Late Again, Still Showing Up

I’ve always been taught that if you’re on time, you’re already late.

Which makes this… on brand, I guess.
Because here we are again, writing a Monday post on a Tuesday.

We’ve been dealing with the same thing many others have lately: the flu.
It ripped through our house like a wildfire; fast, loud, and indiscriminate.

By Wednesday, for the first time in days, I felt good. Not great. But good enough to notice the difference. Good enough to think, okay, we’re turning a corner.

Then, in the last hour of work on Wednesday, the dump truck of a sinus infection hit me.

Having just crawled out of the flu, I was not having it.

Then my wife got sick.
We spent the weekend just trying to breathe, doing what we could to keep the kids fed, settled, and cared for while running on fumes.

The kids and my wife had yesterday off.
I did not.

It didn’t feel like a Monday.

Work has been demanding, but I’m being deliberate with the North Star work. It matters that we do this right, not just fast. I want my department to see leadership that leans in, shows motion, and still makes room for fast failure without panic.

Time with the kids keeps slipping through my fingers. Winter life means they’re bouncing off the walls one minute and asleep the next. Still, we’re reading Ender’s Game together, when my voice holds out. I’m also carving out special reading time too. Magic Tree House with Jacob, Sideways Stories from Wayside School with Asher.

Those moments matter.

Time with Zoey is cherished. She’s blasting headlong into her teens, and I’m holding firm to reality. Trying to stay present, grounded, and steady as the pace picks up.

I was so sick that I panicked Sunday night, and again Monday. I was convinced I hadn’t done any of my schoolwork last week. That kind of fear only shows up when you’re exhausted and running on empty.

So today, I’m taking the day.

To take care of the kids.
To take care of the house.
To get caught up here.
To get my schoolwork done.
To deal with life, which feels like it’s exploding in all directions.

I wish I’d had the health, the time, and the patience to take the kids out to see the Northern Lights last night.

But this is where I am.

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.