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!

My life in PottyLand

Here it is, Sunday night once more.  Once again, the weekend has flown by in a flurry of activity.  As I look back on the past few days at the pool, Liam's first swim meet, a trip out for ice cream, our obligatory Sunday mass and a great grilled dinner, there is one unifying theme.  The heat and humidity that has the nation talking?  Nope.  What I will recall most from this weekend is the inordinate amount of time I spent in the bathroom with our two year old triplets.  I don't think I'd be exaggerating to say that it adds up to hours.  

We are deep in the throes of potty training. It's reached the point where Kevin, Declan and Cormac are far more enthusiastic about it than I am.  The initial excitement of "PooPoo on potty!" has pretty much waned for me.  The cries of "Gotta pee Mom! Gotta pee NOW!" have me callously responding "NOW?! But you just went!"  Or, worse yet, "Can't you just hold it, little buddy?"  Needless to say, my weary responses are not to be found in any potty training manuals.  I don't have time to read them anyway but, it just feels wrong to tell a two-year old in PullUps whose personal pride is currently wrapped up the "Three P's" (pee, poo, potty) to take a chill pill because Mama would like a view of something other than a porcelain (or in this case, plastic) bowl!

While I would have preferred to spend less time crouching on the bathroom floor and more time enjoying the great outdoors (believe me when I tell you that 100 degrees in the pool beats 100 degrees in the potty!), there were (as there always are) a few bright spots during our shared potty time...

• There was Cormac kindly encouraging me.  "Good Girl Mama!" he joyfully exclaimed as he barged in on what was to be my private moment on the potty.
• There was Kevin, completely enamored with the "Magic Potty!" at the pool... that self-flushing variety is apparently a lot more exciting than what we have at home.
• There was Declan, who can pee more than any kid I've ever seen.  He spent more time at the potty than in the pool... leading me to believe that perhaps he was drinking a lot of kiddie pool water... a thought I really don't want to linger on.
• There was their shared joy at wearing "big boy underwear!"  My, how we've progressed... just a few months ago, they thought Ciara's old Princess Pull Ups were big boy underwear.  Now they are in Liam's hand-me-down tighty whities and just as thrilled.  Geez, the bar for these little guys is really set low!
• Last but not least, was our adventure at church today, where I spent more time praying to the porcelain god than the big guy upstairs. 

I think it's starting to pay off though. Just think of all the money we'll save when we officially bid adieu to diapers! Just considering life without repeat orders from diapers.com is all it takes for  me to muster up enough enthusiasm to take three little fellas out of their cribs for one last trip to the potty... after all, I don't want to disappoint their image of this "Good Girl Mama."  

Tuesday Tip: Ten reasons to tread lightly and wear your shoes

Motherhood is full of surprises. From those first flutters of pregnancy to the wonder of falling in love with a bald-headed baby, the only thing you can really expect is the unexpected.  I’ve grown immune to some of the unanticipated side effects of parenting… sleep deprivation, driving a minivan and the ongoing battle against kid-clutter have all become part of my new norm. Something that continues to surprise me however, is all that's underfoot, in the most literal sense.  Here's my Top 10 list of barefoot surprises... along with a renewed commitment to treading lightly and wearing my shoes!

