So a fire at work sent us all home for the day, which just means one less day to get the mountain of work done before the impending deadline.

Apparently some people saw the fireball as our transformer blew up, plunging the building into darkness, and KOing all our servers and workstations.

It gave me a chance to come home early and participate fully in the 2 hour cycle of waking, diapering, breastfeeding, burping, bottlefeeding, burping, and medicine giving, that is life at home.

The first week was brutal, and actually it's less stressful to be at work for 12 hours a day 7 days a week than feeding infants all day.

We had to hire a night person to help, since neither of us were getting more than 2 hours of sleep a night. My wife probably gets 4 now, which is better than 2, I guess.

Life has changed over the past 2 months from long-term planning for social events and interesting coversations with friends, to saying "Good burp!!!!" or "A wet diaper? Good girl!" and really meaning it.

I knew it was coming, but I don't think my wife really understood the magnitude of the change. She does now, as she bears the brunt of the work. She had a lot of ideas of how pregnancy and child rearing would go, few of which actually went according to plan.

Sadly, since I usually think the worst, I'm not surprised the way things have gone.

I'm hoping they replace the transformer soon, so I can, well, earn income, and I hope there comes a day where I can actually come home to enjoy a family, rather than just be exhausted by it.