Some people, ahem my husband, think I might celebrate too
many holidays and are creating too much work for myself. Case in point,
the holiday from this past weekend. St. Patrick’s day. Although my
family is only a wee-bit Irish, Jarrett’s not so much and the boy’s heritage
not a drop Irish, we have celebrated St. Patrick’s day with the best O’Brien
families out there. The first year we had the boys, I wanted to celebrate
every day and especially days that had even a tiny bit of holiday connected to
them. In researching St. Patrick’s day I came across a tradition one mom
talked about where St. Patrick the Irish Leprechaun came to their house on St.
Patrick’s morning and left her children a clover and some coins. I thought,
how fun. I want to do something like that too.
So the first year, on St. Patrick’s Day the boys awoke to coins and a poem from the visiting little fellow (see here). Last year, with the
addition of Isabelle to our clan, the little Leprechaun left a few small coins
and a tiny heart to share his love (here). And so what happened this year
you ask?
Not much. Actually, nothing.
It wasn’t that I forgot about it. It was that I was
persuaded not to continue with the tradition. Nothing against my better
half, but as we stood at the counter, me washing dishes and he sorting the mail
at 10 p.m. on our wild and crazy Saturday night, we both looked at each other
exhausted and wanting more than anything to just go to sleep. Trying with
every ounce of hope that we still have a strand of youth and energy in our
bodies to stay up for Saturday Night Live, we instead decided to waive
the white flag, admit we are 30-something parents of three, and would rather get
30 minutes of extra sleep than to stay up and pretend we are still in our 20’s.
As we got ready for bed, I said, “Oh Jarrett, I forgot St.
Patrick is coming tonight? I better get ready.” To which he
replied, “Please don’t have St. Patrick come. You celebrate too many
traditions and only create more work. Let’s just go to
sleep.” And so with that, against my better judgment, I agreed and
went to bed, thinking he’s probably right. The kids won’t even notice.
Fast forward to Sunday morning and our typical rustling in
the closet, the slamming of the bathroom doors and the sound of water pouring
out of the shower… yep it must be 5:50 a.m. (darn me for setting the boy’s
clock 10 minutes fast thinking they’ll go to bed earlier, not realizing that
means they get up 10 minutes earlier in the morning) the boys are awake!
A few minutes later Isabelle joins her older leaders, and echoes from her room
and the monitor 10 inches from my head… “Mommy time to get up…. (mommy
thought… maybe she’ll go back to sleep, boys please be quiet)… Mommy, I
said I’m ready to wake up (mommy thought… please Isabelle, just five more
minutes, please play with the toys in your crib….) MOMMY I’m NOT SURE IF
YOU HEARD ME BUT I’M AWAKE COME AND GET ME NOW!!!!!” I roll out of bed,
shuffle still half asleep to Isabelle’s room, pull her out of her crib and
shuffle back, still determined to go back to sleep, toward our room.
Immediately the bathroom door opens and out pops my two little people dress in
all green. In unison they shout, “HAPPY St. PATRICKS DAY MOM!”
“good morning” I manage to respond with my 2% operating brain power, while also
realizing my dream of going back to sleep is quickly fading away. Walking
past them on my determined path back to my bed, I hear Gabriel turn to Michael
and say, “Let’s go see what St. Patrick left for us.” And with that, I
was wide awake.
Yep, Mom, big mistake. Add it to your growing list of mommy errors. Big
mistake. Why would you not have St. Patrick visit? Why was your
precious sleep so important? Turning around, my mind now operating at as
full power as it can at 5:55 on a Sunday morning, I said, “boys have you picked
up your bathroom?” trying to buy time to see if there was anything I
could do to salvage the situation and the soon-to-be disappointment. “Yes
mom, it’s already picked up, look.” Of course, the one morning they don’t
need reminding. Again, that’s what I get. Realizing that there was
nothing I could do I just pretended all was well and went on with the morning.
The boys spent a few minutes looking for their coins and I
was finally able to distract them with the mentioning of breakfast. We
went on about the day as if it was any other day and while I carried a load of guilt it wasn’t until yesterday that it really sank in. On our way to
school yesterday, backing out of the garage, Michael said, “Mom, why didn’t St.
Patrick leave us anything?” and Gabriel chimed in, “Yeah Mom, why didn’t
we he visit us.” And that’s when I realized I had to right my wrong and
an idea popped into my mind. I said, “Boys how do you know he didn’t
visit you?” “Have you looked in your room lately, you have stuff all over
the place.” Continuing on with my brilliant plan I said, “Maybe he did
visit you and you just didn’t notice because you haven’t picked up your room
lately. I bet if you pick it up and have it clean you might find that indeed
he did come.” I paused wondering if they would buy into my story. Within moments Gabriel said, “Mom- I think you’re right. I bet he did
come and it is just under all the stuff.” Hearing Gabriel’s
support, Michael jumped on the bandwagon also and chirped, “Yes, I bet it is
under all the pillows and sheets from my bed that are on the floor.” And
with that my idea had been sold. The entire way to school the boys talked
about how crazy it was that they thought St. Patrick didn’t come because they
didn’t see the coins or a note and that if they had a cleaner room they would
have found it. Michael joked, “Gabriel isn’t it funny that the leprechaun
probably got lost under all my sheets on the floor and he probably didn’t know
how to get out?” Driving, I smirked with pride and a teeny bit of guilt
that I had to tell such story but thankful that the boys bought in and our
tradition can live on longer.
After dropping the boys off at school I called Jarrett to
tell him what had just transpired and that I would be letting St. Patrick visit
our house before the end of the day. Realizing the boys have become just
as excited and in love with traditions as their mom, he gave in, and agreed it
was a good idea to let St. Patrick back into our home.
I’ve come to realize that some of the best memories of my
youth come from believing in the traditions and magic of Santa, the Easter
Bunny and even the Tooth fairy. And now as a parent, I feel like I get to
relive some of those special times from my youth through the eyes of my own
children. I know we tell our children not to lie and to always be honest,
but I have to believe God and the Universe is forgiving when it comes to
bending the truth with these special traditions created only with love and fun
at its core. And if that means more love and special memories will be
created by having a silly tradition of a visiting Leprechaun, than I’m going to
buy into it completely. Who can’t use more love and happiness
in their lives?
Until next time,
Angie
PS: In case you’re wondering, the boys found
their gifts left by St. Patrick this morning. At 5:50 a.m. the closet
door slammed into the wall, the light in the hallway turned on but instead of a
shower faucet pouring out water, I heard the sound of two little voices
cheerily announce on their way from their room to ours, “Mom- we found St.
Patrick’s present look!!!!” “He left us a green heart and .40
cents” “I knew he wouldn’t forget us” “Yay! St. Patrick
came!”
My heart overflows with happiness.
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