Father’s Day is a mixed emotion for me. Mostly, I celebrate that I have a good dad and that my brother is one hell of a father too. I reflect on everything these two guys do year round that doesn’t get a thank you. Most importantly, you’re there for me. I love you Daddy and Austin. You’re the best.

I also am not-so-subtly reminded I don’t have any celebration in my own life. I admit, that kinda haunts me.

I wish I could have planned a lunch, a gift, a cake, or any other surprise for my baby daddy but alas, I’m not there yet. I issued the standard apology to my ovaries for no baby daddy in sight but promised someone awesome is bound to be just around the corner. It’s not nearly as depressing as Mother’s Day, which is a cultural shame creator that serves to remind me I haven’t taken the leap that most women have. But in the end, I can’t help but smile and remind myself how fun it is to be me today and trust God knows what he’s doing. Cause while I might be a little older than some of the moms, I’m gonna be so much smarter and have so many cool stories to tell my kids. And I figure everyone else will already know what to do when I won’t so I’ll have a huge support system 🙂