Dad Entry #128

Megan has a terrific high-pitched staccato laugh. If evoked spontaneaouly, it is perhaps the greatest thing the world has ever known.

Megan asked me, "Dad, what does meditation do to your body?" I thought I misheard her at first; the question struck me as too weighty and abstract for a kindergartner. I answered flatly, "It can calm and relax your body, it can clear your head, it can oppose and deflate pushy emotions like anger, fear, and impulsiveness." I think Megan was a little overwhelmed by my answer :) But she tried to process it, because she furrowed her perfect little brow and was quiet for a moment. I said, "Why do you ask, Lover-Dove? Why are you asking about meditation?" Megan said, "Oh, it's something I've done in my life." Oh, gee, that makes it sound awful important. I smiled. And from there I just assured Megan that meditation is a healthy, positive thing. I hope someday Mego and I have a longer discussion about it, about the mind and the breath and self-control and how, if we're lucky, we can just maybe stay light and composed despite all the crazy moments and emotions we'll encounter as we age, the amazement, bewilderment, resentment, sorrow. I'll say, "Yes, it's all part of life, Sweetheart. And it's good."

Speaking of amazement and bewilderment: Michael's first baseball game this year was pretty momentous. Sara and I knew a good start to the season would do wonders; we also knew, conversely.... well, you get it. I would say Michael seemed the least nervous of the three of us. Hopefully he didn't notice his parents fidgeting as he put on a helmet, selected a bat, swung it a few times to warm up, and eventually exited the dugout for the batter's box. I told him before the game, as I've always told him, a good at-bat is to put good swings on good pitches, to see the baseball well, to have a little spring and optimism and intention in his movements. In short, I told him to look like a ballplayer. When good hitters strike out, and we all do, we shake it off, maybe learn something, consider an adjustment, but we stay confident, and plan on hitting the shit out of the ball in our next AB. Maybe I didn't say all of that, exactly that way, but there's a mindset I'd like him to settle into. So let me just say Michael had a great game! In his first at-bat, he took some bad pitches for balls, then swung and missed at a good pitch (I was thrilled, remember, the goals is to put good swings on good pitches) and then, THEN, after working the count to full, Michael punched a grounder through the infield! A nice hit up the middle for an RBI single! He batted 2nd, and his teammate in the leadoff spot also reached, and advanced to third on passed balls. Yes, the kids can steal bases this year when pitches get away from the catcher. It's real baseball! Woo-hoo!! Mom and Dad (psycho sports parents after all, I guess) were thrilled! And so was Michael. I should reiterate, though, that we know what's important. Kicking ass and taking names!! Hell yeah!! No. Not that. We'll continue to encourage Michael - who is still only an eight-year-old - to have fun and stay positive, regardless of hits, wins, strikeouts when he pitches, or strikeouts when he bats.

Yes, I just mentioned pitching. Michael pitched the last inning. I warmed him up since both coaches were busy. He threw strikes to me, and I had a sense he would do fine in the game. He did. He was elated when he struck out a batter. Two other hitters were retired by his defense. Three runners were left on base. He pitched out of a jam! He was VERY happy.

If a sleeping Megan turns or sprawls and tilts her head just so, her eyes might open, ever so slightly. This morning I awoke and went to check on my two favorite things. Michael was in the bathroom. Typical guy :) Megan, my precious angel, was still sleeping, and her right eye was so open I could see her pupil. This wasn't alarming at first glance since I do the same thing on occasion, or so I'm told; somehow I sleep with my eyelids partially cracked and open. So I assumed Megan was alive, and as I paused for a moment, admiring her cuteness, a crazy thought got a finger inside my mind's door. Funny how that happens, and funny to observe it, mindfully, for an instant at least, before the door is pried open and maybe flung off its hinges. I abruptly and suddenly focused on my baby's chest! Was it rising and falling?!?! Yes. Yes it was. Have I mentioned bewilderment? I could see Megan's blanket moving the tiniest bit. This little story may sound morbid. I know. I'm only reporting what happened. And then, of course, I put my face a little closer to sleeping Megan's, so I could, for just a minute before our lives raced on again, feel her soft rhythmic exhalations brush my cheek.