In the madness of my mind, possibly driven by the desire to earn more, I accepted a job that was too much. I trusted a parent to provide nutritional assistance, I assume to my expectations. When this did not prove true I felt the wind leave my sails. I stare down at chicken fries, fruit loops, cereal bars, boxed waffles, and several boxes of macaroni and cheese. Not even the good kind of Macaroni and cheese. I look at the mom who appears to be confident that this little bit of food will be all her precious babes will need to eat during their extended stay. I know this is not going to be the case. I am concerned because I asked for fruit and none was brought. $150 that is what I agreed to and now I know it was not enough. It isn't really about the dollar amount, more about the need to provide adequate sustenance for their stay.
Moving beyond this, and beginning Day 1. This included an appointment for one of my own. The first meltdown was over car seats anchored in the van by their father. When the little girl realizes she will be in the grey seat so her brother can sit next to my son. My son who is unable to ride in his booster seat due to the large seat next to him. Kudos to mom for the added safety. Two kids dropped at a sitter, three kids in tow. The appointment goes without a hitch. Home again and the non ending pounding, screaming, arguing, non sharing pandemonium begins.
I am not quite sure how I survived those first few hours, but I did.
By lunch I knew I was in over my head. I have five kids asking, no rather demanding their food immediately and drinks to boot. I am struggling to make peanut butter and jelly, cheese roll ups and serve drinks. By the time it is on the table I am barely breathing and slathered in my calming essential oils. Our dinner was even worse. I wanted to make the requested tacos for my son, but the supposed vegetarians visiting us wanted no part of them. This is fine. I begin the task of making tacos and macaroni and cheese. What seemed an easy task was not. We again got through this, but not without me raising my voice.
Spilled drinks have become a reality in this new existence. As well as repeating my mantra "Sit on your bottoms at the table." I begin to realize that table manners and saying Grace are slightly new concepts. I haven't reduced anyone to tears yet, but I am nearly there.
Cleaning the mess and moving on toward the afternoon. Four more kids and even more ensuing chaos. I change diapers once every two hours per mother's request. I listen to a six year old complain, whine, tell me how to properly care for her twin baby brothers. I watch her share a stuffed chicken only to rip it from the arms of another child. I decide to begin bedtime routine and sit on the floor surrounded by two babies one toddler and three school aged kiddos and three preschoolers. Chaos does not cover this. I do read three stories and a Bible story. Five kiddos are moved to bedtime. Two boys in one room three girls in the other. It only took two hours for each of them to sleep and the other four to be picked up. I fall into bed exhausted.
Waking at 5:45 the next morning, I hear the two boys stirring. I send them downstairs to quietly play a video game, grab a quick shower and then brew coffee. By the time I have another girl added to the first six, I know this is going to be a long, long day. Breakfast was more panic and mayhem as I waded through making pancakes and toasting waffles. I serve juice and chug coffee. Lunch was crazy but went well. Added three more to my day. When all but the original six have left, it is time to load the van and run to the grocery store. This is where I will say that I admire all who have five kids. It is no easy task to work your way through a simple list in a grocery store with so many little voices in your buggy and attempting to keep up. I received many looks of pity others of annoyance as I struggled to maneuver the giant buggy through the aisles. By the time I have everyone in the van and home I am exhausted.
Hot dogs for dinner. I am crazy, I know that I am. Four kids eat a hot dog, one kid wants one but after taking a big bite and realizing it is a cheese dog she proceeds to spit it out on her plate at the table. I know this will sound bad, but I nearly lost my shit. I slammed a knife down onto the table proceeding to pretty much yell at her that she was told they were cheese dogs, she is wasting food, why on earth did she spit it out at the table and not into the trashcan. I felt like shit after this episode and tried to console her while mentally putting my crazy back into the bad. This was a turning point for me. This is where I realized that I didn't ask for enough money and these kids are beyond picky and that this family cannot possibly be true vegetarians.
We got through dinner and baths and then at story time when we sit down to read the stories and the Bible story the little girl says she doesn't like the Bible and that it is boring. I realize that not all families teach their children this. But I am upfront. Not only am I a crazy Tennessee girl who loves essential oils, we say grace and we read Bible stories. I hope I plant seeds. The little boy was enthralled and carrying around our Bible storybook the entire time he was here. I gave him one of our story books that we had picked up somewhere. By the time they left, even the little girl was thumbing through it.
I reduced the little girl to tears again the following night. As a mother of three, my biggest struggle is getting kids to be independent and to do things without being told. It is an unrealistic expectation, but one I cannot push aside no matter how hard I try. So as I am trying to get myself and the dog upstairs the little boy runs frantically down the stairs yelling his baby sister is dancing naked in the hallway. I run up there, pick her up and rush her to the girl room. I yell at the older sister to get in there and then tell her she should have tried harder to prevent this from happening. It was a bad moment. A moment that is actually giving me nightmares. In our house we do not let the kids see each other naked. We try to teach them modesty. I am not sure what goes on in their home, I am not passing judgment, but it was awkward for each of us.
As a babysitter it is my job to keep them safe to watch them and guide them, but not to change them. I think I was trying way too hard this time around and it left me angry on the inside and annoyed at the mother. I hope that her little ones went home with happy memories and not of an overbearing annoying and loud babysitter who was frantically trying to serve them food. I was annoyed by their eating habits. I was annoyed by their lack of manners. I was annoyed by how one would absolutely never listen. Time out was the only way to drive the point home. One would only half listen thus ending up with food or something she really didn't want.
I watched as the youngest refused bananas, oranges and strawberries. Agreeing on apples sliced, but eating them only to the peel. I watched these kids balk at the idea that I had set snack times and what they good be. Morning snack is always fruit. I tried to explain to the mom what we did and she seemed to blow me off in a fake sounding voice with a fake sounding laugh. I wanted to cry I wanted to squelch my anger, but it was only growing.
When pick up day arrived the mom starts messaging at six that she won't be home until much later than promised. This affects my entire day and my entire mood. By the end of the day it is too difficult to respond to her messages. I give much more flexibility in routine in order to allow the kids to enjoy this last day. I am reading the messages realizing that this lady doesn't care about my routine, or my schedule. That she has no idea how difficult it is to get to speech appointments with just my kids let alone adding three more.
By the time she picks up nearly four hours late, she doesn't make eye contact, her answers are short. I can tell that she is at the same place I am. That though I don't want to relate to her, we are the same. We are both annoyed, a little angry and wanting the exchange to be over. She wants her babies and I want an evening alone with mine.
I know I will never watch her kids alone. I also nearly cried when my son invited two of the kids to his party, but I know I must put that aside for my son. Her and I are years apart in age. We are two very different personalities and mothers.
Thank God we all survived
April 21 2017
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