"To her the name of father was another name for love."-Fanny Fern

I got a message yesterday asking if Rhett and I could be at the church this morning, half an hour early to meet with one of the Bishopric. I was getting a new calling.
Translation: A Sunday morning of complete and utter mayhem. On a good day...no, let me rephrase...on a great day, we get there five minutes late. Ideally this early apt time would mean I get the kids all bathed, lay out clothes, and find shoes the night before. Instead I read my book till way late and caught the tail end of a Saturday Night Live rerun.

If there was any vision of a homemade Father's Day breakfast dancing in Rhett's head, it was replaced with frantic shrieks of kids not finding socks, Drew running around in his diaper, me having a meltdown because I couldn't find my eyeshadow, and orders for everyone to get in the car and start thinking reverent thoughts, while throwing Gogurts at their heads.

We arrived only fifteen minutes late, where I was asked to work with the Young Women of the ward doing their Personal Progress. The end of church found me chatting it up with all my new teenager pals as I finally made my way to the car where Rhett had picked up all the kids and was keeping them entertained in the car.

He then made lunch for all of us like he usually does, and I believe now is currently sweeping the kitchen floor while I blog. How did I get a man like this you ask? I think I closed the deal by promising him a lifetime of baked goods (and he's a sucker for the sweets.) I seriously feel sometimes like you do when the insurance agency mails you a refund check. They claim you overpaid and now you have this fun surplus you never expected. A big part of you even thinks it's probably a mistake so you hurry and cash it before they can figure it out.
What can I say? Rhett, you are our undeserved rebate check and we love you. Your day will not be a complete loss. I made this video for starters, AND....wait for it....I plan to make some brownies later.

I've been blessed with great men in my life. I know I'm lucky. I know I'm blessed beyond my inadequate way of expressing it. In the impressionable years of youth, my dad taught me without even always saying it, that I could do anything, be anything, and that pretty much I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Was I really? Could I really? No, but I would never have known that. Even now, when it looks like Rhett is annoyed by something I'm doing, I'm all, "What do you mean that's obnoxious? Don't you think I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread?...Wait...why are you rolling your eyes?"

My thanks to my Dad who loved me for me. No strings. My thanks to Dads everywhere who empower and love their daughters. My love and thanks to my husband who pretty much thinks his kids are the greatest thing since...