We didn't do much this weekend.
At least, that's what I was going to say.
But now that I think about it?
We did plenty.
We just didn't have anywhere we had to be.
And apparently those are two very different things.
For the first time in months, there wasn't a baseball schedule dictating our weekend.
No practice.
No game.
No calculating when we needed to leave.
No checking the weather twelve times and pretending the forecast might improve because I refreshed it again.
We could sleep in.
Take it easy.
Recover a little.
That was the plan.
Life, as usual, had notes.
Saturday morning, I got up and collected a couple of boys.
David and Jacob were the remaining holdouts for flu shots. The rest of us got ours Tuesday, so it was their turn.
Nothing says relaxing Saturday morning quite like:
"Hey, boys. Get dressed. It's your turn for flu shots."
We made a little trip of it.
Flu shots.
A few groceries.
Breakfast.
Meanwhile, we let the ladies sleep.
Not a bad start to a Saturday.
When we got home, the day slowly filled itself.
We cleaned the house.
Groceries got put away.
Meals got made.
Kati and David worked on trimming the hedges out front.
There are still some along the side waiting for us, including a few tall enough that my truck may need to become landscaping equipment.
Perfectly normal homeowner behavior.
We made a couple of really good dinners.
Sunday, we made it to church on time.
Which continues to deserve documentation for historical purposes.
And Asher and I took another walk to the post office box.
He talked almost the entire way.
I love those walks.
There is nothing particularly remarkable about the route.
We're checking the mail.
That's it.
But when you're eight years old and walking beside Dad, apparently there is an enormous amount of information that needs to be communicated before you get there.
So I listen.
We walk.
He talks.
And somewhere along the way, checking the mail becomes one of the better parts of my weekend.
I also disappeared into the CranioDad website for more hours than I intended.
Most of the redesign itself is done.
This weekend was about the less glamorous stuff.
SEO.
Metadata.
Analytics.
Old stories.
New links.
Making sure things work on desktop and mobile.
Opening the doors for Google to start finding and understanding what I've built.
None of that makes for particularly exciting screenshots.
But sometime this weekend, the site stopped feeling like something I was rebuilding and started feeling like something I was finishing.
That felt good.
Maybe that's what I've been rediscovering lately.
An empty calendar isn't the same thing as an empty life.
Sometimes removing the thing that has been demanding all the attention just gives everything else room to stretch out again.
Breakfast with the boys.
A walk to the mailbox.
Hedges getting trimmed.
Dinner around the table.
Church.
Cleaning the house.
Letting somebody sleep a little longer.
Finishing something you've been working on.
None of those things would look particularly important written on a calendar.
Maybe that's why they're so easy to miss.
This week, I'm going to do the opposite.
I'm going to make the calendar ugly.
Thursday will be packed.
The days before it will probably be worse.
I'll move meetings.
Compress work.
Get ahead where I can.
Make sure the things that need me get what they need from me.
Because Thursday afternoon?
I'm done.
And Friday, I'm off.
David turns thirteen this weekend.
Thirteen.
I'm going to need a minute with that one.
There is probably an entire post hiding inside the fact that one of my boys is about to become a teenager.
I'm not going digging around in there this morning.
Not yet.
But I know this much.
Work will still be there Monday.
There will always be another meeting.
Another email.
Another problem.
Another thing somebody needs.
There will not be another thirteenth birthday.
So I'll make the beginning of the week complicated.
I'll squeeze things together.
I'll work ahead.
I'll make room.
Not because the time is empty.
Because it isn't.
That's the whole point.
We spend a lot of time trying to make room in our lives. Room to rest. Room to breathe. Room for the people we love. But maybe making room doesn't mean leaving the space empty. Maybe it means deciding what gets to fill it. This weekend, almost nothing was on the calendar, and somehow it filled with family. This week, I'll deliberately crowd a few days so I can protect the ones that matter. The calendar doesn't know the difference. I do.
Much love.
Stay safe.
Wash your damn hands.
And I will see you, next time.
