Since Oliver was born, I have had the chance to remember just how much hands-on time babies require. Particularly in the beginning of his life, when I was spending about half my time each day nursing, I had to quickly learn how to do as many things as possible with one hand. I just as quickly learned how to appreciate those moments when I could have both hands to myself again. What a relief it was to use two hands to type an email, fold some laundry, prepare a meal, or clean the house! And how wonderful when Oliver started to get to the point of being able to entertain himself more (and nurse less), so that I could have those two hands with greater frequency.
Even now, with Oliver finding more joy in playing with toys and practicing his cruising skills, I often feel that there is so much more to get done than there is time to do it. I still feel the need to one-hand it during the times when he needs to be held or fed. We women, after all, are ever-so-proud of our ability to multitask. So I'll steal my attention away and use my free hand to balance the checkbook, check my email, or tidy up.
But today I found myself sitting on my couch, laptop in tempting reach, with Oliver snuggled up sleeping with his head on my shoulder. I considered snagging some one-handed internet time or, better yet, scooting the napper into his crib for some full-fledged two-handedness. That's when it occurred to me that I ought to spend more time devoting both hands to my baby. And not just for his sake, but for mine. He's speeding so quickly through his babyhood, while all that other stuff will still be there tomorrow, next week, or next year.
I'm happy to say that I stayed put, both arms wrapped around my sweet boy, soaking in the feel and smell of him.
I love my life.