Monday felt weird.
There was something missing.
No practice to think about.
No game coming.
No baseball bag sitting somewhere it shouldn't be sitting.
No checking the weather and wondering whether a field would be playable.
For the first time in a few months, we were in a week without baseball.
Of course, life took one look at that newly available space on the calendar and said:
Excellent. I'll take that.
Monday was work.
A lot of work.
Things were happening around the house.
Schoolwork needed to keep moving.
And in the background was this other thing that's been quietly eating whole evenings and early mornings.
CranioDad.
If you've been around here for a while, you might have noticed things shifting.
Some of that is already visible.
Some of it is still happening.
I've spent a ridiculous number of hours over the last few days moving things around, rewriting things, questioning things that made perfect sense years ago, and asking a question that probably should have been simple:
What exactly is CranioDad now?
Because it isn't 2020 anymore.
It isn't 2022.
And I'm not exactly the same person who built some of those pages.
For a long time, gaming became a huge part of this space.
And it still is part of it.
I'll be back.
There are controllers and microphones and streams somewhere in the future.
But gaming was never really the whole thing.
The writing came first.
The stories came first.
Family.
Parenthood.
Life.
Whatever ridiculous thing happened between waking up and finally crawling back into bed.
That was always the root of this place.
And I think CranioDad is finding its way back there.
Not backward.
Just back to the roots.
Maybe growing up a little.
Which feels appropriate considering how much time I spend writing about watching everybody else around here do exactly that.
Kati looked through what I've been working on last night.
She loved it.
That mattered.
It's not finished.
There are still things I'm moving around.
Things I'm rewriting.
Things I'm questioning.
Things that probably looked like fantastic ideas several years ago and now make me stare at the screen wondering what the hell Past Michael was thinking.
But it's getting there.
And I'm excited about it.
That's probably enough about that for now.
You'll see it change as I keep working.
Meanwhile, school continues.
I'm in Week Two of my bachelor's capstone.
My writing for this week is basically ready.
There is only one problem.
I'm still waiting for grades from Week One.
Not because I'm particularly worried about them.
I just want to know how this professor grades.
Every professor is a little different.
You can read the rubric.
You can read the instructions.
You can read every announcement.
Eventually, though, you need to see that first graded assignment and find out how all of those things translate into an actual grade.
So I've established a rule for this week's work:
Whichever comes first, the grades or the due date.
If the grades arrive first, great.
I'll look at the feedback and make whatever adjustments I need to make.
If the due date arrives first?
Send it.
Then came Tuesday.
Election Day.
Sick Day, too.
I'm not going into much detail about that second part.
One kid wasn't feeling well.
I spent most of the day in the office cave trying to get things done while also being available when needed.
Work.
Dad.
Work.
Dad.
Repeat as necessary.
But we did make it out to vote.
Kati and I took Zoey and Asher with us.
I've always liked having the kids there for things like that.
They don't need a lecture.
They don't need Dad turning a trip to the polling place into a three-hour civics seminar.
They can just see it.
Mom and Dad vote.
This is something we do.
Someday, they'll get to decide what that means for them.
And since apparently voting wasn't enough responsible-adult activity for one outing, we also got our flu shots.
Because that's adulthood.
You exercise your constitutional rights and then somebody sticks a needle in your arm.
Very patriotic.
Which brings us to Wednesday morning.
The Hunt for Red October is playing in the background.
I'm back in the office cave.
There is a full day's worth of work from yesterday waiting for me.
School is sitting nearby.
CranioDad is open on another screen.
And somewhere in all of it, I'm trying to get caught up.
Again.
Maybe that's why the end of baseball feels stranger than I expected.
For months, there was always another practice.
Another game.
Another place we needed to be.
Another time we needed to leave.
Then Sunday night, the season ended.
And I think some part of me expected the calendar to exhale.
Instead, life simply redistributed itself.
That's probably how most seasons end.
Not with some enormous transition.
Not with a clean break between one version of life and the next.
The baseball bag gets put away.
A browser tab opens.
A kid gets sick.
You vote.
You get a flu shot.
You wait for a grade.
You listen to a submarine hunt another submarine while answering emails at seven in the morning.
And gradually, without really noticing it, you're already in the next thing.
I suppose CranioDad is doing the same thing.
Changing.
Growing.
Finding its next shape.
Not abandoning what came before.
Not pretending the gaming years weren't important.
They were.
They still are.
But maybe this place doesn't need to be defined by one particular thing I happen to be doing.
Maybe it can simply be where I tell the stories.
Whatever those stories happen to be.
For now, the story is Wednesday morning.
It's November.
Baseball is over.
School continues.
Work continues.
The kids are doing well.
The website is changing.
Gaming will come back.
And life, apparently unaware that I was hoping for a quiet week, continues doing what life does.
Filling the space.
There is something tempting about treating every transition like it needs an announcement. A new season. A new chapter. A new beginning. Maybe some do. But most of life doesn't work that way. Sometimes one thing simply ends, and you realize another has already started. There isn't always a line. Sometimes there is just space between the two. And maybe the best thing you can do is pay attention while you're standing in it.
Much love.
Stay safe.
Wash your damn hands.
And I will see you, next time.
