We have visions of long family walks while the sun warms our backs; of tending to the garden and nurturing new plants to life while our brood frolics around us; of lazy afternoons on the patio soaking up the sun.  And then reality sets in.  As lovely as spring can be, in our house, it’s more like Extreme Parenting, Spring Sports Edition.  In short, it is a nightmare.

For starters, when you’re watching a soccer practice at 9:30 AM or a baseball game at 5:30 PM, what little sun there is lacks the power to warm your back. Or anything else for that matter. It is freezing out!  Especially when your heavy coat and sweaters have been packed away.

There is simply no time for walks or gardening or soaking in the sunshine when you look at the calendar for Saturday and need to determine how you can be at the Girl Scout Cookie pick-up at 9:00, soccer at 9:30, hip-hop at 9:30 and baseball at… 9:30!  Reality check: you can’t!  And your kids can’t either. For ages you’ve known that a clone would be a good thing for you. For all moms.  In fact, I’ve even suggested the notion of a “sister wife” to my husband — just another gal around the house who would be my pal around the house and help out as needed — car pools, laundry, shuttling kids and equipment to and fro… and if she occasionally “helped” my husband out too well, that’s fine by me because the reality is, this spring schedule is exhausting!  But I digress…

The spring sports schedule has me thinking that even our kids need clones.  How else can they be at the baseball practice and soccer game?  At lacrosse and hip-hop?  It’s just not right.  I’ve always prided myself on “just saying no” and not overscheduling our children but I fear this spring has done me in — so much so that I am already looking forward to next winter, when the days are short, the activities are few and I dream of curling up by the fire… a fire which, for the record, we only lounged by a handful of times this past winter but even so, a girl’s gotta dream.  I just never thought those dreams would include a sister wife and a fireplace!

Here are my Top 5 signs you’re not on vacation anymore — any you’d add?

• I never thought I’d be glad for a school break because it meant I’d have time to put the laundry away but, it’s true.  Then, our clean clothes were in drawers; now they are in baskets.  And there they will likely stay until they get worn, washed and put back in the basket.  If they get washed at all.  There’s a good chance our clothes  won’t see the inside of a drawer until the next school break.  Good thing for all those hand-me-downs!
• Dinner is planned before breakfast is consumed.  During the vacation week, we just rolled with it.  One night we had pizza and “make your own sundae” night.  Another, we made a last minute decision to take the crew out for Mexican.  Now, it’s back to defrosting meat before the coffee pot even perks up for the day. It’s hard enough to face my own thighs some mornings but chicken thighs before sunrise can be a tough way to start the day!
• Bedtime is at 8:00. Sharp!  While the kids were off from school, we hung out well past their usual bedtimes.  There was extra “kid TV”, movie night and a strong likelihood to honor the requests for “one more book!”  Now, it’s a 50 yard dash to the bunk beds as soon as the sun starts to drop in the warm spring sky.  “Brush your teeth! Go to the bathroom! Go to bed! NOW! Good night!!”  And the door is shut, the lights are out, and the work begins — house work, office work, all the things that we let slide while they were on vacation. I have to say, I’m missing the “kid TV” and “one more book!”
• Activities and Sports and Playdates oh my!  It feels like someone shot the starting gun at about 6AM on April 1st, which was their first day back in school.  It was also the day that lacrosse, baseball, soccer and everything other spring activity you can imagine started in full swing, leaving me to wonder if perhaps I am the April Fool?  What are we doing?!  Racing here, racing there, grab your helmet, where are your cleats, get your water bottle, and on and on.  Truth be told, they seem to thrive on it but I am already ready for a vacation!
• Rise and Shine has reverted to Rise and Whine.  Need I say more?

We spent the greater part of that week off close to home (and 48 hours in Philly, which I will share highlights of at a later date!) and still the transition back to our regular routine was a tough one.  I imagine it would have been even tougher had we actually really taken a vacation and returned with piles of laundry — see?  With five kids, it’s really all about the laundry!  Speaking of which, I need to go do some!

As we faced their teachers across the pint-sized desks, we were delighted to learn our kids are both doing really well.  Sure he can be a bit sloppy or she could try a little harder but the reality is, they are doing it all — reading, writing and arithmetic.  And, even more importantly, they are kind, respectful and well-liked.  Gotta say, my husband and I were high-fiving each other as we left those little desks and skipped out the door.  Something is working — between the kids, their teachers and us, things seem to be moving along in the right direction and that deserves some recognition and celebration. So, how did we celebrate?

