This post is about two kinds of babysitting. The kind involving caring for another's children, and the kind I frequently do at work where the client is the infant in question. Reese's former caregiver would be saying right now- "Baby sitting?" Do I sit on babies?I don't think so, I'm a NANNY." She used to tell Reese this whenever she used that word. Give me a break.
My niece is watching our girls this summer, and things seem to be going pretty well. She's 17, and when I think about that, I think about how I was so completely done with babysitting by the time I was 17. I'm pretty sure I was about 13 when I decided that particular job wasn't for me. My sisters continued on throughout highschool, and even did some when they were on break from college- but not me. I can remember specifics about the children I watched and the parents that employed me, so I can tell you exactly why I gave up the art of NANNYing.
1) The Hippies- They were really nice actually, but they paid me two dollars an hour. They had two little girls (like 2 and 6 months at the time I think) that were very sweet. But they also had a 6 year old boy that was....not. I remember him screaming from the bathroom with all of his might one time- "WIPE ME!!! WIIIPPPPEEE MMEEEEE!!!"I was like "You are 6 years old, and I'm not wiping you! You can either wipe yourself or sit on the toilet all day!" He eventually gave up and came out, although I'm sure he probably didn't undoody his bootie. His mom probably encountered a crusty surprise later.
2) The DIRTY Hippies- They weren't mean or anything, but they were gross and so was their house. It was always in disarray and had a stale kind of old food/musty laundry smell. They had three kids, and only the littlest was halfway decent. The other two were from total hell. One time the oldest (a red-headed demon aged 8) chunked a metal yo-yo at my head, narrowly missing and putting a dent in the wall behind me. They did not discipline them or really deal with them at all. I actually remember the lady holding the youngest (nestled in her mom notch- she had one of those concave midsections with a jutting gut/hip area underneath) and telling her friend she wanted to have another one just so she wouldn't have to have her period anymore. Even at 12/13, I understood that this was a HORRIBLE idea, and remember thinking something along the lines of "Please God, no." Again- $2 an hour.
3) The Professionals: Really probably the best of the bunch, during the short time period I was actually willing to subject myself to the torture, they were the ones I most willingly accepted work from. They paid FIVE dollars an hour. Woohoo! And their kids weren't too bad really, but sort of like little preppy, arrogant country clubbers in training. Tolerable for the most part though. Thinking back, they were very similar to Princes William and Harry.
Beyond that there was the occasional one-time deal. I remember babysitting for this lady once that lived in an apartment, she had one kid. She got really upset after she came home and discovered I had cleaned her out of Steakums. I remember thinking "Sheesh, it's not like it was the last package ever made lady. " Now when I look back, older and more thoughtful, she was probably a bit of a broke ass, and she was counting on the Steakums to be her lunch for the next couple days. She probably couldn't afford to buy any more until next pay day, because she had to give me her last few dollars to watch her kid, so she could have a rare night out to herself. I'm such an asshole. Steakums- what exactly are they anyway? One of the things I liked as a kid (like Spaghettio's or cotton candy), that I wouldn't touch with a 10 foot fork now. Do they even make them anymore? I'm checking next time I go to the grocery store. And if they do I'll read the label and let you know...
A couple of weeks ago at work, I was lucky enough to pick the room containing the craziest of the crazies. Just when you think you've already met as crazy as it gets...well, you know how it goes. She was late thirties, early 40s. Disheveled hair, droopy jowls, with a weeble wobble figure. She was wearing gray sweat shorts, and a gray disney themed t-shirt. She was completely flat from her neck to about where her belly button would be, then there was what what appeared to be a roll (aka her mams), followed by a wider roll. Her appearance didn't phase me or establish her as the craziest of the crazies, as far as that goes I've seen MUCH MUCH worse.
I could write a novel about what went on in the room, but in the interest of using my (and your) time wisely, I'll try to break it down. By the time I was finally able to lead her up front to pay out and haul ass in the other direction (about an HOUR and a HALF after her arrival), I had learned:
1) she had moved here a couple months ago from Arizona
2) her neighbors there had a bird that she liked more than they did, and it died
3) she gave her oldest son one of her dogs, and it got hit by a car and died
4) she is divorced, and all of her kids live with their dad in Arizona
4) she used to live in a trailer on his property, but she couldn't anymore because the water heater was broken
5) her son lied to her for a few months about the dog before finally telling her it died,she has not forgiven him for that, and this particular son for the most part will not speak to her and never visits.
6)she used to be a meth addict (which destroyed her teeth she tells me), and she threatens her current man with doing it again every day, just to make him mad.
7) her current man is an alcoholic, he sleeps on the couch, is horribly mean to her, and was waiting in the car because he didn't want to come in with her. She can't understand why he would sit in the hot car, instead of coming in to the air conditioning
8) she is on disability and social security, and when she gets her next check she will bring her other dog in for its rabies shot
9) she wishes they hadn't moved here, the only connections she has here are her psychiatrist, and now ME (when she said this I saw a restraining order and a possible name change in my future)
10) she's creative with words. she was telling us about this episode of an animal planet show she was watching where they found this dog with it's leg off and they didn't know what happened to it. "It was HORACIOUS!" she exclaimed.
In addition, she cried for about 3 seconds at a time, about 30 times during the course of her visit. She would be talking, seeming fine, then I guess the subject matter would become too upsetting for her, and her face would instantly crumple, her voice would tremble, one tear might escape, then it was instantly back to normal again. I warned the doc about this before she came back in with me, but I don't think it's something I could have prepared her for, she had to see it for herself.
You really had to be there to see and hear her to fully appreciate the extent of her looniness. I just feel fortunate that she hasn't called asking for me or shown up on my doorstep yet...
Last week, we had an elderly couple come in with their two little dogs. The man obviously suffered from dementia, which I feel really bad for both of them about. He kept wandering around the room, and the lady had to keep telling him to come sit down, or take his arm and direct him back to other side of the exam table. When I brought my boss back in to examine their dogs, the man stood at the end of the table, with my boss on one side, and me on the other restraining the dogs for their physical. At one point, the man lifted his hand in a reaching gesture, so that it was about neck height on me, and about 2 or 3 inches away from me. I don't think the lady saw it, she was sitting in one of the chairs behind me at an angle where I probably blocked her view of him. Even though I was FREAKING OUT on the inside I just stood there and continued on with what I was doing, and so did my boss although he kept casting furtive glances in his direction. Several moments later, he finally dropped his hand.
After we exited the room, my boss said "What do you suppose he was grabbing for?!" I don't know, but if he poked my eye, slapped my face, or worse case scenario- tuned in Tokyo- I knew he wasn't aware of it, so I decided to ignore it and hope for only minor injury, or a weak and brief hooter honk.
SO we went to the beach yesterday (and we had a great time), and there were the usual old leathery beach bums with their metal detectors trying to strike it rich. One of them had a kind I'd never seen before, obviously very high tech- he could use in it the water. He had on cushiony head phones, and the detector was attached to both his arms, he looked like a geriatric, low budget Terminator. The thing I noticed most about him though, was his "shirt". Once a normal t-shirt, he had cut the sleeves and the bottom off. The only problem was, he cut off more like 3/4 rather than half, and the bottom of it was rolling up, so his shirt actually ended ABOVE his pointy old man nips. I'm just thankful he was waist deep in the ocean. If that's his idea of a shirt, I'd hate to see what his shorts looked like (or what might be dangling below them)...
