Babysitter blues

My babysitter cancelled on me AGAIN! It has taken me 4 ½ years to even consider hiring someone to watch my kids for one morning a week. If you know me well at all you know that it’s not because I feel the need to be with my children 24/7. And you certainly know that I’m not very picky about caregivers. Thank goodness for Gabriella, because if it were up to me, I’d walk up to any random vagrant sitting on a park bench and ask if they wanted to earn a few bucks. Gabriella requires nothing less than an interview, 3 references, and a police check. She’s a tough interviewer. No question is inappropriate, and she never cracks a smile. I’d be willing to administer the cavity search, but she doesn’t think we need to be concerned about drug mules. I bought some rubber gloves in case she changes her mind.

I joined a mother’s group that meets once a month during the day. I’ll write more about the group in time but suffice it say that I needed to find a way into this group. Getting someone to babysit part-time is challenging, but finding someone to babysit once a month is next to impossible. These people want regular gigs with contracts and vacation time and someone else’s car to drive. My 5 hours a week is not so attractive unless they’re supplementing another nanny job. Not only is it next to impossible to find someone who is available once a month, but how could I possibly expect my children to feel comfortable with someone they hardly ever see? Wouldn’t it better for them if we had a regular, weekly sitter? And don’t I deserve a little me-time, anyway? To whom am I pleading my case? Not to Gabriella. She’s all for it--mostly because if I don’t get time to myself, she bears the brunt of all my frustration. It’s not pretty.

I’m the one who feels guilty about spending the cash. We’re a single income family living beyond our means. I’m home full-time, so we don’t have to pay for childcare. What am I doing looking for a babysitter? What exactly am I going to be doing every week morning that she’s here? Spend more money shopping? Spend more money on a yoga class or a gym? Spend more money on lunch with friends? I’m total output. We’ve got to budget better. We’ve got to be more frugal. I’ve got to pursue passive revenue streams. I’ve got to cancel HBO. I’ve got to clean my own hou….Snap out of it, Deborah! You’ve gone mad!

First thing in the morning, I get the call and I know she’s bailing. She turns on a groggy “Chello?” She’s from Costa Rica. I know the entire conversation in my head before she’s able to force the sickly words out of her mouth. “De-vra, I’m so sorrrry, but I’m been trowing up all morning, and I cannot stop. Maybe it’s food poisoning or someting. I tink I’m going to the doctor.” I don’t think she’s making it up, but sympathy is a struggle for me because she cancelled on me last week at 10pm the night before she was supposed to come.

“Don’t apologise! I’m just so sorry that you’re not feeling well. Of course you should stay home and take care of yourself. Please call me later and let me know how you’re doing.” A small part of me is grateful that I don’t have to part with the cash.

It doesn’t look good on a spreadsheet, but I do need that sliver of time. I can get things done in record time without schlepping the boys with me. I could probably get even more accomplished if I could count on someone showing up every week. I can listen to the radio station of my choice and have an uninterrupted conversation on the phone. And I don’t have to listen to my 2 year old’s piercing siren whine. Is that so much to ask?

I drop Asher off at pre-school and see my mom-friends. “Hey Deborah. What are you doing this morning?” “Well, I was supposed to go to the grocery store and meet a friend for lunch, but my babysitter cancelled on me for the second week in a row and I….” My throat seizes. Am I about to cry? I hold it together, but my eyes have already given me away. “I need to find another babysitter. If you hear of anyone...”

Back to the drawing board. Must find a sitter. And this time, I’m pulling out the rubber gloves.