Post by Bird-of-Summer on Feb 7, 2011 23:16:36 GMT -7
just barely started on this but it's for a project. there is a little bit of truth and a few lies in the piece but hey, that's between you and me 
its a first draft and i haven't done much... ill post when its finished thanks!!!
wishful thinking,
birdy
The Babysitting Series
There are two sides to a kid. The annoying part where they constantly hang on your arm and stomp around whining and arguing for the sake of arguing. The side that reimburses your decision not to ever have any of your own. I mean who wants a handful of crying, pooping, eating, and expensive responsibility? But then there are those moments when their little hands just fit so delicately in yours and your brushing their hair when all of the sudden they tell you they love you. Or they fall over and start to giggle or they ask you to hold them tightly and you just want to instantly be a parent. This is the life of babysitting. There is always that initial moment when the job becomes little about the pay as it does wanting to actually give some rotten child a bath because you develop a strange love for them. And maybe being with a kid kind of helps you be a kid in some ways and maybe even grow up at the same time, or at least in my case anyway. So here is my story…
“Clavinova Plays”
Emma: A short four year old with curly brown hair who lives a few blocks down from my house. Her parents asked me to babysit for them on a regular basis attending every Thursday after piano lessons from six to nine. After accepting the job without setting an appropriate fee they announced how they would only be willing to pay four dollars an hour. Not the best. Well I guess this is partly my fault considering the first day on the job I just allowed them to pay me whatever without setting standards. Note to anyone: don’t ever settle for less than you bargained for. So, first day on duty and I’m standing at their front door receiving the most timeless particular lecture on what to do and not to do in my life! Emma’s mom, Andy, stomped around going through orders like candy. “No eating any food in the pantry or fridge, please do the laundry and fold what is in the dryer, walk the dog,” this is exceptionally hard because it is already dark out by six when I arrive and the dog is so sweet but refuses to move his lazy ass and just sprawls on the sidewalk until I give in and walk back inside. I even tried carrying the thing, pulled his leash til he almost choked, carried treats in my pocket and rattled them hoping it would spark his interest and all of this continued while trying to keep the loud and bouncy Emma from running too far out of sight. And on some days instead of being so eager to explore she will sit there crying announcing how she hates walks while I desperately try to follow orders. Anyway, back to rules. “Please, wash the dishes and put them away afterwards. Emma will go to sleep around eight but make sure to give her a bath and read her at least three stories.” Andy persisted on paying me four dollars due to the fact that Emma goes to sleep so early however this isn’t true whatsoever. No kid goes to bed on time sweetly when there is a babysitter. It’s just improbable and unheard of. You can’t officially say you’re a babysitter without having to tamper with a child’s fear of the monster in the closet or under the bed, the creepy noises from the TV, or the plain ‘I just can’t get to sleep.’ And Andy decided she would make it extra hard for me and try to get Emma used to the “big girl bed” which Emma despised and much preferred her crib. And then on top of that I had to feed Emma and the dog and Andy wasn’t the regular “pizza or mac’n’cheese” will suffice. There was always spaghetti with sauce and I was requested to make zucchini or some other difficult vegetable along with hard boiled eggs and dessert. And every time I made this meal, Emma simply hated it insisting she was too full and a toddler’s cry is the most toxic poisonous emotional sound your ears can bare. And most of these things I didn’t even know how to do. I have never washed laundry just folded them neatly and pretty much the only food I can make is pasta or a hot dog, something with user friendly directions on the back, and through all my babysitting jobs I was never asked to wash their kid and usually I am aloud to eat whatever I can find. And all of this for four bucks an hour? Great. Oh well, at least I was taking on a challenge. The first few weeks were difficult considering Emma threw a tantrum at everything. This is just part of being a toddler but Emma seemed to do it much more often. I would tell her it was time to get in the bath and all of the sudden the quiet house was brewing up a storm of tears and screaming. It seems hard to discipline a child who doesn’t belong to you also. I can yell at Emma, tell her what she is doing is childish and she needs to stop unless she is yearning for a consequence. I can tell her to go to timeout and sit there until she is ready to act more mature. But no matter what I ask her to do or tell