Category Archives: teenagers

My Greatest Fear

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I recently responded to a form that posed the question What three things scare you?

I am afraid of:
3.  fire
2.  losing Sheepdog
1.  something bad happening to my children

Answer number three is easily traced back to five or six-year-old me watching in the pitch dark of a moonless night as a house just down the street from mine burned to the ground.  Monstrous, black and gray clouds of dense smoke poured out of the window openings like sand flowing out of a beach bucket that, instead of traveling down to a pile on the ground as sand should, defied gravity and floated up toward the heavens.  I remember standing amongst my neighbors and thinking about the family that lived inside that house, wondering if they had been asleep like I was when the fire started.  Did anyone get hurt?  No matter the answer, their lives would be forever changed.

Losing my spouse, whether to death or divorce, scares me too.  Sheepdog may drive me crazy on a regular basis, but that is mostly because he challenges me.  He doesn’t accept my bologna, no matter how confidently I may present it.  He is my stabilizer and my sounding board.  He encourages and inspires me to be a better person.  He also makes me laugh.  He is my teammate in this crazy relay race.  He is my best friend.  I may get sick of hearing even more than I can imagine about bikes and/or guns, but isn’t that better than the alternative?

As far as my babies are concerned, I worry about any and every one of the following… cuts and bruises, broken bones, heartbreak, wounds suffered at the hands of a bully, sickness, suffering of any kind, emotional scars, terminal illness, death.  And then some.  I don’t worry about them hourly – or even daily – most of the time, but they are there festering in the part of my brain that recalls the smoke and the smell of burning things.  It is the same part of me that is scared to navigate life alone, without someone who gets me like Sheepdog does.

The community where I grew up was turned upside down on Saturday by fatal accidents.  The community where my kids are growing up has been devastated over this past year by more than one unthinkable loss.  And the ones who died were all children.  It is my greatest fear.

The sharp knife of a short life. - The Perry Band, "If I Die Young"

My mind is twisted and tangled with thoughts.  I wake in the middle of the night, wondering.  How do the families affected by these tragedies go forward?  Death happens every day, but some deaths affect us more powerfully.  How do you get through the day when you send your child out the door and he doesn’t come home?  Will something bad happen to my children?  How can things like this be prevented?  Do I have enough faith?  Why, just why?

Words like fate, luck, misfortune and happenstance all come to mind.  The struggling part of me sheds tears for the ones who lived lives that were just beginning, that didn’t get to experience enough of anything.  Moreover, I feel an immobilizing and chest-crushing pain for those who must live the daily struggles that occur in the wake of these incidents… friends, teachers, coaches, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers.  They are the ones who must overcome and live through my greatest fear.

Rest in peace, young ones.  May God watch over you.

Live in peace, family and friends.  May God and angels watch over you as well.

Sometimes bad things happen.  It is a fact of life.  Neither you nor I have any control over it.  We are defined by how we react to the things that life throws at us.  So speak more kindly, love with more passion.  Be grateful for what you have and the life you live today.  Forgive and have patience.  Leave each place better than it was when you got there.

Doing these things will not exempt you from tragedy.  But you will live a life that means something, and that seems to be the best way to pay tribute to those children who were taken from us too soon, before their lives really even got started.

My deepest sympathies go out to the Mainland community.

Guess What We Learned in School Today?

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

When we get to have dinner at the table like civilized people we will often go around and everybody will tell a little something about their day.  Last night only Kid B was out of the house for soccer practice, so the rest of us were chatting it up together, all whilst eating a yummy spread of ham, homemade mac and cheese, mixed veggies and a salad (I’m trying to prove to Sheepdog that I really need this new and improved kitchen by reminding him that I can do more than order from the Pearl Lian).  It is a nice family ritual and keeps us all connected to each other.  Everybody had a lot to say last night, mostly about what had been happening the first week of school.

Kid E started with, “I went to school today…” (no he didn’t).  Then he proceeded to tell us all exactly what he ate, what he played, and how many times he went to the bathroom.  I cut him off at the pass and gave the floor to Kid D.

Kid D presumably had something of substance to say, but he is easily rerouted to potty humor (he is the apple and I am the tree) so we then heard some nonsensical story about poop from him.  Enough.  We were eating a nice dinner for goodness’ sake, and I’m trying to butter up Sheepdog for the new kitchen.  You kids are killing me here!

Kid C was kind of giggly and way into her mac and cheese (score for mom’s kitchen!) and she didn’t have much to add to the conversation, so Kid A took over.  First order of business was to ask her father if she could go to dinner and a movie on Saturday night with her boyfriend.  He is a senior and she is a sophomore, by the way.  He’s a very nice boy and I actually like him.  He is very sweet and respectful to her.  At the same time, though, I once dated a boy who was a senior and I remember what was always on his mind.  No wonder Sheepdog feels the need to buy another gun.  Ugh!

