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. 

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!  

Tuesday Tip: A Working Mom's Guide to Business Travel

I’ve been on the road a lot lately.  And, since I’ve had an almost year-long hiatus from business travel (and flying solo in general!), it took a few adjustments at home to get the gang I left behind geared up for a few days sans the Mama.  Here’s how we made it work and, should the need arise, you can too:

·      Ladies and gentleman, synch your calendars!  Organizing the comings and goings of a family of seven is never an easy task but never is it more critical then when Mom is out of town.  To make sure that the right kid ends up at the right party/soccer field/baseball game, I send my better half (that would be my husband Des, in case you were wondering!) calendar invites with all of the details.  For example:  "Sunday, April 29^th.  12:30-2:00.  Ciara: Maya’s 6^th Birthday Party.  Gift wrapped in home office. Car pool confirmed. Address as follows.”  No detail is left out, reminders are set and everyone ends up where they belong. Mission accomplished!

·      Take the easy way out.  Our typical dinners are homemade but when I’m not home, well, they are made elsewhere.  Like in the frozen pizza factory.  Or local burger joint.  Dinner in our house is mayhem on a good day but, with only one parent ruling the roost, it can be pure chaos.  These are the days when rotisserie chicken reigns supreme and pizza might prevail.  And that’s ok.  Stock the freezer, pack the pantry and away you go!

·      Love ‘em and leave ‘em.  It’s not easy to say good-bye to my five (relatively) tiny tots and one uber-patient, supportive, loving husband.  But, drawn out good-byes don’t do any of us any good.  What does us good is a lot of hugs, kisses and open communication about where I’m going, why I’m going and when I’ll be back.  Time permitting, I’ll leave a note on our whiteboard or a sticky note someplace unexpected (bathroom mirror!) with a simple “I love you” and constant reminder that though this Mama might occasionally leave ‘em, she always loves ‘em and always has ‘em on her mind and in her heart.

The kids know that my current trip to Chicago is the last one I’ll be taking for a while.  And they know that next week their dear Dad is headed to Atlanta.  And they know that we are all eagerly awaiting the month of June, when the business travel subsides and a family trip awaits. 

The trips we take together are the highlights of my life. And the trips I take alone remind me of how lucky I am to be so in love with the family I have and the life I lead… not to mention, provide a few moments to read a magazine without anyone climbing in my lap!

Girls Weekend: Good for Heart & Soul... and laughs

This weekend I’m going away with three of my best girlfriends.  We are celebrating the fact that forty is upon us and an amazing friendship still exists between us.  Rather than rue the day we turned 40, we are relishing the excuse to get away, to catch up and reconnect.  We will travel from New York, New Jersey, Boston and Atlanta for 72 hours in Florida where we will surely laugh a lot, possibly cry a little and most certainly realize how lucky we are for the friendship we have.  As I embark on this journey, I can’t help but recall my musings of a brief girls getaway last year – 36 hours in Newport with a different group of gal pals which reminded me that…

1. Only your girlfriends will tell you that you need to lose the Mom jeans.  Or khaki pants.  Or sensible shoes.  Maybe not all the time, but certainly some of the time.  Your girlfriends will remind you of your life pre-kids and reassure you that you are just as cute/smart/great now as you were back then -- and, that you should at least occasionally dress that way!  They will also help you find the right jeans and, having suffered through the hunt, will wisely tell you that when you find the magic pair, you should buy two of them.  Listen to this advice. 
2. Your girlfriends will make you realize how much you've changed.  For the better.  Sure you may now have saggy boobs, a few gray hairs and a mid-section best not exposed but you have gained the wisdom of years and a newfound confidence that perhaps was missing in your younger days.  Perhaps you've advanced your career or left it behind for the full time job called motherhood.  Either way, you believe the decisions you've made are the right ones.  And that deserves a pat on the back -- a pat that your girlfriends are all too willing to give.
3. Your girlfriends make you realize that your problems are, for the most part, universal.  Everyone occasionally struggles with their kids, their husband, their finances, even their sex life. Who wouldn't as the years pass by, the babies arrive, the sleep disappears and the daily responsibilities grow?  The days may be long but the years go by quickly; enduring friendships are a great way to commiserate about the challenges you face now -- and the ones you faced before and now can laugh about -- which leads me to...
4. Girlfriends are great to laugh with.  And be silly with.  And just be yourself with.  They accept you for who you really are and love you for the person you are today -- even as they laugh aloud at the person you were back in the day.  The one in the daisy dress, drunk as a loon, dancing like a rockstar.  Or, perhaps more like Elaine on Seinfeld.  They don't care.  They love you for you and you love them back.  Even when they are laughing at you.  Or with you.  It really doesn't matter; either way, they are there for you now, were there for you then and will be there for you tomorrow.
5. A getaway with girlfriends is like a "get out of jail free card."  I don't mean to imply that the “Lyons Den” or motherhood in general is a jail but rather, that a brief getaway provides joy-filled freedom to have a break from it all – all the laundry, all the cooking, all the cleaning up and all the obligations of our busy, grown up lives. 

