i've known it was coming

      for years, i've been trying to prepare myself for the day that she would ask.  today, i discovered that you can never actually be ready.  no matter how much you think about it, you're never ready for it.  

      as i was tying the laces of her tiny pink chuck taylors, avery looked up at me and said "i don't have a daddy."  as matter of factly as could be.  she might as well have kicked the skates out from under me.  i sorta sputtered "wha-what?" and she repeated it.  "of course, you have a daddy, avery. why would you say that?" i told her firmly as i helped her stand up and began to part her hair for pigtails.  i watched her blue eyes, his blue eyes, widen in the mirror, "i do? is he dead?" she whispered.  "no, he's not dead," i retorted, startled, "he's not here... he's... sick. he's had to go away for awhile because he's sick."  that was true enough.  the last time that i saw him, the addiction was nearly killing him and that was a year and a half ago.  in all her three-year-old innocence, avery asked "did he throwed up?"  i thought for a moment before answering "yes, i would imagine he does throw up from time to time."  she asked "does the doctor give him a shot?"  i replied "i think the doctors may have to give him a shot upon occasion.  you know, avery, you're really a very lucky little girl. you have so many people in your life that love you.  you have mommy and allie and grandmommy, poppa, pops, aunt toni, uncle brian, garrett, uncle tj..." i started to trail off as avery named a few more members of our family and started listing friends, "and aaron and kent, and becca and aunt mandy, and owibia [olivia], and 'nessa,  and kent!" it didn't escape me that she mentioned her friend twice and i smiled.  "that's right, avery mac.  you have all of those people that love you so much!  aren't you a lucky girl?!"  but my attempt at redirection was a dismal failure.  avery questioned "do you think my daddy loves his baby girl?"  i was quiet before i answered, because i didn't want avery to see the tears streaming down my face now.  "avery, i think your daddy loves his baby girl very, very much."  she asked "and he'd be so proud of me becase i pee-peed in the potty?"  we're still very much praising a dry morning bed around here. "i think he'd be very proud about that."  avery hesitated before she asked "can i see my daddy?"  i think i can literally feel my heart tearing out of my chest.  "not right now, baby girl. not while he's sick."  "but i miss him."  there's no possible way she can remember him. he hasn't tried to contact her since somewhere around her second birthday - she'll be four in a few months.  but i would imagine she misses very much the abstract concept of having a father. "i know you do, sweet girl."  at this point, i feel like i have answered her questions the best i'm gonna be able to and anything else i say is going to  just make things worse, i've fulfilled my immediate duties as mother, and i have to change the subject before i fall apart and freak her out.  "now, listen, avery mac.  grandmommy will pick you up from school today and take you and allie to church tonight.  then mommy will come and get you, ok?"  avery nodded and asked "and then can i go play at my daddy's house?"  i tried to be nonchalant, as if allie had asked to go to will's "not tonight, baby."  she took it in stride, becoming distracted by a bug on the outside of the car window.  she is only 3, after all.    we heard "my daddy" repeatedly this evening.  apparently, this was just the opening of the can of worms, they're now going to spill out across my desktop.          super. 

     no matter what foolish, selfish mistakes i've made in my past, she doesn't deserve this.  and i'm too tired to sort out whether to feel angry or sad or just defeated..