes and send it in.  It covers all your bases and is almost doofus-proof.

Calendars can get a little more tricky.  I am an Apple girl myself, so I keep my calendar on my desktop computer using the iCal program.  It allows me to link up with any of my mobile devices and they are automatically updated, no matter where I make a change.  I also notify Sheepdog of the things he is needed for by adding him as an invitee.  I recently looked into Google Docs and you can do the same thing with their calendar program for free.  I use color coding to differentiate between different kinds of events (medical, school, sports, travel, parties & play dates, etc.) so I can identify things at a glance.  The one redundant thing I do each month is to recreate the family calendar on a giant white board in my office.  I use the same color coding system on this and anyone can come see what is happening on any given day (they don’t have to be on my computer, which I am very protective of).

Yes, I blurred out all of our activities. I don’t want you all showing up for my annual pap smear, now do I?

On an end note… despite all of my charts, forms and calendars, I managed to completely miss Kid B’s once-every-twelve-weeks orthodontist appointment this morning.  Yes, even after a reminder email and a phone call from their office.  It was on my computer (laptop, iPad and iPhone too) and hand-written by me on the big wall calendar.  So, nevermind.  Don’t listen to me.  Apparently this stuff doesn’t work at all.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Kindergarten Memories

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Kid D's first day of kindergarten. Before he learned how to fake sickness or comb his hair.

I’ve been trying to plan Kid D’s kindergarten classroom end of the year celebration for the past couple of days.  My head is about to explode.  Party planning is definitely not one of my strong suits, so I do not know what I was thinking when I wrote my name on the classroom coordinator volunteer list back in August.  I think I was fooled by the fancy title.  If it had said “Room Mom” I definitely would have steered clear of that nonsense.  But I saw coordinator and thought, “Sure… I’ll create a couple of Google documents, send some e-mails, you know – coordinate.  I can handle that.”

So, as I sit here trying to come up with inexpensive, fun, creative, indoor/ outdoor party games, crafts and foods for five and six year olds that do not break any of the expressly written school party guidelines (“Spitting of any type should be avoided” – I kid you not) or offend / exclude any specific race, religion, creed or sexual orientation, I very naturally went into procrastination mode and started thinking about the fact that Kid D is going on to first grade next year, and before I know it he will be graduating from high school.  Then I started recalling all of the fun times we had over his first year of “real” school.

Like the second day of school when he started crying less than five minutes before the bus pulled up – over something completely inane – and got himself into such a tizzy that he wouldn’t even get on the bus when it was time.  I then had to try to stem the meltdown and figure out what he was upset about.  No luck there, but he seemed a little better after a few minutes so I drove him to school and had to walk him inside (still in my pajamas with coffee breath, no doubt) because we were now late and he had to be signed in.  When we got to the lobby he started a whole new level of screaming and crying that became so disruptive that the actual principal came out of his office to see who was apparently being violently murdered in his hallway.  So that’s how my son and I met the school principal.

And also there was the time when I was at a sporting event for another kid and a parent came over to introduce herself to me as the mom of one of Kid D’s female classmates.  She told me how much of a charmer my son is (I am aware) and that all of the girls in the class think he is dreamy (I was not necessarily aware of this) and then she asked me if I heard that Kid D told her daughter that he was going to kiss her so hard that he would knock her teeth out (um, zero awareness of this and actually at a loss for words).  I’m going to have to keep an eye on him.

Or the time that I realized that playing video games was clearly having a negative impact on Kid D’s behavior.  He apparently thought that staying home sick meant he could spend all day playing Wii in the basement.  One particular Monday morning back to school was really bad.  As per usual, Kid D claimed he was “sick.”  I was on to his scheme by then and wasn’t having any of it.  When threatened with losing everything electronic forever and TV for several weeks if he didn’t stop crying and get on the bus he replied, “You’re meaner than the meanest person I thought you were!”  Then he stormed off to his room.  I was furious, but I followed him and calmly replied, “I said ZERO electronics, so NO LIGHTS!” and the room went dark.

He’s had some great times this year as well.  He is reading chapter books fluently on his own.  He lowered his Hate of Writing from DEFCON 3 to just simple dislike.  He has gained a ton of independence and is learning all of the ropes of the elementary school jungle.  He is an outgoing, confident, smart kid who makes friends easily and plays sports well.  We are incredibly blessed to have him as a son.

