Parenting lessons from a trip to the vet

Finnegan, our "rejected" Guiding Eyes for the Blind "glab" (part Golden/part Lab!)

It was a hot, HOT Friday.  The thermometer on the car read 105.  I returned from work to discover our dog with an oozing head wound.  The kids were hot and bothered.  So was the dog.  So was I.  The husband was nowhere to be found.  Apparently his golf game ran long.  I wasn’t sure if I should pity him for being out in the horrid heat or be pissed that he was somewhere, anywhere but home, leaving me to deal with four whining kids (thankfully one was on a playdate!) and one injured dog.

A quick consult with a neighbor and call to the vet confirmed my suspicions; our loving family pet Finn was in need of some medical attention.  So, while the sun beat down and the kids whined on, I loaded three 3-year olds, one five year old and one ninety pound dog into the minivan and over to the vet.

There we stayed for almost two hours.  TWO hours!  Admittedly, that is inclusive of transport time but still, I spent 5:30-7:30 Friday evening surrounded by furry things and clingy children rather than enjoying the cool glass of wine I had envisioned on the porch.  You know what though?  It actually wasn’t so bad.  In fact, it was kinda fun. 

I love furry things.  I love our kids.  And, I don’t often afford them the opportunity to be clingy.  I was totally surprised, as I often am, by the twists and turns of motherhood.  For a night that started out hot and bothered, it ended with the realization that these unexpected detours are often a good thing.  A very good thing.  Here’s why if it happened all over again, I just might choose the trip to the vet over that glass of wine…

• The vet has air conditioning. Our porch does not.  For that matter, neither does our house.
• There are dogs at the vet. I love dogs. My kids love dogs. My dog loves dogs. The vet is actually is fun for all!
• There are cats, fish and a bird at the vet.  All provide ongoing entertainment for the kids and none will have a place in our home anytime soon; a visit to the vet is a great way for everyone to get their "fix" of other creatures - creatures that I am very fond of but just can't care for at the moment!
• I get to brag about Finn at the vet. “What a beautiful dog,” they say. “And so good with kids! Where did you get him?”  This is a story I like to tell.  Finn is a reject from the Guiding Eyes for the Blind.  They “rejected” him at eight weeks, claiming he lacked confidence.  I’ve always thought he just didn’t want to work for a living.  He seems extremely confident when he jumps on our bed every morning! And, lounges on the couch, as pictured above!
• Perhaps most significantly, I got to see and appreciate just how good my kids really are.  They ask before petting other people’s pets.  They listen when they are told to stop tapping on the fish tank or heckling the bird.  They want to know what the vet is doing. Why? Why? Why? They ask.  And as their questions are answered, I find that I learn something too… I learn once again how precious the time with our kids actually is and that there is delight to be found in even the most mundane of tasks – including taking the dog to the vet!

What I learned on my summer vacation

Main Beach, East Hampton: My Happy Place

 We recently spent a glorious week on the beach.  Was it relaxing?  No.  But, given that we have five kids seven and under and were away with my parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and aunt, relaxation was never one of my expectations.  And, neither were any of the following observations and insights that just happened along the way --  in the midst of lazy, hazy days filled with sand, sun and newly hatched freckles on our fair-skinned flock…

 

1. Few things in life are more pleasurable than walking on the beach holding hands – be they the small sandy hands of a toddler or the strong, supportive hands of a spouse.
2. There is still much to be learned from my Dad – including, surprisingly, the ability to boogie board. Yes, at the age of 40, I finally caught a wave. And, it was amazing.
3. Showers are overrated.  As are baths, soap, shampoo, razors, combs and brushes.  For better or worse, we abandoned many of these personal care items for the better part of a week and emerged no worse for the wear.  Smellier and hairier perhaps but truly, no worse for the wear! (Outdoor showers, on the other hand, should be right up there with the seven wonders of the world!)
4. My sister is a great mom.  Whereas I ran my kids until they stopped, dropped and rolled (over!), she dutifully left the beach for naptime and did her best to serve dinner before dark.  Well done little sis!
5. Mother Nature must be respected; consider her the Mother of all mothers and obey or risk her scorn – which, while we were away, took the form of a violent storm and waves that threatened to wipe us away.  Mother Nature, I hear you and I will obey.  Now, if only the kids would treat me with the same courtesy! 
6. Ice cream and Italian ice aren’t just for dessert anymore.  If you ask my amazing Aunt, they are for breakfast too.  And if you ask my kids, they will enthusiastically agree.
7. Collecting seashells never grows old.  And decorating seashells – with markers, glitter glue and other small treasures from the sea – can keep kids entertained for hours.  This should be a “must do” on any summer “to do” list!
8. I belong by the sea.  When I see the ocean, my mood lifts, my head clears, and my troubles fade away.  I now know where I want to be when I am old (or frankly, anytime between now and than since I am officially on the brink!) – by the sea. In a rocker. Perhaps with a blanket and some lemonade. Ah, bliss… 
9. A rainy vacation day is a great excuse to go to the movies. Enough said! 
10. My mom, who is far more flip and funny than saccharine and sentimental perfectly summed up our family vacation with a rare display of nostalgia -- “All that matters is that we are together.”  And she was right.

Second Grade Field Trip to the Bronx Zoo

I am an animal lover.  I adore animals and have since I was a child.  Which is why last week was a truly superb week here in the Lyons Den.  For starters, we had three small chicks sleep over as part of a second grade science project -- little balls of fluffy cuteness that elicited smiles and squeals of delight.  And I'm not just talking about the kids! 

