In defense of working moms... this mom of five, 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!

People say a LOT of crazy things to me.  Things like "are they all yours?!" or, with increasing frequency, "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…

• Costco for groceries, bulk items:  $510
• Dog to Vet for annual checkup and 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

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 well over $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, twirling and tumbling with our kids well, I’m really grateful for the fun we’ve had together and, I’m glad that today is Monday!

Church on time? Not with five kids under six

When our firstborn Liam arrived, my husband Des proclaimed "There are two things that are non-negotiable: he will be Catholic and he will be a Yankee fan."  I've always wondered if he sees these two things as equivalent and with each passing year, I'm more convinced that he does.   With baseball season upon us, there will be plenty of time to share my musings on raising five little pin-striped fanatics but for this week, I thought I'd dwell on raising five little Catholics.

For starters, we go to church on Sunday.  EVERY Sunday.  We're as reliable as the US Postal Service; we show up in rain or shine, showered or unshowered, with sick kids, cranky kids, and sometimes need a spanky kids. And no matter how early our day starts, we always show up about fifteen minutes late.  Now that Liam can tell time, I'm pretty sure he thinks we attend the 10:45 mass when in fact, the rest of the congregation dutifully arrives at 10:30.  

Now, as you might imagine, there is nothing subtle about our arrival at church -- or anywhere else, for that matter!  When the triplets were babies, we would walk to church because it was easier than getting all five kids in and out of the car.  Our entry procession included two strollers - a standard issue double for Liam and Ciara and a front to back triple as long as a Cadillac for Kevin, Declan and Cormac.  Today, as Liam and Ciara bolt down the aisle and the triplets toddle behind them, our entry is less impressive but far more vocal. "I see Jesus!  I see Jesus!  I see Jesus!"  the triplets can't help but announce, sometimes adding additional commentary like "Why he has no shoes on?" 

Thankfully, our priest and our parish are both friendly and forgiving.  Our tardiness isn't looked down upon and we seem to get a fair amount of credit and goodwill for simply showing up, no matter how late we may be.  Given the antics that accompany our arrival,  it's a wonder they don't just lock the door at 10:44.  They continue to welcome the Lyons Family Circus and we continue to show up.  And, we continue to sit in the first pew since no one else ever does and it's typically the only spot left. From this spot, there have been a handful of standout moments from our weekly 45 minutes of religious obligation and observation:

• Cormac following the guy with the collection basket, taking a $20 and running for the door.  Hey, charity starts at home, right?
• A lady who told me that "my kids just LOVE watching your family at church; it's better than reality TV!"
• The day an elderly woman who had kindly settled down a distraught Declan suddenly dropped him back in my lap with a curt  "I think he has a present for you,"  as the stench from his diaper nearly knocked us out.
• The time that Kevin ran to the altar to check out the Nativity scene but left his pants behind. Turns out that I shouldn't have ignored him when he said "pants too big Mama!"
• Advent.  All of it.  Between the Nativity scene and Toys for Tots collection, our kids provided a lot of comic relief... which, granted, isn't why most folks go to church but it never hurts to have a good laugh, right?  Some highlights were the attempted removal of toys from the altar, failed attempts to "wake up" the Baby Jesus and the near demise of one of the wise men (courtesy of a wobbly triplet).

I clearly recall looking for diversions at church when I was a kid; now my family is the diversion.  It started when Liam was just a tot himself, clapping along with the choir and shouting "YAY!" when they finished a song.  I'm not sure if or when it will end but, until it does, I plan to just embrace it and enjoy it.  While I may not always hear the message of the gospel and while we may never get to church on time, at least I have 45 minutes a week to sit down (when I'm not shooing tots off the altar!) and reflect on just how lucky I am -- lucky to have happy, healthy kids; lucky to be embraced by our community and, well, with the season in full swing, lucky to have so many little Yankee fans... more on that later, to be sure!

Color coded kids - how to tell your indentical triplets apart

I've known since they were discovered in my belly about three years ago that there is something unique about having identical triplets.  I've known that the odds of this naturally occurring event are about one in a hundred million and I am convinced that we won the baby the lottery the day these guys were born -- happy, healthy and relatively huge for triplets given that they weighed well over five pounds each.

Even so, I've plodded along treating each day as though it's nothing unusual.  In the beginning, we were so sleep deprived that it only seemed right to paint each little guy's big toe -- one red, one blue, one green, so we could tell them apart.  It seemed natural to dress them in "their" colors and in fact, it still does.  When they say you're having "identical" triplets, they are really not kidding.  These guys look exactly alike.  Des and I can tell them apart -- most of the time.  Their big brother and sister can tell them apart -- most of the time.  The challenge is when they are either A. naked or B. moving very quickly in opposing directions, as they are keen to do with a jubilant sense of "Game On!"

Our color-coding system extends beyond big toes and hand-me-down clothes to sippy cups, bouncy balls, socks and Crocs.  Kevin is red, Declan is blue and Cormac is green.  Their colors make it easy for neighbors, friends, preschool teachers and yes, even my own parents to tell them apart. Here's the thing though -- I fear our system is backfiring and there's about to be a rainbow revolt here in the Lyons Den.  A few recent examples...

• I accidentally gave Declan a red sippy cup and he threw it at me angrily proclaiming "I"M BLUE!"
• When I wore a red sweater last week, Kevin tugged on it and sweetly said "Mine."  To which I replied "Yours? Why yours?" To which he responded quite naturally "Because I'm red!"
• Then there was St. Patrick's Day.  A festival of green, if ever there was one.  Wow, was Cormac ever in heaven.  As our resident "green" guy, he thought the day was his own personal tribute!

Clearly, we have an issue here.  Our color coding system seems to be causing a slew of issues that range from anger managment to identity confusion.  As parents, we do our best and can't help but worry about how our best intentions may ultimately be doing more harm than good.  All I can say is that, well, I'm doing the best I can.  And I'm pretty darn positive that the day looms in the not so distant future that our color coding system will fade away... just like the polish on their tiny newborn toes.