It's been two years and some.
For two years, every task--domestic or academic--has been performed with a baby on my hip or at my breast, or a toddler on the floor (or on my hip or at my breast) interrupting adorably every couple of minutes. I've written blog posts, presentations, class lectures and finished revisions of my book with one hand awkwardly crooked around a nursing child while the laptop on my knees started to overheat. I've cooked dinner one-handed while my arm holding an increasingly heavy child on my hip started to ache because otherwise she'd just sit in the middle of the filthy kitchen floor and wail at me through the whole process. I've washed dishes with Z on my back in the mei tai. I've toted her up and down 2 flights of stairs perched on top of the dirty laundry in the basket.
I've been frustrated and impatient and grumpy grouchy and longing for this day for a long time.
Mama is hands free.
Let's get some stuff done.
