Wednesday, March 24, 2010

The Desperate Search for a Babysitter.

PART I
WANTED : Babysitter for 5 children aged 10, 7, 5, 4 and 18 months.
Toddler is adorable - smiles, giggles, cuddles. Doesn't eat anything you prepare, but likes to load up his fork or spoon in pretense of attempting it, only to launch the load across the room the moment you turn away. Do not, under any circumstances, serve foods such as fried rice, custard or Weetbix.

Preschooler is a delightful blend of feminine bliss and tomboy spunk. Has been single-handedly involved in teaching her parents why to NOT name any other children after angels aka "messengers of God". The girl is LOUD! Currently obsessed with "lady gardens" and whether there is a need to comb them, or put in clips or pigtails, because if so it might hurt and she sure as hell ain't growing the stuff. Ever.

New Preppy has mild ASD. He is experienced and showing remarkable talent at clearly expressing his emotions. Basically, if he doesn't like you, he will pee on you. (apparently he decided last night he did not like hsi bed any more, as it squeaks. He did not tell me however, and I pulled his bed back tonight and was knocked flat with the aroma of day-old "dislike".

Second Eldest Son is easy going and laid back. Likes to draw. On multiple pieces of paper if provided otherwise the floor, walls, TV, furniture and dog are all suitable materials. This boy is a Primary school by day, and a superhero by night. His cupboard is void of shorts, jeans, tshirts or jumpers (they're lurking, unwashed, beneath his unmade bed which can be reached by mountaineering through his excessively untidy room) but it DOES contain rows of neatly pressed and hanging superhero costumes.

The Eldest will charm you from the moment you walk in. Every new sitter delights in having things thrown at them, abuse screamed at them and new swear words invented solely for the purpose of insulting them. Just ask his "turd-sniffer" of a father.

And now, to make the job even easier, we have removed all TV, DVDs, Wii, computer, games, toys and art/craft materials. Each child has one bike, a few balls and one single indoor toy item. And that is all they will have until such time they have demonstrated to us that they can properly care for their belongings, wherein we will increase the responsibility by adding to the amount of items in need of care. Which is likely to happen long long loooooong after you disappear up the road, screaming in desperation for someone to save you.


So .... do you think I can convince someone?! Anyone?!

PART II
So, still seeking a babysitter, I was chatting with one of Boombah's carers outside Day Care today. He's a lovely young man and Boombah has bonded with him, so he seemed a good choice!

He was just gently explaining to me that we live in the middle of woop woop and he doesn't drive, he actually has a life on the weekends, and it's almost footie season anyway.

And my boob started to sing. In Spanish. huh.gif



Earlier in the day I was getting sick of my phone falling out of my dress pocket, so I popped it up in my bra. Which was fine for grocery shopping and driving around and putting away groceries and repeating my instructions to my kids 17 times over. But not so good now, since it had slipped somewhere into the abyss between my left boob (now the size of a watermelon after having not breastfed for the whole day) and my armpit.

So I couldn't quickly extract it, or even reach into the depths and turn it off. I tried a subtle jiggle, hoping a spot of melon-smashing might cause the right button to be hit, but there's nothing subtle about DD breasts being shaken and it was beginning to look like I was going to sustain a severe shoulder injury.


So there we stood - my boob vibrating and singing some Spanish love song; the Boombah patting my boob, shouting "Mum? Mum? Ha-mo??" and trying to reach into my bra, and me thinking I no longer needed a babysitter as I was planning to disappear just as soon as the ground would swallow me up.

Blessedly, the carer graciously (and hurriedly) ended the conversation and ran away from the crazy mother with the choral cleavage headed for home.