The one armed woman

I am a one armed woman. Not because I was suddenly stricken with a serious illness. Not because I was in a tragic accident. Not because I was born missing the favored limb. I am not unique in my one arm-ed-ness (yes I just made that word up). When I go to church I find there are many one armed women who sympathize with my plight. When I visit my mother, grandmother, or mother-in-law I learn that although they have since re-grown their missing arms they can quickly revert back to being amazing one armed women. Have you figured it out yet? No, I am not literally missing an arm, but ever since I became a mother I have discovered that it is nearly impossible to use both of my arms due to the fact that one of my arms is usually engaged in carrying my child.

Being one armed has its advantages, for one I’m finding that my arms are becoming almost as toned as they were during the hay day of my ballet life (you’d be surprised how tiring it is to hold your arms up all day), and if I were ever to have a serious illness or become involved in a tragic accident and lose an arm I would be able to cope much better, but all in all I’m finding that I am much slower at getting things done. When I look at a recipe’s preparation I immediately double it, and that usually isn’t enough.

Hmmm….15 minutes prep time plus 5 minutes rocking, 5 minutes changing a diaper, 2 minutes washing hands, 4 minutes cleaning up spit-up, 4 minutes changing baby’s clothes, another 2 minutes washing hands, 10 minutes playing with baby…wait, wasn’t I working on something?, 10 minutes starting another project, oh yeah! Dinner! 10 minutes hurriedly preparing… you get the idea, by the time I’m done I’ve spent over an hour trying to prepare what should have taken me 15 minutes. And that’s with only one kid.

Here’s to my grandmother who managed to successfully raise 9 well-adjusted and happy children with only one arm. Grandma, you are amazing!