Tuesday Tip: Packing the family for summer vacation

I just realized that I haven't posted in two weeks. TWO WEEKS!  Why?  Well, I suppose one week was so chock full of end of school activities that I hardly had time to breathe (let alone write!) and the following week, our family took a much needed and totally unplugged week off.  Totally unplugged. I was so unplugged that when I returned to work today, the universal greeting seemed to be, "Wow, you really took the week off!  You weren't even on email!" Comments like these completely validated my need for a vacation -- and just might inspire me to start planning the next one.  But, before I do, I thought I'd share some packing tips to help you bring what you need -- and leave behind what you don't -- on your family's summer getaway.

As you might have read, I have officially declared this summer The Summer of Independence.  It's time that our kids started pulling their weight in the most literal sense.  If they want it, they have to carry it.  That's why for our summer vacation, each kid got one bag and one bag only.  One small bag that contained all they needed (and could carry themselves!) for a week at the beach.  In case you're wondering exactly what a kid needs for a week filled with sun and surf, well, it's not much.  This is a lesson I've learned the hard way over many years of overpacking.  Another thing I've learned is that Mother Nature is unpredictable and it's best to have a sweatshirt and jeans or sweatpants (affectionately called "cozy pants" in our house) in addition to the swim basics.  So, in short, here's all you need to know as you plan to pack up and hit the road this summer:

• Less really is more.  Everything our kids needed for a week fit perfectly into the little bags pictured above:
• 2 pjs
• 2 bathing suits
• 2 swim shirts
• 3 pairs of shorts
• 4 t.shirts
• 5 pairs of underwear
• 1 sweatshirt and 1 pair of sweatpants
• 1 foldable rain slicker
• 1 lovey blanket (or a "WaWa" if you ask us!)
• 1 pair of sneakers & socks (Crocs were worn in the car and truthfully, the sneakers were never worn but, if my man Liam had been called into a pickup baseball game, he would've been ready!)
• Toothbrushes/toothpaste/sunblock/shampoo/water bottle (Note: these items were shared -- except the toothbrushes! -- and carried in my bag)

• Laundry is inevitable.  Between the sand, salt, chlorine, sunblock and the possibility of throw up and/or an accident involving gallons of pee, I accepted long ago that a "vacation" does not include a break from the laundry. And that's ok.  If you approach your getaway with this mindset, you'll avoid the overpacking and perhaps even go home with clean laundry! 

• Showers are overrated.  What does this have to do with packing, you wonder?  Well, less showering or bathing means more time swimming.  More time swimming means more time in a swimsuit.  More time in a swimsuit means less time in any other type of clothing -- quite possibly eliminating the need for anything else.  But, should Mother Nature decide to grace you with a cold snap or violent storm, you'll be glad you packed those aforementioned change of clothes!

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!

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.”

Tuesday Tip: Sometimes Daddy knows best

I've been away for a few days now, living out my own "Lucky One" adventure while my dear husband has been manning the fort -- quite literally, I suppose -- since I left on Friday afternoon, artfully juggling five kids, their weekend activities and his responsibilities at work.  Here's what I've learned as I've kept in touch from afar:  sometimes, Daddy knows best. And oftentimes, Mommy makes things more complicated than they need to be.  Here are three great examples:

1. Let them wear what they want.  The weather in the Northeast has hit unseasonable, record highs in the days I've been gone.  And from the photos I've seen, the kids have been thrilled to wear shorts and flip-flops.  And pajamas without tops. Knowing myself as I do, I suspect I would have started a battle about the flip-flops, making the rational argument that it's hard to run/play soccer/get from Point A to Point B when you're a three-year old in flip flops.  And, I would have urged them to wear shirts with their pajamas, for fear they'd catch a chill in the middle of the night. As it turns out, in both cases, I would have been wrong, causing yet another unnecessary fuss.  As it turns out, they wore their flip-flops and lived to tell about it and slept as snug as bugs in a rug, with or without shirts.  Score one for Dad.
2. Leave the luggage at home.  Here's what I usually take a for a typical Saturday involving soccer, baseball and birthday parties:  5 juice boxes, 5 water bottles, about 25 snacks, a change of clothes in case a three-year old triplet piddles in his pants, sunblock, wipes, tissues, Purell and a few BandAids, just in case.  Here's what the Dad packed for his weekend adventures with our tykes: nothing.  Nothing!  Ok, maybe a water bottle for the kid playing soccer but that's pretty much it.  And you know what? They all survived! Score two for Dad. 
3. Roll with it.  Before the breakfast is cleared away, I start to fret about what we'll have for lunch and dinner. Before my coffee is consumed, my mind has planned the minutes of our day -- every day.  The Dad does not work this way.  This can sometimes infuriate this Mom.  But, with some distance between us, I see once again the magic of his ways, the delight of a few unscripted days.  There was impromptu pizza for lunch and a late nap at 4:00.  There was no dinner plan but somehow it all came together.  The kids were happy, clean and fed.  Perhaps not on "my" schedule or in "my" way but, at the end of the day, well, they had a great day.  Several of them in fact. Score three for Dad!

I've learned once again that "my" way isn't necessarily the only way or at times even the "right" way.  This Dad really knows what he's doing.  So much so that this Mom just might start planning her next trip!

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.

A (working) mom's quest for sleep

This week I spent two nights away from home for business.  I only travel occasionally for work so, on the rare occasions I do, it's a bit of a respite.  The preparation is brutal - leaving five kids, a dog and a sweet, tired husband behind for 48 hours is no easy task.  There are meals to be planned, playdates to be confirmed, backpack notes to be written and lists to be made.  But, when all is done and I find myself at 30,000 feet, I have to admit, it's kind of nice to get away.  And the number one reason why is SLEEP.  Hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.

The way I see it, I've been sleep deprived since I first found out I was pregnant in March 2004.  Back then I couldn't sleep because my (extremely small, in fact, completely flat-chested!) boobs hurt.  A habitual stomach-sleeper, I was in total agony and truly stunned that at just a few weeks preggo, I was being robbed of one of my favorite pastimes.  Sleep.  As weeks turned to months, my formerly peaceful slumber was routinely interrupted by trips to the bathroom and extreme discomfort -- between my sore boobs, full bladder and swollen belly, there was no rest for the weary.  And that, of course, was just the beginning.

Having Liam really threw me for a loop.  I'm not a night owl; I'm a morning person.  Liam was the opposite.  Like many newborns, he had his days and nights mixed up... and before I knew it, I did too.  I was a basket case, a walking zombie.  And it only got worse when Ciara was born.  I remember one morning, I went to pick up the dry cleaning and they asked for my phone number.  I stood there, racking my brain, searching in the deepest corners of my mind and could not for the life of me remember my phone number.  When I finally blurted something out, I had to rescind it as I proclaimed with embarrassment, "Oh wait, that's my friend Steph's number!"  

Then came the triplets. Believe me when I tell you, sleep is elusive when you have three babies growing in your belly and a one and three year old still routinely howling in the middle of the night.  As my belly grew bigger, the nights grew longer.  I would wait for sunrise, only to nod off as Liam and Ciara, active toddlers at the time, started clamoring for breakfast.  Perhaps not surprisingly, when the triplets were born, it only got worse.  We were feeding three babies every three hours around the clock while doing our best to provide Liam and Ciara with three square meals a day.  I don't think I'd be exaggerating to say that I didn't get more than 2-3 hours of sleep at a pop for at least three months.