1. Legos. Ever step barefoot on a Lego? If so, you can probably relate to the expletives that explode from my mouth each time it happens. I do occasionally apply a child-friendly filter, which now has our 2 1/2 year old triplets using the word “freakin’!” in a most charming way. My barefoot encounters with wayward Legos are so frequent that if I ever get around to writing my memoir, I think I will call it “My Life in (Freakin’!) LegoLand.”
2. WaWas. You may call it a lovey or woobie or blankie but those beloved soft comfort items are known in our house as “WaWas”. Actually, for Liam it was a “WeeWee” but then Ciara came along and we didn’t want her to be the only little girl on the block with a “WeeWee” so, she mercifully called hers a “WaWa” and this term of endearment is here to stay. As are the Wawas… all five kids have them but the triplets in particular get great joy from sucking on them. When they are in their cribs making those sweet sucking sounds, it is absolutely endearing; when one falls out of the crib and you step on it barefoot in the middle of the night, it is absolutely gross. Soggy, wet, nasty and gross. Enough said!
3. Soggy Cheerios. I admit it. We rely on our dog Finnegan to do a lot of the post-meal clean up. So much so, in fact, that he’s gained well over ten pounds since the triplets were born. He is so efficient in his efforts that he sometimes even starts the clean up while the little guys are still in their high chairs; the sight of the chairs being nudged around the kitchen by a ninety pound dog is an especially good one if you ever get a chance to see it. In any case, I suppose we’ve become overly reliant on Finnegan and under-reliant on the broom because I now find myself muttering each morning as I dislodge yet another Cheerio from between my toes.
4. Our dog, Finnegan. He does pretty well for himself at mealtime but any other time of day he’s prone to be tripped over, stepped on or plowed over. This never used to happen but now, it’s fairly routine. He might get knocked out of the way as I chase down a kid or worse yet, stepped on overnight as I go to find one of those darn misplaced Wawas. Either way, that poor dog really takes his blows. 
5. A bike helmet. Ever wake up in the morning and trip over a kid' bike helmet next to your bed? Me too! I thought this was a rather unusual occurrence but have since heard from other Moms that it’s happened to them too. Not sure why the bike helmets end up in the bedroom instead of on the porch in the neat little basket I’ve put there for the very purpose of bike helmet storage. I guess it’s probably the same reason why my neatly labeled baskets for “Cars”, “Trains”, and “Dolls” now flow over with books, random puzzle pieces and yes, even an occasional Lego.
6. Big Wheels… and little ones too. Matchbox cars, firetrucks, dump trucks and the like never seem to find their way into those neatly labeled baskets and bins. And, they just may be the death of me one day. I’ve been known to sail half way across the house on a moderately sized “shake and go” car and trust me, the sight of me shaking and going in this way is not one you want to see. Especially since it may also include another inappropriate freakin’ expletive!
7. Play Dough. Fresh out of the jar, this stuff is squishy and soft. Not something I enjoy between the toes but, it’s preferable to those gummy, soggy Cheerios. Leave it out for a while though and suddenly that Play Dough isn’t so playful. It hardens to teeny, rainbow colored pebbles that I find scattered throughout the house and between my toes. Let me go on record and make it official: I hate Play Dough!
8. Crayons/Markers: While you may not naturally equate these childhood tools of the trade to the aforementioned big wheels and matchbox cars, they can just as easily propel you across a room if you step on them just so. These are yet another shining example of defiant toys that refuse to reside in their neatly labeled bins. Why, oh why, do I even bother?
9. The laundry basket. There are two places in my house that I would expect to find the laundry basket – in the basement by the washer/dryer or in my closet brimming over with the days soiled wears. Unfortunately, there are probably 22 places that I might stumble across, over or into that basket. Ok, maybe not quite 22 since our house isn’t that big but, suffice it to say, ever since the triplets decided the laundry basket is their “boat”, I’ve found it docked in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and everywhere in-between.
10. Sticks and stones. They say that sticks and stone may break your bones and I am here to tell you this is true! While I haven’t actually broken a bone (yet!), I have stepped on and tripped over many of these “collections” courtesy of any of our five kids. What’s surprising about this isn’t the notion of kids collecting them but rather, using the dining/living/bedroom/kitchen floors as display cases. If only they’d leave their wares outside, I’d be more alert, more apt to watch underfoot for sharp rocks and jagged sticks; I just don’t have that kind of radar up when I’m blindly fumbling for my morning coffee!

So, there you have it. Ten items large and small that I’m still surprised to find underfoot. I suppose the only other thing I should mention is, well, my kids. With so many of them in such a relatively small space, I have been known to literally trip over my own children. Especially when the triplets were in that cute crawling/pull up on your legs phase. I’ve apologized countless times for stepping on tiny fingers and toes; just imagine their shock and surprise when they are repeatedly stepped on by their own Mom! Now that I think about it, maybe all those Legos, Cheerios, Play Dough, sticks and stones I find myself stepping on and tripping over aren’t accidentally left behind. Maybe it’s just my kids trying to tell me in a not-so-subtle way, “Hey Mom, watch where you’re freakin’ going.  And while you're at it, put on a pair of freakin' shoes!!!”

Finding Time for 1:1 when you're juggling 2 or more

Happy little "princess" after some quality time with Dad

If more than one munchkin is calling you Mom, you know how hard it can be to fit in quality one to one time. This is true as it relates to your husband, your sister, your Mom or your best friend. It is especially true when it comes to your kids and naturally, this is the area that tends to give us all the most guilt and anxiety. As a working mom of five kids six and under (including identical two-year old triplets), I really feel the squeeze but over time, have found that little things really do mean a lot. Thankfully, finding a few moments to share with each of my children individually is easier than I thought.