 

I truly believe that girlfriends, and girl’s weekends, are good for the soul.  In a brief exchange with one of my pals on the way to the airport, I mentioned that I forgot to pack sunblock.  Without hesitation she responded, “I’ve got you covered.” I had to smile as I responded, “You always have.”  After all, that’s what friends are for.

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.

Keeping the faith with five fiesty tykes

“How was your Palm Sunday?” asked good friends we had dinner with last night.  Truth be told, it was not so great.  Not that Palm Sunday is a historically a great day anyway, but their question was motivated, I think, by a curiosity about how we juggle five children under seven during mass -- especially mass on Palm Sunday which, by my estimation, is the longest mass ever. 

We take our children to church every Sunday.  We always have.  I was raised Catholic and even attended Catholic school for several years  (until an unfortunate incident involving a certain Sister Mary Lynch made me go public!).  I went to church every Sunday until I was 18 and then took about a decade off, spending Sunday mornings either sleeping off the effects of the night before or running a race in Central Park.  I suppose I’ve always been a gal of extremes; it was either up for a healthy morning run or down and out after a few too many the night before; up and out for mass or a decade of religious abstinence.

Then I met Des, who is now my husband.  I was stunned that a cute, fun, single guy actually went to church every Sunday.  And, since I was instantly madly in love, I started to go with him.  We got married, had children and I accepted Des’ proclamation that they “will be Catholic and Yankee fans.”  To this day, I still wonder about the equal weight of this mandate of religion and sports fanaticism, but frankly, I’ve got bigger fish to fry so, I just go along with it.

As our children arrived, we took one, then two, then five children to church every Sunday.  What a sight we were just a few years ago as we rolled in ten minutes late with five tiny tots strapped into a double and triple stroller.  Even today, we joke that the 10:30 mass is really the 10:45.  We may be late, we may be slightly more sloppy than I’d like but, we show up.  Every Sunday.  Including Palm Sunday, which, in addition to being one of the longest masses ever, is also the only day in the liturgical year that everyone is given a slight, wispy weapon upon entry to church. You guessed it:  palms!

Imagine if you will, what one seven year old, one five year old and three three-year olds can do with a fistful of palms.  If sword fights, fishing, tickling, tackling and tug-of-war come to mind, then you guessed it right. It’s hard enough for us to control our clan at church on any given Sunday but on Palm Sunday, it is downright impossible. It’s no easy task to try to listen to the gospel while intermediating the increasingly violent escapades of the palms of our pew.  It’s not easy to keep our cool in the front row (yes, we sit in the front row!) while the kids are clobbering each other, climbing over us and creating weapons from a religious symbol.  At one point yesterday, I took a palm to the eyeball and could have sworn I tore my retina.  Thankfully, I didn’t.  Although, I'm pretty sure I did swear under my breath. 

So, in considering the question "How was your Palm Sunday?" I can only recall the power struggle in our pew as the palms waved and the kids whined.  And, I think about how I prayed for peace. And patience.  This is my wish for Easter, for my family and for all of you.  Peace and patience and perhaps even a pretty palm or two to adorn our home until next Palm Sunday -- when the battle of the palms will almost surely start anew!

Tuesday Tip: Beyond the diaper bag: 4 great options for spring

Today is the first day of Spring.  This is usually cause for great celebration here in the Northeast but, since we had a winter so warm it was worrisome and the daffodils all bloomed last week, the change of season feels a bit anti-climactic compared to years past.  Even so, it's time to change over the closets, do some spring cleaning and lighten up a bit -- in spirit, in fashion and yes, even in diaper bags or however you define your tote of choice.

I've never really been a diaper bag kind of a gal myself.  Don't get me wrong, I've spent the past seven years of my life with an overstuffed satchel of sorts hanging off my shoulder and various kiddie items hanging out of that bag.  I tried the traditional diaper bags but none of them ever really worked for me -- especially with triplets!  As I'm faced with a milestone that no one seems to mention (that being the end of the diaper bag!), I'm faced with a dilemma about what to take along to tote our necessities when we're out and about.  I no longer need to pack up formula, bottles, diapers and onesies but when we're headed out for a long day, I still need to lug along water bottles, juice boxes, a few Pull Ups and wipes -- which thankfully are now used most often for sticky hands and faces rather than stinky bottoms!  The point is, I need a bag.  And I'm sure many of you do too so, for today's "Tuesday Tip", I thought I'd share a few that work for me... and, I'd love to hear any that work for you.  After all, spring is here and Mama needs a new bag!