I just hope I never get a call from the school principal telling me that he just knocked some girl’s teeth out.  How am I ever going to explain that one?

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

I am Rich

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I promise that I will not bore you with all of the sappy details of my Mother’s Day haul, but suffice it to say that I am a very rich woman.  Rich with love, and all of the stuff that really and truly matters (except on the day that the mortgage or the car payment is due, huh?).  I was not with my family on the actual holiday, so I had all of the loot from my kids waiting for me when I got home.  I cheated and went through everything when they were at school so I could be ready to feign excitement over the crappy gifts and rein it in on the ones that really make me bawl my eyes out when they eventually got opened in front of them.

I truly treasure the gifts that measure them when they are little (tiny handprints with poems, school pictures of the kids with little notes reminding me that time goes by so quickly – all the stuff that I later save in their Boxes of Love in the basement) because I can look back and actually see how tiny they once were, but honestly those gifts are kind of boring.  I am a big fan of the practical gifts, like paper flowers that have chores written on the back which I can trade in when I need help, but they get used quickly and destroyed immediately by the giver so I won’t cheat and use any more than once.  I’d have to say without question that my favorite Mother’s Day presents are the things that show each kid’s personality and really remind me just how different each of my kids are.  I was not disappointed even one iota this year.

One of my kids found a song that makes her think of me (WRONG! if you are humming the Elton John classic “The Bitch is Back”), learned to play it on the guitar, then performed it for me.  Another kid just went with the classic “I Love You” and a big hug, testing my constant assertion that I do not ever require a gift from them on any of the mother-honoring holidays (I swear I don’t).  Another gave me a full bouquet of the aforementioned chore vouchers.  The other two gave me a bunch of presents that they obviously made with love in school.

One of my all time favorites is the fill-in-the-blank questionnaire.  I look forward to these every year.  Some gems from this year’s batch include:  Her favorite food is real food (as opposed to fake food, or did he mean carbs, which I haven’t had in three weeks and I miss so much), Mommy and I like to ride the thing with the brown seat (a horse?  the car? sorry, no clue), and My mommy is the greatest because Daddy is the greatest too! (focus, kid, he has his own holiday in a month).  I particularly loved the drawings that went along with Kid D’s present.  On the one of what I supposedly looked like when I was six (his age), had me clearly wearing red stripper platform shoes.  Apparently, he is a little more like his Daddy than I even imagined.  He also scored big points with the topical and complimentary one that said “My mother is good at bloging.”

Sucking up on Mother's Day. Mom says, "Do This." Kid replies, "OK." Oh, so this is fictional.

You can't spell for crap, but you get my age correct? Osum.

My heart is full every day, even if my patience bucket is not.  Each one of these presents shows me that my kids are learning that you should let the people who are important to you know that they are important to you in your own way.  Do it with words, pictures, music, a love note, a hug or a smile.  Do it on Mother’s Day, on their birthday, but also do it today and next Monday and again on the fourth Thursday in November (oops, that’s Thanksgiving – but you get my point).  Do it in your special way and on your own terms, because unconditional love has no rules.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

No, He Didn’t

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Mornings, "Mother's Day, Run Away" style. I'll never tell what is in my mug.

I also considered calling this post “Payback is a Female Dog,” but enough about animals already.  If you read Friday’s post, you would be aware that I have gone out of town every Mother’s Day weekend for four years now.  My weekend is filled with a whole lot of nothing but reading, sleeping, and pondering the wonderment of life.  I am actually still pondering right now.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day.  I awoke on my own, had a great cup of coffee while watching boats go in and out of the marina, leisurely read the paper (Shout Out!  The Press of Atlantic City), and went to a fantastic Mother’s Day service at the church in which Sheepdog and I were married (Shout Out!  Rev. Ron Watts).  Then I came back and fell asleep on the deck for over an hour.  It was a fantastic day.

After a simple veggie burger and tomato lunch I decided to check in with the real world and read some emails.  Sheepdog always says that he is never quite sure that I will return from one of these trips (and rightfully so), so he is careful not to call me too often, leave too many messages, or generally bug the crap out of me.  See – I told you that Sheepdog is a very smart guy.  Yet on Mother’s Day, in a very uncharacteristic twist, this is the email that Sheepdog sent me.

