Triple The Dad

Football training camps began recently, the baseball All-Star game came and went and the second “half” of that season got underway.  It all led to a post last week about how parenting triplets is a lot like being a pitcher or hitter.  You are constantly using an informed guess to figure out to avoid that walk-off homerun.  Keep them off balance and you can succeed.  Go to far afield from a strength however, and you can quickly walk the bases full on four bad pitches. That was the first 18 months or so.  Those are your playing days.  The game and the day is yours.  Once a minor leaguer, you bask in the glow of the major league role of Daddy.  You’ve been called up to the big game.  This is what you’ve waited and prayed and practiced for; especially when you’ve waited three years, like we did. It all goes by so fast.  One day you are hitting simple bottle requests out of the park, and the next thing you know you are swinging at a...

The triplets and I were watching baseball the other day.  It was a Phillies-Nationals game.  I’m a big Nationals fan.  It’s a long story for another time, but there you have it.    The pitcher was shaking off one pitch request from the catcher after another.  One of the announcers discussed the finer skills of hitting and pitching: To succeed, the hitter pretty much has to guess correctly at what pitch the pitcher will throw and where.  Meanwhile, the pitcher is trying to make a combination of his best pitch to the hitter’s weakest area of the strike zone, all while mixing it up enough that the hitter doesn’t see it coming. As I sat there shaking off requests from my kids – no, we aren’t going outside; we are watching baseball – I got to thinking. Because just about the time I think I’ve figured these kids out well enough to strike through 3 hours while avoiding a grand tantrum the wind shifts towards the outfield.  Suddenly, what wou...