Does it get cuter than this? FYI, chick three was camera-shy.

As if the chick visitation wasn't enough, we also had Liam's class trip to the Bronx Zoo -- one of my favorite places and, always a joy to see through the eyes of a child... even in the pouring rain.  Here's a brief recap...

I left the house at ten past nine,

With another mom, we were the first in line.

We hoped and hoped it wouldn't rain,

Or be too crowded and totally insane. 

We arrived before the zoo opened at 10,

No kids in sight, it was truly zen.

Then the phone rang, the bus never came,

Our kids were back at their school, stuck at Dows Lane!

No bus, no kids, what are moms to do?

Well, we walked right in and toured the zoo!

Sea lions and polar bears topped our list,

When the second graders arrived,they were kinda pissed.

"No bus! Dirty bus! We're so late!" they exclaimed,

As the skies opened up and it started to rain.

Poor kids, poor teachers, poor parents soaking wet,

But not to be deterred, we went to see birds and didn't fret.

Birds of prey seemed really cool

The kids had learned a lot about them at school.

A snowy owl I learned is a bird of prey,

I really learned a lot that rainy day.

Puffins are cute, the Scarlet Ibis is pretty,

Fifty wet second graders can be fun and witty.

Environmental messages were strong and clear --

If you cut down the trees, the birds will disappear.

As the thunder boomed and the rain came pouring down, 

The teachers decided we had to get out of town,

Bye bye Bronx, bye bye zoo.

So long Aquatic Birds and Birds of Prey too.

Good bye to a day that was almost a disaster,

With a missing school bus and rain falling fast and faster,

But a disaster it was not as the memories will surely tell,

Second graders reflect fondly on a zoo day from hell!

And, for the record, I do too. 

I really was lucky to go to the zoo.

Sure I was hungry and tired and wet,

But a day at the zoo is as good as it gets.

A day with my fella who I can't believe is seven,

Is a great day for me, a little slice of heaven. 

Tuesday Tip: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff: Savor it!

One of life's simple pleasures: Puddle Jumping!

I tend to find myself feeling a bit, well, schmoopy, this time of year.   As the seasons change and class picnics and school concerts fill the calendar, I am reminded daily of how fleeting this time with our children is; of how today's hardships provide tomorrow's humor and how, in the blink of an eye, these little ones who needed us move on, move up and move out.  

Ok, technically, with our oldest only seven, I know that no one is moving out any time soon but, I can't help but be struck by the fact that our seven and five year old are pretty much over me.  Sure, they still need me in some ways but, I'm no longer the center of their world.  Whereas they once thought I could do no wrong, they now know that I can and do.  They are smart, independent and savvy.  And that's the way it should be.

On the other hand, our trio of identical three-year olds still worship the ground I walk on.  They still occasionally cry when I go to work and routinely run to the door and jump into my arms when I come home.  They greet me each morning with a smile, filled with anticipation for the day ahead and asking as they rub the sleep from their eyes "Is today a Mommy day?"  Of course, every day is a Mommy day but in their world, a "Mommy Day" is a day I don't work.  Today, we had a "Mommy morning" and it made me realize how important it is not sweat the small stuff, but to embrace it.  Today, instead of yelling at them for jumping in puddles, I joined them.  Instead of stopping them from splashing in the tub, I simply shut the shower curtain and let them have at it.  And you know what?  It was awesome.  Small stuff; little moments; daily routines; shared secrets -- these are the wonders of parenthood.  And, as far as I'm concerned, they are passing by far too quickly. That's why I plan to seize every chance I get to...

• Hold hands
• Jump in puddles
• Look at bugs
• Snuggle and cuddle
• Sing silly songs
• Eat ice cream
• Yell less and smile more

These are the things that make Mommy Days memorable -- and the reasons why it's just not worth it to sweat the small stuff.  In the end, the small stuff will be forgotten, your small ones will be big and we'll realize that little did we know, it was some of these small things that mean the most.  Hopefully, like the day that I took the morning off to splash in puddles!

Lessons Learned on a Kindergarten Field Trip

Lesson One: Insects have six legs

This week I had the pleasure of accompanying my daughter’s Kindergarten class on a field trip to our local Audubon Society.  I’m pretty sure it was all the more pleasurable because I got to ride in my own car (aka Swagger Wagon) drinking coffee rather than bouncing along in the school bus belching up breakfast. 

Transportation issues aside, I learned a lot in my few hours at the Audubon with twenty five-year olds.  For starters, I really learned a lot about bugs.  While I might have preferred to focus more on flora and fauna, insects were the topic du jour.  Did you know, for instance, that an insect by definition has six legs?  Or that monarch butterflies (technically not insects!) only lay eggs on milkweed?  Or that treasure troves of creepy, crawly bugs live under rocks and fallen branches?  That one wasn’t a total newsflash to me but some of the other tidbits most certainly were.

I happily picked up a neat new catch phrase for avoiding poison ivy (“Leaves of three, let it be.”) and rather reluctantly laid eyes on spittlebugs for the very first time. I’m not sure how I’ve missed this unique species for the past oh, forty years but, once you know what you’re looking for (hint: they look like nasty piles of spit on a plant stem), they are really hard to miss.

