Carolyn has recently decided that I should not do anything--and I do mean anything--in the kitchen unless she can see what's happening. So, if I wash my hands, chop vegetables, wash dishes, or do anything else that requires me to have 2 free hands, she stands screaming at my knees. This is not a way to live.
And let's not even mention that my neck and shoulders are suffering from measuring, mixing, and generally cooking one-handed while supporting a 20-pound-plus baby on one hip.
Enter the "Learning Tower."
I drove an hour in D.C. Beltway traffic Sunday evening to pick this up from a Craigslister, as we were unwilling to fork over the $200 the company charges for a new one. Monday morning, (Carolyn and) I cleaned it top to bottom. Then I decided to let her stand with me while I washed dishes. It took longer than normal, but Carolyn enjoyed herself. True to prediction, by the time I finished a drainer-full, the floor had to be mopped up and Carolyn's soaked clothes needed to be changed. (Today went much more smoothly--the only thing she got her hands on during dinner prep was the bread knife. . .)
My second adventure, more than I wanted:
I decided to run to the store to pick up just a few things. It was a beautiful, happy seventy degrees. And the nearest store is a mere mile and a half. So I decided to run to the store. Well, walk, really. But I did some jogging on the way back. . .with 10 pounds of flour on my back. Seriously. I did think about this in advance: I'd put the small cold stuff (some chicken, yogurt, cheese) in the backpack (a backpacking daypack--it's really comfortable) and the heavy stuff in the stroller. It has a 50 pound weight limit, and Carolyn is nowhere near that, so it should have been fine. . .except I forgot (until after I'd purchased my 10 pounds of flour) that the basket on the stroller has a 5 pound limit. You'd think it wouldn't matter that much, but it's an all-fabric basket, so I was afraid to risk it (I also think it would have dragged the ground with that much weight). I could, obviously, have simply gone to customer service and returned the offending weight. But, if you know me, you know I'm entirely too. . .determined for such a defeatist decision. So I slogged the whole way home, including jogging (most of) the stretch on the shoulder of the busy road, with a generous 5 extra pounds in the stroller basket and 10 pounds of flour in my daypack. *sigh* I don't think I'll be repeating that trip.
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