Then Kid A talked about what she learned in Spanish class.  I thought she was going to tell a story, but turns out it was a joke.

A guy walks into a bar.  He notices a man in the corner with a teeny, tiny piano player who is accepting song requests for money.   They are causing quite a commotion, so he asks the bartender about them.
“Oh, there’s some homeless man in the alley who will grant you a wish if you buy him dinner,” said the bartender.
So the man buys a pizza and delivers it to the homeless man in the alley.  The homeless man thanks him and then offers to grant him one wish in return.
The man thinks for a moment.  “I would really like a million bucks,” he says.
Before he knows it, hundreds of thousands of ducks start raining down from above.  The man is disappointed and confused, so he goes back into the bar and approaches the man in the corner.
“I don’t know what just happened.  I asked the homeless man for a million bucks, yet he gave me a million ducks.”
“Tell me about it, man.  Do you think that I actually asked for a 10-inch pianist?”
 
I at least hope that she learned it en Espanol.  So much for a nice family dinner… two poop stories and a penis joke.  I’m never going to get a new kitchen now.

Wish me luck for the weekend…

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…

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…

********************************************************************************************************

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…

It All Ends Today

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

…or so says the tagline to the latest and final (sniff, sniff) movie, Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows – Part 2 (which releases today), based upon the epic book series by J. K. Rowling.  Unless, of course, we are mistaken about that because they found a way to cast a Confundus Charm over the entire world… now wouldn’t that be something?

I have always been extremely affected by books and movies and television, so it is natural that their conclusions would move me monumentally as well.  I know that they are manufactured, but they could be real – good fiction is always based in reality – and regardless, through reading about or watching them, they have allowed me to be a part of their life lessons.

I learned about the joy of realizing your true calling from Sam Malone (“Boy, I’ll tell ya… I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on Earth,” as he shuts off the lights in the bar) and the meaning of life according to Cliff Clavin (“comfortable shoes”) and Carla Tortelli (“having children”) during the final episode of Cheers.  I learned about letting true friends know that they will remain in your heart even when you follow different paths in life (the “GOODBYE” stones that Hunnicutt left for Pierce to see as he flew off in the chopper in the M*A*S*H finale).

I learned from Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King that you sometimes can but you can’t always go home again, for when they returned to the Shire – free of their youthful innocence and ignorance – it was a very different place than the one they had left.  I learned that war can be necessary even though it ends childhood and tears friends and families apart, and that power will corrupt almost everyone, from The Hunger Games trilogy.

I was reminded that relationships are complicated and the “right” guy is determined by the beholder (Team Kellan!, I mean Team Sheepdog!) and that everybody comes with a list of pros and cons from the Twilight books.  And Friday Night Lights’ Coach Eric Taylor and his football motto “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose!” couldn’t show me any more simply that winning is not the true indicator for success, and that family should always come first.  The Cosby Show taught me that families should dance together often, preferably to cool jazz music.

And perhaps most importantly I learned from the conclusion of Zoey 101 that sometimes 16-year-old girls get pregnant and it is incredibly important to be a good parent to your teenager and talk to them about sex and responsibility and how bad choices can end your career before it really even begins (empathetic shiver! for both of the Spears girls).

I am smarter than all of you. Oh, and my parents are dentists.

So it is actually Thursday night and Kid A is leaving now dressed as Hermione to attend the midnight-ish viewing of the last Harry Potter film with her friends.  Kid B was so excited that she made wands for them out of actual trees for Kid A and her friends so they could use them when they dressed up for the premiere (I am telling you that these kids are B.O.R.E.D.).

Sheepdog, Kid B and I are looking forward to a Sunday afternoon IMAX showing of the movie, where I hope to be as moved as I have in the past by the creativity of those who write and make these incredible stories.  The Harry Potter books speak of unconditional love and selflessness as the ultimate weapons against evil.  I think that they are pretty good at warding off the everyday icky as well, so I’m going to stick with them.

After Sunday I will say, “Nox!” to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2, so I can make room in my heart for new, even more imaginative tales and more importantly, the lessons that I can learn from them.  And so the end is actually the beginning.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

From L to R, the wands of Cho Chang, Padma Patil, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter (made by Kid B)

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Some (nick)names in today’s post have been changed in order to keep the peace in my house.

This is a reminder to the daddies to say "I love you" to your daughters every day

Yesterday afternoon somebody‘s boyfriend came over to “study.”  I went down to the basement freezer to get some chicken for dinner and I caught them kissing.  So I yelled, “Fire!” and then sent Kids D and E down there to annoy them/ make sure I don’t become a grandma just yet until dinnertime.

