Ok, I’m not exactly fatherless. I have a father; he’s just been dead for a very long time. And we weren’t exactly close so missing him has really never been an issue. But this is an odd Father’s Day because my husband is also gone (gone as in “not here”. Not gone as in “dead”). He went to the U.S. Open golf tournament in San Francisco with my sister’s husband. So I didn’t have anyone to make breakfast in bed for, or be nice to.

Here’s where things get even stranger: my four oldest children are all gone as well. They left last Sunday to go to Utah to see their grandparents and cousins. This week they’ll be at BYU for various camps and such so I will have spent two whole weeks without my big babies. It’s been super weird. In some ways it’s nice because we go through about four dishes per day now that all the big eaters are gone. But I also have to do those four dishes myself since my slaves children aren’t here. Also, I have to fold the laundry. I can’t even remember the last time I folded clothes. It’s a drag! I feel really bad for those of you who don’t have teenagers to do all this hard work. Teenagers get a bum rap but I think they’re pretty great.
 
So this last weekend there was just me and the two littles. It was like being on vacation! Strangely the last time I had two children I thought it was the hardest thing in the world. Rather like running three miles. If you asked me to run three miles I would drop dead. But most of my friends are runners and three miles means nothing. It’s all a matter of perspective. Having six children makes two seem breezy and wonderful. I’m sure Michelle Dugger would think the same thing about having only six kids around.

Yesterday was Jasper’s birthday. We felt super bad that everyone was going to be gone, so we lied and convinced him that it was last week before everybody left. Since he’s only turning six and hasn’t learned the finer points of the calendar, he went right along with it and had no idea. Until all the relatives started calling yesterday. And then Ada, the tattliest tattletale of all time, announced that it was actually NOT his birthday when we said it was. It’s times like that when I sort of wish it were OK to punch children.

On that cheerful not, may I wish you a happy Father’s Day. Especially if you are, indeed, a father. Or you are married to a father. Or have a father. Or even just know a father. Have a happy day!