Last month, I was invited by Astro AM Live to share my experience as a stay-at-home dad.

Now, this is about Seth. I love him so much. I love the way he finds uncontrollable, unrelenting, and untamable bliss in empty shoe boxes and knocking over his cereal bowl. I love watching him tear through the house like a wrecking ball, giggling and causing mild destruction everywhere he goes.

But here is where the rubber hits the road: As much as I love him, I would give nearly ANYTHING for him to be nearly ANYWHERE other than where I am at this very moment.

I'm a freelancer—a job title that often elicits eye rolls and imagery of spending countless hours in coffee shops. One of the great misconceptions of my career is that it is a life of leisure. The reality of my vocation, however, is much different.

I am an extensively trained and exhaustively worked professional. My clients are discerning and my deadlines are non-negotiable. When I get a phone call at 11:30 at night from a client who wants a revamped marketing set for a 7:30 AM board meeting, my family’s livelihood depends on me pulling that all-nighter. My mind must be sharp and focused, especially when nervously preparing for a conference call with a prospective new client.

...and this is where Seth comes in.

A critical part of my choice to pursue a life of freelancing chaos was to also be a stay-at-home dad—a decision that I still maintain was one of the best of my life, both personally and professionally. I live for the moments when I can perfectly balance my workload, loads of laundry, and loads of laughing. It's a delicate work/life balance ballet. I love the moments I can read a story to my son (or watch marble races on YouTube) while simultaneously sending out invoices and quotations.

But then there are the mornings after an all-nighter. These are the moments when a toddler waking up at 8:00 AM can be trying. A sweet two-year-old boy who is well-rested, hungry, and literally screaming with delight to see a new day arrive—all while I’m doing everything I can to keep my eyes open and my thoughts coherent.

Or the moments when he gets a quick spell of the “Whys” while I’m desperately trying to determine what tone of turquoise best represents a client. Or when the innocent and sweet two-year-old seizes the opportunity to experiment with shoving Legos into his nose at the exact moment a major potential client calls in for a Skype meeting.

In those moments, despite my intense love for Seth, I would give just about anything to be anywhere else. A busy coffee shop. A quiet library. Heck, even a stuffy office. Anywhere that would isolate me from the chaotic nature of life at home with a two-year-old.

But then I remember: Conference calls can be rescheduled. Turquoise can always be reconsidered. Coffee can always be drank and sleep can always be caught up on. But witnessing the life of a two-year-old? That only happens once.

Scratch what I said above. Call me crazy, but I am the luckiest fool to ever be.