When I got back to office, I shared my newfound knowledge with my co-workers, all of whom seemed either A. grossed out; B. confused by my enthusiasm; or C. questioned why my mind was retaining such detail.  “Where are you ever going to use that nugget about monarch butterflies?” I was asked.

Where?  Well, for starters, beyond the little lady who I was lucky to accompany on this adventure, there are four boys at home, all eager for information and all amply impressed when I shared this truism: “You know, if you pick up a frog, it really will pee on you.”  Ok, so a frog isn’t a bug and that pee may be a mucous discharge that acts as a defense mechanism but still, this an impressive nugget of knowledge! 

Perhaps most importantly, I learned how important it is to simply show up.  To take a few hours off of work, leave the phone in the Swagger Wagon and focus -- completely focus -- on my little girl.  Hold her hand. Jump over puddles. Leap over logs. Peek under rocks.  Tune out everything but her… well, her and the poison ivy which is apparently prolific this time of year! 

I left the Audubon thinking about how happy it makes me to hold her little hand.  And, that I don’t hold it nearly enough.  My hands are often over capacity trying to hold the hands of her triplet little brothers as we cross streets, navigate stores and maneuver our way through the world around us.   Thanks to this field trip, I’m going to be holding her hand more often and, I see once again the wisdom in that adage, “everything you need to know you learned in Kindergarten.”  I’d put holding hands at the top of that list. Although, if those hands recently handled spittlebugs, I’d much prefer they were washed first!  

Communion, cardboard and cake: A Mom's musings on First Holy Communion

I didn’t know what to expect when our firstborn made his First Holy Communion.  Of course I knew that he’d be accepting the Host, the body and blood of Christ, during mass that day but beyond that, there were a few unknowns.  How would he feel about it?  How would I feel about it? What, pray tell, do you get your seven year old son when he makes his First Communion?  And how in heaven’s name would I pull off the post-Communion party in the midst of traveling for work and juggling our busy lives?

The answers, it turns out, are simple.  As they often are.  How did our sweet Liam “feel” about his First Communion? “It tasted like cardboard.”  Can’t argue with that!  And, such is the level of emotion routinely revealed by your average second grade boy.  Why I continue to expect a response akin to “I’ve been spiritually renewed. I feel like a man now Ma”, I’ll never know!

As for my feelings, well, let’s just say the tear ducts got a good workout that day.  For starters, in looking at my “baby” in a navy suit, I realized that the kid he is today bears a strong resemblance to the man he will be tomorrow – not literally tomorrow but, one day in a future that I know will come far too fast. As he posed for pictures with his pals, all shined and scrubbed and full of anticipation in their matching pint-sized suits, I knew I was looking at the same group of guys that are likely to appear when he is confirmed, graduated, and married.  The spectrum of life’s milestones passed before me as the tears welled up in my eyes.  And that was all before he walked down the church aisle with a lovely little lady Communicant in a white dress.  It was before I sat in a pew, sandwiched between my parents and grandparents, with our three-year old triplets climbing in my lap thinking of how lucky we were to have four generations of O’Connor’s witnessing Liam’s special day.  And then he said “Amen”, accepted the Host for the first time and beamed me a great big grin that really got the tears flowing.  Tears of joy for my little boy.

As for the gift, well, the foreshadowing was in my husband’s remarks the day Liam was born: “He will be Catholic and he will be a Yankee fan.”  As such, it was only fitting that we gave him a beautiful Celtic cross, straight from one of the Irish shops on McLean Avenue in the Bronx AND tickets to a Yankee game… a game to be attended by just the three of us – Mom, Dad and Liam.  Needless to say, the kid was thrilled, “Just us?! Not the little guys?! Not Ciara? Awesome!”  Which is not to say that Liam doesn’t love his sister Ciara or the “little guys” (his triplet brothers, Kevin, Declan and Cormac) but his response really underscored how valuable the time we spend with him and him alone truly is.  More surprising though, was the fact that he actually liked his silver cross.  He really liked it!  He put it on right away and even asked if he could sleep in it…  suggesting, perhaps, he has greater emotional depth about this right of passage than “it tastes like cardboard.”

As for the party, it came together, as parties always do.  It was a family affair, low-key and intimate, as the best parties often are.  I wouldn’t necessarily have chosen to spend that Friday night ironing the tablecloth and prepping the salads but I’m glad I did.  I’m glad we did; my husband Des deserves at least as much credit as I do for the successful soiree we had.  It was as sweet and memorable as the cake that topped it off and the smile on Liam’s face as he dug in and remarked, “This is much better.  Not like cardboard at all!”

The Nields "Full Catastrophe" is parenting set to music. In a good way.

Love this album cover... just add three more pairs of tiny tot shoes and it could be the Lyons Den!

This week I am feeling lucky once again thanks to a sneak preview of The Nield’s new album, The Full Catastrophe.  The thirteen songs swing from soulful ballads to upbeat, catchy tunes as The Nield’s, led by the powerful vocals of Nerissa and Katryna, share the trials and tribulations of motherhood and parenting in general.  Listening to this album is like having your favorite mommy blogs set to music – great music with a hint of folk, a smidge of country twang and a whole lot of honesty in lyrics you can’t help but sing along to.

