“I want my Daddy,” was the sad little cry that came from the mouth of my beautiful three-year old as I put her to bed.
At first this started as a toddler tactic. She was pulling out all stops to try and get me to let her stay up. Whereas other kids opt for the angry cry, Princess D has always been on the more dramatic side of things, the oh-poor-me-I’m-devestated tactic. Wounded and hurt, utilizing those big brown eyes as much as she can.
This is how the above started, I could tell by the medium amount of insincerity she had in her words. But it was as if she started to see the truth to those words and she kept repeating it, getting sadder each time she said them.
“I want my Daddy,” she half sobbed as I stoked her hair. My heart broke.
“I know you do my sweetie.”
“Can you promise you will take me on a walk to find a man to be my Daddy?” hopefully she asked.
“What kind of man?” I prompted. Mostly to see if she’d bring up Blahblah again.
“A kind man who loves lots of people, especially his family,” says my three-year old as she wraps her little arms around my neck.
“Ok my baby.”
“And if a car comes, can you lift me out of the way?”
(Words can not describe how much I love my kid.)
The next half hour was a repeat of this conversation and my “I’ll try to find you a Daddy” turned into “Yes, my baby. We’ll walk on the road and look for your Daddy.” (note: this is why I get disgusted with Baby Daddy, coward that he is.) It took me being a little stern to make her stop repeating it and settle. Poor thing.
Of course I wonder if having let Blahblah into her life for a brief bit of time was what is bringing this on. Before him she’d never known a man that Mommy kissed. A man who went on hikes with them, ate with them and hung out with them. There’s also the fact there are no regular male figures in her life anymore. Dad is dead and my brother is busy so he’s not around. She went from three of them to pretty much none. And that’s gotta be hard.
Plus, there’s preschool now where so many of the kids are getting picked up by Daddies and they’re studying family this month so everyone is talking about Daddies. Even though in Princess D’s classroom there are more pictures of her and her family than anyone else (like SEVEN compared to two of the other kids, mostly because she insisted on bringing nine pictures to class) it’s almost as if the Daddy figure is being rubbed a little in her face.
It breaks my heart… so much so that I had a nightmare about Blahblah and couldn’t get off the chair this morning to do yoga until I got this out on paper… or rather computer. There’s nothing I can do about the Daddy situation except keep her away from any men I date until I know they aren’t going to break our hearts again.
And I suppose we’ll have to start walking the road looking for men who love a lot of people.
(update: when Princess D and I were getting ready to leave for work and preschool this morning, she stopped me and said, “You told me we were not going to work today so we could walk and look for a Daddy.” My kid forgets nothing.)