For starters, we went on a bit of a shopping spree.  Just me, Liam and Ciara, both of whom wear a lot of hand me downs and both of whom were THRILLED to pick out brand new sneakers, socks and underwear.  Really.    They were so excited they called my sister to tell her and raced into the house to tell their Dad and little brothers.  How cool is that?!  The kids were happy to get new underwear for a good report card! I plan to treasure this moment — this sheer delight– because I know it will pass and they will soon be looking for an i.Touch, which they will not be getting!

We then went out to dinner.  TGI Fridays.  Where else can you get dinner for a crowd our size for less than a hundred bucks?  With ice cream sundaes included?!  Once again, they were thrilled.  And I was too.  They felt special. Recognized. Appreciated.  And, with the haste with which we speed through life, I fear I don’t make them feel that way as frequently as I should.  That is why even the small moments are worth celebrating — worth taking the time to make the time count and the memories last.  I’m not sure about the kids but, I’m really looking forward to the next round of good report cards so we can do it all over again!

1. Have a plan and stick to it.  Know what’s for dinner before you walk in the door.  In fact, you would ideally know what’s for dinner before you walked out of the door in the morning; that way, you can have much of it prepped and, if the sitter can simply pop it in the oven, that’s all the better!  Tonight I was home alone with all five kids and have to admit, I was the worst offender as it relates to the rumbling belly, short temper and overall exhaustion.  What saved the day?  Knowing that dinner was as easy as warming up left-over pork chops, microwaving some rice and serving up some pepper sticks and carrots.  Was it gourmet?  No. But it did the trick.  It went down in a jiffy and we all made it ’til Tuesday without falling back on mac & cheese or chicken nuggets.  Yay us!
2. Have a routine and stick to it.  In our house, it’s a quick dash from dinner to pjs.  The quicker they hustle out of their clothes and into their pajamas, the more time we have for reading and snuggling, which is a favorite part of everyone’s day. Here’s our routine:  eat dinner; kids clear their plates; kids with clean plates get dessert; after dessert, kids put on pajamas, put dirty clothes in hamper, brush teeth, pee, read books, pee again and then it’s lights out.  Typically by 8:00.  Is our routine flawless?  Absolutely not!  But, everyone knows what is expected of them and, we all are motivated by the reward of a few extra minutes snuggled up with heads on shoulders and feet entwined as stories are read and tales of the day are shared — which, thankfully are part of the routine!
3. Put the kids to work.  See bullet #2.  They clear the table. They put the dirty laundry where it goes.  And yes, I nag them.  A lot.  Too much some might say.  But, eventually they get it – a few plates will get broken and clean clothes might end up in the hamper but, it’s a small price to pay for a bunch of kids who pitch in, understand their roles and responsibilities and, perhaps most importantly, take a few things off of your list!

Is it a perfect system? Nope.  But is there anything about parenting — or for that matter, children — that’s perfect?  I don’t think so.  I think we all just do the best we can each and every day.  A plan helps. A routine helps.  Having kids help helps.  When all is said and done, I just hope mine remember the extra moments we spent snuggling more than those angry rants when I first walk in the door from work!  See?  I told you.  Far from perfect.  But, a-ok.  And that’s good enough!

Time to go!

It’s a universal challenge:  getting out of the house in the morning on time — ideally with your children in tow, snacks packed, shoes tied, coats on, teeth brushed and hair combed.  It was hard when we had one tiny tot. It was harder when we had two.  Now that we have five, well, it’s not easy but, we’ve learned from our mistakes and, in the spirit of sharing, hopefully you can too!

• Wake up earlier.  It’s painful but trust me, it works.  We made two mistakes in this category. First, we often hit snooze until a baby cried and demanded our attention; at that point, it is too late. You’re already behind the 8-ball.  An early rise is critical to the success of our morning mission.  It allows us to literally be one step ahead of the little people — which is where you need to be if you’re going to drag them out the door on time.  The second mistake we made was letting them sleep in; after years of being told “never wake a sleeping baby”, it seems counter-intuitive to do just that but, you must.  They need time that transition time from the land of nod to the day ahead and the more time you allow them, the less hustling and bustling and screaming and yelling there will be. Trust me on this!
• Prep the night before.  Make the lunches. Pack those snacks. Put out the clothes. Pack the backpacks. Sign the forms.  Write the notes.  Set the shoes by the door. Locate the gloves, hats and mittens.  It’s not fun but it’s a lot less fun to tackle these tasks with whining tots and as tempers rise and the time ticks away in the morning.  And, whatever you do, don’t forget to set the coffee maker!  What the heck – you may even want to pick out an outfit and pack lunch for yourself!
• Let them “do it self!“  Kids love to help. So, put them to work!  A toddler can find his shoes and put them by the door.  A kindergartener can pop a snack into her backpack.  And a third-grader can and should be responsible for neatly packing up his homework and picking out clothes for the next day.  So, let them.  It will ease the burden on you, make them feel great and teach an important lesson about responsibility along the way.