To: Me
From: Sheepdog
Subject: Mohawk
Attachment:

Happy Mother's Day!

A friend saw the picture and after she stopped laughing hysterically she said that’s either the kind of thing that you find incredibly endearing, or the kind of thing that you will kill your husband over. (Shout out! Payback is a female dog).

Wish me luck for tomorrow (and maybe wish Sheepdog a little luck too)…

4th Annual Mother’s Day – Run Away

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

"I'm leaving on a jet plane. Don't know when I'll be back again." - John Denver, "Leaving on a Jet Plane," 1966. Also, - Me, today.

Sometimes I need a break.  If you are a mom and you don’t need a break once in a while then my hat is off to you, you big, fat liar.  If I can get away – just for a few days now and again – from the crazy and the schedule and the whining and the chaos, then I can better handle it all with patience and understanding and without child protective services ever needing to get involved.  Plus, it helps me to shield Sheepdog from the insanity (I try to have most of it under control by the time he comes home from work).  Fortunately for me, Sheepdog recognizes and appreciates all of this and he sends me away often.

Last year I went to the Dominican Republic for eight whole days, while he stayed here to care for the kids and work from home at the same time.  Then (with only 36 hours notice!) he sent me to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico for another eight days in February.  Last weekend I attended my cousin’s wedding in Atlantic City, and I was out of town for three days.  So when my annual solo escape for Mother’s Day fell on the very next weekend I didn’t even consider going.  But Sheepdog is awesome, so he is making me go anyway.

Mother’s Day, Run Away is my weekend to do nothing.  I will not wipe one butt, nose, nor dirt-smeared face (unless we’re talking about my own).  I will not intervene in one sibling argument, nor will I help drive anyone to or from an activity.  I will not give anyone a bath, nor will I put anyone to bed (thirty-seven times in one night).  I am going to sleep for twelve uninterrupted hours, listen to good music, read books and trashy magazines, then take a nap on the deck.  I will probably be bored after one day, but I will force myself to enjoy it.

If you see Sheepdog at soccer or tee ball or meandering the aisles at Kroger, please stop and tell him how awesome he is.  Maybe even flirt and tell him how sexy it is that he sends me off for some alone time.  He will totally dig that and thus be encouraged to send me away again.  And next year you can feel free to join me.

Unless you need someone to wipe your butt.  Then you are on your own.

Oops… Butt Dial

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Today I had to pick Kid A up from school because she had to stay late for a meeting.  Sheepdog came home right before so I got to drive his fun little car (mine is more of a bus) to pick her up.  Fun little car with no kids in it.  Fan-effing-tastic!  It was a warm day and the sun was shining so I opened the sunroof and cranked the radio.  It was no more than a five minute drive to get her, but let me tell you I enjoyed every single second of it.

Sheepdog called my mobile on the way back.  “Why did you call my office and leave a voice mail?” he asked with a snigger.  Baffled, I replied, “I didn’t.  I knew you were out of the office all day.  Why would I call you there?”  And why was he laughing about it?  I thought about it and decided either (a) I called him when I was drunk, yet I haven’t been drunk since yesterday, or (b) his office messaging system must be screwed up.  I didn’t recall leaving him a message at all recently, but I don’t remember my kids’ names half the time, so that’s not really any big shocker.

As we pulled into the driveway, Sheepdog was sitting there with a giant, goofy grin on his face.  He had the house phone programmed and turned up to max volume.  Then he pressed play.  What followed was five minutes of some crazy person singing (and I use the term very loosely) “Grenade” along with Bruno Mars as loudly and as off-key as humanly possible.  When I listened I heard the complete abandon of someone who is rarely alone and takes full advantage of it when she is.  Despite the obvious lack of vocal ability, it was the sound of someone with absolutely no self-consciousness, who was extremely and even moronically happy.  And it makes me smile every time I recall that feeling.

Sheepdog on the other hand doesn’t have to recall anything.  He saved the message.  He said he was going to keep it to listen to every once in a while, because it made him smile too.

Plus, I sound like a complete idiot, so that’s really funny.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…