Grounded

This was supposed to go up yesterday.

Yesterday, however, had other plans.

Between work, kids, school, life, and the general chaos that seems to materialize the moment you think you have a quiet hour, posting got bumped somewhere between “I’ll do it tonight” and “How is it already tomorrow?” If nothing else, that feels like an appropriate way to open a post about being grounded.

The last couple of years have been full.

Not in the highlight-reel sense. There was no single dramatic moment that explains everything. Life just gets full when you’re raising kids, working, learning, and trying to keep your balance as things keep changing.

Some days, that fullness felt like momentum.
Other days, it felt like a weight.

That’s part of why this space exists again.

I’ve spent a lot of time recently looking backward—not out of regret, but out of necessity. You don’t understand where you are until you take inventory of what you’ve been carrying. The last few years brought changes in work, changes in how I show up as a parent, changes in what I expect from myself, and changes in what I’m willing to let go of.

There were seasons where survival was the goal.
There were seasons where growth happened quietly, without ceremony.
And there were moments—more than I probably acknowledged at the time—where I felt the distance between who I was and who I wanted to be stretching uncomfortably wide.

Parenting has been the constant throughout it all.

Not the Instagram version of parenting. I mean the real kind. The kind made up of logistics, worry, pride, exhaustion, advocacy, and love that doesn’t turn off when the house finally gets quiet. The kind where you make decisions without a clear answer key, hoping you’re showing something worth inheriting.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I realized I missed writing.
Not publishing. Writing.

I missed the act of putting words down long enough to see what I actually thought. I missed the honesty that comes when you’re not trying to wrap things up neatly. And I missed having a place where it was okay to say, “This is where I am right now,” without needing to justify it.

For the next few weeks, or maybe longer, I’m going to spend some time reflecting on the last couple of years. What changed. What stayed the same. What I’m still sorting through. Where I am now, and why that feels different than before.

This isn’t about rewriting the past.
It’s about understanding it.

Parenting doesn’t pause while you do that work. Life doesn’t wait. But reflection has a way of grounding you. It reminds you that even when things felt scattered, there was still a thread running through it all. Still intention. Still care.

This is one of those grounding moments.

I am a dad. I’m scared out of my mind. And today, this is where I landed.

Much love. Stay safe. Wash your damn hands.
I’ll see you next time.