Meet Finnegan.  Finnegan is a “Glab”… that would be a Golden Retriever/Lab mix, for those of you who were wondering.  Probably much in the same way I was wondering what the hell a “glab” was when I returned home from work one day about six years ago to find this message on our answering machine:  “Hello, this is the Guiding Eyes for the Blind calling to let you know that your Glab is ready for pick up this weekend.”

Seriously?!  We had put our name on the Guiding Eyes waiting list for “released” dogs just a few months before with the understanding that it typically took years before the perfectly trained dog of our dreams failed the final test and became our ideal second pet.  That’s right, our second pet.  At the time, we lived in a one bedroom apartment in the city with Murphy, an 85-lb. fluffy golden retriever with a heart of gold.  We thought it would be nice for Murph to have a pal around as he entered his golden years but at the same time, we were thinking of starting a family and couldn’t see how we were going to fit Murphy, our baby-to-be and this “Glab” in our overly cozy living quarters.

When I returned the call, I learned that this Glab was not, in fact, fully trained with the impeccable manners one associates with a guide dog but rather, was an 8 week old clumsy pup that had essentially failed his entrance exam.  He “lacked confidence” they said as they assured me he’d be a great family pet.  Never one to resist the allure of a pudgy pup, I convinced Des that the right thing to do was to go get this Glab. It was meant to be, I said.  There will never be a good time to get a second dog so, why not now?  Plus, if we didn’t rescue this timid creature who was already a failure at only 8 weeks old, who knew what kind of a fate would await him?!

I’ve often said that I lost more sleep when Finn was a pup than when Liam was a newborn.  He was the puppy from hell.  Once he met us, he became one of the most confident dogs around and we’ve always been convinced that he flunked that Guiding Eyes test on purpose because he didn’t want to work for a living.  He drove poor old Murphy crazy and drove our neighbors crazy too.  When we’d crate him for the night, he’d cry and howl until we set him free.  Once free, he feast on non-edibles that included a pair of brand new  glasses, refrigerator magnets and a ballpoint pen — the pen incident was especially tragic since he left a blue ink trail across our brand new rug and, rather astonishingly, had blue poop for about a week.

Fast forward to today… Finn is still a bit of a spaz but you couldn’t wish for a better family pet.  When Liam was born, Finn would rest his head on the bassinette watching over him.  When Ciara was born, he’d spend his afternoons snoozing protectively in front of her crib.  And when the triplets were born, well, I think he finally met his match!  These babies have spent last year drooling on him, biting him, pulling his fur out, climbing over him, yanking his tail, “patting” him and trying to ride him.  Finnegan takes it all in stride, calmly accepting the “attention” that’s bestowed upon him. I suppose the babies have a symbiotic relationship with Finn; he tolerates their somewhat abusive behavior they let him eat off their high chairs.  A fact that I’m not necessarily proud of but what can I say, it helps with the clean up!

Finn seems to have a special kinship with Declan but all five kids adore him.  Liam likes to walk him, Ciara likes to feed him, the babies think he’s one of them and it all just reinforces how lucky we are to have given this “Glab” a home — he has truly lived up to the billing of “man’s best friend” in our little Lyons Den.

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Although they are only a year old, our little Cubs are making their presence known and it is already painfully clear that there are far too many cooks in our kitchen! Dinner at our house, like dinner in most houses, is a chaotic time of the day… especially during the week. Here’s a typical weeknight scenario:


5:45 I get home from work


5:46 The babysitter runs for the train… like a bat out of hell, if I do say so myself!


5:47 I find myself literally pulled to the floor, under attack by five snot-nosed kids, all of whom are tired, hungry and in desperate need of attention. As I try to squeeze all of them onto my lap, they are knocked off by Finny, our very own big red dog, who then plunks his 80-lb rear right onto my dry-clean-only pants. I know I should be completely focused on the tykes before me but, I can’t help but wonder how much it will cost to get the snot, drool and dog hair removed from my work clothes.


