"Why isn't there a dad at our house?"

For a long time I have been dreading a certain conversation but knowing that it would inevitably come at some point....

I had picked Boston up from school last Wednesday like usual their were other parents there waiting for their toddlers to come bounding out, some moms and some dads. We were riding in the car home and she was sitting in silence, something very uncommon for her, when she asked me the question I knew she would one day ask, "Mom, why don't we have a dad at our house?" It was so naive, so sincere.... It was a question I knew would come one day, a question I had tried to practice answers for and yet at that moment it was so hard to explain to my three year old daughter, who was just starting to see that other kids in her class had dads that would pick them up from school, just started to notice that her cousins all had a dad that lived at their houses and she didn't.

I stumbled on my words letting her know that she has a dad, who loves her very much, but he just doesn't live at our house. I also told her that she is so lucky because mom and Boston get to have so much fun playing together that right now we don't need anyone else with us. She then asked if I could sometime get us a dad to live at our house... like picking up a father was something we could go grab at isle 6 at the local Wal Mart. In that moment I was sad, I was angry, I had a man I wanted to feel anger towards but that didn't last because the anger I felt turned to some guilt on my part as well. Things went wrong, I made some choices that I wish at the time I would have realized that they wouldn't just effect me but my daughter as well. 

I told her that mom loves her so much and that her dad does, too, and that she is so lucky for that. I told her that some day mom would get a dad at our house for her but he has to be so special and only the very best will do. I tried to explain that all families are very different and sometimes their is just a dad and no mom at the house and sometimes kids live with their grandparents. Then I began to think of my dating record in the past few years, which is not anyone's business and I actually prefer to not talk about over social media... yet someone a few weeks ago tried to make it something it isn't by claiming I am with a different man weekly, anyways since Boston's 'dad I have only kissed 4 men... 4, that is it. Dating just hasn't been my priority, motherhood has. I have preferred to spend my time raising my daughter and although I would eventually like a dad in our house and I want him to be an excellent father figure to my daughter I also want and expect the butterfly's; you are never too old for some type of butterfly's.

That was the first time the question of why there isn't a dad in our house got brought up and I know it wont be the last. My answer sufficed her this time yet I know that one day she will want a more in depth reasons of why her mom and dad don't live together and some of her friends parents do. My heart hurt having to answer and try to explain to such a sweet soul why I am partially to blame for it. I have just been reflecting on this a lot the past few days and pondering more than ever how the actions of a careless girl and boy shaped so much more than just their lives. I hope that that as the years keep coming and the questions get more detailed I will be able to give her the answers that she needs and is looking for.

My heart has hurt in the past... it has hurt more than I realized a heart could possibly hurt... what hurts now is realizing that my daughters will also hurt. When I was younger my dad passed away and their was some time before my mom remarried and I remembered being angry. I was angry hearing other kids talk about what they did with their dad, I was angry seeing their dad's drop them off for ballet lessons. I remember feeling a gut wrenching lonely feeling when it was announced that their would be a 'daddy-daughter' activity and as thankful as I was that my grandpa went with me and made it special I felt different than the other kids because he wasn't my dad. My hurt hearts that my sweet daughter at just the age of three had her first feeling of that just a week ago.

Things happen that are out of your control; people change, life hurts... you either get bitter or you get better. I think seeing that my daughter needs (happy) answers, needs reassuring, is finally starting to help be see that better over bitter is the best, yet so much harder option.

ashlynn