I'm typing this post one-handed. I've done most things with one hand today. Today I've been reminded of the countless tales my parents have told about my persnickety sleep habits as a child. My Dad loves to tell about rocking me to sleep, carrying me up the stairs as he tries to miss the creaky spots, and finally reaching my bedroom door. But then my eyes would pop open, my arms would fly out, and I would start crying. According to him, this was repeated several times each night.
Today I kind of know how he felt. Miss Evelyn has fought sleep today more than usual. Just as I get her to sleep and set her down, she pops those pretty blue eyes open. As a result, she's been in my arms most of the day. Even holding her, she will doze off only to wake up if I make any slight move that resembles setting her down.
But you know what? I don't mind. I'm figuring out how to manage. I figured out how to do laundry with one hand, go to the bathroom with one hand, and eat my lunch with one hand. I even wrote a blog post with one hand.