I suppose last but not least, allow room for error.  You know what they say about the best-laid plans right?   Well, the morning routine is no exception and sometimes you just need to roll with it.  Sometimes you are going to be late.  And that’s ok.  That’s when it’s good to remember one of my mantras, for better or worse, better late than never!

• If the weather outside is frightful, take in a museum.  Check their schedules first to confirm their hours and policies regarding kid necessities like strollers, diaper bags and snacks.  We were recently caught off-guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art when I was told I had to check my backpack — aka “snack pack.”  If you’re in the NY metro area, a better choice for kids is the Museum of National History or, if you have truly tiny tots, try The Children’s Museum of Manhattan, which has hands-on activities and can be tackled in a few hours before the next nap — the kids or yours!
• If the weather outside is delightful, take in the great outdoors.  Go for a hike. Or sledding.  If your kids are old enough, check out a local ski mountain.  We’ve found that smaller spots off the beaten path often offer great value and friendly service.  A few of our local favorites include Thunder Ridge and Tuxedo Ridge.   If you’re willing to hop in the car for a few hours, do NOT go to Hunter or Windham (too crowded!); instead, point your car toward the Berkshires and head to Butternut or Catamount.Other ways to enjoy the crisp, cool winter air include visiting local farms or even exploring the zoo in the off season.  We did both over the long MLK weekend and would highly recommend Stone Barns, where we collected freshly laid eggs or the Bronx Zoo, which is a delight in the off season, offering a front row seat to seal feedings and polar bear sightings.
• Take a nap.  Really.  Why not?  If you’re kids are small, do your best to follow that old adage to sleep when they sleep.  If the kids are bigger, you can sneak in a snooze while pretending to catch up on the latest Phineas & Ferb with them. If you ask me, part of the joy of a long weekend is togetherness.  And, one of the best ways to be together is to snuggle in, cozy up and nod off.  No rushing. No schedules.  Just an extra day to luxuriate in each other.  Inside, outside or on the couch!

Water makes a body happy... and digestion work!

When I was a little girl, I used to follow (or possibly chase!) my grandparents’ dog around chanting, “Drink your water puppy!  Drink your water puppy!”  I also thought this particular dog — a regal Irish Setter named Barney — was a pony and as such, I would often try to ride him.  That dog hated me.  But, to this day, my parents and grandparents still remind me of my little chant.  I suppose it was memorable.  Or, more likely, extremely annoying!  Now that I’m a parent myself, I’m sure the sing-songy, relentless voice of a kid stuck on repeat saying “Drink your water puppy!” wasn’t exactly music to the ears! With that said, I think I was on to something.  At a very early age, I apparently recognized how important it is to “drink your water” and today, I am singing that same little chant to the little people in our house.  And if I had a puppy, I’m sure I’d remind him too.  Why?  Because I’ve learned the hard way what happens when your children don’t drink enough water.  They don’t poop.  And that, my friends, is no good at all.

Of our five children, at least three have had problems in this area.  When they were babies, it was worrisome but typically a little Vaseline up the rear (try it, it really works!) would do the trick.  When they were toddlers, it was time-consuming and we often chalked it up to the perils of potty training.  “It’s going to take some time,” we told ourselves as we waited and waited for the poop to arrive.  And, eventually, it did.  (If you added up all the hours, I’ve probably spent years of my life being held hostage by a small person on a big potty who just “needs one more story” in order to poop!)  When they get to grammar school, it gets a bit more concerning.  When you realize your kid hasn’t pooped in a week and the nurse calls to inform you that “he says his stomach really hurts and frankly, I think there’s a gas problem,” it’s time to go to the doctor.  Sure, maybe you would have gone to the doctor sooner but honestly, with five kids, a dog and a job, I’m just doing my best to make it through any given day and can’t really keep a tally on who is pooping when — until the nurse calls, which brings me back to my point.

