Please pardon the typos et al. I typed this out on my Notes app, stream of consciousness, throughout my first Father’s Day. I could probably clean it up, but I’m not going to. This is what I wrote. As I wrote it.

Wake up before the alarm. 6:55am. On a Sunday. Father’s Day. First one ever. Never really celebrated it before. Dad died when I was too young. Always just sort of another day. Why did I wake up before my alarm? Nightmare. A taco nightmare. Last night was a taco RomCom dream. God I hope there isn’t a sex dream coming up. How long did these last with the corn dogs? Only a few nights. Okay. I’m up. Kristin should be here in an hour to watch Rhett. He’s still asleep. Good. Bags packed for this morning. Really have to pee, but Bubby is asleep in the closet/hallway to the bathroom in my tiny studio apartment. That’s fine. I can hold it. Text from mom wishing me a happy Father’s Day. Thanks mom! Blueberry chia pudding mixed with some oatmeal (makes it less messy and easier to feed the boy). Nuke for 15 seconds. Ready. Mix his bottle of formula and prep a bottle with the powder for Kristin to give him at noon. Hide the bottles, or else he won’t eat his food as soon as he sees them. Get a diaper ready. 7:30am. Good Morning Sunshine! He is standing in his sleep sack with a huge grin under his pacifier. Just a wet diaper overnight. Cool cool. Jammies back on and let’s do this pudding! Kristin texts she is on her way. I forget to remind her to bring sourdough starter…fail. I see you looking for your bottle. I have outsmarted you this time, Little Lion Man. Let’s pudding! Two bites left before it’s bottle or a meltdown. So bib comes off, bottle to the boy, and daddy needs to pee and brush his teeth. Shimmy around the pack n play that fills most of the hallway/closet and get ready. Three minutes later, Rhett has inverted his bottle and is happily watching it drip onto his feet. Rhett! I put the bottle back in his mouth, clean up his feet, and Kristin has arrived. We head downstairs to grab her. Quick little airplane ride for the kiddo down the hall. His squeaking is probably waking up the neighbors. He is the only baby on my floor. Kristin brought the starter! Sourdough and focaccia for the BB&B Bread Truck is imminent! Orient the veteran mom on stuff she already knows. Diapers, bottle, nap time, Apple TV. I’ll be back by 1pm. I love you Bubby! I’ll be back in a flash. Out the door. Text Jacob to meet me at the kitchen. ETA 8:30am. Dash instrument panel is still dead. I’m sure it’s a fuse. Second Sunday like this. I need to fix this. Have I ever changed a fuse in a car? That’s a dad thing right? Like changing the oil? Mom taught me how to change the oil. Probably fuses too. I can’t remember. So not a dad thing. Just a thing. Stop at Ricker’s and grab a Starbucks Double Shot Coffee for me and a half liter of Monster for Jacob. He said he liked it on his first day working and I’ve been getting it for him ever since. I’ll just get it anyway. Jacob is waiting. Awesome! We grab the trays of brioche and beignets from the fridge and load the truck. Record time and we are off to Noblesville for our event. Did Jacob call his dad for Father’s Day? Yup, but he was probably asleep. Halfway to Noblesville. Fuck! Forgot the macarons. Hey Siri call Laura Lhfdjndehvse. ‘Calling Laura Lachowecki.’ Thanks Siri. Can you grab the macarons from my walk-in and bring them to the park? I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot for forgetting them. She’ll wok it out! Crisis averted! How fast am I going? Oh…no idea. Dash is still out. Why is this road completely dug up? What am I actually drinking in this can of coffee? Quick glance at the ingredients. Abort! Some things are better left unknown. Rhett and I watched ‘In the Heights’ yesterday. Still working on ‘West Side Story.’ My Nuyorican father’s past. Our shared past. Rhett, my father and I. Rhett gets protective when he sees me tear up watching these things and always tries to touch my face. Those are happy tears, Bubby. Those tears are for us and what we get to do together. I’m tearing up in the truck as I drive. I do this a lot. Jacob doesn’t notice. I shift my attention. Kobayashi Sushi. Should have called it Kobayashi Maru-shi. Missed opportunity. When was the last time I was in downtown Noblesville? 2011. On a date. Yup, there Barely Island where we went. Wow…a decade. A roundabout! Still get a kick out of these, though 95% of the roundabouts I have taken were done on the other side of the road, driving on the right hand side of the car. Nailed it. We’re here! Folks are already gathering for the outdoor church service. We park in front of the coffee truck. Jacob knows the set up routine and sets out like a pro. I set up the outside and start the generator while he starts the fryer, and we are ready to serve doughnuts in about 370° F from now. 20 minutes. Hamilton County Health Department comes to inspect. All good! We are open. The blur of service. Laura arrives with the macarons! And we’re rolling. Today we are doing stuffed brioche filled with Fluffernutter (peanut butter and marshmallow), Nutella, and Funfetti icing. Yup! We have beignets AND macarons! It’s hot. My internet goes down and we have to switch hotspots to Jacob’s phone. 