like you. I would wait until you are ready. Kids get things, and if you aren’t 100% into it, the kid will know and will work it. Like Amanda, I was committed. I was pregnant and did not want to be wiping two butts. Dude, poop is terrible. It’s so liberating for the child to have that control over their body. It’s easy. Good luck. I really hope for planet earth and your child that you do it!
—Johanna Weller
The Pant-less Method worked for us, except there were skid marks all over the house.
—A.L., West Portal
What was the last thing you ate?
Thanks to Georgia, the last thing I ate was a burger from In-N-Out.
She told me a story that left me stunned and humbled. You never know what’s behind a person. For a moment she lied her way into another life, so tired she was of her own, and I admired her lies, the way they revealed the truth.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I said to her, thinking of her three children.
“I don’t,” Georgia said.
“But you do. You are.”
“I envy you,” Georgia said, and I spit out a laugh. “I’m serious. You’re free.”
“I’m not that free,” I said and stopped there. She could pour her heart out, but I wasn’t about to say: “I’m afraid and hurt and a tad desperate. The thought of being with a man sickens me, but sometimes I feel this pathetic need for one.”
Also, by saying that I was free, I think she was talking about her marriage, the way it confines and limits her.
Henry had come into the park during part of her story, and he was pushing Tommy on the swings. He did so much with his kids. I couldn’t imagine leaving someone who cared so much about my child. I couldn’t imagine leaving anyone who looked like Henry. I know he must be devastated about his wife, but he had to be unhappy before. Why would he spend so much time getting away from her and everyone in his circle?
“Imagine growing up in a neighborhood and never leaving it for the rest of your life,” Henry once said. “That’s what these people do. They go to the same schools, live in the same places, use the same designers, fight the same fights, go to the same parties, none of which are really parties. Then they have their kids replicate their steps under the impression that they’re making their own choices.”
Henry was here, making his own choices.
“Are you ready for the wedding?” Georgia asked, and it took me a moment to jump onto another line of thought. “Yes,” I said. “I mean, no.”
“I think it’s good you’re going.” Georgia got up to gather her things.
“You do? Annie thinks I’m crazy.”
“Ellie’s the flower girl. You have to be there. Just to watch her.”
Georgia scanned the playground for Gabe, found him, check, and then she turned back to me. “Just have fun with her.”
“And the vows, the kiss, the dancing? Feeding each other cake.” I was beginning to think Annie was right.
“You’ll make it,” Georgia said.
I sighed and sank a little, thinking about a dish for Georgia. Perhaps Thai-spiced burgers with French fries—creative, exotic fries, because Georgia, and so many parents, needs to be transported. An artichoke dish, of course, and mini–milk shakes. Neapolitan to avoid having to make a choice. Sometimes there were too many choices. Just let Georgia have it all.
“Thank you,” I said to Georgia.
At the wedding, during those hard parts, I’ll lie my way into another life. I’ll transport myself. I’ll watch my daughter and pretend we’re all extras in a movie, something utterly unreal.
“Did you ever tell Eric?” I asked.
Georgia smiled. “No. I think Chris really likes the secret. Things have been good with us.” She looked out, content, some private thought changing the normal structure of her face. She looked at peace.
Secrets and lies, so healthy sometimes.
She got up and walked over to the sandbox to take something out of Gabe’s mouth. I walked to Ellie at the play structure next to the
—Johanna Weller
The Pant-less Method worked for us, except there were skid marks all over the house.
—A.L., West Portal
What was the last thing you ate?
Thanks to Georgia, the last thing I ate was a burger from In-N-Out.
She told me a story that left me stunned and humbled. You never know what’s behind a person. For a moment she lied her way into another life, so tired she was of her own, and I admired her lies, the way they revealed the truth.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I said to her, thinking of her three children.
“I don’t,” Georgia said.
“But you do. You are.”
“I envy you,” Georgia said, and I spit out a laugh. “I’m serious. You’re free.”
“I’m not that free,” I said and stopped there. She could pour her heart out, but I wasn’t about to say: “I’m afraid and hurt and a tad desperate. The thought of being with a man sickens me, but sometimes I feel this pathetic need for one.”
Also, by saying that I was free, I think she was talking about her marriage, the way it confines and limits her.
Henry had come into the park during part of her story, and he was pushing Tommy on the swings. He did so much with his kids. I couldn’t imagine leaving someone who cared so much about my child. I couldn’t imagine leaving anyone who looked like Henry. I know he must be devastated about his wife, but he had to be unhappy before. Why would he spend so much time getting away from her and everyone in his circle?
“Imagine growing up in a neighborhood and never leaving it for the rest of your life,” Henry once said. “That’s what these people do. They go to the same schools, live in the same places, use the same designers, fight the same fights, go to the same parties, none of which are really parties. Then they have their kids replicate their steps under the impression that they’re making their own choices.”
Henry was here, making his own choices.
“Are you ready for the wedding?” Georgia asked, and it took me a moment to jump onto another line of thought. “Yes,” I said. “I mean, no.”
“I think it’s good you’re going.” Georgia got up to gather her things.
“You do? Annie thinks I’m crazy.”
“Ellie’s the flower girl. You have to be there. Just to watch her.”
Georgia scanned the playground for Gabe, found him, check, and then she turned back to me. “Just have fun with her.”
“And the vows, the kiss, the dancing? Feeding each other cake.” I was beginning to think Annie was right.
“You’ll make it,” Georgia said.
I sighed and sank a little, thinking about a dish for Georgia. Perhaps Thai-spiced burgers with French fries—creative, exotic fries, because Georgia, and so many parents, needs to be transported. An artichoke dish, of course, and mini–milk shakes. Neapolitan to avoid having to make a choice. Sometimes there were too many choices. Just let Georgia have it all.
“Thank you,” I said to Georgia.
At the wedding, during those hard parts, I’ll lie my way into another life. I’ll transport myself. I’ll watch my daughter and pretend we’re all extras in a movie, something utterly unreal.
“Did you ever tell Eric?” I asked.
Georgia smiled. “No. I think Chris really likes the secret. Things have been good with us.” She looked out, content, some private thought changing the normal structure of her face. She looked at peace.
Secrets and lies, so healthy sometimes.
She got up and walked over to the sandbox to take something out of Gabe’s mouth. I walked to Ellie at the play structure next to the
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