Christmas with five tots: The good, bad and merry!

In the days leading up to Christmas, people often said things like "It must be great to have all those kids on Christmas!" Or, "Wow, Christmas in your house must really be something!" It is great to have "all those kids" on Christmas (and the other 364 days of the year!) and this year, our Christmas really was something. Something like this.


It started at 5:15AM because little Mac couldn't find his "Wawa" and was wailing like a madman. That smelly, soggy "Wawa", as it turns out, was right underneath him the whole time. With that crisis solved, we sighed, rolled over and said a prayer that we would fall back asleep until sunrise. No such luck.


At 5:30, Liam appeared in our room. You might think he was there because of the excitement of Christmas and anticipation of opening his gifts but alas, that was not the case. As it turned out, the reason for his pre-dawn appearance was a bloody nose. A very bloody nose.


It was about 6:00 when that nose stopped bleeding and Ciara got up to pee... and ask if it was time to open presents yet. This reminded Liam that it was indeed Christmas and started the frenzied repetition of "Did Santa come? Can we go downstairs? Did Santa come? Can we go downstairs? Did Santa come?" You get the idea.


We managed to hold them at bay until about 7:30, which was no easy task. Liam and Ciara took a peek downstairs and scampered back up announcing, as if with a megaphone, that "Santa came! Santa CAME! SANTA CAME!" These whoops of joy awoke the triplets -- all of whom, until then, had been peacefully slumbering with their respective WaWas.


What happened in the next two hours is unclear. Perhaps because my husband and I were so tired, we couldn't see straight -- not to mention the fact that it was especially hard to see through the flying gift wrap, bubble wrap, boxes and tissue paper that blew across our living room much like last year's Christmas blizzard blew across the Northeast. It is also possible that our memories of the gargantuan gift opening are vague because our camera batteries died at roughly 7:32, just as the kids were coming down the stairs. I'm not sure how it happened, but Christmas Day dawned without a single AA battery to be found in the Lyons Den; next year, I'm putting batteries on my list for Santa!


At around 10:00, we were putting away dishes from our Christmas Eve dinner and getting ready for breakfast; as I reached up to get the silver chest out of a cabinet, a stack of dessert plates came careening down onto my head, shattering on the floor around me. Needless to say, this just about shattered my Christmas spirit. And, my scalp.


With that mess cleaned up and pancakes and bacon on the table, we all enjoyed a merry breakfast. All of us except Ciara, who suddenly looked flushed, dazed and confused. Out of nowhere, the poor girl spiked a fever of 102 and was whisked off to bed. Where she slept for two hours. Leaving me to wonder, "any chance I could spike a fever and get a two hour nap out of the deal?!"


By around 1:30, Ciara was up (and pumped up with Tylenol) and we went over the river and through the woods (well, over the river, anyway!), to my parents house, where we had a truly wonderful time. It was a remarkable, memorable and magical Christmas with generations of family visiting and exchanging gifts. It was really very Norman Rockwell. The fire was crackling, the music was playing, the kids weren't fighting, it was all good. Very good. And very much the way Christmas should be.


Of course, this little reverie was abruptly broken when we returned home; Declan had a fit because he couldn't find his Hexbugs, Kevin peed on the rug and a quick glance in the mirror informed me that I received a zit the size of Texas for Christmas. Oh well. Such is life. And I will take it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the merry. Because really, on Christmas and every other day of the year, life with "all those kids" will undoubtedly have ample bits of good, bad and merry. And I, for one, wouldn't have it any other way.

Twas the weekend before Christmas - lists checked, presents wrapped and settling down to time with family

The countdown is on.  It’s official.  There are now only six days until Christmas.  I had hoped to cross a lot off my list this past weekend but instead, I found myself doing something most unusual – actually enjoying the holiday season. 

It started on Thursday night, at our office Christmas party.   I’m very lucky in that I really like my job and I really like the people I work with -- which I suppose is why I stayed out far too late and opted for that extra glass of wine instead of scurrying home to wrap gifts. 

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On Friday night, my husband and I went on a date.  It had been planned for a while and, as you likely know, dates are mission-critical to a good marriage  -- which is mission-critical to raising five (hopefully good!) kids so, although that pile of gifts was still begging to be wrapped, out we went.  