That was three years ago.  Now the triplets are three, Ciara just turned five and Liam is on the verge of turning seven.  They are great kids.  They are great sleepers. But they are still kids.  And there are five of them.  The odds of at least two waking up in the night because "I have to pee," "I lost my WaWa," "My tummy hurts," "I'm thirsty," or "I had a bad dream." is about 100%.  This is why my husband and I now play a little game in the middle of the night.  A little game called "Playing Dead." We are both wide awake, listening to the cries, the sniffles, the coughing, the whining, whatever it may be.  And we lie very very still.  Pretending to sleep.  Keeping our breath shallow and low.  Hoping, praying, yearning for the other one to get up and tend to the tots.  Is this wrong?  This game of Playing Dead? I don't know.  I suspect there are other overtired parents out there who play dead too.  Because they are tired.  Really, really tired.  And that is why, every once in a while, it is really nice to travel for work.  Because I don't need to play dead in the middle of the night.  I am dead. Dead asleep! 

The great debate: Can working moms ever win?

Yesterday I shared some thoughts on my life as a working mom on the New York Times parenting blog, Motherlode.  Under the headline of How She Does It, I sought to answer the question that I -- and many other Moms -- are constantly asked: how do you do it? I answered from my perspective which apparently led some readers to believe that I am either A. a single Mom or B. a self-centered wife who gives my amazing husband Des no credit.  Neither is true.  And the mixed commentary caused me to wonder once again if working moms can ever really win. 

Like most moms, I struggle with the juggle and admit to occasionally dropping the ball, as Lisa Belkin noted in her lead-in to my piece.  There are days -- in fact, even weeks and months -- when I feel like I'm stretched too thin and not doing any of "it" well.  If I'm thriving at work, I'm not spending enough time at home and if my home-life is thriving, then something at work may be sacrificed. While I strive for perfection at home and at work, I've learned let go a little bit, to let things slide, to overlook the Legos in the living room or show up for a meeting in a wrinkled, snot-stained shirt.  Most simply put, I do the best I can, at work and at home, each and every day. 

It's not easy.  We worry about money.  We worry about raising happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids.  We worry about our marriage, about finding time for each other in the whirlwind of our lives. We're aware that our role as parents will get tougher as the kids get older.  We hope when that day comes, I'll have more flexible hours so I can help with homework, shuttle to sports, and truly tune-in to the teenage angst that surely awaits.

But that is then.  This is now.  I work because I have to and feel fortunate that I actually like to.  I can't spend too much time worrying about tomorrow because frankly, it takes all the energy I have just to get through today.  As many Motherlode readers rightly noticed, I don't get through the days on my own.  Des and I are a team.  And a good one at that. Much to our own dismay, we sometimes find ourselves humming that annoying Wonder Pets jingle..."How's it gonna work?  TEAMWORK!" He vacuums, I do the laundry.  I do the grocery shopping, he cooks.  We share childcare duties and are both experts at changing diapers, giving baths, packing snacks, making lunches… the list goes on and on.

Our kids know that they're part of a team too -- and that being on a team requires teamWORK.  They may be young but we want to instill in them a sense of responsibility and a strong work ethic.  That's why at four and six years old respectively, Ciara and Liam make their beds. And although they are not yet three, Kevin, Declan and Cormac know to clear their plates and put books back on the shelves.  It's all about teamwork.  As a husband and wife, Des and I make a great team.  As parents, we have great pride in the little team of Lyons Cubs that we get the pleasure of raising.

It should also be noted that we don't take ourselves too seriously.  We laugh.  A lot.  I often say that life in the Lyons Den is like that old fable... when it's good, it's really really good and when it's bad, it's horrid.  We have really bad, wicked, screaming, crying, temper tantrum, totally losing it, horrid moments.  Doesn't everyone have them?  Given the number of kids we have, we probably have more meltdowns more often than most.  But they pass.  And then we laugh.  And we remind ourselves that no matter how bad it gets, no matter how tired we are, we are lucky to have each other and our five kids are a blessing.

They remind us daily of what's most important. And I know it's not the time in the office but rather, the time we spend together.  I cherish that time.  And I cherish a break from it as well.  And I suppose that's why, for now, I am A-OK with being a working mom.