The Lucky Girl Personal Shopper, by Bella Bags

This Bella Bag by Toss comes in eight pretty patterns and several sensible styles so whether you need a refrigerated compartment for milk and yogurt or a basic carry-all, there's an option for you.  My sister got me this bag a few years ago and it's one of my favorites.  It can be personalized with your initial and the bright colors and fun patterns are great at hiding the dirt and grime that are inevitable after a few trips to the park.

The "Lock It Pocket Rocket", by Scout

This is not the first time I've extolled the virtues of the Pocket Rocket .  This bag has seen me through thick and thin and many a bottle -- ranging from baby bottles to wine bottles, depending on the occasion!  As spring turns to summer and you migrate from the sandbox to a sandy beach, this will be a great bag to have in tow.  With six outside pockets, one inside pocket and an interior roomy enough for snacks and sunblock, this is one of my all-time faves.  As an added bonus, it's water-resistant so it can easily be wiped clean and won't damaged by splashes and spills.  Last but not least, the newest version (pictured above) has a lock-it feature so it can be easily strapped to your stroller for a handy hands-free option.

L.L. Bean Boat & Tote Bag

The LL Bean boat bag is a classic and has been a staple in our family for years.  We must have almost a dozen of them by now.  Each kid has one with their name on it which is their "go bag" for all our adventures; whether it's a weekend visit to my parents or our annual week at the beach, each kid gets one bag and one bag only.  If it doesn't fit in the "Bean Bag", it gets left behind.  In addition to proving their worth for little road warriors, these bags are perfect for the pool or beach.  I have a large one that fits seven beach towels and enough sunblock to keep us covered until Labor Day.  If you're not yet convinced that the Bean Bag is a must-have, consider this -- they also make for great storage... one for blocks, one for trains and so on.  It's an ideal way to tote playthings from room to room or up and down stairs.  My husband will occasionally wish we had those nifty new zip top tote bags so if he happens to take a turn too fast the beach towels don't go flying but, for lugging loads to and fro, if you ask me, this is a bag that's hard to beat.

Last but not least, there's the basic backpack.  It served you well in school and will still do the trick now that you're a busy mom -- quite possibly with more kids than hands, making the hands-free nature of this one all the more appealing!  As you may know, we took the kids into the city for the St. Patrick's Day parade last weekend and my trusty old backpack got us through the day.  It easily contained nine juice-boxes, fruit snacks, granola bars, clementines, wipes, tissues, and one complete change of clothes (and Pull Ups) in case a tired three-year old triplet piddled in his pants. Lest I should forget, there were a few items for me too: my phone, a few dollars, a credit card and lip gloss. On the downside, of the roughly twenty pounds strapped to my back that day, less than two were actually for me but, on the upside, I was able to meet every whining request for a snack and, best of all, never needed to pull out those Pull Ups!

Keeping the St. Patrick in St. Patrick's Day

It was dark as night with a thick fog swirling around the street lamps as I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked out the window.  “Do we really need to get the kids up this early?” I asked my husband as he slowly awoke from his slumber.  “Of course we do, it’s St. Patrick’s Day!” he responded without hesitation.  And so it began. 

First Liam and Ciara were hustled out of bed, into their Sunday best and down the hill to the train with their Dad.  Why?  To make sure they got to church on time – and not just any old church, but St. Patrick's Cathedral.  I know what you’re thinking because I had the same thought, “Gee, nothing says fun for kids on St. Patrick’s Day like being dragged out of bed, stuffed into fancy clothes and squeezed into a church pew!” Fortunately for them, this was only the beginning.  And, I have to admit, it is a huge honor to be invited to Mass at St. Patrick’s on March 17^th – a point which is lost on them now at five and seven years old but, I hope they will one day realize.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was hustling our three-year old triplets out of their cribs and into their Irish rugby jerseys.  Kevin, Declan and Cormac awoke with their typical cheer and joyful anticipation of the day ahead. “Is today the day?!”  “Today is St. Patrick’s Day, right Mama?”  “Today we go to the parade!”  These little Irish eyes were smiling up at me as I hurried them out of the house to catch the next train to the city.  That thick fog was just starting to lift as we headed south along the Hudson to Grand Central Station , eliciting some keen three year old commentary about “smoke on the water”  and cute questions like “Is it always smoky on St. Patrick’s Day, Mom?”