On Saturday, we had not one but TWO local Christmas parties to attend. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but we were off the social circuit for a few years.  I think people just assumed that we wouldn’t be able to leave the house with three newborns and two toddlers in tow– or, worse yet, afraid that we would!  Either way, we spent several Christmas seasons searching the mailbox for invitations that never came.  Now that they have arrived, so too have we; after a brief hiatus, we are back on the social scene and very happy to be there!

The merriment continued on Sunday at our church’s annual pageant; our oldest, seven-year old Liam, was cast as one of the three kings.  Poor Liam had perhaps enjoyed too many Christmas cookies at the aforementioned parties and spent much of late Saturday night and early Sunday morning praying to the porcelain god; the poor fella was so sick that we considered rewriting history and suggesting the pageant go on with only two kings.  But alas, like a Christmas miracle, Liam perked up, popped on his costume and marched down the aisle, bearing those gifts as this weepy Mom was overcome, once again, with emotion.

What is it about children singing Silent Night or Oh Holy Night that starts the tear ducts flowing?  Is it their youthful innocence? Was it the fact that I was surrounded by our other four kids, my parents and grandparents and thinking of just how lucky I am – we are – to have each other this holiday season?  Or was it the knowledge that the clock was ticking and I was now in a race against time to finish wrapping those darn gifts, writing the cards, baking the cookies and planning our Christmas Eve dinner?!

I think the was the former, not the latter.  I think it was the realization that with less than a week before Christmas, I already have what matters most.  Family, friends, yes, even a small suburban social life!

Signs of the Christmas season for a busy young family

There were several moments this week when I knew the Christmas spirit had officially entered the Lyons Den.

Granted, if you were to go by the store windows, the Christmas season actually started the day after Halloween but, we like to take things a bit more slowly around here... or, perhaps better put, we have to take things a bit more slowly. Between birthdays and work days and play dates and sick days, it's hard to even find the time to trim the tree.

And, as I recently discovered, sometimes the spirit of Christmas sneaks into the most unsuspecting of places. Here are my Top 10 signs that it's officially Christmas in the Lyons Den.

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Well, perhaps not with all that much care but, they are definitely there! All seven of them plus one for the dog that still needs a hook. Hopefully that hook will arrive before Christmas.

- Our porch is glistening with twinkly Christmas lights. I'm a white light gal myself but, after spending the better part of an afternoon searching for the one in a million replacement bulb on our ten year old strand, my poor hubby tossed in the towel, hightailed it to Home Depot and purchased the brightest lights you've ever seen. The first night they welcomed me home from work, I thought there was a cop car or disco ball on our porch. So much for a "white" Christmas!

- The kids have all decided what they want from Santa... and the triplets have once again confirmed that "identical" only goes so far. One wants a teddy bear and Pokemon cards (I suspect his big brother planted that seed!), one wants puzzles and much to my husband's dismay, one wants a "baby and a stroller." Got it Santa?

- The aroma of Christmas is in the air. In addition to a fondness for white lights, I also have a keen appreciation for Christmas candles; I've always loved the welcoming smell of cinnamon and that seasonal sniff of evergreen. I appreciate it even more now that my house is a urinal. With three three-year old whizzers freeing willy whenever and wherever they can, our house typically stinks like a city subway in the summer heat. In a word: piss. Thankfully, eau de pee has been replaced by Mrs. Meyer's long-burning scents of the season and I for one am thrilled.

- The dog is wearing reindeer antlers. That poor pet whose stocking has yet to be hung has been temporarily transformed into a reindeer. What amazes me most is that he actually puts up with it. I swear he knows we're laughing at him yet he just hangs his head and tolerates it. If that stocking ever gets hung, it really should be filled with a whole lot of dog treats!

- The kids are wearing Santa hats. Well, two of them are anyway. The other three are miserable because they don't have Santa hats but, well, Christmas is coming!

- We had -- and survived -- the annual Christmas tree debate. The whole "it's too fat/thin/tall/short/crooked" altercation never gets old for us. We just can't agree on a tree. So this year, we decided to let the kids pick it; this way, if it's not absolutely perfect, we can blame them. And we did. Our goofy tree is as crooked as can be and looks like someone took a hacksaw to one side. Next year, we pick the tree!

