Slipped, Not Lost
Welp… the day got away from me.
So here I am, late Wednesday night, realizing I never posted this morning.
But looking back at it now?
It makes sense.
It was a full one.
First day of three off.
At least… that’s what it’s supposed to be.
In reality, there’s too much to get done for it to feel like time off.
Morning started simple enough.
Took the kids to school, then headed to the sporting goods store.
Got there an hour early.
Of course.
So we pivoted.
Barber shop… also an hour early.
At that point, it turned into one of those mornings where you just start stacking stops.
Breakfast with the younger two. Washed the truck. Hardware store for topsoil and mulch. Another hardware store for zip ties and tie-downs. Back to the sporting goods store for camp chairs. Haircut. Cigars. Grocery store.
Three hours gone.
Just like that.
Back home for a minute, then right back out.
Title transfer for the third vehicle. Quick tour with my mom. Picked up lunch.
Another couple hours.
Back home again.
Twenty-minute nap.
Then right back up to grab the older two from school.
Snacks. Reset.
And before I knew it…
We were heading out again.
Back-to-back baseball games.
Rain at the start. Delayed first pitch.
But it didn’t matter.
It was Jacob’s first REAL game.
He played right field for a couple innings.
Only one at-bat. Struck out.
Didn’t bother him.
What stuck with me was something else.
The first time he went out to right, I was there. Right up against the fence.
He saw me.
We talked for a second.
And then he locked back in.
Focused.
The second time out, I stayed back.
Sat under the trees.
Watched.
He looked for me.
You could tell.
But he stayed focused anyway.
That part mattered more than anything.
They won.
All the kids played well.
The margin just shows that Jacob’s team showed up more
First one in the books.
Smiles all around. Kids clapping. Parents cheering.
You could feel it.
When I asked him later if he wanted me at the fence next time…
He paused.
Said he didn’t know.
He knows.
He just didn’t want to say it out loud.
I’ll be there.
Every time.
David was up next.
Also his first game of the season.
Same field. Same position.
Right field.
I was out there with him each time.
Talking. Encouraging. Keeping him engaged.
One at-bat. Another strikeout.
Same reaction.
No frustration. Just ready to get back out there.
They won too.
Close game.
Good baseball.
This is going to be a fun season.
Which means…
Batting practice is happening.
Daily.
Net goes up tomorrow.
Bounce hits. Side toss. Probably a new tee since the last one didn’t survive.
Because this is part of it.
The cost isn’t just money.
It’s time.
Energy.
Pieces of you.
And somehow, you always get it back.
In smiles.
In moments like tonight.
In hearing them talk about the game on the ride home.
Only thing that didn’t really stop?
Work.
Messages coming in first thing this morning.
Even from my own team.
Most of it stayed on read.
My subtle defiant show of being out of office.
There was one thing I had to step away for.
Because that’s the reality.
Leaders don’t really get time off.
Or at least…
It doesn’t always feel like they do.
Tomorrow is already full.
Mechanic. Chicken run leveling. Finally getting the chickens ordered.
Cleaning. Maybe some stream work.
Another late game.
Maybe a sneaky stream.
We’ll see.
For now…
I’m sitting here listening to the kids settle down.
Fresh out of the shower.
Smiles still on their faces.
Hoping the morning doesn’t come too fast for them.
Some days don’t go according to plan. They don’t even stay on track long enough to call it a plan. They just move. One thing to the next, stacking hours without asking for permission. And it’s easy to look back and think the day slipped away. But when you slow down, even just for a minute, you realize it didn’t disappear. It just filled up with things that mattered. Not everything got done. But the important parts still showed up.
This is a grounded moment where even the days that slip away still give you something worth holding onto.
Much love. Stay safe. Wash your damn hands. I’ll see you Friday.