5G in Hamilton County doesn’t love me. Things are winding down. Kathy and Charlie come to get a bunch of goodies for Linda’s birthday. I haven’t seen any of them since we all spent a week when they visited and I was living in Paris. Two years? Three years? Coffee truck brings us some iced lattes in exchange fir the brioche we brought them earlier. I go to admire their Sprinter van. Getting a Sprinter is a future AJ problem. But this will definitely work for my mobile Champagne and wine bar. Propane is off by 11:15am. Thirty minutes until we can empty the fryers. We clean and relax for a few minutes until 11:45am. During the stretch, we thank the organizers. It was a great event. Thank you for thinking of us. We’ll see you in July. Oil out and we are off! Back to the kitchen. I only left on the indicator light for a right hand turn for about 5 miles. No dash lights… We unload the truck and I turn the 40lbs of bacon I have curing in the walk-in. Great work today Jacob! I’ll text you the prep list for tomorrow and I’ll see you on Tuesday after the nanny picks up the baby. Back on the road and I am home by 12:50pm. Right on time! Bubby is waiting, giant toothless grin and squeaks to greet Daddy. Thank you Kristin! How did it go? Not a lot of napping, so I say goodbye to Kristin, who has to go back to work, and I entice Rhett to drink a couple more ounces of formula before it’s clearly time for a nap. ‘Hey Google, play white noise.’ Pacifier in and sleep sack zipped up. Rhett goes down immediately. Clean up a little. Grab a White Claw. My weekend has begun. Shit. I have to pee. Down to the lobby to pee. There is no way to do that in my apartment without waking the baby. Even with the most graceful shimmy. Did I take my vitamins? Yes. That part of the morning was a blur. I should eat now, but I’m not hungry. Later. Sit down on the couch. It’s 1:30pm. First time sitting (other than driving) since 6:55am. This is nice. 4000 steps! 8 hours standing! I ponder the math for a second, but nah. Breathe. Kristin forgot her water bottle. And sunglasses. And mixer. Kristin was one of the many folks who gave kitchenware, appliances, towels, sheets and pillows to me when I realized I would be here and not hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2020. Text Kristin. Rhett has slept for an hour. I know, because the sound dips and comes back up to let me know. I’ll see how much longer he has. Then it’s off to see our first Indianapolis Indians game together. Baseball is a dad thing, right? Mom used to surprise me if she got off work early, and would pick me up from school and we’d drive to Bush Stadium to watch Razor Shines et al and eat Cracker Jacks. So maybe not a dad thing. It’s another thing. But for some reason, I’ve wanted to take him with me since before he was born. So it can be one of our things. It’s beautiful today. Great day for baseball and being outside with the bébé. He is still asleep, so I’ll prep what I can without waking him up, just a few feet away. Baseball started 30 minutes ago, but we have time for him to get his Z’s and then walk over, down the canal. Pack my man bag. I’ve taken to always carrying around two diapers in there. Even when he isn’t with me. It’s just easier, and the Eagle Scout in me is sure they will come in handy in some MacGyver way at some point. I should probably start carrying duct tape around again too. That’s another Mom thing. Definitely a mom thing. Always have duct tape. And bacon in the freezer. And ReadiWhip. I’ve discontinued the ReadiWhip thing as a 40 year old adult man. Lots of laundry to do tonight. Rhett’s clothes and my t-towels from work. Rhett has taken to my Cordon Bleu t-towel as a pseudo blanky. And probably a bath for Rhett. I’ll shower on Tuesday morning. Rhett’s max time without seeing me while awake is about 90 seconds. He crawls around and laughs at me if I am in the bathroom. Shit. Sterilize his old bottle. Prep a new one. Pack snacks. His ball (he has a pretty amazing arm and is remarkably good at catch, for a ten month old). Let’s pack the dragon too. And his rubber keys. Bubby loves keys. Diaper, outfit, and sunscreen are ready. Just waiting for the sounds of activity from 8 feet away. I should pack the watermelon. Can I bring that into the stadium? We’ll see. It’s a big stroller. Strollers are made for trafficking contraband. My father’s parents (fresh from the island) had a stroller with a copper tank built in for transporting bootleg liquor under my infant dad, during Prohibition in New York City. Stories my uncles and cousins have told me. I should bring a blanket. Check! 