March, 2015 | PulseonParenting

I Love You…Quirks and All

Mar 31 2015

I knew from the moment I laid eyes on my younger son, a preemie with dusky, lanugo-covered skin, that he was unique. Others were scared to hold this fragile, funny-looking baby. But to me, he was beautiful. I could hold him and his twin brother for hours watching their tiny, newborn features. While his brother’s round, pink face relaxed into a smile as he slept, his contorted into mesmerizing expressions, eyes a-flutter, as we listened to classical music in the nursery. This little boy, whom we affectionately call “Bear,” has always been his own kid. As a toddler, he would…

Winning: Is That What it’s All About?

Mar 17 2015

Pinewood Derby Fever recently took command of our household. As our boys’ searched the internet for design ideas, assisted Dad with the shaping and drilling of the wood and gleefully sprayed paint on their carefully cut creations, it was hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm. The best part was learning to fix mistakes, like the misplaced drill hole that was transformed into a brad-covered “gas cap.” Parents and their boys, spending time together, building something by hand. Isn’t that the point? It should be. But Pinewood Derby is a confusing combination of handshake agreement and paperwork. It’s…

Remind Me, Who is This For Again?

Mar 12 2015

Take a look at Pinterest, she said. There are some really cool ideas, she said. Boy, were there ever. I “pinned” five. I liked even more. That unsettling combo of excitement and stress started to bubble up from my stomach toward my chest and pulsed into my head, which began humming with white noise. Then, in a rare moment of clarity, a voice said: Stop. This is ridiculous. Who is this actually for??? It was time to plan the annual Cub Scout Pinewood Derby. My boys’ den leader, whom I greatly admire, approached me and asked if I would help…

Strep Throat: Easy Fix, Not Easily Suspected

Mar 04 2015

Well, it finally happened. My kids had their first bout of strep throat. My girly daughter was thrilled with her “pink”-acillin, happy to take a plastic shot glass-sized amount twice a day. My younger son was stoked, thinking he would get the same pink goo. But he ended up with a liquid that he said tasted like “poison cherries,” tortured to take it three times a day. And it only went down hill from there: my older son ended up with amoxicillin capsules, the bitter contents of which we sprinkled in applesauce and he slurped down with nary a breath.

Archive - March 2015