Ever look back on a long stretch of life's highway and wonder how you got where you are? I'm still trying to figure that out. More specifically, how did this Mom Stuff start?

One minute I was a perfectly sane aerospace professional, gleefully juggling competitive analyses, customer profiles, marketing reports and NASA execs like a circus pro. Nine months later my rapier wit dulled to Jell-O, my spit and polish precision wilted like a wet Pampers. I could barely spell NASA, let alone find it! It took about seven more years for my husband, the Big Guy, and me to reach full blown Guy-itis. That's a rare and critical condition brought on by sheer stupidity and an unusually long stretch of cold weather. But hey! If four baby boys in less than eight years doesn't rank as Purple Heart criteria, what does? With 25 years of marriage under my belt and my very own "male farm" to manage, I figure I know a few things about Guys.

I look at it this way: our house holds enough testosterone to power a Third World Country. Sure, being outnumbered five to one has its ups and downs, but you'd be surprised at how a little ingenuity and treachery can even the odds.