I remember watching my dad in the kitchen from my back corner spot in our kitchen nook. Saturday mornings he would be standing by the stove, mixing up pancakes or waffles, pouring us orange juice from concentrate. In the evening he'd chop homegrown potatoes for french fries, scoop them steaming out of the bubbling oil and place them to cool on old newspaper. Serve them to us with ketchup and homemade hamburgers and a side of salad. My mom made the buns.

When I was two and seven and thirteen I thought everyone's dad cooked and went to work and came on field trips and wrestled on the living room floor with all four kid's, two girls and two boys and was strong enough to hold everyone down without hurting anyone - one against four.

I got older and he still cooked but he also drove me to practice at 5 am and mostly quietly tolerated the string of boys (some of whom I would not want my daughter's dating) who started to drive me home. I was 18 and in university when I got sick with mono. My dad drove independent me to the doctor, waiting while I couldn't keep my eyes open or any food down and tucking me into my parents bed when we got home, too sick to look after myself.

There was a Chinese food restaurant we were at one day, just him and I already on the brink of adulthood. He listened while I cried about something hard. He held my hand and hugged me, agreed it was hard and told me he loved me. I remember.

Tomorrow is Father's day. You aren't here, you are off on an adventure, some time to do your own thing and think your own thoughts, in the wild and free, your first mistress. You only left yesterday. I couldn't be happier for you because day after day, you love us all so well. You wake up before any of us, go to work, hard and intense, return home. Without missing a beat you are throwing our babies in the air, catching them in your arms, reading books, cooking supper, coaching soccer, mowing the lawn, going on bike rides, swimming with the kiddos in the wave pool so I can do laps and then brushing teeth, finding jammies, giving kisses. Then you rub my head and we eat ice cream while we talk and find some stillness on the couch.

This morning we all slept in a bit. Raine crawled in with me and Haven when the sun came up, snuggled in and dozed back off. When we woke for good she asked if we could have pancakes for breakfast and I said yes. I was stirring the batter with all three kiddos doing different helping jobs when Liam asked if it was a Saturday. 'It just doesn't feel the same without daddy.' We made chocolate banana pops, mopped the floor, held the chicks and read stories. I was on the help line today, so I took a few calls, really it could have been a Tuesday or a Wednesday. The kids picked me wildflowers and I hugged them all tight. It's just about suppertime and I'm rolling out pizza dough that you mixed up and left in the fridge because you know that feeding all these kiddos is my least favourite part of this mothering gig. The neighbour boys are over and everyone is playing Lego, including the baby who keeps trying to get their attention to tell them she is going pee, but she will be right back. They don't notice. I'm thinking about cracking a bottle of wine, but change my mind, as I only ever have two glasses and depend on you to help me finish the bottle before it gets old. I get some lemon water instead. The kids tell me the pizza is the best they ever had and I say it is because daddy made the crust. Everyone is laughing and eating. The baby got her second wind during stories and is asking to play hide and seek at 9:30, but I dance around with her in the sling and nurse her in the rocking chair and soon she too is asleep. It was a good day, a full day.

Here is the thing love. I miss you whenever you are gone and especially today. Even with all the good and all the full, the whole house feels your void. You are growing more handsome with age and I am picturing the dimple on your left check, the one I like to kiss, while I write this. I'm dreaming of the one day we will be just the two of us again, for a few days, sneaking off to have an adventure, like when we first fell in love. We will talk about our babies, because we will miss them. We will plan out our next adventure for all of us, all five together, our favourite kind. I'll make room for wine in my pack and we can sip it slowly around the fire. You can weave your fingers in my hair and I'll pull myself closer to you and breathe deep into your neck .