Scenes from Babysitting

Monday, I watched a 2 year old girl for a couple hours,
then watched 5 others for 4  hours.  Enjoy:

With 2 year old girl...

She lays on the head of Gus, the 60+ pound bulldog.  She
wraps both arms around his head.  "Don't hurt Gussie"
results in "I hugging Gussie."  She sits back and takes
one dessert-plate-sized ear in both fists and strains
backward.  "Don't hurt Gus!" results in "I not hurting
Gussie."  The whole time,Gus doesn't notice.

I come in the kitchen to find her bracing her whole body
to keep the fridge door open.  We end up with a
tupperware of green peas, sitting nicely at the table so
she can "I open them."  About 1 cup of green peas shot
across the table and in 4 directions on the floor - much
to Gus' delight.  I got her a spoon and she dug into the
pile straight off the table.

An hour later, I could only get her to part with her
precious spilled peas by making it a game, complete with
sound effects, to knock them into the trash can.

"I want my cookies" resulted in the following
conversation, while standing in the kitchen:  "I want
my cookies."  "Where are they?"  "In the kitchen."
"Where in the kitchen?"  "In the KITCHEN!"  (There's
90 million cabinets.)  "Where in the kitchen?"  "In the
KITCHEN!  I want my COOKIES!"

This led to her whole top half being sprawled out deep
into a cabinet, hand stretched way to the back, cookies
in fist.  While there, she suddenly dropped them and
declared, "I want fruit cups!" as she grabbed them and
crawled out.  Groan.

A while later, me picking up books in her bedroom, she
walks in, pauses, and calmly says, "Leave my room."
Uh, sure.  Why not?  So I step into the kitchen,
calling back, "You gonna play by yourself?"  And I hear
yes" and the door slamming shut - politely, of course.

So then we have me showing up to another friend's house
to watch 5 for 4 hours...

The 5 month old boy was very happy IF being held.  I
was warned before they left, but boy howdy.  So, the
2 moms showed me how to get him into a ring sling
before they left.  No prob.  Until an hour later when
I needed to switch shoulders, couldn't do it, and had
to wear the sling, weighing 20 pounds, as a necklace.
If he'd been content enough to put down for 3 minutes,
that would've worked out fine...

(Not that I'M gonna mind holding a baby!)

After everyone had 2 cheese sticks and 2-3 yogurts, we
started the movie.  At this point, the 5 year old
really just watched the movie, and gave a piece of his
candy to the 3 year old girl.  Easy.

I'm upstairs with Baby strapped on, looking for a
bottle.  3 year old yelling for someone to come wipe
him from the bathroom.  Trying to get down the stairs,
unable to see my feet, yelling at 7 year old to turn
down the movie volume, David calls.  "I can come over
in 20 minutes."  "K."  "I don't know what kind of fast
food they have on the way."  "I have to kill a bug.
Bye."  Click.  Hobble down 3 steps.  Gingerly step on
bug 3 feet up the wall.  "I'm coming!" to kid in
bathroom.  Finish staircase adventure.

"I need you to wipe my bottom." "Uhhh."  (Here's the
issue:  I can't reach the toilet paper.  Neither can
he.  I can't lean forward - baby'll fall.)  "[7
year old!] I need help."  He comes running.  "Can
you reach the toilet paper?"  "I don't wipe."  And he
goes back to the movie...

Toddler ends up turning sideways so I can get through
to the paper.  Grunt.  Groan.  I wipe toosh.  I run
my thumb through poo.  My other hand is the only
thing anchoring the baby.  Toddler pulls off
everything waist down and runs out - to watch the
movie with the other kids.  So I'm standing in the
bathroom, baby falling, poo on one hand, bug on shoe,
and naked toddler on the couch.  And I cracked up
laughing.

So there's the one-handed hand wash.  "This better be
anti-bacterial."

Then "[Toddler], upstairs.  You have to have pants on."
... "Upstairrrs."

Further instruction every step, and half way up, he
sticks his head through the banister trying to keep
watching the movie.  "[7,] I need you to turn the movie
off.  We'll be able to turn it back on after Toddler has
clothes on."  And 7 yells, "Put your CLOTHES on!"  Bingo.

Toddler runs upstairs into bedroom and yanks open dresser
drawer.  "They're in here."  No undies to be seen.  "Uh,
where are your underwear?"  "This isn't my room."
(eyeroll)  "Where is your room?"  He runs out into
another one and yanks open another drawer.  "They're in
here!"  "I don't see any."  I'm looking around the room.
Then he pulls open a cabinet I hadn't seen.  And dives
in.  A few folded things fly and he emerges with undies.
Perfect.  He's sitting on the floor with them now.
"Which way do they go?"  "That's right."  He gets them
on.

Yelling downstairs to 7:  "You can turn the movie back
on. Toddler has clothes on."  Toddler panics:  "I don't
have my pants on!"  "Where are your pants?"  More folded
things fly and he hops up with a pair, only to declare,
"These are too big!"  "Then they'll be very comfy.  Put
them on." He does.

The OTHER 3 year old is yelling to be wiped now.
Treacherous adventure down staircase.  Same stupid
can't-reach-the-paper scenario.  Except she has her feet
on the previous toddler's wet pants.  Pinky through poo
this time.  And the whole time, the baby leans against
me looking around with wide eyes and mouth open.  A
common baby look - but so appropriate.

And then I FINALLY go check on the kids watching the
movie, only to find Mr. these-are-too-big with his waist
band around his thighs.  Hm.  Sure enough.

Massive struggle to get Pants-Too-Big into his Mom's bed
as opposed to his own.  Visiting girl toddler was
supposed to have *his* bed.  It was a long ordeal
involving the girl, book in lap, looking at him seriously
and saying, "You have to obey."  Screaming boy.  Very
sober girl.  15 minutes.

David comes.  No one's asleep, but they're close enough
to run to their own beds and fake if they hear me.  Good
enough.

We stay downstairs in the dark, me constantly walking
and humming "Jesus loves me" to the baby.  Unable to stop
humming, I told David about the day very quietly to
the tune of "Jesus loves me."  Half an hour and the
baby's asleep.  We try to lay him down.  Solid sleep to
solid panic in 3 seconds.  "Yeah.  I do that when my
husband goes to work.  Come on."  10 minutes later I've
atleast been able to land in the rocking chair with him
already walked to sleep.

And from there, in the dark, and NOT to a tune, I'm able
to tell David, "I really do want 12."  And he smiled.
And nodded.