5:55 I shake myself loose from the pile-up leaving a trail of angry, needy tots in my wake. I head to the kitchen in search of the leftovers I plan to reheat for dinner. Much to my dismay, they have disappeared and while I dig around hopefully searching for Plan B to appear in the Netherlands of the fridge, I feel several small bodies pressing against me, pushing the door open wider. Before anyone can say “what’s for dinner?!”, Kevin, Declan and Cormac have removed the motley collection of jams, mustards, dressings and sauces from the refrigerator door and have begun a jolly game of “Condiment Bowling”.


6:05 With the refrigerator door stripped bare, my eyes are drawn to the only remaining option for dinner tonight… Dinner Eggs! Again! The kids start whooping with joy at the time-honored family favorite of “breakfast for dinner.” It is at this point that Des gets home from work… wondering, once again, how it is that he ended up with a wife whose only specialty is Dinner Eggs.


6:15 Dinner is served! Scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast (with the jam I have now reclaimed from the babies), bananas and OJ… Bon Appetit!



As Finny diligently cleans up the crumbs on the floor, I finally exhale. It is now 6:45 and we’ve survived another weeknight dinner. It may not have been a gourmet meal but, in my book, it met all the basic nutritional requirements — with the added bonus of only ten minutes of prep time and the satisfaction of five contenders for the “clean plate club.”

In our house, dessert is the just reward for a clean plate… and, though it’s rare, the best of all possible desserts is cake! Assuming that you like to have your cake and eat it too, please visit http://www.kelly-confidential.com/ to vote in the Cake Off — Electrolux is donating $1 to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund for every vote so, GO VOTE and urge your pals to do the same! As an FYI, if you log on and send a virtual cake, you will be automatically entered to win an Electrolux Induction Range – which I bet will make dinner simpler, no matter how many cooks you have in your kitchen!

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Today I took Liam and Ciara to see “Elmo Grows Up” at The Theater at Madison Square Garden.  It was our first foray into the world of live kid’s shows… and, it just might be our last.  Here’s the deal — that fluffy red monster has a voice that could peel paint off walls.  I swear that even Ciara was rolling her eyes through most of it while Liam was just feigning interest so as not to disappoint me as I asked if he was having a great time.  He wasn’t.  She wasn’t.  But even so, they wanted all the trinkets and tchockes that were for sale… cotton candy, popcorn, Elmo ballons, Elmo activity books, Elmo water bottles — you get the picture.  And, it’s not pretty!

Here’s what I learned from today’s outing:  I learned what my kids really love — they love train rides.  They love adventure — even if the form it takes is ducking through the turnstiles on the subway or holding hands while racing through Grand Central at rush hour.  One of the highlights of the day was following Liam’s suggestion to ride the escalators in the Grand Hyatt.  Why were we in the Grand Hyatt you wonder?  To use the bathroom, of course!  This is actually a great tip for any city-bound day out with the kids… do NOT seek out the restrooms in train stations, gas stations or Starbucks.  DO seek out bathrooms in the pristinely clean and very nice hotels that can be found on virtually any street corner in New York… a few of our favs are at the Waldorf, the Mandarin Oriental and now, thanks to the escalators, the Grand Hyatt.

In any case, I think what made riding the escalators such an exhilerating experience for them was simply this – it was their idea and I listened to them.  For a change, I followed their suggestion instead of dismissing it with an authoritative “not now, maybe later, no, can’t do it, babies are crying, it’s time for bed, I have to go, you have to go, just can’t do it!” Words can’t do justice to the lovely, simple pleasure it was just to hold their hands and watch them squeal with a combination of joy and nervousness each time we hopped on and off the “magic stairs”.  I think the last time we had such a carefree moment was when I gave in to an ice cream request one day this summer despite the fact that it was “close to dinnertime/going to melt/a bad idea/you’ll get a bellyache,” etc.

