Since my graduate program basically leaves me no time to have any type of job, and I refuse to solely shop at Forever 21, I am back in the babysitting business.
I totally forgot how great this institution is. It's like I'm 16 again. I get to make money in my gym clothes, wearing absolutely no makeup, and its all ca$h. If I'm really lucky, the kids fall asleep within an hour of me getting there....a perfect time to pour myself a bowl of goldfish, flip through a People mag...and catch up on an HBO season. Sounds like the life, right?
Well three months ago, my babysitting experience took a turn for the worst. Let me explain. (btw, this is a true story, and doesn't even need to be embellished)
So this family, who I will refer to as The Fruitcakes, had a 2 and a half year old boy, Spencer. He truly was adorable. Spencer had an infectious personality, and was so precocious that at times I began to question my own intelligence. Aww...OK, but lets get something straight about Spencer.
1) he wasn't potty-trained because he thought peeing in his diapers was more of a pastime than a developmental milestone
2) he used cloth diapers during the daytime. I'm all about going "green" and all...but once it starts to interfere with bodily functions...thats is effin NASTY. No way was I having this!!
3) he only spoke in 3rd person. WTF.
4) He had never watched TV in his life. (at first I thought it was kinda cool, but then I learned his alternative was listening to creepy children's music that played throughout the entire house.)
Enough about Spencer, lets get down to the real issue at hand. Ms. Fruitcake. The first time I met her, I thought she had just snorted rails of coke off of Spencer's high chair. She was talking a mile a minute about her son, and ran around showing me the house as if a bomb was ticking somewhere in the basement.
Her entire kitchen was labeled for Spencer, and an entire list of his allergies were written all over the walls. OK, I get it. Spencer can't have dairy....but do you really think he is going to enjoy eating approx. 3 broccoli heads (or "trees" as he would call them) and half of a quinoa burger? If I didn't know any better, I would think I was feeding an overweight middle aged woman who recently learned how to count points on Weight Watchers.
Anyway, I was supposed to watch Spencer between the hours of 3-9 on Tuesday and Thursdays nights. I told Ms. Fruitcake I would take the Blue Line to get to her house, but when it became dark outside...I freaked out about taking it home. (this in itself is huge, because I am petrified of public transportation)
When I confronted Ms. Fruitcake about this...shit hit the fan....
"Well, I refuse to pay for my babysitters transportation."
"Um...Ok. Well I'm not using my own pay to get home safely. That is where I stand."
"How do you live in the city and not ride the train? Seriously thats super weird."
"How dare you make me justify my own safety? Being a woman AND a mom, you of all people should understand that safety should come before anything else. Plus, I wouldn't say this is the safest neighborhood."
"Excuse me? You're scared...and I don't know why. This isn't going to work."
"No, its definitely not! You should probably look into hiring a young girl who doesn't mind getting assaulted"
This woman was SERIOUSLY the devil reincarnated. I should have known this from the very start when she wore Birkenstocks to go out on a Thursday night. Oh, and not ONCE did she mention anything about helping myself to any food, or had given me money to order something. Most unaccommodating thing ever! As much as I would love to binge on your nasty gluten free pantry.....I'm pretty sure the only good thing that came out of that job was I would wake up feeling super skinny because I went to bed starving on those nights.
Ms. Fruitcake, if you are out there...I want to shed some insight to how you are royally screwing up your son. (and yes, I may have no children of my own....but I am going there.)
First, if Spencer doesn't start watching TV...he will forever be that weirdo that doesn't know who Spongebob is.
Second, if you don't explain to him that peeing in diapers isn't game, good luck finding a decent private school in the city.
Third, if you continue to deprive him of his kid menu rights, he will grow up to be a food hoarder who gets cut from all the sports teams. These kids typically don't lose their virginity until 30.
And lastly, if you don't start teaching your son pronouns...you should just be smacked in the face. Because I know he will be.
And there you have it. My babysitting story from hell. I should have trusted my instincts the second I walked in that home, when I knew these people were nuts. But you know what, if it wasn't for my stupidity, I would not only have nothing to write about...my torture = your entertainment.
I bet the Octomom had a lunatic mother....look how she great she turned out.
"I'd like to thank my parents for never giving me a ride to school, the L.A. city bus driver for taking a chance on an unknown kid, and, uh, last but not least, the wonderful crew at McDonald's for spending hours making those egg McMuffins, without which I might never be tardy"
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