The best Father's Day ever!

This was hands-down the best Father’s Day I have ever had.

My weekend started with a trip down to Baltimore after work on Friday to see Ms N. We dined at Ruths Chris Steakhouse on the inner harbor. Man, can they cook a steak! After dinner we walked along the harbor, sat by the water, and visited a few shops. We finally adjourned to Ms N’s place for the evening where I demonstrated my undying love for her by breaking her bedroom ceiling fan. What am I if not a romantic?

Saturday morning was beautiful. The windows were open and the fan was clunking lightly overhead. The temperature was perfect – not hot enough to sweat, not cold enough to have to find covers in which to bury my feet. It was just a wonderful morning to lie together.

We went to breakfast at one of the few places Ms N will miss when she leaves Maryland, and then we went to a nearby mall for a while to go shopping for bras and make-up. I apparently need an oil-free base if I truly want that Covergirl look. That and I may want to shave the goatee.

We missed the train I was supposed to catch in order to get the kids on time, so we drove up to Jersey. As luck would have it, X called to say that I she would keep the kids a bit longer, so that gave us time to do stuff once we got back up here. I got the kids after dinner and the four of us went back to my place. My kids are OK cleaners for everyone but me – probably in large part because I suck so horrendously at it – and my apartment generally reflects our collective lack of harmony. Ms N – Martita Estewart that she is – helped Alex and Emily go through the piles of stuff that they had in the living room (and me with my piles everywhere else). The place looks wonderful. Thank you, Ms N. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Ms N left for Maryland at the kids’ bedtime. They have taken a liking to her, which is so very nice for me to see.

Sunday was Father’s Day. My day. My day to reap the rewards of another year where I successfully avoided hospitalizing the kids with food poisoning from my cooking, got them to school on time almost every day, kept them clothed – usually in clothes that didn’t clash, and kept them content enough that I got no calls from the school psychiatrist. For one day a year, the focus is on me. It’s my choice what we do. Just about every other day of the year the focus is on them – now it’s my turn.

Yet the only thing I wanted to do on my day was watch them enjoy themselves. That is hands-down the best part of being a dad.

We got up early and took the train up to New York City. First we took Emily to the American Girl Store. She had Angela, her American Girl doll, dressed for a day of shopping (including sensible shoes). Alex brought along Croak, his plastic glow-in-the-dark cockroach. We took Angela to the boutique so she could get her hair done. Alex kept showing Croak to all the sales ladies. Andrea, the (doll) hair-stylist who was doing Angela’s new doo, offered to make a bow for Croak, too. Alex agreed, so long as it could also be used as a leash. Afterwards, as we were going through aisle and aisle of doll paraphernalia, Alex was perfectly behaved. The store is not geared around those of us with Y chromosomes in any way, shape, or form. The men’s room is in the farthest possible nook they could find. It is all-girl. There is nothing in the entire building that could possibly amuse a boy. Yet walking Croak kept him amused and occupied.

After escaping estrogen-central we started walking towards Toy Square. Most other people mistakenly refer to this place as “Times” Square, but ever since Toys R’ Us chose it for their flagship store – complete with Ferris wheel and gigantic animatronic dinosaur – Alex has used this more appropriate name. Every trip to NYC has to involve at least one visit.

On our way there, however, we discovered that they had Sixth Avenue closed off for a street fair. We decided to spend some time at the fair. We walked from 47th – the street we were on originally – up to 52nd, then turned around and went all the way down to 42nd, the end of the fair. In the mean time, we acquired a poncho for Emily, a wooden snake for Alex, and family pictures for me. Emily got to play some traditional African drums, albeit not in the traditional African fashion. We finally made it to Toy Square, where Alex picked up a shark.

Walking from Toy Square back to Penn Station, Emily’s feet began to feel the full effect of all we had done. With the exception of the 20 minutes we spend eating lunch, we had walked from 10:00 to 3:00 – from Penn Station to 49th & Fifth to 52nd & Sixth to Times Square and back. “Dad,” she said around 38th Street, “my feet are going to fall off.”

“Don’t worry, Ems,” I replied. “Pretty soon we’ll be on the train. Then you’ll have an hour and a half to rest your stumps.”

Alex conked out on the train ride home surrounded by his cockroach, snake, and shark. Emily was engrossed in her American Girl magazine. I spent the ride knowing that despite the hard times that have come my way, I am an incredibly lucky man.

Thank you, Ms N, for being there. I love you.