We finally go to the doctor.  We are asked about our diet, which I’ve always thought is pretty good.  “Do you eat a lot of vegetables?” Yes. “Fruit?” Yes.  “Fiber?” Yes. “Water? Do you drink a lot of water?”  Um, uh, well, you see…. Huh.  That would be a no.  When did I forget?  Why didn’t the water bottles that come home from school full not set off any warning bells?!  How did I miss the fact that they drink nothing at breakfast?  (For the record, it turns out that milk in the cereal doesn’t count!) As it turns out, our kids are a lot like Barney.  The aforementioned dog, not the purple dinosaur.  They need water! Lots and lots of water.   Eight glasses a day.  It’s not just for dewy skin and healthy hydration, it’s to keep things moving in there!  Who knew?  Maybe you did.  Apparently I did too.  But I forgot. And have now been reminded once again… and, after my first experience administering and enema to “jumpstart the system”, I won’t be likely to forget!

When the triplets were born, we had an Acura MDX — the nicest car I will ever own.  That car was a decision we toiled over for months before we bid adieu to our beloved Jetta and bonjour to Bebe #2 so, saying good-bye was a bit traumatic.  But, six brutal weeks of putting our toddlers in through the trunk while our triplets were jammed into a too-tight second row and our strollers were left on the curb forced our hand.  Bon voyage lovely Acura and bonjour… what? What would we drive?  How would we transport our brood from Point A to Point B with five car seats safely anchored and enough room in the trunk for a double and triple stroller… not to mention the other stuff that often filled our trunk — the pack and plays, portable high chairs, diaper bags, blankies and other assorted necessities of those first few years?

We thought about this:

But then realized that A. I could never park it and B. even if we could afford the stylish Stryker, we could never afford the gas.  That same logic applied to the Suburban and other oversized SUVS — pricey gas guzzlers that were bound to lead to some in-transit mishaps.  Standard wagons — the Suburu Outback or Ford Flex — were just too small.  Much to our own admitted dismay, it turned out that the minivan, or as we prefer to think of it, the Swagger Wagon was just right:

If you don’t recall the Swagger Wagon commercials from a few years ago, you should really click that link, check it out, and prepare to laugh.  It’s awesome.  And, as it turns out, so is our minivan.  While the famed (or infamous?) Swagger Wagon was a Toyota, ours is a Honda.  Do I LOVE to drive it? Well, no.  But really, is there anything anyone would LOVE to drive while five tots bicker and battle in the backseat?  I don’t think so.

The minivan gets us from Point A from Point B with all our kids — and crap — in tow. And, for those of you who may be wondering, how did we “tow” our five tiny tots when we finally reached our destination?  We had a few options:

• The double and triple stroller OR…
• For shorter outings, two double strollers and our “big boy” would walk OR …
• Two double strollers, one with our two toddlers, one with two triplets and then the third triplet strapped to us in a Baby Bjorn

Did swaggering and strolling around town with five kids under five draw a few glances? Raise a few eyebrows?  Cause suspicion that we’d raided a daycare center?  Sure it did!  But, from the moment I first peed on a stick that turned blue (or pink? whatever it turned to indicate “your preggers!”), my husband and I were committed to “have baby, will travel.” And, having three babies didn’t change a thing.  Except, of course, the car we traveled in and the apparatus we had to drag along with us!

Well, I’m watching it all fade away and, as most parents would agree, it’s happening way too fast. Our firstborn recently turned eight.  We’ve long kidded around when his pants are too short or his shoes are too tight that “I told you stop growing!  Geez, don’t you ever listen?!”  Thankfully, in this case, he doesn’t.  He is bigger, smarter and sending some strong signals that he is officially a big kid now.  Here are a few of those signals from the past few weeks:

• “Hey Ma, why does Santa leave amazon boxes in garage?”  Need I say more? And could you pass me a tissue?
• On a lighter note and indicative, I believe, of pre-pubescent boy humor, “Hey Ma, I just farted!” Or “Ma, smell that? It was me!”  Is it unusual that my husband still makes such proclamations? Minus the “Ma”, of course.  What is it with boys/men and farts?!  Whatever it is, it is in my house and it does not smell good!
• “I want a bacon cheeseburger. NOT from the kids’ menu!”  Whoa. Bacon? Cheese? And when did a slider become inadequate for a meal?  What’s with this full sized portion?!  Oh. It’s a budding full-sized person. And, it’s hungry.  Always hungry!
• “Nothing.” As in, “what did you do in school today?” or “what did you do with Ryder today?” or “what are you reading?”  It was when I asked “what’s on your nose?” and he replied “Nothing,” while turning his head shyly away that I realized we’re at a real turning point.  It might be a pimple. It might not be. But, it has made him self-conscious.  With me! His mom!  What’s up with that?!