- We had -- and survived -- the annual family Secret Santa ritual. Needless to say, there are very few secrets but the names have been chosen and the shopping is underway. Credit to my sister for finding this great site if you're in need of some Secret Santa logistical assistance: www.drawnames.com

- I cried. I don't what it is about Christmas-time but it makes me super-sentimental. The songs, watching my kids watch the classics of my childhood (Rudolph, Frosty, etc.), it all gets the tears flowing. Fortunately, laughter often follows -- especially when my tots ask things like "what we watching for?" in response to the opening line of "Santa Clause is coming to town." My feisty fella had a point, what are we watching out for anyway?!

- I had a moment when I felt truly blessed and grateful for all I have and, in particular, for my family. And, in particular, for my sister. This is the one that happened in the most unsuspecting of places -- a dressing room in the lingerie department of Lord & Taylor while she breastfed her three week old daughter. There we were. Three girls surrounded by bras, just having girl talk. It was that simple. And that awesome.

- I was suddenly filled with the spirit of Christmas which, for me, is more than those garish lights that grace our porch or the stockings that grace our mantle or the hats or antlers that grace the heads around me. It's what's in those heads that counts. And what's in mine, for the moment at least, is a sense of wonder for our incredible family. I'm going to enjoy while it lasts because I'm pretty sure this wonder will fade once the house smells like a urinal again!

Christmas magic - turning Santa Clause skeptics into believers

As a mom of many, keeping the mystique of Santa alive and well is a priority for me this Christmas season.

My oldest just turned seven last week, the next in line is five and the triplets are now three-years-old. They all have a healthy curiosity about pretty much everything and, while the bigger two can be skeptical at times, more often than not, they believe what I tell them - especially as it relates to things they want to believe in, like the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and, of course Santa Claus.

Keeping the magic alive gets harder when the grammar school years arrive. If your child is still a sweet, innocent believer, there is an excellent chance he will meet a kid on the bus or playground or classroom who will tell him that "Santa isn't real" or "only babies believe in Santa." When your wee one comes home with this news, it will break your heart; the notion of losing that innocence is just too much to bear. So, here are a few tips to get (or keep) things back on track -- to keep the faith in Santa Claus this Christmas season and hopefully, for many more to come!
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1. Santa has a LOT of helpers.

Once they hit a certain age (somewhere between three and six for my little clan of elves), kids will start to question how Santa can be at the mall AND the Christmas tree lot AND on every street corner ringing a bell AND on TV. This tricky line of toddler interrogation can be easily navigated by introducing the notion of Santa's Helpers.

I mean really, how is ONE guy supposed to make and deliver all those toys? Read all those letters? Pose for all those pictures? It's just not possible.

Santa has been in business for ages and, like any good businessman, has learned the fine art of delegation. All those pseudo-Santas roaming the streets are his A-team, the front line, the assistants to the real Santa as he makes his list and checks it twice. Given how literal kids can be, they seem to accept that Santa needs helpers. And, may even understand that not all helpers can grow a good beard or belly, which is why some of them are saggy and soft!

2. If disbelief continues after the conversation about Santa's Helpers, it's time to talk about truly believing... as in, "if you believe in Santa, he will bring you gifts and if you don't, he won't."

It sounds harsh but it's simple and straight-forward; it's also remarkably effective because the fear of waking up on Christmas with no gifts under the tree is enough to spur most skeptical tykes into at least a modicum of belief... and that's all it takes for the magic of Santa to seep back into a doubting heart.

3. Show that you believe in Santa too. Write him a letter. Talk about what kind of cookies you liked to leave him when you were a kid. Share the story about the time you tried so hard to stay up all night to see him, only to nod off just as you were sure you heard reindeer on the roof. Kids thrive on these tales... and, they are fun to share. In fact, sharing them could just be a new family tradition that could be as magical as Santa himself.

Truth be told, there's a small part of me that still believes... not necessarily in a guy with a white beard and a red suit but, in the magic of Christmas, the joy of the season, and the gift of sharing old traditions while creating new ones... like leaving half-eaten carrots on the front porch to convince any would-be naysayers that not only did Santa come and nibble on a few cookies on Christmas Eve but, his reindeer enjoyed a snack as well!
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