Father's Day

I wish this day wouldn’t have happened. I wish I would have pulled a “P&A”—pretending that it wasn’t Father’s Day at all. We could have made up for it later, when the husband was actually here to celebrate with us. But it wouldn’t have worked out. Especially since it’s Sunday, and Atrain would be hearing the “I’m so glad when Daddy comes home” song in Sacrament meeting. That makes the “pretend it isn’t Father’s day so I don’t cry when the primary kids sing in church” plans a little complicated. So, on we went.

I tried to paint a smile of my face. I tried to call the husband to have the kids sing to him. I tried to give him a good gift that he would enjoy during his last few weeks in Texas (even though I ended up complaining at the end of the day that the Netflix present we gave him kept him up way past his bedtime, causing him to sleep through his children’s “Happy Father’s day” wake-up call). I complained way too much today. And I really have nothing to whine about.

I have the best Fathers in my life. My father’s love is more steady and sure than the sunrise. The husband’s love for our children is sweeter than the sound of a giggle and stronger than gravity. The Doc’s love for our family is like a firewall against every imaginable evil. Oh that every little girl could have such good fathers in their life. I will never know how I managed to be one of the lucky few that do. I don’t feel like I deserve them, though every day I’m reminded how much I need them.

I hope that my Heavenly Father can see past the complaints I bemoaned today. Since the day didn’t pan out as planned, I’m going to shoot for a make-up Father’s day in the near future: when the husband is home; when we can stay up together until 5am navigating the world of Netflix; when the boys can actually be “so glad that Daddy came home, pat his cheeks and give him what? A great big kiss.”