So...I have taken on a responsibility I never, ever thought I would entertain. I find myself shocked every day that I agreed to it, but it's actually more fun than I ever expected it to be. I'm a babysitter!
It all came about because my lovely young neighbor, who was their previous child care provider, became pregnant with twins and due to complications, was placed on bedrest at 14 weeks. This development left a very sweet woman without child care, and since I had helped out on other occasions, and times being what they were (Wizard of Oz reference, there), I took the job. It allows me to be at home more with Dad, who recently had another hospital stay, and makes a tremendous contribution to our gross household income.
Now, about my charges...Cutie is 13 months old and is just the sweetest, most adorable little girl! She doesn't talk much, which is fine by me, but she cutely babbles and sings herself to sleep. She has a wild mane of dark hair that refuses to be tamed and cheeks that weigh about 4 1/2 pounds each! She is a very good baby, though a little clingy at times. I guess that's what they do at that age. I enjoy having her around the house and Dad gets a kick out of her, but it does make for difficult scheduling of daytime appointments and such.
The there's Brubber...he's 8 and a 3rd grader who purports to know everything about everything. He is a beautiful boy with dancing brown eyes and eyelashes that I would rob a liquor store for, but man, he can be a pill! He loves to torment The Pie and unfortunately, she provides the response he desires. After all, she's a girl and her tendency to scream and stomp is statistically higher. He and The Pie occasionally find a calm middle ground, and I am ridiculously grateful for those moments. I drop him off at school after The Pie, and we have engaged in many interesting conversations, some quite revelatory and insightful for an 8 year old boy.
I wasn't sure at first how I would take to the new gig, but it is smoothing out and I am establishing a routine. The extra money helps make our ends meet and lessens the stress of worrying about finances on me. Ultimately, I feel like I am providing a much needed service, helping out a nice family, and meeting my responsibilities at home a little easier.
Blessings abound.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Dirty Girl
I do not claim to be a germaphobe, or a neat freak, nor do I suffer from an obsessive cleaning disorder. I have a limit of how much dirt I can tolerate and, admittedly, it’s not high. That is why I now face a challenge regarding my daughter.
When The Pie was very young, she hated getting her hands – really, any part of her – dirty, sticky or messy. She would chant, “dirty, dirty, dirty” if even the slightest bit of foreign substance landed on her. I prided myself on that behavior, thinking I was raising a conscious girl that would embrace cleanliness. But something changed…
The Pie has imposed a moratorium on bathing. I don’t know when; I don’t know how, but it seems she has taken on the characteristics of the Wicked Witch of the West and eschews water in all its forms. This particular ban also includes washing her hair and brushing her teeth. She comes home from a friend’s house or inside from playing in the backyard with dirt under her fingernails (and toenails. I gave up on forcing her to wear shoes a long time ago!), smears on her face and her hair tangled into something a sparrow would like to call home. She is barely recognizable as my daughter! When I mention a bath, she begins to whine like a jet engine.
I feel like some hygiene despot every time I force her to the tub; and the neighbors must think I’m shoving bamboo slivers into her eyes when I wash her hair. I think one night coyotes gathered in the driveway in response to her howling! Very often, getting The Pie into the bathtub is akin to wrestling a greased octopus. Legs and arms flail (hers and mine) in the endeavor of placing the girl in the water.
I just don’t understand this new aversion to bathing and maintaining her hygiene. Until about a month ago, she practically begged to take a bath, whined until I let her brush her teeth (sometimes 4 or 5 times a day!) and cried when I took away the dental floss. Is this just part of growing up? A phase she will eventually outgrow? I desperately hope so because I can’t face a future with a Pigpen Pie! Maybe a good hose-down once a week will do the trick? Or I could spray her with Febreze! Any suggestions?
When The Pie was very young, she hated getting her hands – really, any part of her – dirty, sticky or messy. She would chant, “dirty, dirty, dirty” if even the slightest bit of foreign substance landed on her. I prided myself on that behavior, thinking I was raising a conscious girl that would embrace cleanliness. But something changed…
The Pie has imposed a moratorium on bathing. I don’t know when; I don’t know how, but it seems she has taken on the characteristics of the Wicked Witch of the West and eschews water in all its forms. This particular ban also includes washing her hair and brushing her teeth. She comes home from a friend’s house or inside from playing in the backyard with dirt under her fingernails (and toenails. I gave up on forcing her to wear shoes a long time ago!), smears on her face and her hair tangled into something a sparrow would like to call home. She is barely recognizable as my daughter! When I mention a bath, she begins to whine like a jet engine.
I feel like some hygiene despot every time I force her to the tub; and the neighbors must think I’m shoving bamboo slivers into her eyes when I wash her hair. I think one night coyotes gathered in the driveway in response to her howling! Very often, getting The Pie into the bathtub is akin to wrestling a greased octopus. Legs and arms flail (hers and mine) in the endeavor of placing the girl in the water.
I just don’t understand this new aversion to bathing and maintaining her hygiene. Until about a month ago, she practically begged to take a bath, whined until I let her brush her teeth (sometimes 4 or 5 times a day!) and cried when I took away the dental floss. Is this just part of growing up? A phase she will eventually outgrow? I desperately hope so because I can’t face a future with a Pigpen Pie! Maybe a good hose-down once a week will do the trick? Or I could spray her with Febreze! Any suggestions?
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