Saturday, February 9, 9 A.M.
Don’t feel bad about needing domestic help. Not every woman can do it all, and until you can, the services of others bridge the gap.
—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better What’s so hard about finding a babysitter? When I was a kid the babysitter was the girl on the street old enough to stay home by herself but too young to date. And since when do babysitters make $12-plus per hour? When I was seventeen I made $2 and all the snacks I could eat.
So far I’ve email interviewed:
- a Russian au pair who was very interested in why Aubrey wasn’t sleeping through the night and suggested I incorporate more ground beef into her diet
- a twenty-two-year-old very lovely young woman with a degree in early childhood education who suggested that I not let Aubrey have any screen time until she’s twelve and even then only twenty minutes a day and preferably Claymation
- a seventy(?)-year-old grandmother who asked if I offered a retirement package
After this, I’m considering hiring a dog to watch Aubrey, like in Peter Pan. I’m sure Nana wouldn’t charge more than $10 an hour and the occasional Milk Bone. Maybe she’d work for stomach rubs.
Wish me luck.
10 P.M.
I found her. She floated in from a nanny website. Joy couldn’t have been happier when I told her I was getting a babysitter. She was proud of me for getting “the help I needed.” I made sure to tell her it’s only part-time.
“Oh, it starts like that,” was her response.
What does that mean? A month from now I’ll be parenting Aubrey via Skype? I don’t think so. And I can only afford three weeks’ worth of babysitting without having any money coming in.
Chelsea, my twenty-eight-year-old angel sitter nanny starts tomorrow at 9 a.m. I interviewed her, will check her references tonight, and Aubrey seemed to take nicely to her. I can’t wait!
Sunday, February 10, 9:20 A.M.
People ask me all the time how I run a successful company with five children. The answer is: naps! My littles are all on a regular sleep schedule, and while they doze, I take conference calls, fulfill orders for the Motherhood Better line of maternity wear and sign contracts. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better I was sitting in the bushes at the park.
Okay, let me explain.
Chelsea arrived at 9 a.m. on the dot, and Aubrey was a bit fussy so I suggested she take her on a walk. Six seconds after they left I realized that while I interviewed this woman and checked her references, she could be anyone. What if she’s an international child smuggler? What if those references were just her accomplices?
Bottom line: I realized I don’t really know her and had just sent my child off with a potential criminal. I don’t know if it’s all of the episodes of Crime Files and Gone Without a Trace, but I pictured Aubrey’s car seat in a van somewhere, off to her new family—or worse.
I threw a black sweatshirt over my black sweats and put a black beanie on my head so that I could follow them without being noticed. In hindsight, dressing up like a bank robber in broad daylight may not have been the smartest move but nobody could see me. This bush was thick. And there were three different toddler shoes behind it. So this is where they lose them.
Okay, back to Chelsea, aka Potential Baby Thief.
She was sitting on the bench near the swings with Aubrey in the stroller next to her. No sign of a van anywhere. She was looking around suspiciously—wait, that might just have been boredom. Wasn’t she going to play with Aubrey or something? I know a baby can’t do much, but she could at least sing to her. I mean, she was on the clock.
OMG.
No. Freaking. Way.
She was pulling out her phone. SHE WAS CHECKING HER PHONE. Instead of engaging my infant in age-appropriate play she was on her phone and...taking a park selfie? Was she serious? What was the caption? “Just neglecting my charge on this beautiful day at the park! Isn’t being a half-assed babysitter awesome! Look at my youthful skin and hair that isn’t falling out by the handful!”
Her phone rang. She answered it. This was insane. Aubrey was sitting in her stroller rotting away and Chelsea was laughing on the phone? What if someone grabbed Aubrey while she was distracted? Sure, she had one hand on the stroller, but this wasn’t what she was getting paid to do. I was paying her to participate in the development of my daughter, not throw her social life in my face.
I was just about to jump out from behind this bush...
8 P.M.
The craziest thing happened today.
No, not the part where I was tailing my nanny and child through the park.
No, not the part where I was staking them out.
I’m talking about the part where I almost got arrested by a police officer for behaving suspiciously around small children.
Yeah, THAT PART.
Just as I was about to bust Chelsea for neglecting my child, a six-foot-tall officer yelled, “HEY, YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE IN THAT BUSH?” causing the whole park, Chelsea included, to turn their heads while I tried unsuccessfully to shush him. Hasn’t he ever been on a stakeout? First rule: inside voices.
Apparently police officers don’t like to be shushed because he pulled me up by my arm. I know. Crazy. Aubrey immediately recognized me and started crying. I was horrified, but a little touched that she recognized Mommy in her all-black cat-burglar ensemble.
Chelsea rushed over. She looked a bit confused, then angry when I explained to the officer that I was supervising my babysitter from afar. I thought it was completely inappropriate for the officer to agree with Chelsea that “spying” was a better word.
Chelsea quit and called me a crazy b-word in front of Aubrey, which pretty much proves she’s not cut out for this job. The police officer laughed at me.
I now have no babysitter and no dignity.
I give up. I’d try another nanny, but I’m obviously not ready to let anyone else watch Aubrey yet. It doesn’t make any sense. All I could think about for the past few months was getting a break from her, but the second I did, the moment freedom peeked over the horizon, I sabotaged it. Is this what motherhood is going to be like? Spending all day dreaming about getting a break and then, when it comes, wanting nothing more than to be with Aubrey?
I felt dread wash over me. I’d never be content again, would I? I love Aubrey more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone, but when I’m with her, I feel smothered. And when I’m not with her, I feel incomplete, like a piece of me is missing.
How do other moms do it? Maybe it’ll be easier once she gets older.