is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Thursday, July 10, 2008 
I have done some pretty silly things in response to mice sightings -- panic attacks, road trips, even the peppermint oil on cotton ball thing. But kittens, at least I've never used a gun. I'm just saying.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008 
It's not that I am any less proud of my boy, now Pull Up-free for many nights. It's just that he hasn't exactly stayed dry all night since he was liberated from the velcro-tabbed pee prison.
OK, that's not really fair. He has had a few dry nights. But none in a row and when they come, it is with the rarity of a pair of flats in my shoe-cluttered closet (they're there, honey, but you're going to have to hunt to find them...both).
And still, every morning, he wakes up with a report: Just a leeetle bit wet, Mommy or Ohhh, Mommy, there's wetness everywhere.
Soaked sheets or just a hint of wetness, it matters not. We strip down the bed, pull off the pajamas, slide comfy pants over his skinny little legs and move into our morning. On the days, he is dry, there is a freedom in his walk to the living room, carrying babies and the paci and a sippy cup of fresh water with him.
We are going through a lot, and some of that has swelled up for this boy in these past few weeks. I don't care that he's having trouble holding it. I am more concerned that he understands the bigger things -- the emotions -- are what don't need to be held in.
And yet, there he is on those mornings, shivery in those soaked jammies, and I want for him. I so so so want for him to be warm and dry and comfortable in the safe haven of his bed, where he can sleep and dream and rest his worried little 3-year old self.
Still, he is only 3-years old and he cannot always, or even often, control the comfort he wants to feel. I am in this, choosing not to acknowledge the heaps of laundry in the hallway and my worry that I will not find the way to point him toward this milestone of night time dryness. I am in it to strip down the wet and cold and make it warm and cozy once again.
I can't make our lives completely pressed and tucked in and perfect right now. I am not even sure how smoothly I am getting us through these other transitions. But I can make that bed in the corner of my boy's room. Sheets and blankets and waterproof pads, babies and a paci lots of soft pillows and stack of clean pajamas. I can make that a place to come back to and try again. That, I can do so he can settle in, safe and still hoping and dry. For now.
Saturday, July 5, 2008 
As the holiday weekend approached, I let down some of my planning, organizing guard and let the new, pink skin of just being unfold.
On my desk, I have a copy of the parenting agreement Lil E's dad and I have already invested several meetings, two progress hearings, hours and hours of mediation, countless text messages and burning conversations in not signing.
Although we we've had one little hour in dispute (a ridiculous reality but those sixty minutes are indicative of much bigger issues), the one thing we agreed on easily was the holiday schedule. So there it is in my calendar, laying across these limbo days between separation and divorce.
Copyright © 2006–2013, Jessica Ashley. Hosted by Squarespace.
