apparently during my 7 month inaugural period of motherhood, i had been doing a huge disservice to my own flesh and blood by never entrusting her in the hands of someone inflicted with bad acne and bieber fever. to everyone’s dismay, getting a babysitter was not at the forefront of my things-to-do list.
4 friday nights ago, i tried to appease the masses and secured a babysitter. i figured a round of golf with t.j. would be a perfect “starter” job. now, as someone who had never left rozzy for longer than 3 hours - and definitely not with anyone besides my own mother - one would imagine that the search for a babysitter would involve a rigorous hiring process. not so. i did what any parent born in 1980 and after would do: i updated my facebook status with a plea for someone – anyone – to come into my home that very night and take care of my most valuable possession.
25 comments and 12 “likes” later, danielle was coming to babysit. i had never met danielle; she was a friend of a facebook friend’s daughter. according to my facebook friend, she was very responsible and she was, in fact, CPR certified. awesome. however, 3 texts later i was informed that “certified” wasn’t really the appropriate term; although she had attended the CPR class, she hadn’t paid the class registration fee, preventing her from receiving the actual certification. in my 30 years on this earth, i have never heard of someone who had shoplifted knowledge. i was actually intrigued by this danielle character who had decided that the technique of saving a life was more priceless than the $25 price tag it carried. hired.
after approving of the mysterious thief to take care of my only child, my next task was to prepare some type of instruction manual that she could use as a reference guide – god forbid a phone call interrupt my backswing. i jotted down the obvious: how to make a bottle of formula, bedtime routine, favorite toys, which jar food to feed, and how to prevent the infant from becoming a snack to either one of our dogs. my last instruction was that she was to call me in the event of a crying episode lasting longer than 30 minutes. remembering what a diva i was a parent to, i crossed out the number 30 and promptly replaced it with 45.
danielle arrived right on time. her skin seemed to be as clear as porcelain and she showed no outward signs of suffering from boy-band infatuation. she came in and i walked her over to the instruction manual and went over each item line by line. next was the interrogation: i needed to know if she had a boyfriend, what her friends were like, why her parents were divorced and who they voted for in the last election. after telling her how I used to replace vodka with tap water when i was her age i asked her about her religious convictions and college plans.
“are you going to go to a school around here, danielle?”
“i haven’t really thought too much about it. i’m just trying to get through my high school classes right now.”
“well, don’t waste your time on 4 years of post high school education. everyone knows that you can make just as much money by going to a trade school or community college in half the time. trust me – I made that mistake. now there is a lady named sallie mae who has managed to locate me even after moving 4 times.”
after getting her to promise me she wouldn’t ruin her life with a baccalaureate degree it was finally time for danielle to meet rozzy. i had been dreading this moment. i was not afraid to hand my child over, but everyone had warned me of the epic meltdown that would occur because my child was not used to being left with strangers; this, of course, being due to my poor parenting tactics of taking care of my own child at all times.
“roooozzy… let’s go to danielle. she’s our baaaaaabysitter and we loooooove her!”
rozzy climbed into danielle’s arms like it was the most comfortable place she had ever nestled into. her wide eyes gazed with adoration as she studied the face of her new friend. i’m pretty sure if the word wasn’t already reserved for one of the dogs, she would have called her mama.
so that was it. no epic meltdown, and in fact quite the opposite: the night was a great success. it made me happy and sad at the same time. i felt sadness because i want her to only have eyes for me, and happy because I could finally tell people to shove it up their asses. now the question is not whether or not we will ask danielle back again; the question is whether or not danielle will agree to come back.
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