Quality time with your tots need not involve elaborate planning, great expense or even a huge time commitment. I’ve seen the faces of my own little tykes light up like a Christmas tree by suggestions as simple as “who wants to come walk the dog?” or “I’m going out to get milk, anyone want to join me?” or even “I need to move the car – want to go for a ride?” These minor moments offer the opportunity to share some quality time and the kids always appreciate it, even if it’s as simple as a walk to the corner -- which, sadly, on some days, is all our poor dog gets (his one to one time is pretty much gone!).


One day last summer, I took one of the triplets (who was 18 months at the time) with me to get a present for an upcoming birthday party. Truth be told, it was (and still is!) rare that I get one of the triplets out on his own but, it is so gratifying whenever I do that I am committed to doing so more often. On this particular day, as I walked up Main Street with Declan, I couldn’t help but marvel at what a funny little guy he is; I found that there are few things more endearing than the stream of consciousness observations that only a one and a half year old can provide: “Flower. Plane. Bye Bye! Hello! Bug. Bee. BUS! Big bus! Hello! Sky? Moon? HELLO!” And then, when we entered the toy store and he set his eyes upon a stuffed bear the size of his Dad, “Wow! WOW, WOW, WOW!”


The reality is that I enjoy our “alone time” as much as the kids do. My husband Des and I do our best to create quality time out of routine tasks… picking up Friday night take-out has become my daughter’s date night with Dad; all it takes is fifteen minutes and a Shirley temple and my feisty four year old returns a new little lady. We also try to plan a special day out for each our kids – it might be an annual trip to Yankee Stadium for my six year old, a trip to the zoo with my daughter and time will tell what we come up with for the triplets. For now, they are content when their one to one time is a trip to the pediatrician for an ear infection; given how low their standards are, we have nowhere to go but up! Or, perhaps, we have nowhere to go at all… a recent Sunday afternoon with just one little fella in a bubble bath proved to be, well, in his mind, a real splash!


So, if you struggle like I do with finding time to squeeze it all in, just remember that the little things matter most. Your kids will be grateful for any window of time you give them… and, hopefully, your husband, sister, Mom and best friend will realize that for now, they just may have to wait!

The Do's and Don'ts of Potty Training

With a 2 ½ year old triplet boys, potty training is constantly top of mind for a number of reasons.  For starters, it will feel like we won the lottery when we stop sending a significant portion of our paycheck to diapers.com each month.  Then, of course, there’s the fact that we’d like our boys to be normal functioning members of society and that necessarily requires saying adieu to Pampers and Huggies before they hit the double digits.  Ideally, and hopefully, sooner… much sooner!

I don’t have time to read up on the latest do’s and don’ts of potty training -- even with our first two kids, I never got too hung up on all the literature and “rules”.  I always figured that our kids would eventually get the hang of it and sure enough, they did.  Not without a fair amount of wetting the bed and just about everything else but still, by the time they were about three, Liam and Ciara had fully embraced the glories of the porcelain bowl.

With Kevin, Declan and Cormac, I suspect that our current approach contains more “don’ts” than “do’s” and I’ve decided to share them so you can learn from our mistakes… and perhaps have a chuckle as you think about three bare-bottomed two year-olds vying for one little plastic potty.  With that visual to keep you amused, here are a few lessons learned from our recent adventures in potty training…

• I’m pretty sure that when your kid asks to sit on the potty, you should say yes.  DO encourage interest in the potty.  Do NOT say as I do, “Um, sorry sport, but I just changed your diaper and, for that matter, your brothers' diapers too and I don’t have the time or the money to change all three of you again and lose the next half hour of my life while you hold me hostage in our dirty bathroom.”  That feels like a definite DON’T, right?

•  DO offer little treats as incentive for potty performance.  In our house, little treats are really little – as in one M&M for #1 and two M&Ms for #2.  It is amazing what these kids will do for an M&M or two!  That said, do NOT expect your toddler to understand deferred gratification – e.g. if your kid poops on the potty at night after brushing his teeth, he will still expect those two M&Ms right away.  Telling him that he can have them with breakfast (while admittedly questionable in its own right!) will only lead a nasty tantrum that just might cause a potty training setback.  Remember Pavlov’s dog and reward your potty training tyke immediately after that coveted drop or two lands in the potty.  Oh, and DO have him wash his hands before administering that treat! 

•  Consistency is king.  I'm sure that a major "DO" is is to put your tot on the pot at routine intervals... first thing in the morning, after breakfast, before the park, before and after lunch, before and after nap, you get the idea.  But when you multiply all that on again/off again, PullUp/pull down, diapers on/off times three, well, it's just plain exhausting!  And I can't keep up with it.  Which is why I know I am committing a major DON'T when I tell my guys to "Just hold it.  You can go on the potty later."  Really?  A two year old is going to hold it?  Here's a newsflash.  They won't.  Trust me.

