Tonight was my daughter's first night in my new pad, or the "pink apartment" as she's dubbed it, due to the color of the exterior. It was one of the primary reasons she approved me renting here.

When I picked the kid up for school today, it suddenly occurred to me: from here on out, I was on my own when it comes to setting up house for her. It came as a shock because I haven't been doing much nesting lately. For the last few months, my time with my daughter has either been at my parents' place or back at what-used-to-be-my-house when Sandie is away on business. I don't know if you've ever had to stay in a house that's no longer your home due to a divorce, but take it from me, it sucks ass. 

Anyway, as usual, I flew into a complete panic. I'd already bought the kid a Tinkerbell bed set, a bunch of books and toys, a towel, a small pink chair and a fridge full of her favorite foods, but suddenly that didn't seem like enough. I mean, I hadn't even bought her shampoo! Bastard! I'm the worst dad in the world.

I scrambled to Target where I spent an hour doing five minutes of shopping. It had to be perfect. Dora's Pirate Adventure DVD. High School Musical clothes hamper. Supergirl comic book. You know, the essentials. I got in line to pay and then realized I'd forgotten the shampoo, so I went back for that.

The better part of the afternoon was spent making the place as kid-friendly as possible. At one point, I texted a friend, "Kid's staying the night tonight. Scared shitless" because I was. This was going to be her home, from now on, fifty percent of the time. I felt like I only had one shot. If she didn't dig the pad, it might become a chore staying with dad.

I picked her up from school. She'd only seen the apartment empty, so on the drive home, she was concerned as to how we were going to go about our business for the evening without tables, chairs or a television. I explained to her that we now have all three, except no cable and therefore no Tivo. This was a momentary challenge, until I explained we could always watch DVDs. She seemed okay with that.

The pink chair was the first thing she noticed. Then the Dora DVD. Then the black card table acting as a temporarily kitchen table. They all thrilled her to pieces. She spent the next twenty minutes examining every detail of every room in minute detail, cooing about the "great Tinkerbell sheets" or the "great blue lamp in your bedroom that used to be in Mommy's office" or the "great shampoo that smells like strawberries." (Technically, it was melon-scented, but I let that slide.)

She had a turkey dog for dinner and I had a salad. Well, technically, she had the bun of a turkey dog drowned in ketchup, but tonight was not a night for lectures. Then there was a bath where, as usual, she complained bitterly when I washed her face, much to my great amusement. Then some tooth brushing, a round of cheering and hugs because I'd forgotten to buy dental floss,  a little comic book reading and sleep.

It was one of the greatest nights of my life.

I sit here now as my daughter sleeps, in her room, in my place. I feel like a dad again. A weird blend of joy, relief, gratitude and loneliness floats around my head.

This is what they mean by bittersweet.