2:35pm. Almost time to wake Rhett. I didn’t think I’d Get the opportunity to be a father. I always wanted to be one. Then I thought that ship had passed. Then Claire and I decided to do this crazy thing together, over dinner and drinks a few days after arriving back in Indy from Paris at the end of October 2019, and it’s working. Of course nothing goes quite according to plans, but it’s working. It’s hard. Juggling a new business that demands 12-20 hour days a lot of the time. Single dadding without a partner right there with you is pretty isolating. Especially after being gone for half a decade. And then a global pandemic. But we’re figuring it out. I’m figuring it out. And it’s working. 2:43pm. I think it’s time Bubs. He is still out. My little side-sleeper. I’ll wait for the full second hour to run it’s course and listen for the white noise to dissipate for its cue. There’s the dip. Let’s get up and at em, Tiger. Not too happy to be woken up, but that grin comes out almost immediately. Wet diaper. Quick change into shorts and tee and we are off after an obscene amount of sunscreen. I see some dads out with their kids. Some pushing strollers like me. I want to wish them ‘Happy Father’s Day.’ Like Merry Christmas. I don’t. That’s a little weird. I see a lot more moms, out with their kids. We are moving quickly down the canal towards Victory Field. We get stuck behind a slow moving family of five with a double stroller. A bicycle built for four is coming at us and I ponder accelerating to pass before it gets to us. I refrain. We pass after the bike vehicle goes by. Almost there! We arrive at the bottom of the 5th. Indians are down 6-1 to Memphis. We get our ticket at will-call. Totally could have snuck in a twelve pack of White Claw. And we head to the lawn. It’s hot. We pull up next to a family with two boys and Rhett stares (as he often does at other babies he only started meeting after the first half of his life, thus far, hanging with adults during COVID). We hang out for maybe ten minutes until he gets a bit hangry and hot (despite his awesome fan situation). So we find shade under a tree on the backside of the hill and have some nums. Rhett wants to gnaw on his sunglasses, so those come off and into his mouth quickly. We work on finishing his bottle while he goes for my phone. His face can somehow unlock it. So that’s fun. Mom calls to wish me a happy Father’s Day. We FaceTime so she can see Rhett. She will be here in just over a month to see him for the second time. We are very excited. We finish the bottle, and I take him down to the left field lawn. Indians are way down, and it’s the bottom of the 8th. There’s a crack. No shit, the Indians have just hit a two-run homer directly at us. We are pretty much alone in the grass, and the ball is coming right at us. I turn and wrap my arms around Rhett and sort of side step away from the ball that whizzes right by where my head was. There is a replay. We are in the middle of it. There is a bit of a cheer. Probably more for the score than my agility. Two runs later, and the Indiana tie it. Rhett is getting antsy. A quick butt smell test and check into the diaper reveals nothing, but he is ready to move, so we head to the team store to get him his first Indian’s hat and baseball. The ball goes immediately into his mouth. Rhett is ecstatic. The hat (the smallest in the store) still needs to be clasped at the last possible setting to fit the tiny nugget. Extra innings. Snack time. We’ve moved behind the third base line under the bleachers and out of the sun. The breeze is nice and Rhett’s munching on his cracker. The baseball has moved to the time out area after he figures out how to launch it down the steps and toward the field. We leave at the top of the 11th. Game is still tied, but the boy is ready to scoot. So we scoot back to the canal. I figure out how to pop a wheelie with the Uppababy stroller. This is extremely popular with the boy. He says ‘wheeee!’ Certainly because I’ve said it a couple dozen times at this point. Memphis has taken the lead according to the Internet. We’re halfway home. Now we’re are singing. He is getting better at matching pitch. We sing a lot. This kiddo has been surrounded by music since the beginning. Naturally a lot of Backstreet Boys, because…the classics are important. We stop and say hi to Zeus and his art on the canal walk in the park next to the apartment. Then we stop by a drum circle. As one does. We stop by daddy’s truck to say ‘hi.’ The truck Rhett built. The bakery Rhett built, when during the pandemic and without income, I started baking sourdough and frying doughnuts for donations to pay my share of his costs. We get home. IT’S LIKE 10,000 STEPS, WHEN ALL YOU NEED IS A KNIFE! We’ve done a lot of walking today. Diaper change. Still just wet. I’m sure this is going to end badly. We put his clothes in the washer, and Rhett’s just chilling in his diaper until bath time. He goes to one of his two Rhett-level bookshelves and grabs a couple of the dozens of books my mom has bought for him. She has managed to find updated versions of some of my favorites as a child. And the ‘Chronicles of Narnia.’ Mom started reading me the first few books as I was learning to read, and I finished the series, reading them to her. Rhett says ‘DaDa’ a lot these days. And now to get my attention. It’s the greatest sound. I shimmy past the pack n play and start his bath with the boy under one arm. I smell it. The poo has arrived. Back to the living room to clean up before bath time. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Fortunate it found its way into his Pampers instead of the tub. Bath time is quick. His hair doesn’t need washing, so we are in and out and into his jammies. Nine snaps to close up these jammies? Somebody has a sense of humor… Rhett is back to his book shelf and trying to climb onto the couch. Holy shit! Indians scored two runs in the bottom of the 11th to win it! Rhett is clearly responsible. 6:41pm. Time to make his dinner. What something we can put on? Moana! This is Father’s Day…and daddy gets to play his favorite. Mulligatawny Soup… This will look great in a diaper. It goes fast. Wash the bowl. Sterilize the bottle from this afternoon. Rhett is weaving in and out of my feet. He knows the bottle is coming. Mixed and into his hands. I think I have 8-10 minutes to check texts and voicemails. Quick phone tag and a call with Carmel Pride for an event next Sunday. Rhett is done and ready to start exploring our 350 square foot palace floors. I free him from his chair to do so. How can somebody not like ‘Moana?’ This is my jam. 7:09pm. Oh yeah…he is pooped. 3000 calories burned so far by daddy… Rhett is growling. He growls a lot. His grandfather says he gets it from his mom. Now he is burrowing like a chihuahua in his bath towel. This is a sure sign he is ready for bed, but we are going to keep him up for at least another 15 minutes. Let’s find a book. I start a page before we left off last night in ‘Giraffes Can’t Dance.’ Right when things are getting good, Rhett grabs his baseball from the foot of the bed and thrusts it into my chest. Okay. We’ll play catch in bed for a minute. I will wait yet another night to learn if, in fact, giraffes can actually dance. Catch turns into ‘hop on pop,’ and I have to corral Rhett back into the middle of the bed and away from the sides that are a few feet above the floor. Rhett does not yet fully grasp heights, gravity, or the consequences of messing with either. He is still burrowing, throwing his baseball, and crawling back and forth over my chest. 7:30pm. He is ready for bed. I pick him up and put him into his sleep sack. Hey Google, play white noise. Pacifier in his mouth. Kiss on the forehead. And I tell him I love him for the thousandth time today. He goes down in less than a minute. It’s thundering out. Also sounds like rain. I picked a few bottles of $10 wine as part of my Father’s Day gift to myself, but I’m too exhausted to really think about it. First bottle I see is the Viognier-Chenin Blanc. Two of my favs. I’m pretty sure I’ve had this one, but I think it was over a year ago. Before the baby. Back when I was baking in this tiny place. It’s definitely raining. The stickiness of the day finally opened up. We didn’t get a lot of thunderstorms in Paris. This isn’t much of a storm. But there is thunder. I’ve definitely had this wine before. Not amazing, but…ten bucks… 7:41pm. My Zero app says I haven’t eaten in almost 23 hours. I’m still not hungry, but I have two Huel meals to try to get down before I sleep. I used to have a paralyzing fear of death. All the way until I asked the universe to let me let it go on my 27th birthday. I didn’t fear death again until Rhett was born. My father died when I was so young. I have carried that sense of mortality as a father for the last ten months. It’s not that I fear my death. I don’t. I fear not being able to see my son grow up. As a new dad at 40, I am acutely aware that I will be 80 years old when Rhett is my age. My father passed away at 55ish. I don’t have many photos of my father. I don’t have many photos with my father. My father was flawed and he had his demons. But I never had a chance to work out my own opinion of him. I just have the stories others have told me. Good and bad and ugly. I have only a handful of memories of my own to shuffle through when it seems I should do so. I want Rhett to have more than that. I want him to see the love I’ve had for him and will have for him as long as this life grants me time on this earth. And I hope to God it is well beyond my 80th birthday. Bubby, you are the best thing I have ever done or will ever do. The love I have for you is beyond anything I can put down into words. Thank you for watching baseball with me today, and our little games of catch. Your daddy was shit at baseball, but it’s not about that. It’s about you and me and you choosing me to be your father. I love you. It’s 8:00pm. Time to eat, take my vitamins, and call it a night so I Can wake you in 12ish hours. Sweet dreams Little Lion Man. Your Dad.