I'm not Dad

Briz and Ladybug are off on another adventure.  They are backpacking 33 miles in the four corners area, exploring Indian ruins, and roughing it.  I keep checking the weather and it is raining and snowing there.... I try not to panic, but we pray several times each day for them to be safe and warm.

In the meantime, I've tried to occupy the other girls the best I can.  With almost 1/2 of our clan gone for 5 days,  the castle takes on a bit of a party atmosphere.  Sunshine says, "We've had a girls night out since Friday!" 

We've gone to movies,
eaten out,
purchased ice cream shakes,
bounced off the walls,
played with friends,
made exorbiant desserts,

played board games,
had spa night,
pierced ears,

covered walls with polka dots, you name it.

Yet, last night, after a long and fun evening, I read a final bedtime story and crawled into my own bed to read.  After an hour I heard sobbing, soft and sorrowful.  It didn't stop.  "Daddy.  Daddy."  My little one called into the dark.  I crept into her room and lay down.  "What's wrong sweetie?"  "I miss Daddy.  I miss him giving me a snuggle."

"I'm here giving you a snuggle."

"Well, sometimes he weads fun bedtime stowies to me."

"I just read a fun bedtime story to you."

"Well, sometimes, he is thew in bed when I have a bad dream."

"Come on now, you slept with me two nights ago when you had a bad dream." 

"Mom, I just miss Daddy.  Don't you?"

Finally, I get it.  He fills a special need, a special niche in their life.  In my arrogance, I assumed that because I spend more of their waking hours with them, filling their needs, feeding them, calming them, playing with them, doing homework, crafts, and worrying about them, that I met all their needs.  It was humbling to hear from my littlest that even at my best and funnest, I do not.  They need a daddy, their daddy who loves them. 

I am glad, so glad to not have to be everything in their lives.  Because, obviously, I can't.