“Today’s Trivia” is one of the routine emails I receive every morning.

The trivia test question offers a choice of four answers. Sometimes I wonder why I continue this. But I’m so curious about the many factoids I’ve gleaned, that I can’t bring myself to cancel it. How else would I know which college stadium has the largest capacity? FYI – It’s Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor at107,601 – Penn State is second. Factoids are fun.

A good friend told me about this site years ago, and I noticed today in the scorekeeping bar that I had just played game #5489. I was shocked. No, I haven’t been playing daily for the 15 years this would indicate – but then I remembered that a second afternoon game was added a few years back.

The game-meisters tally both a monthly and a lifetime score. I am not proud of my 76%, a number that hasn’t changed in years. Since I don’t know anything about pop music, science fiction, or Civil War history, I’m amazed my score is that high. My knowledge bin of football, soccer, and NASCAR is as empty as my store of poetry, African geography, and Russian history. I do really well with Broadway musicals. That subject comes up almost once a year.

When I mentioned this recently to the pal who introduced me, she commented, “You still do that? I gave it up years ago.” Oh, OK. I guess I’m just hooked.

As I write this, yesterday was Mother’s Day and the trivia question was a doozy:

“According to the Guinness World Records, what is the record number of children born to one woman?”

The answer options were 39, 49, 59, or 69. I was floored by the options. Even the lowest number of children was incomprehensible. How could they offer this many ridiculous options? NO woman could survive any of these numbers – I thought. Well, maybe 39, if she started at age 13 and stopped at 53. And maybe if she had a few multiple births tossed into the mix, she could get to 39. I was gob-smacked by the answer.

According to Guinness, the most children born to one woman in recorded history is 69. SIXTY-NINE?!?! You gotta be kiddin’ me. NO woman could possibly be that prolific. Or burdened. But she was. It was during the 18th century, and I don’t imagine she had much choice.

The mother was a peasant from Shuya, Russia, identified only as the wife of Feodor Vassilyev. Mrs. Vassilyev had a total of 27 pregnancies, comprised of sixteen pairs of twins, seven sets of triplets, and four sets of quadruplets.

W-H-A-A-A-A-T???? OMG. If you add the numbers up, she didn’t have any solitary births. Not one. This woman, who had the full-time job of brood mare, didn’t understand the word “one.” She must have had stretch marks from her right ear to her left ankle.

I wonder what she called her husband, Feodor Vassilyev? Personally, I’d have called him late for dinner. And I’m sure after she finished making dinner for 29 or 43 or 57 that she couldn’t wait for her dear Vassy to get home from the pub. I’m willing to bet he didn’t help with the dishes.

Just think about dealing with the sheer numbers – of everything. No Pampers. No Maytag. No Gerber. No KitchenAid. Not even sinks because there was no running water. Whoa.

If I had been Mrs. Vassilyev, the only thing that would have been running would be hubby – in the opposite direction. Once you’ve sliced that many beets and pig’s knuckles, you possess good command of a butcher knife. If I had been she, I might have stashed it under my pillow, but it’s obvious she couldn’t say nyet to old Romeo Vassy.

And where do you sleep that many little people? Medium people? Big people? By now we all know where Vassy slept, but he would have been smart to sleep with one eye open.

As I thought about the Vassilyev gang being in Russia, all I could think of was trying to put snowsuits and mukluks on a dozen little kids while being eight months pregnant – with triplets. Poor thing.

In the trivia’s Guinness information, Mr. Vassilyev allegedly also had an additional 18 children with his second wife, totaling 87 children in all. A second wife? You mean something actually caused the demise of the long-suffering first Mrs. V? Gee, I wonder what that could have been?

I’m truly amazed that another woman married him. I mean, she had to have known his history – by then the entire town was populated with Vassilyevs.

Vassilyev sounds like it should be the name of the doctor who perfected the Vasectomy. Maybe it was one of his 497 great-grandchildren.

It’s obvious that the plight of Mrs. V. was not a trivial pusuit.

I do love a good factoid.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com