Summer Concert at the Lyons Den

Tonight was another one of those nights. I left work a few minutes early so I would be home for an important call at 5:30.  I walked in to the typical throngs of little ones looking for an uppie and chattering about their day.  Unfortunately, I promptly dismissed them, ignored their chatter and hid in the bathroom until my call was over at 5:45.  I then reentered the kitchen, kissed them all hello and acted like it was normal to have a mom who is hiding in the bathroom one minute and all love and kisses the next.  My fleeting attention was not lost on them as an unusual evening unfolded.


I had just gotten dinner on the table at 6:00 (gotta love leftover night!) when a few of our neighbors started to filter into the yard.  Then a few more.  "We're here for the concert," they announced.  I had to admit that I had no clue what they were talking about.  Then a few more filtered in.  Then I noticed about ten sippy cups full of water lined up by our back gate and a blue bucket newly and neatly labeled in Liam's handwriting "Money."  I excused myself to go back into the kitchen and ask my five mischievous kids what was brewing.  They erupted into an excited explanation -- "We're having a concert!" "I play drums!" "We made tickets!" "They gave us dollars!" "Gonna sing songs!" "Is dinner over?!"  And so it was that I learned that in the brief window between the last day of school and first day of camp, my five tykes turned into both budding performers and junior extortionists.  


Unsure of how to proceed, I decided that the show must go on.  Dinner could wait.  None of us wanted to disappoint the gathering crowd, each of whom had apparently paid a dollar and was now holding a sippy cup of water.  One of them was wise enough to remark to another "You might not want to drink this, I think it might have come from the hose earlier today."  As Ciara circulated and made sure everyone had "refreshments", Liam was collecting more money while the triplets tottered to and fro.  With an authoritative bang on a pre-school sized drum, the "concert" began -- a cacophony of percussions that included that drum, some maracas, some bells and a good old-fashioned spoon on a Lego box.  It was just the type of "concert" you'd expect from a junior set quintet; it was more noise than music and I was kind of horrified that they had charged folks for the experience.


Don't get me wrong, I would have made them return those dollars even if the performance had been stellar but, I think the kids have a few lessons to learn from their performance art endeavors...

1. Don't take money from friends and neighbors.
2. Practice makes perfect.  
3. Water does not a refreshment make.
4. A mom that hides in the bathroom instead of saying hello when she gets home from work isn't all bad.

In fact, that very same Mom might let you leave your dinner on the table, chuckle at your concert, and then offer up a stroll to town for ice cream.  All because these days between school and camp and summer days in general are far too fleeting and deserve to be enjoyed.  God only knows what tomorrow will bring but for now, I think I've nipped my petite extortionists in the bud. I'd keep your dollars in your pocket though, just to be sure... 

Busy week = less words & more video!

Every once in a while I decide to entertain myself -- and hopefully you -- by writing to the tune of a well-known little ditty.  In that spirit, I share with you the following and encourage you to read with the tune of "Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?" running through your head.

Oh where, oh where has this busy Mom gone?
Oh where, oh where can she be?
A week has past since she posted last,
Oh where oh where can she be?!


To Chicago and back,
New York City as well,
She's oh so tired, looks and feels like hell,
Kids wonder, where can Mom be?!

To amuse you all when my writing does cease
There's new video here for you,
See the nav bar above and widget to right
Great HerChannel videos here morning and night!

Now I can't help but wonder where do the years go?
Oh where, oh where can they be?  
Here's a clip from back then and one from last week,
Hope they amuse you as much as they did me!

In defense of working moms -- this one, anyway!

“How was your weekend?”  It’s a perfectly normal question for folks to ask on a Monday morning.  The thing is, I’m pretty sure they don’t want to hear how my weekend really was.  And that’s ok.  Because the reality is, my weekend – our weekends – are often so exhausting that my husband and I are happy to see Monday morning arrive.  Monday morning means back to work.  A place that while challenging and stressful at times, also affords the opportunity to pee without anyone sitting on your lap and to eat sitting down… both minor indulgences  after 48 hours at home with our five little Lyons Cubs!

