Before:
In approximately fifty-five minutes I will be over at my mother's friend's house, watching her sister's kids. Complicated, I know. There is not a single piece of me that wants to do this. There is no small voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, it won't be so bad. No, the small voice in the back of my head is protesting as loud as it can. My stomach feels like it's going to fall out, and my heart is racing. Needless to say, I'm nervous.
Honestly, I would have never agreed to babysitting three boys that I've never met if I hadn't been put in such an awkward situation. I was home alone, when my mother's friend called. I answered, thinking that it could possibly be my mom. My mother's friend asked me I would like to babysit on Saturday night for her sister. I couldn't possibly say no, how rude would that be? So I said sure and she launched into a description of what the job would entail. The whole time I wanted to scream, "No!" and hang up the phone.
Once the phone call ended, awful situations started flickering through my head. What if there was a freak accident, and I had to call 911 and scramble around for a piece of mail to find the address of the house? That would just be horrendous, especially because I've never babysat before in my life. This is completely new to me, it's all foreign! I calmed myself down, and when my mother returned home I voiced my concerns to her.
It turns out; she meant to talk to me about it. I was a little peeved, when I learned that I didn't have to do this babysitting thing at all if she had just remembered. But really, what could I do? I'd already agreed and the small shred of hope that my mom would bail me out had disappeared. So here I am, my eyes darting to my computer clock every few minutes and my stomach clenching in dread as the time steadily moves closer to six O'clock. Forty-nine minutes to go.
After:
I can sincerely say it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. There were no freak accidents, and the boys were really well behaved. The closest the night ever came to disaster is when all of the popcorn ran out, and the youngest boy wanted some more, even after I informed him they'd already eaten it all. He ran into the kitchen to look for more popcorn, and when he came back he asked me for some carrots.
I didn't really even have to do much. I basically had to sit on the couch and watch movies with them, and make sure they put on their PJs, brushed their teeth and took their vitamins by 9 o'clock. The youngest two were glued to their Nintendo DS's the whole time, and the oldest was either playing with legos or staring at the television, mesmerized.
I expected that I would have more responsibilities than just asking them to get ready for bed. They didn't even protest when I asked them to; they just asked me to give them some privacy and I did so. They came back out and told me they were hungry, so I heated them up some pizza, and we watched another movie. By the time their mother had come home, around 11:30, we had watched four movies.
I was exhausted by the time I got taken home, even though I hadn't done much besides lounge on the couch and work a microwave. I was grateful to get some food into my belly and stretch out onto my bed.
Looking back on how anxious I was, I almost want to laugh at myself. I was so worried about something that turned out to be easier than I ever expected. I have to thank my lucky stars that these boys have had sitters before, and weren't wild hooligans. Despite how wonderfully the night went, I don't have any desire to do more babysitting in the future.
-PhyscoGrl