One last note, when your little gal or fella tells you they don't want to sit on the big potty, believe them .  They mean it.  That big potty that Mom and Dad use is scary.  Especially when your Mom lets go of your hand to stop your brothers from whizzing on the floor and you land IN that big potty, having your worst fears realized.  This is a major DON'T.  And yes, one of my kids might be scarred for life.  But dammit, he won't be wearing diapers to college.  And hopefully not to kindergarten either!  Wish us luck and feel free to share your own do's and don'ts! 

A (typically hectic, unusually manic) Day in the Life

Here’s the text I sent Des on Monday night at 7:54 PM when he was presumably dodging fly balls as the go-to pitcher and assistant coach for Liam’s first grade baseball team:

“Macmac barfed. Decker barfed. Quiche has mold. Help!!! BTW, don’t think mold & barfing are related. Think barf & strep are related & quiche is just bad luck!”

For those of you interested the events that preceded and followed, here’s a rundown of Monday, May 2nd in the Lyons Den:

5:57 Wake up. Finish blog post. Unload dishwasher. Make lunch. Pack snacks. Start laundry.

7:00 Drag Liam from bed, make breakfast, send him off on bus.

7:30 Moaning from triplets room prompts me to look inside. Discover MacMac (aka Cormac) in a feverish fit with green snot pouring from his nose. Literally pouring. Temp is 101.9

7:40 Debate w/ Des re: need to take MacMac to doctor. Des says no, I say yes. I win.

7:45 Shower, dress, change MacMac, wake Ciara, pack lunch and bag for work.

8:15 To the pediatrician we go – thank goodness for the walk-in hour!

8:45 Home we go – that walk-in hour sucks! Waiting room is overflowing with pink-eye, allergies, stomach bugs and generally sick kids. We make an appointment to return at 11:30.

9:00 Dump MacMac at home, head to work.

11:15 A bundle of nerves and stress, I leave my piled-high desk to retrieve my boy and return to doctor.

11:45 Discover MacMac has strep. Panic sets in. How long ‘til the rest of them fall?!

12:00 Quick trip to CVS to fill prescription.

12:45 Return to office, dig in to sandwich and emails that await. Work, work, work.

5:45 Home sweet home. Feverish boy slumbers on couch while other kids run wild and Des and Liam take off for baseball.

5:50 Closer look at couch reveals that feverish boy on couch is not MacMac. It’s Declan. Sh*t!!

6:00 Dinner is served. “Egg pie” (aka quiche!) and broccoli, typically a crowd pleaser is unanimously dismissed with a chorus of “no like it”

6:30 Backyardigans video provides 23 minutes of kid-entertainment and mom-relief. I shed my work clothes, locate thermometer and put on Florence Nightingale uniform. Ok, not really. 

 

7:00  Mac and Declan have rising fevers.  I put on their PJs and pop them in their cribs.  A suspicious gurgling precedes Mac's massive vomit. Ciara, playing the role of physician’s assistant, continually chimes in “it’s really bad Mom. REALLY bad” while Declan moans from crib and Kevin jumps up and down singing “MacMac throw up! MacMac throw up!”

7:30 Mac is changed, crib is changed, Declan has been given Tylenol, MacMac has had his antibiotic and a solid dose of Advil to keep the fever at bay. Ciara is brushing her teeth. The four kids I have at home are now ready for bed.  I think the worse is behind me.

7:45 Nope. The worst is still coming. As I discover mold on the quiche Des and I were going to have for dinner, there is a blood curdling scream from upstairs followed by Ciara’s call, “MOM! Come quick! It’s REALLY bad!!!”  Sound familiar?

7:46 Declan is covered in barf. His crib is covered in barf. I am covered in barf. Kevin’s enthusiasm for his brother’s barf has worn off; Cormac has nodded off.

7:54 Text to Des as per above. I stink like vomit, we have no dinner (though I’m no longer hungry!), there are piles of laundry to be done, work to catch up on and for the record, I’m exhausted, having only had about 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep the night before thanks to an itchy dog, a big boy with bad dreams, la ittle girl who woke us to tell us she went to the potty and a rotation of triplets with lost blankies, high fevers and general malaise!

