I have always loved being a dad, despite the egregious lack of credentials and absence of any semblance of the requisite skills. Thanks to modern technology, Sigrid and I knew enormous amounts about our children long before either of them was born (so far in advance, I, of the short attention span, sometimes lose track of their actual dates of birth).
They were our children well before either of them was a person. As adults now in their own right, with partners of their own, they continue to have to struggle with a father who 'knows' they are grown-ups, but who has decided that is true in another world, though not his.
True to form, I was much more comfortable when our children were younger. I had a tough time winning over either Patrick or Michelle when they were infants since it was hard to successfully show them how smart I seemed, possibly because I wasn't. Since they had no basis for comparison at their age, it should have been straightforward and I should have drawn some conclusions when it wasn't. Except I've always been bad at art, as well as Paul. It was attractive being one of the two grown-ups in the house with all the answers, even though I married a grown-up with all the answers instead of being one.There were the days of learning to tie shoes, learning to ride bikes, and learning to drive cars. The medical emergencies of pinched fingers, sprained ankles, and skinned knees. I was never good at matters of the heart--those have always seemed to be the easiest to break and the hardest to heal. For a guy who talks a lot, I've never known what to say especially when the mantra of 'everything will be alright' is revealed so often to be a shining lie.
I used to suggest to our children that there was a reason why things had worked out the way they had(n't). But we all saw that as a tall tale from a short man. I can hope and I can hover but I can't always fix and I should be grateful they figured that out even if I still haven't.
-bill kenny
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