We arrived at Grand Central and did what any mom with a trio of three year olds would do next.  We rode the escalator.  That’s right, it caught their eye while we were waiting to meet my parents at the clock tower and I just couldn’t resist their amazing powers of persuasion.  The problem though, was that once we rode up, they were petrified to go back down.  After several failed attempts, I finally left my mom a message explaining that we’d been foiled by the escalator and were going to start marching toward the parade.

What a sight we were as we battled the growing crowds along Fifth Avenue and headed toward St. Pat’s.  I had one wide-eyed, fair-skinned, freckle-faced boy in each hand and one tagging along behind, clinging for dear life to the back of my green sweater. We paused a few times along the way, taking in the wonder of the windows of Build A Bear and American Girl.  Their excitement and enthusiasm were contagious as passers-by stopped to smile and wish us a Happy St. Patrick’s Day. 

We finally arrived on the steps of St. Pat’s where we met my husband, Liam and Ciara and were eventually joined by my parents, brother, sister-in-laws, niece, nephews and friends old and new.  As the pipers played and drummers drummed, I said a silent thank you to St. Patrick.  Not just for chasing the snakes out of Ireland but, for giving us one day a year to honor our heritage, tap our toes to the music, wear our green with pride and truly cherish our family; St. Patrick’s Day is a good reminder of just how blessed I am to look into smiling little Irish eyes and see the wonder of the world from their point of view – for it is a very nice view indeed.

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.

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.

Tuesday Tip: Go to the zoo. (in the off season!)

For today's tip, I thought I'd share a recent post from Irish Central, where I write routinely about the whimsy of parenting -- or, more accurately put, the ups and downs of life here in the Lyons Den... or any other humble abode that happens to be crawling (at times, quite literally!) with little ones.

Last weekend, I took several of our tots to the zoo and was reminded once again of the joy of visiting the zoo in the off-season; there were no lines, no crowds, and easy access to the things that matter most to us... animals, bathrooms and snacks -- not necessarily in that order!  In a nutshell, the morale of this story is to take your tykes out and about when other folks are lazing about inside.  Sure, it might be a bit brisk but that's easily resolved with a cup of hot chocolate and I can assure you that the simple pleasures of zoos (and aquariums, museums, parks and playgrounds!) are all the better when you can enjoy them without a crowd... and, without the fear of losing your children in that crowd!  Should you wish to read on, here is a tale of two zoos as I recently told it to my pals over at Irish Central...


I am a zoo-lover.  To me, one of the gratifications of having children is the ability to share my love of animals and wildlife and create little zoo-lovers to follow in my footsteps.  With five tykes seven and under, we've been quite busy exploring every zoo within reasonable -- and not so reasonable --distance from our home in the suburbs of New York City.  To date, we've been lucky enough to visit the   National Zoo in Washington D.C., the San Francisco Zoo ...

The Bronx Zoo (on numerous occasions) and, on one stellar day, the Dublin Zoo.

Our visit to the Dublin Zoo was last October, during a whirlwind family trip to visit our roots in Ireland.  Since then, we have visited our "local" zoo in the Bronx twice -- once on New Year's Eve (yes, I did choose to ring in the new year with all our children and the sights, sound and smells of zoo animals!) and once this past weekend.   On Sunday, my husband Des took our seven year old, Liam, to see the Ireland vs. France rugby match and, given the choice of staying home alone with our four other tykes or heading to the zoo, I did what any other sane, tired 40-year old mum would do, I took them to the zoo!  Again!  And, once again, I was reminded of a tale of two zoos... 

"Our" zoo, the Bronx Zoo, is the zoo of my childhood.  The zoo I visited on class trips.  The zoo I first shared with my children.  But "your" zoo, the Dublin Zoo, is truly a zoo of many wonders.  It is the zoo where my one and only little lady turned five.  It is the zoo where I could swear we experienced four seasons in a day as the wind blew and the weather turned from sunny to cloudy to rainy to frigid to sunny once again.  It is the only zoo (and, as I've now established, I've seen many a zoo!) where we saw an elephant take a bath, a herd of giraffes happily mingle with several zebras, and truly, more animals than people!  

Don't get me wrong, I love our zoo here in the Bronx and am pleased to report that membership has its privileges; last Sunday, we parked, visited and rode the merry-go-round for free, thanks to our annual family membership.  We got up close and personal with tigers, gorillas, sea lions, a polar bear and more than a few "friendly" peacocks.

At the end of the day, it's hard to say which zoo would win the battle of the zoos... personally, I just feel blessed to have visited them all and to have five fab kids to share them with.