Cory LaViska

I keep having this dream. I'm walking in a field. It's really late, or maybe really early. I feel safe…I think. I don't know where I am.

The air is cold. The grass is wet, like an early morning dew has settled on it. My shoes are damp from it. I'm walking, but I don't know to where.

My daughter recently learned how buckles work. She's absolutely fascinated by them and spends a lot of time trying to fasten them and unfasten them. On backpacks. On highchairs. Doesn't matter. Every time she sees a buckle, she has to try to snap it in place. It's a huge win for building motor skills!

She has this turtle called Bucky that has a bunch of buckles attached to him. I took him along on our trip to the park today so Sophia could play with him during the drive. He kept her busy for awhile. Alas, she still has trouble removing some of the buckles.

Exactly nineteen months ago we were in this same hospital, eagerly waiting to meet your sister. Today, it's your turn.

In a matter of hours you'll be in my arms. I can't wait to see your face for the first time. To hold your hand. To see your eyes.

I didn't think this would happen for at least a few more years, but a couple days ago our nine month old ordered her first lightning deal from Amazon using an unlocked iPhone (whoops).

Behold, all the laundry baskets we'll ever need.

If you ask me what I want out of life, you'll get a simple answer. But getting there has been anything but simple. I work my ass off, but there's always more to do. I try to save money, but there are always more bills to pay. I try to be the best husband and father I can be, but there's never enough time.

At some point, the world started spinning too fast. I used to be the guy who had his shit together. Now I feel lost, wandering around in the fog of my own thoughts completely directionless. I've never felt so lonely — so helpless.