What Day Is It?

I've checked twice.

Today is Friday.

I'm reasonably confident about that.

This week, however, I'm not entirely convinced happened in the correct order.

Monday started without me realizing it was Monday.

I knew I wanted to wait to write the blog until after the boys had their meeting at school.

Somehow that turned into me forgetting about the blog entirely until my wife came home from the meeting.

Tuesday wasn't much better.

I forgot it was Tuesday until late enough in the day that I hadn't even started my schoolwork.

The work wasn't particularly difficult.

It just wasn't done.

By the time I finished, streaming wasn't happening.

Wednesday never really feels like Wednesday anyway, so I'm willing to give that one a pass.

Then yesterday I found myself in meetings repeatedly saying that it felt like Friday.

Or Saturday.

Anything except Thursday.

Something about this week has been off.

Not bad.

Just...

Off.

Like somebody moved all the days one square to the left and forgot to tell me.

But somewhere inside this week that couldn't seem to remember what day it was, something else happened.

Everyone kept moving forward.

Zoey is flying through school.

Absolutely flying.

Every morning she is at her desk without fail.

Every time we check on her, she's doing schoolwork.

Not watching something.

Not distracted by something else.

School.

And she's excited about it.

Before this week, there were nerves.

Questions.

Fear.

A completely different way of doing things.

Monday morning she was beginning her freshman year wondering exactly how all of this was going to work.

This morning she came into our bedroom while we were getting up and asked if she could start school early.

Four days.

Sometimes that's all fear gets.

I cannot begin to explain how happy that makes me for her.

She has found something that fits.

Something that lets her move at her pace, dig into what interests her, and keep going when she's ready for more.

Watching all of those nerves melt away has been one of the best parts of my week.

Meanwhile, David and Jacob are watching the calendar.

A little grudgingly.

School gets closer every day.

We've had a few late-night conversations this week.

They try to sound brave.

And they are brave.

But Dad can hear the things underneath the words.

The nervousness.

The uncertainty.

And underneath those...

A little excitement.

I hope their fear melts away as quickly as Zoey's did.

Until then, we'll keep talking.

A question here.

A thought there.

However much they need.

Asher has his own adventure coming.

Years ago, we were invited to a sewing expo by another data blogger. While we were there, we picked up a felt craft kit that creates an entire little seasonal scene.

Measuring.

Templates.

Cutting.

Sewing.

Building.

Creating.

We bought it because it seemed interesting.

Then, like many things parents buy with wonderful intentions, it waited.

Until Asher asked a completely unrelated question.

"Where is the blue truck Halloween book?"

And somehow that conversation eventually led us back to the felt kit.

It couldn't fit him better.

This is a kid who already draws little characters, cuts them out, and creates stories with them.

When we told him this was going to be one of his projects this year, he lit up.

Now something that has been waiting for years finally has its kid.

There are other things appearing on the calendar too.

David is getting signed up for fall baseball.

Different league.

Different city.

Different season.

One more opportunity to prepare before school baseball comes around.

He knows school comes first.

He also knows that when he steps onto a baseball field, he's going to give it everything he has.

He always does.

Then there's Jacob.

Ten.

Two digits.

That's coming soon too.

We celebrate milestone birthdays pretty big around here, and ten absolutely qualifies.

We've started planning his birthday trip.

The entire day will be built around him and the things he loves, just like we've done for the other kids when they reached ten.

I don't know who's more excited about it yet.

Him or us.

Work has been moving too.

Leadership has been at the forefront this week.

So has creativity.

I've mentioned before that I need somewhere for that creative energy to go.

Sometimes that's writing.

Sometimes streaming.

Sometimes building something completely unnecessary simply because I want to know if I can.

And sometimes...

It's work.

My staff usually discovers this when they suddenly receive several emails containing PowerPoints, ideas, instructions to review, and some variation of:

"We're going to talk about this."

I'm sure they love it.

But every one of those ideas is about movement.

Growth.

Trying something.

Questioning something.

Making what we do tomorrow a little better than what we did yesterday.

I've also spent a lot of time talking with other managers and directors through my role as an Agile Champion.

I've been approaching those conversations almost like open podcasts.

A few prompts.

Then listen.

The conversations have been incredibly honest.

The good.

The bad.

The frustrations.

The opportunities.

Occasionally I catch myself slipping from interviewer into mentor.

Especially when I hear something and immediately start thinking about how I can help someone work through it.

I probably should stop doing that.

I probably won't.

That's just part of who I am.

I like to innovate.

I like to mentor.

I like watching people discover that they're capable of more than they thought.

Some of the things I've been working on have also started getting noticed.

Recognition has never been the part I particularly enjoy.

What I enjoy is what sometimes comes afterward.

More room for an idea.

More opportunity for someone else.

Another person willing to try something different because they saw it work somewhere else.

I'll happily take the uncomfortable recognition if that's what comes with it.

And somehow, while all of this was happening, the lessons from Monday night kept moving too.

The difficult dinner.

The hard conversation.

The apologies.

The next meal.

I've watched the kids differently since then.

I've watched them watch each other differently.

A lesson that I worried might have simply been painful in the moment seems to have taken root.

That's the part that matters.

So yes.

I checked.

Today is Friday.

Thankfully, our plans this weekend are light.

There are things to do.

There are always things to do.

But there is also time.

Time to hang out.

Time to rest.

Hopefully some time to play games with my best friend.

And plenty of time for four kids to squeeze whatever they can out of summer.

Next weekend will be different.

That's the last true weekend before school begins for the boys.

We're gripping tightly to these last threads of summer.

I have a feeling we'll carry them well into the school year whenever we can.

The lake certainly doesn't care what month it is.

Neither do the kids.

Maybe that's what this strange week has been trying to remind me.

The days don't always happen the way we expect them to.

Sometimes Tuesday disappears.

Sometimes Thursday thinks it's Friday.

Sometimes the thing you planned doesn't happen at all.

But that doesn't mean nothing happened.

A freshman found her rhythm.

Two boys got a little closer to something they're nervous about.

Another found a project that seems almost designed for him.

Baseball is coming.

A tenth birthday is coming.

People grew.

Lessons stuck.

Ideas moved.

And somehow...

So did we.

So I'm going to enjoy Friday.

Now that I'm reasonably certain that's what today is.

I'm going to rest this weekend.

I'm going to spend time with my family.

I'm going to try to play some games with my best friend.

Maybe I'll watch the kids disappear toward the lake while summer still belongs to them.

Monday will come soon enough.

Apparently whether I recognize it or not.

Sometimes progress doesn't feel like progress while we're living through it. The calendar gets away from us. Plans move. Things don't happen when we intended. We miss something we wanted to do and wonder where the week went. Then Friday arrives and we finally look backward. The child who was scared is excited. The conversation we weren't sure mattered changed something. The idea we shared helped someone else grow. Maybe a good week isn't one where everything happened according to plan. Maybe sometimes it's enough to realize that, even when we lost track of the days, we were still moving forward.

Much love.

Stay safe.

Wash your damn hands.

And I will see you, next time.