Awkward Octopus

I put Rachel in the front carrier today in order to attempt to get some work done. Lately she seems only to be happy if she's in my arms or has my one-on-one, undivided attention. This isn't very helpful when I have a house to clean since I can't stand to hear her scream.

So even though she's rather heavy I decided to strap her on, facing outwards to limit the amount of drool I inevitably will collect on my shirt throughout the day.

This is convenient because she is entertained while I am working. This is not-so convenient because she is entertained by my working.

I feel like a clumsy two-headed octopus of sorts. Half of my limbs I can control, the other half fly out sporadically like I have a motor tic of some kind.

While my own legs are carrying me around the house as I do my business, there is another pair swinging and kicking to some internal, and very unique, rhythm of Rachel's, throwing me off balance and occasionally knocking things off of counter tops.

My arms are busy folding clothes, sweeping floors, and scrubbing mirrors while Rachel's are either pinching me or grabbing things that ought not to be grabbed.

It's a quandary. What am I supposed to do?

If I put her on the floor she'll fuss. If I carry her around she'll knock things over. If I put her down for a nap I only have a half hour before she's up and at it again.

Soon she'll be even more of a handful, I'm sure. I remember always wanting to help my mom with the laundry. She'd always give me piles to put away. If she was done folding I'd get to put away Dad's shirts and deliver clothes to all my brothers and sisters. If she wasn't done folding yet she'd give me one kitchen cloth.

"Here, Nancy," she'd say, "You can put this away."

I'd scamper off to the kitchen and put the cloth away and then run back to the living room.

"Here, Nancy, " she'd hand me a towel, "You can put this away."

Again, I'd be off to the kitchen and back again in a flash only to be handed either a cloth or a towel. This would continue until all the folding was done.

I'm pretty sure that my mom was just trying to get rid of me so I didn't make a muck of folding the clothes. When I got older and was invited to help fold the clothes I was ecstatic.

Hopefully Rachel will feel the same way in a few years and I can put her to work because, trust me, laundry isn't all that exciting of a task anymore!