So after a most pleasant weekend of re-acquainting myself with my old nemesis C2H5OH, I find myself on a fantastic summer's evening babysitting my nephew and 2 neices, while their parents go and rock their bodies at Justin Timberlake.
I seriously don't know how full-time Mothers do this - I have spent the whole afternoon going No. Stop that. Daniel, share. Daniel, careful of Mia. Samantha, you didn't hurt yourself. Eat a carrot. Just one. Just half a one then.
I seriously sound like a nagging old bitch and I don't like it. I feel like that mean old baby-sitter that made you go to bed on time and just watched telly while you wanted to play. My favourite baby-sitter when I was young used to make up dances with us, and when we saw the headlights weaving up the driveway (Dad wasn't known for his stance on drink driving) would hurtle upstairs with us and throw us under the covers. I don't think I'm meant to be that type of babysitter. Luckily I never became a teacher as I wanted to.
These kids are pretty cool though. Daniel is all eyes and screams, and was telling me about a trip to Dreamworld. "I nearly DIED!" says he. "You ALWAYS nearly die," says Samantha, who bathes and dresses Mia more deftly than I. I am forced to endure half an hour of NumberJacks, the most boring programme for kids ever. "Daniel," says I, "this programme is doing my head in."
"Huh," says he. Mia in the meantime is trying to put her winter boots on, and getting iceblock in every crevice. The bathwater turns red when she sits in it. Samantha is running around in her undies picking out 49 books for us to read at bedtime. We compromise and pick a Dr Seuss, which I hate with all my heart and soul with all its no I don't, yes I do, who do you, let's all do you etc. It also goes for about thirteen hours. Daniel is leaping around the room like a moth by a lightbulb and Mia decided to let loose a sewage works in her 4th nappy of the evening.
Finally. One hour later, I can look in on them all peacefully sleeping, one arm over their heads, eyelashes brushing their flushed cheeks, and think Always Use A Condom.
Monday, 26 November 2007
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1 comment:
Important lessons learned, eh?
I used to think I wanted three or four children. Then I nannied in college and revised that number downward...
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