Suffice it to say that in the hours that followed, there was more vomit, alternating doses of meds to keep MacMac and Declan’s fever at bay and less consecutive sleep than the night before. When the sun rose, I rose with it to get in a run. And boy, am I ever glad I did because today might as well have been Groundhog Day. Just hit the repeat button (or reread button?!) and you’ll know what my day was like. Even the pediatrician feigned surprise when I appeared once again at 11:30 with a little fella red with fever and ripe with strep. When I mentioned that I’d probably see her again tomorrow with my third little guy, she laughed and said she has the day off. Which leaves me to wonder… when will I get a day off? As MacMac has been known to say -- albeit under very different circumstances, as in when asked to apologize for biting his brother – “Not today!”

Eight is Enough!

It all started out simply enough.  Let’s have a baby.  And so we did.  Two years later we thought, well, this is fun, let’s have another one.  And so we did.  Two years later we thought, well, this is fun, let’s have another one.  And then we got three more.  And then, with five kids under five in the house, well, let’s just say we cooled our jets for a bit.  Apparently, not long enough.

Here’s the deal.  They say that as you get older, the odds of having twins or triplets increases.  They also say that once you’ve had twins or triplets, the odds of having them again increases substantially.  In our case, they said that the odds of identical triplets are about one in a hundred million.  I wonder what they will say when they find out I’m pregnant again.  With triplets.  Yikes, right?!

Well, clearly I’m not getting any younger so, I (we?!) should have known that the odds of a “singleton” weren’t in our favor.  Even so, I have to admit, it’s a bit jarring.  Eight kids?!  Seriously?!  Wow.  This was not part of my master plan.  Frankly, five kids wasn’t part of my master plan.  I suppose I should have learned with our first set of triplets that I am clearly no longer on MY master plan.  I feel like lightening has struck twice.  Seriously, how could I possibly have ended up naturally preggo with triplets not once, but twice?!  What pray tell will we drive?!  A school bus?! 

With the notion of eight kids under seven looming ever closer, I have to admit that I’m at my wits end.  The formula and diapers alone will cause yet another financial setback – to say nothing of where we’ll put these little people, the pending sleep deprivation and the challenging physical transformation that my poor bod is about to endure.  Again. 

I wouldn’t have thought it possible.  And indeed, neither should you.  Ha!  Gotcha!  APRIL FOOLS!  Believe me, five is enough… for now and forever.  :)

Life with 2 year old triplets: the rest of the story

As I mentioned in one of last week’s post, life with a trio of two-year olds tots most certainly has its ups and downs. Kevin, Declan and Cormac are as jolly as the day is long but, sometimes the day can be very long – and those are the days that tend to be the toughest. In the spirit of honoring my promise to share the “horrid” and dispel any myths that I’ve been brainwashed or medicated into believing that my children are truly cherubs, here are a few glimpses into the darker side of life in the Lyons Den.

You may recall the cherished moments I went on about last week… the sweet snuggles, the fantastic firsts, the belly laughs and how amazing it is to experience them all times three. Well, the same rationale applies to the downsides that you’d rather not recall – the spit up, runny noses, exploding diapers, temper tantrums and tiny tyrants – we’ve got all of those times three too! I get through the day by focusing on the positive – the smiles, the hugs and yes, even those snot-nosed sloppy kisses. But, I’d be remiss - -and downright dishonest – if I didn’t reveal some of the more trying times that our triplets provide.

For starters, there is the noise. The cacophony of three screaming toddlers (often amplified by their arguing siblings in the background) is sometimes just too much to bear. It gets insanely loud. There is just no more articulate way to put it. It is deafeningly, horrifyingly, maddeningly LOUD! And naturally, when the trio gets going, I’m not usually in my best form. I might be hungry or tired or ornery or stressed out (who wouldn’t be?!) and to my own dismay, often find myself screaming above the din just to be heard. Needless to say, that doesn’t work. You know what worked? The night I took the trash out and didn’t come back. Truth be told, I just didn’t come back as quickly as they expected. I deliberately took out the trash to get away from the noise, to clear my head, to get some fresh air. And I stayed outside long enough to do just that. Long enough to take a few deep breaths, look at the stars, pray for patience and brace myself to address the din inside. It was just a few minutes, less than five, I’d say. But you know what? When I walked in, it was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. This is a strategy that I’d highly recommend – I think it’s why they say “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” – they just forgot to mention that it’s good to go back again!

