Please Excuse the Interruption

I vanished from the internet.  Not in the way celebrities do when a scandal breaks—more in the way socks disappear in the dryer, suddenly and without explanation.  One post, then nothing. Radio silence.  The cold, hard, vacuum of space.

Why, you ask?  Because we, in our infinite wisdom, decided to have a second child.

Having your first child is like being thrown into the deep end of a pool.  You flail, swallow some water, and eventually figure out a rudimentary form of swimming that keeps your head above water.  You even start to feel somewhat competent.  “Look at me,” you think, “I’m parenting!”

Having your second child is like being thrown into that same pool, except now you’re wearing ankle weights and someone’s also tossed in your firstborn, who can’t swim and keeps climbing on your head for safety.

With her arrival, we found ourselves thrust back into the chaos of sleepless nights, diaper explosions, and panicked crying with no discernible cause—both hers and ours.  Added to that, we now have the existential dread of realizing we are engaged in man-on-man defense.  My home is no longer under our control—it is a hostage negotiation where the tiny dictator demands tribute in the form of milk and cuddles, while her older brother plots terrorist strikes to shift the political narrative back in his favor.

This means my recent writing has consisted mainly of text messages like, “Where is the burp cloth?” and “How long past the expiration date is the last bit of food in the fridge?”  My attempts at philosophical musings have been met with cries that I can only assume mean, “Your priorities are out of order.”

Still, despite the exhaustion, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  There is something about holding this tiny, screaming human and knowing that, for now, my primary job is simply to be there.  To absorb the chaos, embrace the sleepless nights, and remind myself that one day—one glorious day—she will be old enough to take out the trash.

But I’m back now. Sort of. The kind of “back” that comes with asterisks and fine print about response times and coherence levels. The kind of “back” where I might suddenly stop mid-