her to do at whatever volume, if she says “NO” then what? I can’t spank her or grab her and take her to her room and lock her there. I’m the babysitter for Christ sake and it just seemed unnatural. So often times when things escalated I would just let her off on her leash and allow her to watch TV for however long she wanted, dismissing the bath. What the parents don’t know can’t hurt them. This happened with food too, ordering Emma to eat her veggies and the sauce on the spaghetti and then taking the heat of her refusals. So whatever I would eat what was on her plate even though it was strictly forbidden and quickly microwave Emma some mac’n’cheese or something easy that she ate happily. It’s hard in the beginning of the job because your first priority is to get the kid to like you and just create a friendship. That’s how you establish respect because all of the sudden they realize you’re gonna play hide and go seek with them, play silly games, make you happy if you follow rules. Then they look up to you. And the farther you go into the job you can start telling the kid it isn’t okay when they make a fuss over not getting what they want and they can comprehend what you are saying a little more because they have respect for you. I was extra careful not to yell at Emma for being so insolent because the first few jobs, the husband, Michael, was sick and at the house while I was babysitting. He wanted to be alone in his room and insisted I still watch her but then it becomes even more important to prevent Emma from crying or else you look like you’re doing a crappy job. He gave me the creeps anyway. The first time I came to their house just to meet Emma, Andy introduced me to the whole family, showed me around, told me her expectations and although a bit controlling and tense she was at least communicating unlike Michael. When I walked in the door he was sitting right in front of me playing Solitaire on his iPhone and didn’t even say hi. There was no interaction between us. He just sat their slumped into the cushions which a 5 o’clock shadow and his shirt was rolling up on his sides so his whole belly popped out. The whole time he remained in that position. He and Andy both were a bit bizarre. Perfect for each other I guess. A few weeks later Emma was still misbehaving when I asked Andy where they go every Thursday in the first place. They go to a parenting class teaching how to discipline their child. Of course they do. So, I decided to lay down the rules. I was in complete desperation to maintain control of myself and I figured I might as well have Emma despise me but be well behaved now than later
its a first draft and i haven't done much... ill post when its finished thanks!!!
wishful thinking,
birdy
The Babysitting Series
There are two sides to a kid. The annoying part where they constantly hang on your arm and stomp around whining and arguing for the sake of arguing. The side that reimburses your decision not to ever have any of your own. I mean who wants a handful of crying, pooping, eating, and expensive responsibility? But then there are those moments when their little hands just fit so delicately in yours and your brushing their hair when all of the sudden they tell you they love you. Or they fall over and start to giggle or they ask you to hold them tightly and you just want to instantly be a parent. This is the life of babysitting. There is always that initial moment when the job becomes little about the pay as it does wanting to actually give some rotten child a bath because you develop a strange love for them. And maybe being with a kid kind of helps you be a kid in some ways and maybe even grow up at the same time, or at least in my case anyway. So here is my story…
“Clavinova Plays”
Emma: A short four year old with curly brown hair who lives a few blocks down from my house. Her parents asked me to babysit for them on a regular basis attending every Thursday after piano lessons from six to nine. After accepting the job without setting an appropriate fee they announced how they would only be willing to pay four dollars an hour. Not the best. Well I guess this is partly my fault considering the first day on the job I just allowed them to pay me whatever without setting standards. Note to anyone: don’t ever settle for less than you bargained for. So, first day on duty and I’m standing at their front door receiving the most timeless particular lecture on what to do and not to do in my life! Emma’s mom, Andy, stomped around going through orders like candy. “No eating any food in the pantry or fridge, please do the laundry and fold what is in the dryer, walk the dog,” this is exceptionally hard because it is already dark out by six when I arrive and the dog is so sweet but refuses to move his lazy ass and just sprawls on the sidewalk until I give in and walk back inside. I even tried carrying the thing, pulled his leash til he almost choked, carried treats in my pocket and rattled them hoping it would spark his interest and all of this continued while trying to keep the loud and bouncy Emma