#203: Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter is Teetering on the Edge of Sanity

My sister is blessed with reproductive talent.  She has four little ones, whom I adore when I’m not the adult responsible for all four of their lives, simultaneously.  The eldest is eight and the youngest is two.  This summer:

I babysat all four children at once.  Alone.

My Sweet Dear Mother was supposed to tag-team in on the gig.  She woke up with a headache (read: lightweight got hungover after drinking 4 beers over a 4 hour period) so I told her to just relax and stay home to get things done for Frankie’s impending surprise retirement party.  She actually did.  I’ll remember to drop her off at the nursing home one day sooner than planned.   So, the kids and I were on our own.

These kids love to shop.  Merchandise is an afterthought, they just need to get to a locale that has shit for sale.  So, we walked a few streets over and went to a garage sale.  Most of the kids, I think I still had four at that point, found precious treasures to buy.  But one little girl left empty handed.  It seemed she had higher standards than the others and didn’t want to spend her hard-earned money on a nasty stuffed animal matted down with cat hair or a urine-stained doily.  She didn’t complain or cry about it or try to steal her siblings’ finds, though.  Nope, not once.

Next, we ventured to the park.  We played relay-races, swings, sharks & minnows, Greenbox crafts and more.  It was a grand old affair. Time to head home for lunch.

Now, this is when the wheels begun to fall off.  Now that we were confined to a 4 bedroom home with toys abound and a large yard, nothing was sufficient.  Boredom ensued.  We never get to do anything or go anywhere.  Why didn’t I get to buy anything at the garage sale.  Sammy doesn’t even understand the rules of baseball.  Why can’t I ride my tricycle in the street.  Bree bit me.  When are you taking me to McDonald’s and Wal-mart.  I’m planning to destroy the fort my brother just spent 20 minutes building.

I began sending my sister death threat texts to hurry home.  It was the longest 23 minutes of my life.  Then she arrived with an armful of Subway sandwiches, chips and orange Hi-C and everything was suddenly fine.

The Angels, modeling my crazy good babysitting skills.

 

Fun Factor: 10

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2 thoughts on “#203: Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter is Teetering on the Edge of Sanity

  1. I have a concern: if the children are modeling your babysittting skills, why do they appear to be positioning the dolls for a spanking?

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