The Best Day of the Year

I made Mother's Day happen for DW. My kids didn't, though I gave them many chances.

"Let me take you shopping," I said to them. That's a big deal, because I hate to shop, especially with my family. I feel like I'm being dragged from store to store, comparing many things, walking out with nothing.

When I shop alone, I already know what I want and know where to get it. I have an idea of how much I'm willing to spend, and if the item happens to be on sale, all the better. I'm in and out in minutes.

One of my daughters went away for that weekend. My other kid didn't know what to get her mother and wasn't willing to shop.

I knew what she wanted. She had been talking about adding a rack to the back of her bike, upon which she could attach panniers. I made a trip to The Cyclery, in Old Ottawa South, talked to the owner about the bike DW has and asked for his best recommendation. One rack: sold. He showed me three panniers, of varying quality and cost. I chose the middle one.

Sold.

In less than 10 minutes, I was out of the store.

On the way home, I picked up a Mother's Day card: not one that was from the kids, but from a husband to the mother of his kids. I picked up flowers, too.

On Mother's Day, the kids had nothing for their mother. The one who went away was dropped off from her weekend out at the restaurant where we dined with my mom. The other one didn't even wish her mother well until I asked her about it.

It didn't bode well for them.

More to the point, it didn't bode well for the coming Father's Day.

I didn't expect much. When I awoke, my foot was still bothering me and I skipped a planned group bicycle ride. DW packed up and went without me, and I decided to sleep in.

When I awoke, I heard the girls in the family room, watching TV. I came down with a book that I've been wanting to read and I said that it would be nice if someone made me a cappuccino and brought it to me on our front steps, where I would be reading.

My youngest brought it. It was delicious.


My eldest daughter asked me what I'd like for breakfast. I told her and then she disappeared back into the house. DW returned from her ride and after talking to the girls, headed out again to get some groceries.

It seems that my request didn't match what we had in the pantry.

When it was ready, it was worth the wait: my breakfast bagel had a perfectly fried egg and crispy bacon, with old cheddar, lettuce, tomato, and a dash of hot sauce. A side of pineapple complemented the dish.


In the afternoon, we headed to Lansdowne, where we enjoyed some pints and appetizers with my folks before wandering the grounds (my parents hadn't been to Lansdowne since the redevelopment).

My girls, though engaged in the occasional sibling spat, snuggled up to me for what seems like an annual photo.


The day followed with a trip to my father-in-law's place, where DW and the girls played games with him while I mowed his lawn. A small gift for his day, but he appreciated it.

At home, I had gifts waiting for me, chosen by my daughters and paid for by DW. Because a minor can't even touch alcohol bottles in the LCBO, my youngest, who likes beer and knows her father's taste, pointed out three bottles for her mom to pick up.

She really knows her dad: the beer was spot-on. Two, I hadn't tried before but wanted; a third, much enjoyed.


A final gift was a pair of Bluetooth headphones.


Steak for dinner.

Game of Thrones.

And then the girls were off to bed, showing me that they put a lot of thought into the day and made their dad feel special.

I win, Mom.

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