Sunday Evening

Chris came back happy from the RC track because he came in second and because he feels officially part of that track's group now. Max made him a Father's Day card with a picture of them racing together. I gather he made everyone at the track look at it.

My day wasn't nearly so interesting. I was just happy because we were *only* ten minutes late for church and all three boys were wearing ironed clothing. I was wearing my (one and only thankyouverymuch) denim jumper, but at least my hair was brushed and I had put on some makeup. Sacrament meeting was a disjointed collection of talks. Why are the mother's day talks so sweet and sniffles inducing and the father's day talks such a disappointment. Are we afraid of giving our father's any credit for doing a good job anymore? Is the bar so impossibly high for fatherhood now that every father except the One Father falls short? A shame. One of my favorite features about the Latter Day Saint church is the enthusiastic participation of the men in the actual raising of their children. I kept waiting for someone to stand up and say, "Check us out! Are we not doing a great job or what?!?" But there seemed to be some great hesitency to gush.

Well I bring my three boys to church BECAUSE I think they'll learn a thing or ten about fathering well there. Go Mormon Dads! You rock. Basketball, diapers, prayers, and bills. You got it all covered. That's talent. That's dedication. That's really something to be proud of. You have my vote and my gratitude.

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Tomorrow it's jumping back into work. It's been nice to have the weekend to catch up on bills and house cleaning and socializing and church going. The laundry is folded, the downstairs sink is clean and clear. The bedroom floors are clear. The books back on bookshelves.

You know, this place is beautiful, this house is pretty cool, the dogs and kids are happy. I married a wonderful man. I am so blessed. Happy Father's Day to me.