I have to say, they had me at song one.  “Ten Year Tin” hits close to home since my husband and I will celebrate our ten year anniversary this October.  There are parts of this song that I – and in fact, most of us – might have written ourselves… “Things do not always go according to our plans” for instance or “We’ll save up for a trip across the sea; leave the kids, it’ll be just you and me.”  Isn’t that we all think on the day we say “I do”?  We think we’ve got it all figured out; we think, as the title track notes, “When I met you, I thought the journey was over.”  But, as we all know in retrospect, the journey had only just begun – and, there is nothing like motherhood to remind you that things often don’t go according to plan! 

Our plan was to have two or three kids; we ended up with five thanks to #3 arriving as a trio of identical little fellas who will forever be our babies; our precious miracles who beat the odds and arrived at almost full term, in perfect health, and cute to boot!  When I look at our sweet angels snoozing in their cribs and then check in on their brother and sister down the hall, I have a burning desire to savor these times, to keep them close, keep them safe, keep the world at bay.  It is this emotion that comes through loud and clear in “Choose this Era” – yet another song on this album that comes from the heart and touches the heart.  “There’s danger in the paper, on the radio; I want to put my arms around you, will not let you go.”  What mom hasn’t felt this way?  I know I do.  Every day.

Last but not least, there is the fantastically funny last tune that you will play again and again.  It’s called “#1 Reason Parents are Cranky.”  Want to venture a guess?  Yep, you got it – they don’t get enough sleep!  It’s not the teething or the tantrums; it is the sleep deprivation that gets us every time.  I for one have long been advocating that the “world would be a better place if we all took naps and got eight hours of sleep!” 

Parenting just might be a “full catastrophe” but you’ll get through it with your toes tapping and fingers snapping if you let The Nield’s be your guide.  To buy their new album, visit:  http://bulletproofartists.com/onlinestore/index.cfm?fuseaction=product.display&Product_ID=209   You’ll be glad you did!

Mom's Red Carpet Moment: I am "The Lucky One"

LyonsDenMom on the "Red Carpet"

My hair was done.  My makeup was done.  I was wearing a brand new dress with beautiful shoes and fancy jewels borrowed from my sister.  Why?  To attend the movie premiere of The Lucky One based on the novel by Nicholas Sparks.  With a woman I never met before.

Her name is Julia Rose and it was work that brought us together.  I work for  House Party, a social media marketing company that drives consumer recommendations to build brands and drive sales.  In this case, the “brand” was Nicholas Sparks and the conversations and recommendations that our social media campaigns generate will result in movie ticket and book sales.

Julia is one of House Party’s most passionate brand advocates.  She created a six minute music video to demonstrate her enthusiastic adoration of all things Nicholas Sparks.  She wrote a catchy tune that weaves together the romantic twists and turns of all seventeen Sparks novels and her sister, Deborah Crawford, captured it all on film.  The House Party team rewarded their efforts by ensuring Julia Rose was one of the 1,000 lucky consumers (from a pool of tens of thousands applicants) selected to host a Nicholas Sparks Potluck House Party.

When the Sparks team at Grand Central Publishing (Nick’s publisher) and Warner Brothers (which produced the movie) heard the word, they did us one better.  They gave Julia two tickets to the premiere.  House Party responded in kind by providing airfare and hotel.  And that is how I ended up on the red carpet (to be accurate, it was a faux green lawn!) next to Julia Rose at a big-time Hollywood movie premiere. 

I didn’t know what to expect of Julia, who hails from the Dallas-Fort Worth area and is known around town as one half of the busking duo Gladys and Maybelle.  The other half is her sister Deb, who joined us on the red carpet/green lawn. “Would they be weird?  Would we get along? Were they crazed Nicholas Sparks stalkers?” I wondered as I travelled to LA and pondered my 24 hours with Julia Rose and her sister Deb.

 

Julia and Deb (aka Gladys & Maybelle) at The Lucky One Premiere with Nicholas Sparks

As I returned to New York, I knew the answers were “No. Yes. Absolutely not.”  As it turns out, I have more in common than I would have thought with these two lovely Texan blondes.  As we got to know each other, I shared stories of the five feisty children and one semi-frazzled husband I left behind; this is one of my constant struggles as a working mom – leaving my family behind.  Not between the usual hours of 9 to 5 but when work spills over into family time, as business travel occasionally necessitates, I really struggle with the juggle.

I want to be a good mom. A present mom.  A mom who rules the roost but inspires her children to follow their dreams, know their limits and be true to themselves.  Well, as it turns out, Julia and Deb, a.k.a. Gladys and Maybelle, share my sentiments.  As it turns out, they named their band Gladys and Maybelle for Gladys Presley (perhaps you’ve heard of her son, Elvis?) and Mother Maybelle, the maternal in-law powerhouse behind a certain Johnny Cash.  These two women who joined me in a fairy tale evening of Hollywood glam were actually a lot like me.  We share dreams for our children; we were dazzled by the stars; and we shared a true Cinderella moment as the light bulbs flashed, the theater lights dimmed, and the story of The Lucky One swept us away.

Now that the proverbial clock has struck midnight, it’s back to reality.  My sleekly styled hair has returned to its typically curly locks.  The dress is in the closet and the sexy heels have been replaced by my signature flats. The kids are screaming, my inbox is overflowing and my to-do list is growing.  But I am content.  I am home. 

I will forever cherish the memory of the night I walked the green grass carpet with two amazing women who reminded me of the power of a great Mom and inspired me to try harder to be one each and every day.  Thank you Gladys and Maybelle.  Thank you for reminding me that every day I return home to five smiling (and potentially snot-nosed) kids and one sweet, patient husband, I am “the lucky one.”