As he continues to grow and I continue to marvel at it all and wish I could bottle up my little boy forever, I am reminded once again of my mission: to make sure I guide that self-consciousness toward self-confidence.  He’s remarkably confident when farting (come to think of it, maybe we should cut back on those burgers!) so I’m optimistic we can bottle that emotion (though not the stink!) – hopefully with a minimum of inevitable growing pains for all involved!

NOTE: This post originally appeared on Moonfrye -- one more outlet where you can find my weekly musings on motherhood!

Last Thursday night I walk talking to my parents and boasted, “I think this is the week!  Five for five!  I think we may actually have all five kids in school for ALL five days for the first time since before Thanksgiving!”  Then on Friday morning, our pale eight year old appeared in the kitchen, dropped to the floor, grabbed his stomach and moaned in pain. “It hurts Mom! It really hurts!”

I took his temperature. Nothing. He tried to throw up. Nothing. His tummy just hurt.  A lot.  But, given the lack of fever and vomit and my hellbent ambition to fulfill my “five for five” week (not to mention my desire to show up to work on time for a change!), I sent him off to school with toast in hand and the reassurance that if it really really hurt, he should go to the nurse and I’d be there to pick him up in a heartbeat. So, at 10:15 the nurse called and I was. So much for “five for five!”  And so began yet another weekend where the Lyons Den took on the air of an infirmary.

I’m not one to run to the doctor but even I had to admit defeat last week when my pals at work told me how crappy I looked (even on the day I got all fancy and used tinted moisturizer!) and started to call me “the Germ.”  The poor guy who sits down the hall from me was blasting his music just to drown out my  sniffling and nose-blowing — which is admittedly un-ladylike and loud. Really loud. Like a foghorn.  I finally decided enough was enough and sought medical treatment. It turns out that with a sinus infection, my hardcore “this too shall pass” mentality doesn’t work.  Thankfully, antibiotics do!

I share this because it dawned on me on Saturday that one of the triplets has been asking me to take him to the doctor for weeks.  Weeks!  He does lean toward the dramatic but, when I think back, I realize he was the ONLY kid who didn’t make it to the pediatrician during the long, sick month between Thanksgiving and Christmas –  those frenzied four weeks when we had at least two kids home sick from school daily. For real.  It was awful.  And this poor kid got lost in the fray. Has his nose been running? Sure. Thick green boogers? Sure. Fever? Well, not persistently but perhaps on again, off again.  “PLEASE Ma,” he pleaded on Saturday, “please can I go to the doctor?!”  And as we ran from errand to errand, to practices and parties, I told him “yes, tomorrow.”

That night, he was a real pest. A major whiner. And he refused to eat his dinner so, like any good parents, we forced him to.  As we tucked him that night — his very first night with his  brand new “big boy comforter,” he asked again, “tomorrow will you take me the doctor?” And I said yes. Then I got all sappy and sentimental as I looked at our triplets, tucked into their big-boy bunk beds with brand new comforters they could feasibly bring to college.  I went to bed pining for the baby days that have passed us by and not quite ready for the wonder years that lie ahead.  At some point in my slumber, I heard a muffled sound. “I think someone barfed,” I told my husband who was pretending to sleep.

I listened more closely. There was a cough, a snuffling nose, a quick cry. Then silence. So I rolled over and returned to the Land of Nod. Big mistake.  As the sun rose on Sunday morning, I discovered my top-bunk boy bedded down in barf, literally covered with the remains of the dinner we forced him to eat. Unfortunately, it was pasta and meat sauce.  Unfortunately, it was all over him and that brand new big boy comforter.  I don’t need to describe in detail the odor or how gross it was to clean up the mess in the top bunk; I will suffice it say that I had to shake the sheets out in the yard before washing them. It was that bad.

So, who knows.  Maybe those comforters won’t make it to college after all.  But, that boy sure did make it to the doctor. At long last!  In considering the past few weeks, I’ve spent more time at the pediatrician than in my bed and more money on doctor’s visits and prescriptions than groceries.  My pals at work have wondered aloud, “how do you do it?!”  And I resort to my standard answer, my North Star, “one day at a time.”  And then I remind myself that this too shall pass. And quickly.  This winter is long but this year, like those before it, will undoubtedly pass far too fast.  And when it does, I won’t miss the barf-covered bunks or sobbing sick children but, I’m sure the day will come when I do miss feeling so needed, so necessary and so vital to their well-being.  That’s a feeling I’d like to hold on to — one that I hope will never pass.