Dropping off the planet's face

I know. I know I know. I get a job and suddenly, I vanish. No more updates, no more nada.
C'est moi, and I know this about myself.
I have some sort of fantasy that I will only stop by here to update my Planet when I have something cohesive and essay-like to share. None of this posting my day sort of stuff: I want to achieve finished, polished, insightful essays daily.
But then, my days happen all around me. Every second of waking life a juggling act, balancing smallish needs and medium needs, my own needs, my husband's needs. The need for dishes to be washed and flies to be swatted (and dang but the flies are numerous right now!). For homework to be helped with, for a particular small butt to be wiped and rediapered, always against the will of the vociferous person attached to said butt.
There is dinner to be prepped, eaten, cleaned. A dog to shoo from the kitchen.
There is....

Right now, there is silence. Sleeping. Nobody fighting off siblings or clothing or baths. Nobody screaming and flailing. Nobody asking me for anything.
So I write, and remember how the silence of the early morning before the cacophony was broken by the hoot of an owl out in the darkness. Before my day rolled out beneath my feet, when all was still possibility.
But isn't it always possibility...wrapped up in every moment?

I kiss my smallish son on the cheek. He is quiet, and still. I will lie him in bed now, and ignore the dishes, ignore the laundry. Time to read, and to be.