I don't know how he'll do it

I am leaving my husband and five children (aged seven and under!) behind for five days; five days and nights that will combine work and pleasure as I combine a business trip to LA with a visit to my sister and her family in San Francisco.  I am nervous about leaving my family behind.  And that fact that I’m leaving on Friday the 13^th isn’t helping matters!

As I drove to the airport, I thought about the weekend ahead – the weekend at home, not the weekend that awaited me in San Francisco.  I thought about the responsibilities I was leaving behind -- dinner times, bath times, soccer practice, baseball practice, birthday parties -- all the weekend activities you’d expect from a busy family with five kids, topped off by several showings of our house, which is on the market.

Our weekends provide little down-time and are virtually devoid of R&R; if anything, I relish the return to work on Monday mornings because it gives me a chance to sit down!  So, as I embark on the flight that will take me 3,000 miles away from the mayhem of a typical weekend at home, I can’t help but think about the dear man I am leaving behind and wonder how he will do it.  It is the question I am constantly asked “How do you do it?! “ And my answer often relies heavily on “my other half” -- the supportive, funny, level-headed fella who is now home alone with five feisty tykes.

He’s been fretting my pending departure for weeks, telling neighbors, family, friends and pretty much anyone who will listen that I’m leaving him -- that I’m leaving him “all alone” with our five kids for five full days.  Honestly, his stress was seriously stressing me out.  So, I did what any Type A, aspirational SuperMom suffering from a bad case of guilt would do, I offered up a slew of solutions.  “I’ll create a daily meal plan.  I’ll organize rides for the birthday parties and car pools for soccer practice.  I’ll tell the realtor we can’t show the house while I’m away.  I’ll pre-pack the backpacks and lunches for Monday and Tuesday. “ And so on.  Initially, he was all for my organizational gusto.  “Yep, let’s not show the house while you’re away, it will be a mess,” he admitted.  “And a meal plan sounds great,” he concurred. 

And then, in the 48 hours leading up to my departure, something incredible happened.  My stressed out other half turned into an uber-confident SuperDad.  I, for one, always knew he had it in him but even so, was shocked when he said something to effect of “Screw the meal plan! I can feed our kids.  And if they’re hungry, they can just have a glass of milk!”  He went on to say, “And, let’s show the house.  I may not make the beds like you, but I can make a bed. I’ll even plant some pansies to increase the ‘curb appeal’.”  What?  Pansies?  Really?  Wow!

As I write this, I am hovering at 30,000 feet, barreling toward the West Coast and the adventures that await.  It was hard to say good-bye to the sweet, smiling faces that slobbered me with wet, snotty kisses; for the record, they came from my children, not my husband.  His kiss was sweeter, and seemed to linger longer than the usual perfunctory peck.  As hard as it was for me to leave, I know it will be much harder for him over the next few days.  And, I am reminded once again that I am one lucky gal -- which seems especially fitting given that the work portion of my trip will include a walk on the red carpet for the premiere of the movie  The Lucky One. I am very lucky indeed. 

As for the kids, well, if all they get is milk for the next few days, they may not be quite so lucky.  But, I have a feeling that Dad is going to pull this off with flying colors when he does, I will be the first in line to ask how he did it.

Home Sweet Home: Preparing to say good-bye to "My First House"

"The Lyons Den"... a.k.a. "Home Sweet Home"

When we first discovered we were going to have triplets, bringing our tally of children to five tykes under four, I was absolutely stunned.  Shocked.  So much so that my initial response was “where we will we live?!”  I couldn’t envision how we’d fit five small children in our tiny three-bedroom house.  Of course, once the reality of the high-risk pregnancy set in, I became far more concerned with their health (and mine!) than our housing logistics.

Fast forward four years.  We are blessed to have five spunky, healthy children aged seven and under.  We survived the arrival of the triplets, many sleep deprived nights and the arrival and departure of baby items that simplified our lives and cluttered our cozy home – for instance, a triple set of bouncy seats, high chairs and pack & plays.  These have been handed down while our tots have been growing up.

Today, our seven-year old “big guy” and five year old “princess” share a room (and a dresser!) and the triplets do too.  As they get bigger, my stoic approach that “each kid only needs one drawer!” is getting harder and harder to hold on to;  you can fit many more onesies and baby clothes in a drawer than you can size 3T pants and shirts!

It is this crowding of the drawers and overcrowding of our house that led us – at long last – to put it on the market.  We’ve always known we needed more space. Over the past few years, we’ve flirted with other homes, longing for their master bedroom suites and spacious playrooms.  We’ve been so bold as to put offers on a few, only to wake up the next day wondering what we had done and scrambling to undo it.  We weren’t ready to make a move.  And now, I suppose, we are.  But the very notion summons up such nostalgia, I’m not sure I’ll ever really be ready to leave this house behind. 

We arrived here seven years ago and it was the perfect “my first house.”  Even so, I hated it.  We moved in on a Friday and I went back to work the next Monday, leaving my 3-month old firstborn son behind as I rode the train to the city.  The city was my home; I knew my way around and was surrounded by friends and family.  It was really difficult for me to make the transition to our bucolic little home in the suburbs but now, seven years and four more children later, I love it.   It’s hard to imagine saying good-bye to this humble abode that has truly become our “Home Sweet Home.”