from running too far out of sight. And on some days instead of being so eager to explore she will sit there crying announcing how she hates walks while I desperately try to follow orders. Anyway, back to rules. “Please, wash the dishes and put them away afterwards. Emma will go to sleep around eight but make sure to give her a bath and read her at least three stories.” Andy persisted on paying me four dollars due to the fact that Emma goes to sleep so early however this isn’t true whatsoever. No kid goes to bed on time sweetly when there is a babysitter. It’s just improbable and unheard of. You can’t officially say you’re a babysitter without having to tamper with a child’s fear of the monster in the closet or under the bed, the creepy noises from the TV, or the plain ‘I just can’t get to sleep.’ And Andy decided she would make it extra hard for me and try to get Emma used to the “big girl bed” which Emma despised and much preferred her crib. And then on top of that I had to feed Emma and the dog and Andy wasn’t the regular “pizza or mac’n’cheese” will suffice. There was always spaghetti with sauce and I was requested to make zucchini or some other difficult vegetable along with hard boiled eggs and dessert. And every time I made this meal, Emma simply hated it insisting she was too full and a toddler’s cry is the most toxic poisonous emotional sound your ears can bare. And most of these things I didn’t even know how to do. I have never washed laundry just folded them neatly and pretty much the only food I can make is pasta or a hot dog, something with user friendly directions on the back, and through all my babysitting jobs I was never asked to wash their kid and usually I am aloud to eat whatever I can find. And all of this for four bucks an hour? Great. Oh well, at least I was taking on a challenge. The first few weeks were difficult considering Emma threw a tantrum at everything. This is just part of being a toddler but Emma seemed to do it much more often. I would tell her it was time to get in the bath and all of the sudden the quiet house was brewing up a storm of tears and screaming. It seems hard to discipline a child who doesn’t belong to you also. I can yell at Emma, tell her what she is doing is childish and she needs to stop unless she is yearning for a consequence. I can tell her to go to timeout and sit there until she is ready to act more mature. But no matter what I ask her to do or tell her to do at whatever volume, if she says “NO” then what? I can’t spank her or grab her and take her to her room and lock her there. I’m the babysitter for Christ sake and it just seemed unnatural. So often times when things escalated I would just let her off on her leash and allow her to watch TV for however long she wanted, dismissing the bath. What the parents don’t know can’t hurt them. This happened with food too, ordering Emma to eat her veggies and the sauce on the spaghetti and then taking the heat of her refusals. So whatever I would eat what was on her plate even though it was strictly forbidden and quickly microwave Emma some mac’n’cheese or something easy that she ate happily. It’s hard in the beginning of the job because your first priority is to get the kid to like you and just create a friendship. That’s how you establish respect because all of the sudden they realize you’re gonna play hide and go seek with them, play silly games, make you happy if you follow rules. Then they look up to you. And the farther you go into the job you can start telling the kid it isn’t okay when they make a fuss over not getting what they want and they can comprehend what you are saying a little more because they have respect for you. I was extra careful not to yell at Emma for being so insolent because the first few jobs, the husband, Michael, was sick and at the house while I was babysitting. He wanted to be alone in his room and insisted I still watch her but then it becomes even more important to prevent Emma from crying or else you look like you’re doing a crappy job. He gave me the creeps anyway. The first time I came to their house just to meet Emma, Andy introduced me to the whole family, showed me around, told me her expectations and although a bit controlling and tense she was at least communicating unlike Michael. When I walked in the door he was sitting right in front of me playing Solitaire on his iPhone and didn’t even say hi. There was no interaction between us. He just sat their slumped into the cushions which a 5 o’clock shadow and his shirt was rolling up on his sides so his whole belly popped out. The whole time he remained in that position. He and Andy both were a bit bizarre. Perfect for each other I guess. A few weeks later Emma was still misbehaving when I asked Andy where they go every Thursday in the first place. They go to a parenting class teaching how to discipline their child. Of course they do. So, I decided to lay down the rules. I was in complete desperation to maintain control of myself and I figured I might as well have Emma despise me but be well behaved now than later