As I’ve mentioned in the past, people say a LOT of crazy things to me.  One comment I hear frequently goes something like this… “You have ALL those kids and you WORK too?!   Wow….”  Then they walk away, leaving me to wonder if I’m a terrible person because I have “ALL” these kids and leave them behind for roughly 40 hours a week or if there’s something in my appearance that suggests we are independently wealthy and therefore I don’t need to work.  Given that I’m cruising around in a minivan too beat up to even be called a "swagger wagon" and most of my clothes date from the 90s (at best!), I’m pretty sure it’s not the latter.  And, I know in my heart – and my checkbook! – that it’s not the former either.  Five kids (and one 99 pound dog!) are expensive.  And this past weekend was a real doozie in terms of dollars and sense.  Here’s a rough breakdown…

• Trader Joe’s for groceries                               $170
• Dog to Vet for annual checkup & shots              $175
• Return trip to vet for antibiotics upon discovering dear dog has lyme disease   $275
• Birthday gifts for upcoming parties                   $60
• Oil change and inspection for minivan               $75
• Car #2 to mechanic to repair failing brakes       $175
• 2 cases of diapers                                           $70
• Trip to Urgent Care for 6 year old with presumed pink eye      $50
• Antibiotic upon confirmation of pink eye                                $80
• Spring plants/soil/essentials for backyard clean up                   $100
• Stop & Shop grocery delivery                                                $150

It’s a lot, right?  I don’t have the heart to add it all up but at a glance, a weekend full of essential expenditures (not even including Friday night pizza or a date night!) looks like it’s close to $1000.  Granted, this time around our lovable lab accounts for more than his fair share but, we’re not about to give him up – the entertainment he provides our kids is priceless.  And I don’t think we can give up the diapers yet either although trust me, we’re trying! 

As I assess this list, I’m reminded that my paycheck is pretty important to our bottom line.  And as I assess my aching limbs after a weekend of chasing, lifting, wrestling, battling, tickling, and twirling our kids well, I’m grateful for the time we’ve had together and, I’m glad that tomorrow is Monday!

The Struggle with the Juggle: A working mom's musings and tips

I recently started a new job. It is a good job, a job that I’m really excited about. It’s challenging, it’s interesting and it’s close to home. It checks all the boxes I so carefully identified at the inception of my job hunt. Even so, here I am, less than a month in and once again struggling with the juggling.

 I know I’m not alone here. I know most working moms struggle with the juggle and that these feelings ebb and flow. I’m just suffering from the tidal wave of starting something new. For better or for worse, most folks think I’ve got it all together. “How do you do it?” they ask. “You look so refreshed!” they say, wondering what my trick is. The truth is, I have no trick.  And if I happen to look refreshed, I probably owe it to a good run, a strong cup of coffee or an unusually stellar application of mascara and under-eye concealer!

As we all know though, looks can be deceiving and the reality is that working while juggling five kids isn’t easy. In fact, It’s really hard to explain to my first grader why Mom isn’t there to pick him up at the bus or to my pre-schooler why the nice neighbor across the street will be dropping her off a few days a week. It’s hard the leave my little guys in their cribs with wet diapers as I sail out the door yelling “Sorry guys, gotta run! It won’t be long… I love you!”  And it can be even tougher to walk in from a long day at the office to find five needy souls who are hungry, tired, and just looking for love (and I'm not even counting my poor husband!) -- by that time, I feel the same way. The good news is that the love is there in abundance; the bad news is that dinner may or may not be!

With a new week dawning, I’m making a conscious effort to be a better juggler. I’ve been doing this long enough that I’ve picked up some tips along the way and when I actually follow them, well, none of those proverbial balls will drop. Here they are in no particular order…

Get some sleep! Though I’m often tempted to stay up late on Sunday night to “get ahead of it all”, I find this often backfires and I end up starting the week tired and grumpy – obviously not the best way to start! So, take it from me and try to tuck in early when you can.

