Dad Entry #6

Well, not much happenin’, just the usual chaos. Sara slaving hard all the time while I chill out, at Motorola during the day and in front of the Cubs game at night. The Ploehn reunion was fun. Michael loved everyone there. He was high as a kite on chocolate the whole time. Now any mention of the reunion throws Michael into frenzied excitement. Someone slipped him his first brownie five minutes after we arrived. Then Sally, Maxine, Leroy, Troy, Kate, Patty, Alma… they all worked hard to keep his buzz on. I think he pooped a Hershey’s bar – 100% chocolate – in a rest area toilet on the way home. Parenting is hard. Michael is bright and sensitive, but that means manipulative and temperamental. And Megan is a girl. Clichés are clichés for a reason. I’ve never met a man with great skills or training when it comes to caring for women. That includes caring for wives and daughters, I'm afraid. By the way, women aren't experts on men, either. I guess that's the Mars / Venus thing. So with Megan, for example, I press on, blind, clueless, clumsy, but doing my best. Holding her, reading to her, playing with her, combing her hair and trying to braid it (what a gnarled, knotted disaster that was), teaching her words, teaching her to be nice, to share, helping her explore things, and making sure she doesn't break herself or anything else when she gets mad and freaks out. Michael didn’t do the tantrum thing but Megan gives it a try once in a while. Although, by way of critique, I must say her tantrums have lacked enthusiasm lately. I guess she sort of realized they don’t do anything for her. If she studied me closely, she’d notice they make Daddy sweat, but Mommy is a pro. Sara has never reacted much to fuel the fire so Megan learned quickly they’re pointless. Luckily, Sara is terrific with the kids. She’s firm but warm. That’s the magic combo, I think. She says she’s only doing her best, nothing more, learning as she goes. I don’t think so. Spare me the humility. I know she reads a lot, consults other moms, works at it. But there’s something natural there, too. She’s good. Of course, Sara is stubborn and strong; she approaches everything with a degree of confidence, with resolve. Gosh, I think I admire my wife. What’s wrong with me?!?! Am I not a man? A husband? Okay, enough of that. Michael is really getting comfortable in the water. That’s good. It’s fun and easy to hit the pool with him now. With his length – long arms and legs - he could be a great swimmer. Like his Mommy and Papa John. Maybe an Olympic champ or a Navy SEAL. That’s all. We don’t set the bar very high in this family. I do wish Michael would shoot hoops and hit the ball with me a little more, though, baseballs or golf balls. Eventually, he’ll get tired of Papa Mike, Papa John, Uncle Scott, Steve, Sally, Leroy, and the rest of the Ploehn’s, Dave, and his old man – that’s me, geez, I’ve never quite expressed it that way – anyway, eventually he’ll get tired off us all beating him like a drum on the golf course, and taking his money. He’ll start playing more, getting better. And this family is merciless. Cold competitors, everyone of 'em I mentioned above. Nice guys finish last in that crew. I learned the hard way. Michael’s Papas, his Uncle Scott and Aunt Sally, they’ll take the change he's saved, the piggy-bank he keeps it in, the shirt off his back, his toys, his college money, his beloved “pillpo-zings”, all of it “fair and square” on the golf course. “Sure, Papa, I’ll go play golf with you.” Oh no. That’s when I double-confirm Michael’s Papas don’t know about his 529.