Then there’s the mess. The “mess” can fall into any number of categories – food (in the form of literally “mashed” potatoes, flying hot dogs, spaghetti face and numerous other iterations), bodily functions (including but not limited to boogies as hair gel, poop as an art form and our home as a “Vomitorium”), toys (ranging from the piercing pain of Legos underfoot to the “wall as canvas” approach to arts and crafts). All of these “messes” are a natural part of having kids – or at least that’s what I tell myself to remain at least partially sane. But, when they are multiplied by three, well, let’s just say that even a Magic Eraser can’t help. Trust me, I’ve tried! Here’s the thing about the messes though – when we first thought about having kids, I had some real reservations – a fair amount of them rooted in the fear of the mess – sticky hands, runny noses, constant drooling – I really didn’t think I was up for any of it. But, it turns out, I am. There have been many things about parenting I didn’t think I was up for (most of it, in fact!) but, the many messes have shown me that learning to roll with it, to accept things as they are, is one of the best things about having kids… whether they arrive one at a time or in a bundle of three!


So, while it’s true that when they are good, they are very very good and when they are bad, they are horrid, Kevin, Declan and Cormac have taught me a lot about myself and that, I have to say, is very very good.

Life with 2 year old triplets: A love story

People often ask what it’s like to have a trio of two-year old tots at home. The short answer is reminiscent of a classic nursery rhyme – when it’s good, it’s very very good but when it’s bad, it’s horrid. Fortunately, while I’ve seen a few horrid glimpses of the “terrible twos”, life in the Lyons Den is for the most part very, very good. It is so good in fact that my husband and I have occasionally remarked we feel sorry for all the folks out there who only got one baby at a time… mind you, that was us (twice!) before we got the surprise of a lifetime and discovered that we were having these three little guys!

Think of all those tender baby and toddler moments that are probably part of your fondest memories… the precious warmth of a snuggly newborn, the infectious belly laughs, the wonder of the first tooth and first step, the humor of the “do it self!” phase of burgeoning independence… now imagine it all times three. All those endearing moments and memorable milestones – imagine them multiplied and intensified by three and that is life in the Lyons Den. Since we're still basking in the afterglow of Valentine’s Day, it seems especially appropriate to focus on all that is very very good… we will save the horrid moments for a later date!

Since he is the firstborn triplet, let’s start with Kevin. With the admittedly unfortunate nickname of KooKooBear, (often shortened to just KooKoo), Kevin is a consistently good natured little fella. We liken him to Winnie the Pooh; this sweet guy started happily humming in his crib when he was about six months old and he hasn’t stopped. He is always singing and never in a hurry. This is a guy with no sense of urgency, just a laidback sweetheart of a two-year old who likes to do things on his own time. A brisk walk to “school” would never occur to him; there’s just no need to move quickly when there are snowplows to watch or birds up above or perhaps a cat across the street. One day this week, my KooKooBear told me I looked like a princess which, of course, melted my heart. Until my husband suggested that he wasn’t actually saying “princess” -- he was saying “pants on.” Whether he was referring to his diaper-clad self or suggesting that I should trade my skirt for pants, I’ll never know. In my mind, I’d much prefer to believe he thinks his mama is a princess. And so I do.

Next there’s Declan, born as “Baby B.” I think Declan (sometimes referred to as “Duckling”) might be a genius. Really. I know every parent thinks their kid is a genius but, let’s face it, I’ve got a lot of kids and if I had to pick just one genius out of the group, it would be Declan. He was the first to roll over, sit up, walk and talk. He has a quiet, introspective side and can often be found on the couch “reading” a book with the “big kids” while Kevin and Cormac are spinning in circles until they fall down dizzy. Our “Duckling” is an avid animal lover and can also be found reclining on Finnegan, our 80-pound lab; he has a certain kinship with Finn and is naturally drawn to animals of all sorts – as am I. Though he can be a tad serious, he’s got a laugh that lights up the room – an infectious laugh that comes from the heart (and belly!), is filled with joy and can make a bad day good. Interestingly, Declan seems to exist on milk and milk alone. He might nibble on a meal now and again but he can down a sippy cup of milk in a minute – often hands-free, which is just another of his firsts. Genius, right?

Last but not least, Baby Mac. Cormac was the smallest of the litter when they were born and from the moment he arrived, seemed determined to defy his “Baby Mac” moniker. When they were newborns and it was difficult to tell them apart (they are identical, after all!), I would tell people that I thought Cormac’s eyelashes were “curlier”. Now, that’s really grasping for straws, isn’t it?! Curlier eyelashes? Who in their right mind would notice such a thing? I now know that what caught my attention; it wasn’t his luscious eyelashes (which all my kids have) but rather, a glint in his eye. You know what I mean… that impish, charming glint matched by a similar impish, charming smile. This is the guy to watch. If we say zig, he zags; if it’s time to go, he wants to stay; if we say no, he wants to play. He is as charming and contrarian and conniving as a little guy can be and he will lead his brothers down the path of destruction if given just the hint of a chance. If asked, he may tell you that he is “KooKoo” or “Duckling” but when you see that glint (and chronically running nose!), you will know it is “Baby Mac.” Ladies, you have been warned. And you should also know that he gives a great hug – a really big, tight, cling-on kind of a hug that can only mean “I love you.”

