Daddy/Nic

I have a few misc. things to share on this lovely, lovely, lovely, Sunday summer eve...

All, of course, relating to Nicolas.

No, that's a lie - the first thing has nothing to do with him.  It's just that I had a great day with Eleanor.  We had some errands to run, after determining that, while she has a lot of clothes, she needed more t-shirts.  We ran to Target, Old Navy, McDonald's, Children's Place, GAP, Gymboree and New York and Co.  We ended our escapade at the splash pad at Bayshore.  If I wasn't so lazy, I'd upload the pictures - She was just hilarious!  She fell asleep on the way home and I was left to go through all of our new purchases by myself...bliss...She's just a little person and I LOVE to hang out with her. 

So...the other stories...

This weekend I saw a very gorgeous man pushing a very little baby.  I totally did a double take.  And do you want to know what I was thinking? 

That was Nic.

I'm pathetic.  I see a gorgeous man and the first thing I think of is my husband. 

But seriously.  That was Nic.  He was that hot dad, so involved with his child.  So in love with his child.  He would think NOTHING of just packing her up in the stroller and going for walks.  Usually they had a destination...the library, the park.  Who knows.  Nicolas loved that little girl.  He was that hot dad, walking down the street, pushing a stroller, causing girls to double take.  Damn I was lucky.

Next.

Eleanor has been talking about Nic A LOT lately. 

A LOT.  More than she ever has. 

To the point where I was starting to get a little anxious.  She keeps saying daddy is at a dance party.  I don't know what that means.  I don't know where she heard it.  But I felt suddenly compeled to tell her the truth. 

I told her that daddy had died, he went to heaven and he couldn't come back.  I said that daddy loved us very much and we could talk to daddy all the time; however, he wasn't coming back.  She looked at me like I was crazy.   A look I have grown to know well. And said, Daddy's right there.  She pointed at her quilt.  And there.  She pointed at the other pictures on her quilt.  And in there.  And pointed to my room.  I was now crying pretty hard.  Who am I to tell my daughter that her father isn't coming back?  This works for her.  Whatever "this" is.  It works.

Enter today.  She woke up and I went into her bedroom to get her.  Same routine as it's been for months.  As I was changing her diaper, she told me I needed to be quiet because daddy was still sleeping.  I brushed it off and talked about how daddy always liked sleeping.  He was brought up a few more times - like on the phone with her cousin - she told Collin that daddy was sleeping. 

We went in my room to strip the bed.  She was shocked!  Daddy up now?  She asked.  Crap.

Let's go get daddy.  Where daddy go?

Crap.  What happened to the dance party?

Daddy died, Eleanor.  He's not coming back.  He's in heaven.  He loves us very very much.  Daddy loves us.  That's the only thing I need her to get out of this.  He didn't leave us by choice.  He didn't leave because he didn't like us. 

I want Daddy to come home now. 

I want him to come home too...but he can't, Eleanor.

Please, Momma.  Daddy come home now.  Let's go get him. 

I know, Eleanor.  I love Daddy too.  I miss Daddy too.  But we can't get him. 

Come on, Momma.  Play lovies (her pink blankets with the bear head).

And just like that it was over.  It was exhausting.  But it was over.  Does she get it?  No. 
Is it time for me to start with a new approach?  Maybe.  But I don't know what that is. 

It's such a fine line.  I don't want to talk about him too much.  And I don't want him to be forgotten.  But I swear to gosh...I'd rather be talking about the birds and the bees to my teenage daughter, than talking about why Daddy died and can't come back to my 2 year old!

What the heck do I do now?