Plan ahead. I’m guilty of being not just a planner but,  an avid over-planner. I have to say though, when you’ve got a lot on your plate, planning can be your best friend. I really do try to lay out the kids clothes, pack up lunches and snacks and make a week-long meal plan… this ensures that even if your day is crappy, at least you’ll have something to put on that plate when you get home!

Just say yes to online shopping – groceries, diapers, snow boots and more, I get it all delivered right to our front door!

There, I feel better already. Just knowing that I’ve got some survival tactics in place leaves me ready to take on the week ahead. If you’ve got some tips that help you with the juggle I’d love to know… especially if you could recommend a good under-eye concealer… truth be told, mine just isn’t working as well as it used to!

A Working Mom Once More

Last week it happened, my stay at home sabbatical came to a close. With mixed emotions I said good-bye to my tots and hello to the next phase of my so-called career. While I was (and still am!) excited for the opportunity, it was harder than expected to bid adieu to the more relaxed pace I’d become accustomed to over the past few weeks. Yes, that’s right, I said it was “relaxed” – staying home with my five little “Cubs” was somewhat relaxing as compared to the mad dash back to the rat race.

For starters, there’s the personal upkeep that I now must, well, upkeep! During my days at home, there were occasions when I jumped out of bed, into my running clothes, and stayed that way -- regardless of whether or not I actually ran more than errands. Then there were the days I did actually run a few miles and still stayed in my workout wear. Both scenarios were shower-free and most days were makeup free. Not that I’m proud of it but, it really simplifies the morning routine when showers and mascara are optional!

While the morning exit strategy can be a bit of a challenge, the return to the Lyons Den is often far more dramatic and tonight was about as bad as it gets. Des got home at 5:30, having picked up both groceries and Liam from a playdate. The sitter left at 5:45. I got home at 6:00 to a scene that went something like this…. “Helloooo! I’m home!” followed by “Bye hon, sorry, gotta run, meeting tonight, started to put the groceries away but… ok, see you later!” “I HATE MY DINNER!!” “More milk please!” “I DON”T WANT this dinner!” “No like this dinner!” “I want Daddy!” “Where Daddy go?!” “I WANT DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Confused? Perhaps wondering who said what? Well, I was too. I was also wondering if these were the same sweet cherubs that I’d been so distraught to leave as I went back to work just last week. “Good God!” I thought, “These kids are a NIGHTMARE!!!!!”

Honestly, it was just one of those nights and it went even further downhill after the disaster that was dinner. I always put out the kids' clothes the night before; it really simplifies our morning routine. However, now that Ciara has such strong opinions about what she wears, it really complicates the evening routine. I think I visibly cringed while envisioning the teenage years as she scowled at me tonight “I just DON’T LIKE fancy things and anything that looks good to YOU!” Anything?! Yikes! I was simply suggesting she wear a pair of jeans! Help!

Then, after Liam was tucked in, he got up proclaiming that he needed to change his PJs because he was just too hot. Too hot? It’s like twenty degrees outside and as the resident heat miser, I keep the heat at 64 when I’m feeling charitable so trust me, it was not too hot. As he changed his PJs, he asked me to “put Kirby’s pants on – with the hole in back for his tail, not in front for his pee-pee.” Really, like I thought his bear had a hole for that purpose?! What next? Well, of course, Ciara was now too hot in her PJs even though just the other night she literally went to bed wearing four pairs. FOUR pairs! I kid you not!

Meanwhile, down the hall, the triplets were in their cribs whooping it up. The little fellas who just moments before had taken turns on the potty (admittedly with limited success) had now filled their diapers with such a stench that it literally stopped me in my tracks. After changing three nasty poops, helping Ciara put PJs on her doll and convincing Liam that Kirby’s pants were indeed on properly, I wearily headed downstairs to get myself some dinner.


