Wednesday, October 1, 2014

You're hired!

I had a concert to attend last weekend. One of my favorite artists, Trevor Hall, was playing up in San Celmente, a little over an hour north, if you don't hit traffic.

Although it wasn't right here in San Diego, it was much closer than the last time we saw him in Anaheim, and it fell smack dab on the day of one of my dear friend's 40th birthday, who is also a big fan, so there was really no question about whether or not it was worth going.

Hmm, but what to do about the kiddos? I don't have a go-to babysitter. I don't really need babysitters that much anymore, for two main reasons, (1) I don't have my kids at home 40% of the time, so try to plan my outings during this time, and (2) my oldest is now 13 and she took one of those nifty babysitting courses, so she is now usually the babysitter.

But an 60+ miles away? From 5 pm - midnight? That seemed like too much for my just-turned-teen.

She was NOT happy when I told her the news.

"A babysitter? Ugh. Mom, I can do it."

"I  know you can, honey, but I'll be far away, and it will be a late night, and I'm just worried that if something happened, I would be too far to get back, so having an adult here would be safer."

She then explained who she would call, in order, if something happened, reminded me that the babysitting course went over many types of medical (and other) emergencies, and told me how good she is at getting her 5-year-old sister to sleep. All good points. But I already had the babysitter lined up, and felt good about my decision.

That is until I got home at 12:40 am Sunday morning.

Every light was blazing in the house with all the shades wide open. My oldest's bedroom door was shut, and I knew she was exhausted, so I walked toward my youngest's room. No one was in there; no little body in that bed. I proceeded to my room, thinking maybe somebody was crashed out there, waiting for me to get home. No bodies in that bed either. I backtrack and went downstairs to peek in my middle daughter's room. Oh my! That bed was empty too!

And the house was completely quite. I'd not heard one peep out of the sitter or any of my girls.

Shit, where the hell are they?

Sleepover in the big TV room, I pondered? Yeah, that's probably it!

I walk in to find my middle daughter mouth agape, limbs askew, asleep on the sofa, and the sitter in a chair, quietly watching some TV.

I apologized for being late and asked her where my other kids were.

There both in my teen's bed, she offered.

Oh, okay.

Turns out the babysitter, who was in no way inexpensive, didn't even try to put my kindergartener down to bed. At 10 pm my oldest was tired, so grabbed her baby sister and let her fall asleep with her, which she knew would work like a charm. 10 pm! Luckily my oldest was exhausted from a sleep over the night before and all day spent at the dance studio, or who knows how long my baby would have been awake.

The babysitter apparently didn't put my middle daughter to bed either, seeing as she was passed out there on the couch.

I was so surprised, I didn't even know what to say. I mean, that's what you're getting paid for, getting the kids to bed. That's the only tricky part about the whole gig.

While shelling out the hardly deserved $100, all I could think about was that, although this was an expensive lesson, it was an important one:  my oldest is now our official babysitter. You're hired, honey!! Judge away if you must, but the proof is in the sleeping arrangements (or lack there of).

And, hell, she's been watching her baby sister from the day she arrived.


Pat said...

Good grief!!! That is terrible. Next time I will be in town, I hope. What a waste.

Beth said...

Oh, yeah, DUH, and reason number (3): my mom lives in town and is great about caring for my kids when I'm in need!!!

Sorry, mom! You were out of the picture for this event, so remained out of the picture in this post. (Major omission!)


Me, You, or Ellie said...

That is the worst babysitter in the history of the planet Earth, yeesh.

You should have docked her pay, the shitheel.

Sorry, darlin'. That stanks.