I think back to when I was “going out” with boys in middle school.  My mom and dad always wanted to know where we were going (dorks!).  Maybe we would talk on the phone, but usually they would come to my locker after school or walk me to my school bus.  We would write notes to each other and pass them in class or in the hallways.  It really was innocent enough.  Then I thought about my boyfriends in high school and how I would have them come over while I was babysitting my little sisters and we would make out and my right eye started twitching again and I got all sweaty and threw up a little in my mouth.  I am not ready for any of this.

Because times they are a-changin’ and my kids are growing up and I know that we are just on the cusp of “real” love and real broken hearts and real decisions that can affect their lives in so many ways.  Did I teach them clearly enough that Edward and Bella’s relationship was obsessive and overly dependent and not a healthy connection?  Do the girls really understand that boys think about sex all the time and The Secret Life of the American Teenager, while very poorly acted, is not so far from reality?  Have I talked to them openly enough about sexuality and morality that they will make good decisions and not end up starring in an episode of 16 and Pregnant?  Am I successfully doing these things on an ongoing basis?  Will they come to me and Sheepdog if they have questions or fears or if they need guidance or advice?  Did Sheepdog spend enough time with the girls so that they don’t go looking for attention from inappropriate boys?  These are some of the things that keep me up at night.

I hope that we continue to face new situations as they happen with reasonableness and humor and understanding.  I remember my father-in-law calling the back room of their house the Petting Room when Sheepdog’s little sister was a teenager.  It’s not that he was encouraging them.  In fact, I think he was doing just the opposite by putting all of his cards on the table.  He was reminding everyone that he knew how teenagers think with their tingly parts, and then he randomly checked on them in there to make sure that everyone was keeping their tingly parts to themselves.

After her boyfriend went home I asked somebody if she had a fun afternoon.  She smiled and said that she had a really great day.  Then she thanked me for being pretty cool about walking in on them kissing.  So I let myself breathe a sigh of relief about just this one of many situations to come.

And then I made a mental note to NEVER have any of my daughters babysit while they have boyfriends in high school.  Just in case.

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…

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…

Inappropriate “Fortune” Cookies

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Kid B came home yesterday with a paper for me to sign about an upcoming Market Day for the 6th graders at her middle school.  Each child has to come up with a prototype – of anything really – which they will then mass produce (twenty or more are required) for under twenty dollars.  They will then “sell” these items in a market-like format in the cafeteria or gym for “dollars” (most likely something counterfeit with the principal’s picture on it).  The goal is to have the most fake money at the end.  It is also supposed to teach stuff about supply and demand, manufacturing, sales, price points, and getting rich quick schemes.  I’m in.

From what I recall of Kid A doing this same project, a lot of kids bring in some sort of craft project.  Pipe cleaners, beads, pom-poms, popsicle sticks, felt swatches and glue guns.  Ugh!  This is not my area of like or expertise.  My mom was/ is a kind of Martha Stewart on meth (extraordinarily creative and never sleeps), so I grew up in a house full of crap projects everywhere.  Sorry, craft projects.  I kind of hate them actually.  If this is the plan, I’m now out.  Kid B knows this and wants me to help her (read: do the project for her), so she opts for something she knows I’d be on board with… baking cookies.  Smart kid.  I’m waaaaaaay back in.

Who wouldn’t want to buy a chocolate chunk cookie?  Sales will not be a problem, but we should try to stand out even more with some kind of hook.  One of the requirements is that the items have to be individually packaged, so each cookie has to be in its own plastic bag.  We thought about it some more and Kid B came up with the idea of putting a little fortune inside each bag and calling them “fortune” cookies.  Fun, right?  Then I had the additional brilliant idea of gearing the fortunes specifically to her audience.  This is apparently where I got out of hand.

My proposal was this…  She should divide the cookies by secret color coding into three groups – teachers, girls and boys.  There will be a set of fortunes geared toward each customer.  For example, teacher cookies would say things like,”YOU ARE EVERYONE’S FAVORITE TEACHER” and “YOU WON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ANY CRAPPY, KNOW-IT-ALL PARENTS NEXT SEMESTER.”  Girl cookies would have fortunes along the lines of “THAT’S TOO MUCH EYELINER –  YOU LOOK LIKE A PROSTITUTE” or “YOUR BOOBS WILL GROW OVER THE SUMMER.”  And the boys’ cookies would say things like, “YOU WILL SOON BE AS STRONG AS YOUR DAD,”  “JUSTIN BEIBER CALLED AND HE WANTS HIS HAIRSTYLE BACK” and “A GIRL WITH LOW SELF-ESTEEM WILL LET YOU GET TO SECOND BASE VERY SOON.”  I had some real zingers.  I was laughing at myself so hard that I almost didn’t hear when Kid B told me I was fired from the project.

I am so under-appreciated.  Whatever.

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…