I am so lucky to have these little Valentine’s in my life; they may be identical but they are each an original and so far, it’s been a delight to watch them grow. And, lest you think I’ve been heavily medicated or just completely lost my mind, tune in again next week for the “horrid” part of the story!

A "Poo Poo" Poem

This is the tale of three tots who were all tucked in
But then started to make quite a loud din
To the room I rushed as they giggled with glee
And what to my wondering eyes did I see?

Three little fellas bouncing up and down
No longer wearing pjs and acting like clowns
Their clothes were off, thrown to the floor
Little did I know what was in store.

On the ground with their pajamas were their blankies and their toys
Chattering and laughing were my little boys
"I have POO POO!" exclaimed one and then another
As each pointed a finger at another brother.

They were still wearing onesies so I wasn't too alarmed
In fact they were cute, working their boyish charms.
I took the first guy out and changed his diaper quickly
When suddenly I noticed something that looked rather sickly.

It was another little fella with a smudge under his eye
"What do we have here?" I thought as I picked up the little guy.
"Poo poo!" he said as he grinned from ear to ear
And I let out a howl that I'm surprised you didn't hear.

"POO POO!" he once more shouted, quite proud of what he'd done
As I wondered once again "who ever said motherhood was fun?!"
"Oh SH*T!" I thought to myself as I took a closer look...
It was under his nails, on his arms and legs and stuck in every nook.

It was on the crib, on the sheets, on the changing table too,
This was not the night I had in mind, I don't mind telling you!
After a bath and a stern little chat back to bed my boy did go,
I think he was bragging to his brothers but I suppose I'll never know.

I do know this and I'm not afraid to admit it,
These guys are really funny -- even when covered in sh*t!  

Whodunnit?!

It was bound to happen. In fact, it has already happened several times with less significant consequences. Me, looking at three identical toddlers, asking these adorable, wide-eyed little boys who is responsible for an array of grievances that range from ripping books to throwing sand. They have mastered the “not me”, “he did it”, finger-pointing, blame averting response like little con-artists in training -- leaving me to wonder, “Geez, they just turned two, what’s next?!”

 Well, I didn’t have to wait long to find out:

Yep, our couch. There was an artsy adventure that apparently included a ball point pen, one (or more?!) of my trio of tots, and our beige couch. This is the couch we got when we were first married; the color was chosen because it would hide the fluffy golden fur of our retriever.  The notion of a dark patterned couch to hide the pen stains of toddlers never even crossed our minds.  Ah, if only we'd known.

In the past eight years, this couch has been chewed by our second dog, baptized by breast milk, christened with newborn spit-up and now permanantly adorned by our budding artiste... or artistes... the only question is, which one?

I will say, one of them had a pen in hand and, since I naturally jumped to conclusions, he was swiftly removed and none too pleased about it:
 

It was then I realized I nothing but circumstantial evidence.  This guy insisted another guy did it and that guy pointed his finger at the third one.  None of these fingers had ink stains and all three tykes were insistent that it wasn't him -- leaving me to simply shake my head, search for the stain stick (wish me luck!) and wonder what will be next.  Stay tuned because I'm quite certain it will be something and, I'm quite certain these three mischievous tots are sharing in the sense of victory that my "not guilty" plea elicted from Suspect Number One:

What does a Mama say?

This weekend, I came up with a pretty ingenious game for our two-year old triplets, if I do say so myself!  Now, we all know that it's tons of fun to ask your tiny tot what various animals say...

What does a cow say?  MOO!  What does a lamb say?  BAA!  What does a duck say?  QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!  What does a kitty-cat say?  MEOW!  What does a lion say?  ROAR! What does a rooster say?  COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!  The rooster has really been my favorite until now.  Until my clever new addition to this age-old game of toddler wits:  What does a Mama say?

Now, with a sassy four year old and a savvy six year old in the house, this question could be answered in a number of unfortunate and unflattering ways...

NO!  Stop it!  Did you hear me?!  STOP YELLING!  Hurry up!  Let's go!  NOW!  Finish your breakfast/lunch/dinner!  Put your shoes on.  NOW!  Don't hit/bite/kick your sister/brother!  Go to your room! NO!  Drink your milk.  NO!  How am I supposed to know where your shoes are?  TIME OUT! Clean up!  NOW!