I relished giving all five of our children bottles on our front porch.  Watching them play in the backyard.  Helping them climb up the stairs, out of their cribs and into my arms.  In the seven years we’ve lived here, our babies have become children and we’ve all grown older and wiser.  It’s time to move on.  But it’s so hard to go.  Especially when I don’t know where the road will lead us.  I can only hope that when we find our next house, it too will quickly become a home as sweet as this.

Cead Mile Failte

With St. Patrick’s Day right around the corner, the Lyons Den is abuzz with activity.  There is Irish Soda bread to be baked, a hearty stew to be made and, time permitting, a lovely Pot of Gold cake to be picked up at the Riviera Bakehouse – a gem of a bakeshop should you ever be in the neighborhood!

  

When I asked our seven-year old, Liam, what St. Patrick’s Day was all about, he responded without hesitation, “It’s about being together as a family and remembering Ireland” – which I thought was a pretty astute answer for a second-grader; after all, I’ve never shared the story of St. Patrick chasing the snakes out of Ireland so it’s only fitting that he thinks the day is about family, togetherness and remembering our Irish roots.

It’s worth noting that while Liam was having his moment in the spotlight, his little sister Ciara and little brothers Kevin, Declan and Cormac (identical triplets and a stroke of Irish luck if ever there was one!) were all nodding in accordance.  “Family.” “Together.” “Family.”  In a rare occurrence, we found a topic to which we all could agree.

Now, as you might have surmised from the impressive roster of Irish names for our brood, we’ve got a lot o’green in our blood and a fair amount of Irish pride that flows along with it.  My maiden name was O’Connor; my mother’s maiden name was O’Brien.  Frankly, when I married a guy with the last name Lyons, I thought we should compromise and become the “O’Lyons.”  Needless to say, that didn’t work.  As a first generation Irish American whose Dad hailed from County Cork, my husband Des was far too proud to change his name – and, almost a decade later, I can’t say I blame him.

We had the privilege of our taking our clan (yes, we flew to Ireland with five children then six and under!) to Ireland this fall.  We caught up with friends in Dublin, visited family in Bray, drove through the rolling hills of Wicklow, kissed the  Blarney Stone and toured County Cork, sharing the magic of Kinsale and other seaside villages with our kids.  It was a whirlwind of a trip and at times a challenge to juggle five (jet-lagged!) children as we saw the sights but it was well worth it.  While I still recall the screaming banshee I became at the end of a few especially long days, the kids recall a magical, mystical fairy tale of a trip. 

The 2-year old triplets gave us some precious sound bites, one of my favorites of which was “If this is Barney Castle, where he at?” Ciara celebrated her fifth birthday at the Dublin Zoo, a must-see if ever you make the journey and Liam, the oldest of our crew, fell in love with the Emerald Isle. He is reading Yeats, seems to have absorbed the significance of the 1916 Easter Uprising and, in true seven year old form, naturally assumes that we’ll be heading back to Ireland this fall. 

For the record, we won’t – but, if time and money weren’t an issue, we’d go back in a heartbeat.  Ireland is truly the land of a hundred thousand welcomes; not everyone welcomes a family of seven (with a few of them possibly wet – from either the unpredictable weather or an “accident”!) but all over Ireland, we were welcomed with open arms. With big smiles.  With warm tea or a cold pint.  It is that spirit – that welcome, that zest for life, for story-telling, for music, for dance, that I hope our children embody as they grow up -- on St. Patrick’s Day and every other day of the year.  I hope they embrace life experiences and the people they encounter along the way with Cead Mile Failte. A hundred thousand welcomes.

Tuesday Tip: Take time to smell the roses

One of my little fellas who always pauses to smell the flowers

If you live in the Northeast, you know that our "un-winter" is just about over; with the unusual warmth this week combined with the extended daylight hours, it's really beginning to look -- and feel -- a lot like spring.

Spring is typically a time of year when our already over-filled lives grow even fuller.  As we say so-long to basketball, we find ourselves in the midst of soccer, baseball, t-ball, lacrosse clinics and, in just one civilized respite, a ballet recital.  Suddenly the winter hours we spent in a chilly gym seem minimal in contrast to the hours we'll spend on the grassy sidelines this spring.  The good news is that the dawn of spring and advent of summer allow us longer days and the occasional permission to linger... the time to stop and smell the roses, as they say.

Today I did just that.  Not in the literal sense; despite the warm winter and early spring, the roses have yet to bloom... although, many crocuses have come up to meet the sun and a few daffodils are in full bloom.  I witnessed them firsthand as I left my desk behind and took my lunch to a local park.  A local park where I knew the triplets would be playing and that just a few moments with them would brighten my busy day even more than the sunny skies.  It helps that they were thrilled to see me; at three years old, they are almost always thrilled to see me -- and with a five and seven year old who are at times now slightly less enamoured, I want to treasure every moment that they treasure me.  And today I did.

I took off my shoes and played in the sandbox. I yelled "Ready, Set, GO!" as I raced them down the slide.  I walked them home and timed it just perfectly as the school bus pulled up and my two "big kids" hopped off the bus and into my arms.  It turns out they are happy to see me after all.  We bought lollipops at the corner store to make the stroll home a bit sweeter. Then I left them with our sitter and returned to the office less than an hour after I left; an hour that I will forever cherish and is a great reminder that spring is the perfect time to take at time-out and enjoy the beauty around you, wherever you find it.  For me, today's beauty was captured in blue skies, purple and yellow flowers and five smiling faces sticky with lollipops.