It was about 9:00 when I wandered back up, expecting to find five sweetly snoozing Lyons Cubs. Alas, it was not to be. While Liam and Ciara were in the Land of Nod, Kevin, Declan and Cormac had taken their kickin’ crib party to the next level. I found them wearing nothing but unsnapped onesies with a mountain of discarded items in the middle of the room -- pjs, blankies, books, toys… and DIAPERS!!!!! Wow. Did I ever lose it. Especially when I noticed that two of three cribs were soaked with pee. Not a good way to end the day although, nights like these do make it a bit easier to kiss them good-bye in the morning!

A Working Mom's Stay at Home Sabbatical

I recently took a few weeks off between jobs. I was burned out, needed a break and really yearning for some quality time with our little Lyons Cubs. Having only known the life of a WM (Working Mom), I always wondered what it would be like to be a SAHM (Stay At Home Mom).  I officially joined the workforce as a gift-wrapping teenager back in the 80’s and since then, my only time off has been maternity leave… nine weeks when Liam was born in 2004, sixteen weeks when Ciara was born in 2006 and twenty weeks when the triplets were born in 2008.

I had mixed emotions about my maternity leaves… perhaps because I had mixed emotions about motherhood. With Liam, I was petrified of this little human that I had no clue how to care for; I was honestly surprised that they thought me capable enough to send us home from the hospital together!  With Ciara, I just couldn’t imagine how I’d juggle this sweet little rosebud of a newborn with the always active almost two-year old that Liam had become. And with the triplets, well, needless to say, I was completely overwhelmed!

As any WM knows, a maternity leave is far from the blissful break some folks suggest it may be. It is a daunting time full of sleep deprivation, dirty diapers, saggy body parts and for me, an occasional sense of isolation. I never thought that having a baby (or three!) could be a lonely experience but it was. It was very lonely to be awake with a hungry newborn at 3:00AM with swollen boobs that just wouldn't work. Or mid-day when my pals were out having fun and I was home with a crying soul I was trying so hard to understand. Of course, these feelings are not the sole territory of the WM, I’m quite certain that SAHMs experience the same range of emotions from fear to anxiety to yes, even the wonder of it all. Because it is indeed a wonder -- the fact that your body produced this little person (or, in my case, people!) who stare into your eyes with such adoration… I'd like to think it was adoration although, I know quite well those meaningful glances could have certainly just been gas!

My point is that any time I’ve ever taken off from work has been filled with the sleepless nights and unpredictable days of infancy. So, taking a few weeks “off” to be a SAHM with three two year olds, a four year old and six year old was a completely different – and dare I say, much better – experience!

My stay at home sabbatical has been a dream come true. In a way, it was kind of a test… can I really juggle all these crazy kids without escaping to the grown-up work world that I’m accustomed to? Will l like it? Will I still like them? Will they still like me? These are the questions that ran through my head as I embarked on my six week stay at home. And, in short, the answers are yes, yes, yes and thankfully, yes!

I was finally able to participate in the many activities that I know (from a very good friend!) get to be a drone for the full-time SAHM but were a thrill for me… the preschool pick up and drop off, the meet and greet at the school bus, the ability to go to the pediatrician in the middle of the day, the chance to take some kids to the grocery store, host playdates, pick up from CCD and dream up random things to do – many of which focused on cooking or baking so, I fear this stay at home sabbatical has resulted in a slightly rounder me but, c’est la vie! I’ve loved every minute of it. And I’m prepared to admit that perhaps the reason why is because I always knew it would be short-term.

I always knew I was going back to work; it was just a question of when. These past few weeks have essentially been a maternity leave without the sleep deprivation, isolation and post-pregnancy hormone horrors. It was like a dream come true to have this break and, like most dreams, it is coming to an end. I will soon cross the line and head back to the place I know best, back to my role as a WM. I am truly grateful for the time I’ve had – for baking cookies, playing in the snow, walking the triplets to school, taking Ciara to gymnastics, meeting Liam at the bus, finding the time to quietly read to them all, cooking dinner without the post-work angst and mayhem, snuggling in PJs on weekdays, all of it. It has been stellar; it has truly been a gift.