So, should your tots ever see a commerical for “Elmo Grows Up”, “Disney on Ice” or whatever the show du jour is, I suggest you “just say no” — and then hop on a train and see where the day takes you. While you’re at it, listen to what your kids have to say — I’m going to try to do so more often myself.

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Last night, we were defeated once again by an unwanted game of “Where’s WaWa” that our little cubs take great joy in torturing us with. To understand the logistics of “Where’s WaWa”, you first need a brief history of the WaWa.

When Liam (now 5) was just weeks old, one of my friend’s sent us little blue dog-shaped blankie — you might call it a lovey or a security blanket or, as we called it, a “woobie.”  Liam instantly took to his “woobie” and we violated every rule in the book as we peered into his basinette, watching him sleep… with his beloved woobie OVER HIS FACE.  We knew that we weren’t supposed to put anything in our newborn’s bed.  We knew the SIDS police would have us arrested… and probably should have!  However, since we hadn’t slept for more than three hours at a stretch for at least six weeks, we were exhausted and we were desperate.  So, we left Liam with his woobie and we all slept through the night. 

Liam slept with that woobie on his head for years — and, when he started to talk, one of his first words was “WeeWee.”  We were confused at first but quickly figured out that “WeeWee” was “woobie” and before we knew it, the name stuck.

Then along came Ciara… who, after many sleepless nights, finally got a WeeWee of her own.  Hers was a little pink lamb and she took to it instantly… like Liam, she put the thing on her head and effortlessly went off to the land of nod.  It worked like a charm and we chuckled for months over the admittely bad joke that Ciara was the only girl on the block with a WeeWee… until, of course, she started to talk and one of her first words was “WaWa.”  No WeeWees for this young lady! 

Everytime we left the house, instead of last minute checks like “is the oven off? did you lock the door? do you have the diaper bag?”  Des and I always asked “do you have WeeWee and WaWa?!” … because we knew that wherever we went, we would be doomed if WeeWee and WaWa weren’t along for the ride.

Fast forward to the birth of triplets.  Frankly, I’ve always been pacifier-averse because selfishly, I don’t want to be getting up ten times a night to pop the binky back in the baby’s — or in this case, babies’ — mouth!  As you might imagine, to us WaWa’s equal sleep and as such, they were on the top of our wish list when the cubs were born.  Thankfully, this wish was granted.  Kevin took to his “Puppy WaWa”, Declan to “Monkey WaWa” and Cormac to “Lion WaWa.”  All three of them blissfully suc,k snuggle, chew and cuddle their WaWas as they drift off to sleep.  It was all going really well until a few months ago when they started to play “Where’s WaWa?” well after the midnight hour. 

As they toss and turn and flail about as only a baby can, their WaWa’s get “lost” — maybe it’s at the top of the crib while they’re at the bottom.  Maybe it’s fallen — or, more likely, been pushed — through the crib slats.  Maybe it’s tucked between the crib slats and the wall.  Wherever WaWa may be, if it’s not safely ensconced beneath a snoozing cub, that cub is wide awake and wailing… and will not rest until WaWa has been returned. 

Much to my dismay, we’re now up at various points in the night goin’ on a WaWa hunt. Des has been known to mumble in sleep-deprived stupor “Can’t they find their own f-ing WaWAs?!!”  while I shamefully pretend to be sleeping.  Bottom line, perhaps a paci would have been eaiser but, more often than not, the WaWas still equal sleep… for at least a few hours.  And, while I certainly don’t enjoy our games of “Where’s WaWa” at 3AM, I have a funny feeling that it just might be one of the things I end up missing.  Until then, I look forward to the day these guys start to talk and come up with a name of their own for their sweet bedtime buddies.  

In case you’d like to introduce your little one to the joys of the WaWa, you can buy one at:
http://www.kookoobearkids.com/Blue-Lamb-Snuggle-Friend-Blanket/productinfo/00050015BL/

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