Twas the week before St. Patty's Day...

Twas the week before St. Patty's Day

And the excitement is a'brewin'

For on the 17th of March,

We know just what we'll be doin'.

We'll be taking an early train,

Down to New York City

Where we'll take in the Parade, 

With bands and dancers oh so pretty.

We'll join family and friends 

As we sing the songs of old

And our Irish Eyes will be smilin' 

Whether the weather's warm or cold.

We'll be wearing our green 

And our Irish sweaters too,

We'll be bravin' the crowds 

With our rather sizable crew.

On the Cathedral steps we will be

As the parade goes marching by

We'll be burstin' with our Irish pride

As the tri-color flag waves in the sky.

We'll be missing our loved ones 

Who won't be there to share the day,

They will be in our hearts 

As to the music we will sway.

We'll be grateful for the family and friends 

With whom we'll celebrate,

We'll be on that train back home again

Before it gets too late.

We'll smile down upon the freckled faces 

That bring us so much joy,

As we thank God that we are Irish

And have one sweet girl and four sweet boys.

Nothing says good morning like a "Mommy Muffin"

On the first Friday of every month, our second grader has a "store" in his classroom at school. The objective of this store is to help the kids understand dollars and sense -- and I do mean "sense" versus "cents."  The intention is to teach them about the value and cost of goods; to reinforce math skills while starting to impart an understanding of supply and demand.  Each child is expected to show up on this designated Friday with some items from home that they will "sell" to their classmates in an open exchange while they shop and "pay" for goods with play money.  It's taken me a few months to come around to it but I finally understand what they're trying to accomplish and applaud the effort to teach simple math, economics and values all in one.  The challenge, of course, is that the first Thursday night of every month, roughly five minutes before bedtime, there is an exchange that goes something like this:

2nd grader:  "MOM!  I need stuff to sell in the store tomorrow!"

Me:  "Why are you just thinking of this now?! You've had a month to think about this!"

2nd grader: "But Mom, I NEED some things I can sell NOW!  How about these books?"

Me:  "No."

2nd grader: "How about these cars I don't play with anymore?"

Me: "No." 

2nd grader: "How about some legos?"

Me: "No, no, NO!"

This typically carries on for a bit longer while the poor kid scurries around stealing toys and books from his siblings with the intention of "selling" them in school the next day. It's not good.  So, after yet another unpleasant exchange last night, this morning I decided to emulate some of the Super-Moms I know are out there and have been baking yummy little morsels for their second graders to sell on the first Friday of every month.  I was up and at it at 6AM, baking these tasty little "Mommy muffins" that I hope make my little fella feel like a champ as he rings up his proverbial cash register.  We call them "Mommy muffins" because my Mom used to make them for us and, at forty years old, the smell of a warm Mommy Muffin still warms my heart.  If you'd like to warm some little hearts of your own on the first Friday or any other day of the month, here's a recipe that's sure to please:

MOMMY MUFFINS

2 cups of flour

1 cup of sugar

2 teaspoons of baking powder (note: it's POWDER, not SODA -- I made that mistake this morning and had to start over!)

1/4 teaspoon of salt

2 tablespoons of butter, melted and cooled

1 cup of milk

1 egg

1 1/2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 400 and grease muffin pan.  Sift flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.  Combine milk, egg and vanilla in a separate bowl; add in melted butter.  Create a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in milk mixture, stirring quickly to combine.  Spoon into muffin pan, bake for 18-20 minutes, enjoy the warmth and yumminess of a mommy muffin right out of the oven! 

How a bum thumb became a symbol of work/life balance

If you regularly check in to see what's new in the Lyons Den, you probably noticed that I've been MIA for over a week.  It struck me that I should have said good-bye; I should have let you know that I was taking a week off to be with my family.  To really be with my family. Last week, we went to Vermont and my computer stayed home. This is an all-time first.  My trusty laptop has accompanied us on adventures far and wide; it's been to Cape Cod, Ireland, Washington D.C, San Francisco, you name it -- if we've been there, it has too.  But not this time.  This time I was officially burned out and needed a break.  A real break.  A chance to recharge.  An opportunity to take the short-tempered, over-tired, over-committed Mom that I'd become and leave her behind... in the hopes of rediscovering the even-keeled, level-headed Mom I aspire to be.

Did it work? I'm not sure.  As I prepare to head back to work today, I can honestly say that I do feel better.  Less wired, less tired.  Less stressed and better prepared to tackle what the day, the week, the months ahead have in store. I have great memories of my unplugged week -- just the thought of it makes me smile.  It was a wonderful week, filled with many firsts.  Our seven year old skied his first "blue" trail, followed by his first black diamond.  This very thought fills me with fear but, he did it and he is so proud.  And that is awesome.  Our five year old daughter faced fears of her own in ski school and ended the week with her first ride up the chairlift with yours truly.  And that was pretty awesome too.  The triplets took their first trip without bringing along the three pack & plays which have been standard cargo in our minivan for the past three years; they slept in sleeping bags for the very first time.  And, they actually slept!  ALL NIGHT LONG.  It was amazing.  And, I was reminded once again, so are they.  So are all five our incredible kids, who are really very tolerant of their often too tired, too wired, manic Mom.