And, it has helped me to see that the grass really is always greener on the other side… I now know what I have as a WM that I wouldn’t as a SAHM. Beyond benefits and financial stability, working gives me the opportunity to pee when I want to and to eat a whole sandwich without sharing, if I so desire. It gives me intellectual stimulation and constant adult conversation that rarely wanders into the land of potty-training or discipline.

Thanks to my stay at home sabbatical, I will no longer wonder “what if” because now I know -- I am glad to have a career and even gladder to know that should it all come crashing down, I have five little people at home who will always be glad to have a SAHM.

Barbershop Triplet

Last week, I once again suffered the "woe is me" travails of a working mom. As usual, I tried my best to be buttoned up before I left, especially since it was a longer than usual trip for me – three nights away from home and a whirlwind tour of the Midwest: Pittsburgh, Cincinnati and Milwaukee in less than 72 hours. In preparation, I left the laundry clean, the fridge stocked, the dinners planned and notes about camp activities posted on the bulletin board. Even so, Ciara showed up with only a ponytail for “silly hat day” and Liam was sporting his typical shorts and t-shirt for “pajama day”… who thinks of these things anyway?! It wasn’t the lack of hats and PJs that got to me though – it was missing the triplets first haircut that really put me in a tailspin.


In fairness, Des and I had talked about it. I had become unusually attached to the sweet ringlets draping down their necks and the surfer dude bangs that hung over their eyes. Even my grandmother – their great-grandmother – remarked that they looked a bit like girls and a haircut was long overdue. This was the last bit of ammunition Des needed to sharpen the scissors (actually, to buy a professional grade barber set!) and plan a cutting party in my absence.



When I called home on Tuesday night, the soundtrack on the other end of the line wasn’t exactly reassuring. Don’t get me wrong – everyone sounded jolly enough and my Mom and Dad had even showed up for the grand clipping. It was when my Dad said “don’t worry, we improved with each job!” that I really started to get concerned. “Did you take the Flip video?”, I asked. “Um, well, we tried, but, um, I don’t think it came out, I mean it didn’t really work, um, we have some good video of them afterwards, I think.” my Dad said rather sheepishly. “Did you take pictures?! Are there any pictures?!” I asked desperately. Then Des got on the phone. “Well hon, we thought you’d be able to pull the pictures from the Flip and well, that didn’t really work out so well. Trust me though, they look much better – and, like your Dad said, we really did get better with each kid!”



So, as I sat alone in a hotel room in Milwaukee wondering if my dear sweet babies now looked like skinheads, I had not a single photo to assuage my fears. To the contrary, I had mounting dissatisfaction about the current state of affairs. I hated their haircuts and I hadn’t even seen them yet. I just knew I didn’t like them. How could I? I had wrapped up a fairly formidable amount of emotional baggage in those reddish-blonde ringlets.



For starters, I was frankly just pissed that I was once again away for work and missing something – anything – in our kids’ lives. Silly hat day, pajama day, woke up on the wrong side of bed day, whatever. Things were happening and I was missing out. And it ticked me off. Far more substantially though, is the passage of time that the ringlet removal marks. This is it. Simply put, these guys are the end of the line for me – there will be no more babies and there will be no more first haircuts. Those sweet little curls have somehow grown (far too long, ok, I admit it!) to represent the last days of baby-dom. As go the curls, so too goes the ability to truly call them babies. They are now officially toddlers, tykes, little boys. And, while this in many ways represents a triumphant turn (we’ve survived!), it is also bittersweet. Bye bye babies and hello little fellas. So long snugglers and welcome wayward wanderers. Such is life, I suppose, And, it’s not necessarily a bad thing; I realized when I finally got home that it’s not so bad at all. Those babies have turned into little guys that sit up in their cribs and squeal “MAMA, MaMa, Mama!!!!” with delight. And, I must say, with the new haircuts and all, I am equally delighted to see them.

NOTE:  For reasons that are obvious if you've just read this post, the pictures above are the "before"... stay tuned... the "after" pics will surely follow...