If only I'd thought of this smart little toddler mind-game when my first two were just tots.  But, as I always say, better late than never.  I am quite proud to have three chirping little cherubs at home who will now (and hopefully for quite some time to come!) answer the question "What does a Mama say"  buy enthusiastically responding "I love you!"  And, since there are three of them, I get "I love you, I love you, I love you!"  I know, it is a bit self-serving but really, nothing beats it.  And, if one of them thinks that a pig says neigh and a horse says oink, well, as long as they know what a Mama says, that's good enough for me! 

Collegiate Day

Last Saturday was our annual “Collegiate Day”. Collegiate Day is my husband’s opportunity to drag us all down memory lane, to his glory days at Fordham and to experience whatever sporting event may be in progress as we stroll the campus with tots in tow. Previous Collegiate Days have been only minimally successful… one time it was raining, one time there was nowhere to park, almost all the time the Fordham Rams have been brutally defeated in the game du jour. But this time was different.

The sun was shining brightly as we pulled into the lot just after 2:00. The parking lot appeared to be full but after the security guard looked somewhat aghast into our overly-stuffed minivan, he kindly ushered us in. As we rolled out of the car and I went to get the strollers (yes, strollers, plural – we typically hit the road with either a double and a single or two doubles) out of the back, I realized we had a made a rookie mistake. The only stroller we had was a single – a single stroller for 2 year-old triplets at naptime and a barely four year old who had nodded off in the car. Not good. But, as it turned out, not so bad either. They all rose to the occasion and the triplets in particular appeared to feel like Big Men on Campus as they strutted their stuff over to the football stadium.


Upon our arrival sometime during the third quarter, the Rams were losing to the Lafayette Leopards but most of our crew could have cared less about the action on the field; they were far more interested in the “big teddy bears”… the mascots of each team who were in turn terrifying and fascinating to all five of our kids. As they made a game of high-fiving the Leopard and the Ram and then hiding behind my legs, things on the field took a turn for the better; Fordham actually won the game in the last thirty seconds (the first such victory during my almost decade-long participation in Collegiate Day!). As the band played on and the players proudly paraded off the field, it was a real Americana moment… there was a crisp breeze rustling the prime fall foliage, just a few wispy clouds in an otherwise azure sky and a prevailing sense of camaraderie and accomplishment as the crowd pushed its way out of the stadium.

We headed over the quad where the bouncy castle had unfortunately been deflated and packed away but the kids were happy enough to toss a ball around and have a few snacks. As we headed back to the car, we remarked that it was “the best Collegiate Day ever.” And then it got even better.


As we dodged and weaved our way through the dusky lot with our stroller-free roamers trying their best to lose us among the parked cars, we happened upon a tailgate in full swing. This was no ordinary tailgate and it was conveniently located just a few spots away from our car. We paused to take it all in while the kids helped themselves to the beanbag toss.  Then we met Mike and Nicole -- the hosts with the most. The first time they asked us if we wanted a beer we refused, “A beer? Now? With all these kids?! Ha! No, no, that wouldn’t be wise. Nope. No way. No thank you.” I mean, it’s not like we were just lamenting all the keg parties on campus that we hadn’t been invited to that night. It’s not like we were almost desperate to top off our nearly perfect day with a perfectly poured pint or anything. Except for that, of course, we were. So we eventually said yes. And much to our amazement, this amazing group of Fordham alum, spouses and kids included us in their formerly private party.

Before I could say “that’s ok, you don’t need to feed all five of our kids dinner”, they had totally set us up… juice boxes and hot dogs for the kids, beer and chili dogs (Chili Dogs! Yummy yummy chili dogs!) for me and Des. They insisted I sit down (There were chairs at this tailgate! And I did sit down!) and, as the kids played in front of the fire (not too close and don’t worry, Mike is one of New York’s bravest), Des and I enjoyed a beer and a memorable moment… the crackling glow of the fire and the pine-scented smoke, the Fordham flag and the American flag, side by side,  slowing waving in the early evening light, the Direct TV (yep, you got it!  They had TV at this tailgate!)that had broadcast the game for this group of avid fans who may or may not have made it into the stadium (a sign of a really good tailgate!), the super-sized grill which boasted a big pot of expertly spiced chili in addition to enough hot dogs to feed the whole football team, and this group of pals who were bound by such memories and were kind enough to include us in their festivities. They even went so far as to honor us with the “Best Newcomers” award – an honor that would indicate that we just may be invited back next year. This Collegiate Day will be hard to beat but, I’d venture to guess that these folks just might be able to do it.