As for me, well, for the first time in a long time, I finished the book I was reading!  I love to read and last week, I read for at least an hour every night.  It was bliss.  I was in bed in every night hours earlier than usual, allowing me to really catch up on some much-needed shut-eye.  Last but not least, I also took my first major fall skiing since about 1996.  Not surprisingly, it was on the last run of the day; it was a slick black diamond that I'd done numerous times before but this time, it got the best of me.  Before I knew what hit me, I was ass over teakettle (whatever does that mean?!  I'm not sure the origin of that expression but it seems to accurately describe my fall!), sliding down the mountain face-first.  That downward slide seemed to last forever but was really just a few seconds.  A few seconds that thankfully resulted in nothing more serious than a bruised leg and a jammed thumb.  

The thumb is slightly troublesome in that it can't really grip a pen, open a child-proof bottle of anything or zipper a kid's coat... or pants... or, for that matter, my own!  But, I am thinking of this thumb as a good reminder.  A good reminder of the downward slide I was on before our rejuvenating week away.  A good reminder to pause, to take a break, to put away the computer and really really be with my family.  A good reminder to stop and recharge when the pendulum of work/life balance gets too swings too far toward work.  A good reminder of what really matters -- life.  Family. Friends. 

So, I hope you'll forgive me for taking off for a week without saying good-bye and also forgive me if you don't see quite as much of me here.  I'm sure I'll still post at least once, and probably twice a week, but if I should disappear again for a short while, you will know why.  It will be because that pendulum has once again swung out of balance and I need to swing it back where it belongs.  Either that or this bum thumb has interfered with my typing!  Either way, I'll eventually be back and hope you will too.

A new twist on forgetting Valentine's Day

I recently wrote a piece for Parents where I shared the many personas of pregnancy.  One such pal I met along the way was Felicia the Forgetful.  She arrived during my first pregnancy at the onset of the second trimester -- right about the time when I forgot to bring my lunch to work and couldn’t remember where I left the car keys.  I naturally assumed she would leave once the baby arrived and, like so many assumptions I had about “when the baby arrived”, I was wrong.

As it turns out, Felicia is here to stay and, the prognosis isn’t good.  I heard a report on the radio the other day that one of the symptoms of perimenopause is forgetfulness.  What does this mean?  I fear it means we ladies don’t stand a chance.  We get a severe case of “Mommy brain” before we even meet our babies and now it seems that a good decade before the big M (Menopause!) sets in, we officially have no chance of finding the mind we lost; it just may be gone forever.  Which brings me to an interesting little tale from this week.  It involves our dog who, under different circumstances, just might have been gone forever as well.

It was Valentine’s Day.  We’re not big believers in Valentine’s Day since my husband rightfully proclaimed many years ago, “when you love the one you’re with, every day is Valentine’s Day.”  So, we didn’t have big plans. Some might say we had no plans at all.  Des was going to take our second-grader to his 6:30 basketball game, leaving me home to tend to dinner for our other four kids.  After basketball, we hoped to hustle them all to bed as quickly as possible and then cuddle in with some wine, fondue and last week’s episode of 30 Rock.  Sounds romantic, right?

I got home from work a few minutes earlier than usual and realized I needed to get a baguette for the fondue-dipping.  Perhaps not surprisingly given my post-pregnancy, pre-menopausal brain, I’d forgotten that critical detail for our Valentine’s dinner.  Being the consummate multi-tasker, I decided to take our dog with me while I ran around the corner for bread… it wasn’t quite doggie exercise but, at least it was a chance for our large, loyal lab Finnegan to pee.

I returned home pleased with my bounty and quite content to whip up a Valentine’s meal of “Dinner Eggs” and heart-shaped toast for the kids.  When I cracked the eggs, I recall saying “have you guys seen Finnegan?  That’s weird that he didn’t come running when he heard the eggs crack.”  This is a dog that loves a good eggshell.  Don’t ask. He just does.  In any case, when he didn’t come running, I assumed “we must have left the gate closed at the top of the stairs.” And I carried on.

About 15 minutes later, my sweet Valentine’s kiddie supper had pretty much imploded.  There were fights about the not-so heart-shaped toast, spilled milk and a 5-year old having a fit.  That’s when the phone rang.  In an effort to diffuse the tension, I asked the sobbing 5-year old if she'd like to answer it. And she did.

I couldn’t help but notice the caller i.d. was “Mima” – the name of a cute little Italian restaurant right around the corner.  My heart leapt.  Could it be?  My sweet hubbie had a Valentine’s day surprise in store?  He’d booked a sitter and made a reservation and we were headed out for a late dinner after tucking the tots in?!  It seemed to good to be true.  And, as my confused 5-year murmured “What? You have Finnegan?” into the phone, I realized it was.

As you may have guessed by now, when I went around the corner for that baguette, I left the dog behind.  Tied up and totally forgotten. I never even looked back. When I snatched the phone from my bewildered little girl, the lovely hostess on the other end of the line said “I’m really sorry to bother you but he’s been here over an hour and he’s really starting to look sad.”  Um, oops.  Chalk that one up to Mommy Brain!  

The kids were crushed “You left him in the dark?! All alone?!  On VALENTINE’S DAY?!”  Yes, yes I did.  But, I didn’t mean to.  And, after calling a neighbor to watch the kids while I ran back around the corner to get him, he greeted me with a wagging tail and unconditional love.  And we all had a Happy Valentine’s Day after all.  I think.  Part of me doesn’t quite remember…