Cooking With One Hand

I’m offline this week, but I’m re-posting some of my old favorites.  This was originally posted July 2, 2009. 

Clingy moments for my normally independent daughter tend to arrive just as I am preparing dinner.  She desperately wants to be held, so I scoop her up and position her on one hip while I sashay around the kitchen-

stirring,
   mixing,
      measuring,
          and pouring with one hand. 

The sauce splatters and the timer beeps.  I try to set her down, only to be reminded by primitive language-

whimpering,
    arm shaking,
        and feet stomping- 

that I should not even dare attempt such a thing. Chastised, I pick her back up and choose to relish the moment.  While I continue cooking, I spill a few noodles on the floor.  They can be picked up later.  Setting the table takes twice as long since I can only carry a dish or two at a time. Oh well! 

That’s twice as long
  for my baby to be in my arms,
  for me to feel her head on my shoulder,
  for me to enjoy her loving pats on my back. 

When dinner is ready, I set her in the chair, and rub my achy arm. 

Achy from holding my growing child for such a long period of time,
   but also achy from her sudden absence.