yes, it is true. I AM a babysitter.
Some of you know how much I adore children; their freakishly small hands, usually sticky with some indescribable substance, quite often pooh. The boogers that free flow, from what seems to be their entire face, ridden with germs and dirt my two least favorite things.
its true I Loathe children, except my own, so here I am 15 hours into my 72 hour stretch of none stop babysitting. You see I babysit an eight year old, three or four days a week from six p.m. to seven thirty a.m. and, a 16 month old from 7:30 a.m. to five thirty p.m. It is complete and udder madness. while I do sleep in the night while baby sitting, I go to sleep with him there, I wake with him there, and it is wearing.
Currently I am surrounded by blocks which double as missile's hurdling through space with great force usually headed straight for my five hundred dollar designer glasses, waffle pieces and syrup stuck everywhere only god knows why that was the choice for breakfast, and sippy cups oozing all over my furniture and carpets, spill proof is only a myth, it does not truly exist. I have the wonder pets theme song permanently stuck in my head, my only adult companion is the great Stephen King.
Why am I doing this you ask?
Great question.
My life long dream as some of you may have previously read is to be a stay at home mommy. This is the only way to achieve it. While not always pleasurable it is the only way to be home with my little Monster. He is just that, a monster. Since the 16 month old has entered our home he has transformed into a jealous, crying, hitting, baby. THIS IS NOT my son. But I realize he is always the youngest when he is around other children and doesnt know how to react.
I am almost certain he is smarter than the eight year old, who I can barely have a conversation with due to the fact that every other word is replaced with "whatever" as a filler because he has either A) forgotten what he was saying mid sentence or B) had no idea what he was talking about in the first place or C) cant pronunciation the word....even if it may be something as easy as funniest.
A true test of my patients, the 16 month old doesnt speak at all. at eighteen months koda knew the abc's and was counting to ten, working on colors and shapes. This one, walks around crying. If he wants something, he cries. He wants up on the couch he face plants onto it and cries. If I tell him no, tears.
Though My sanity is creeping out the door with every word spoken from Barney's Mouth I get to be home with my son. My best friend, the light of my life.
