How Not to Call the Child You Babysit a BAD Word...

*frustrated sigh*

I have to sometimes remember children are children and don't understand grown up logic sometimes, despite the "grown up" language we use with them. One of my roommates, let's call her Big Red (hehehe...she is going to HATE me....but I relish the impending doom that awaits when I get home) had to tell me that after an emotionally and physically long day.

Remember when I told you I work three jobs? Well I was at the media company and had just a really rough headspace there and back. Though it should be said...if you want an unexpected workout, become an intern. Walking everywhere...WOWZAS, thighs and gluts of STEEL people! {blinks} Back to the point, I left the office just not wanting to do much but go home on a gloomy day and curl up to watch some Eureka and read my awesome book of the day: Sam Bourne's The Righteous Men. So when I got to March's house, I waited for an hour for March and his mom Producer Lady to get home. And wouldn't you know it...March was in a nasty mood.

Reason? Because he couldn't get a yogurt smoothie that his friend had at lunch. I know. I forget what it was like when I was six. But he was in such a blue state of mind that he actually became downright rude and didn't want to speak or play activities with me for nearly the entirety of the time I was with him, which averages about 3.5/4 hours a day Monday-Friday. So while I was PISSED, cause while he was upset at the smoothie, his mom brought him an excessive amount of potato chips to placate him, and he was still rude. Maybe it's a product of my own childhood, but when I didn't get something I wanted, I just dealt with it. This my friends, is not the case. Either way, he was still an unhappy little bug and I was really not having it.

So I did something unexpected. Which was not speaking also. Usually I tried cocking him with a game of Go Fish or I-Declare-War which always cheers him up. But for some reason, I felt that there was a lesson to be learned in here somewhere. So I decided to make myself a nice little construction paper collage which was amazing if I do say so myself. This also gave me a chance to curse him out in my head. Repeatedly. And I have to state that it was an amazing catharsis. Really. But what ended up being interesting was that March began testing me to see if I was noticing him. And I was...but I was really about taking care of me. Him mom was home so he would go and bug her then look at what I was doing. After about an hr of this...he finally wants to give his input about my collage. I said "thanks, but no thanks, I don't really talk to people who don't want to talk to me." With that he began to understand what he was doing. I hadn't planned on it, but we finally had a conversation about what it means to be rude, and to also learn that just because you don't get what you want doesn't mean you can be gloomy and unpersonable about it.

In any case, I got an awesome collage out of it and time to think about my life and how I need to also not pull a March- to not let everything get me down. Art isn't just about keeping a child creative and engaged, it's about keep thy sanity. I find this a win/win non?!

Until next time.

And When They Think They Got You...or Don't Start Things When You Shouldn't

Imagine you're at a bar, or a red glow-lit coffeehouse, or even a cute little bookstore.

You walk in and scope the scene for old friends for a new evening. Drinking and laughing, you turn your head and see someone that knocks the breathe out of your diaphragm. Hard. You're all excited. The two of you chat and figure out you gel together and can see a good, long future together.

Now...let's replace the bar with a park, that book with a stroller, and that drink with a cellphone
...this is what happens in the mind of a mother of several kids as she meets a new babysitter.

I'm serious. Apparently it is hard these days for New York moms to find a decent babysitter. But let's backtrack a little bit. I happen to work not one, not two, but three jobs (sh*t gets serial people trying to make ends meet but rest assured I DO sleep. Some of the time....), one of those jobs being with a kids media company in Union Sq. (I sense a trend in your life D.Babysitter....kids all the time???) My boss asked me if I take any gigs on the weekend. My general rule is no. If I spend the majority of my week with children, I want to at least pretend to have grown-up time with bigger people. And I sometimes work on the weekends courtesy of B&N. But, I wasn't doing anything, and having a little bit of extra pocket money makes everyone happy so I accepted a Sunday gig, especially cause it was in the morning.

Now her kids were pretty awesome. Two boys ages 7 and 4.5. So 7 was really mature for his age (which seems to happen when you grow up in New York) and 4.5 just talked a lot. Wow. Both loved playing together which made things a lot easier since the age gap was smaller so they know how to be with each other unlike March and June. So for the four hours I was with them, we played indoor soccer and a mega game of Uno. With two decks. (Uno Awesome? YEEESSSSSSS) and had a foot race to the corner store. Tip: If you're concerned about working out...just have a foot race with a small child. They get tired faster than you think and you get a serious cardio work out. Yippee!

So that night when I got home, I get this text asking if I could be "booked" for a few more weekends cause her kids loved me. And I got mad. Who was this woman who wanted all of my time and assumed I could/wanted to babysit? Now I work on the weekends and don't necessarily have free time. Not even for myself let alone to babysit. No matter how much money I may need. So having "declined" the next few dates she offered and after trying to help her find a new sitter, I realized something. Moms who find a babysitter that they can't keep is like finding a potential suitor who has to leave the country the next day; you know that there was "something" there, but, it is ultimately still a rejection. It's a serious investment for them and that makes sense. Inviting someone to engage with your children is a tricky business, especially a babysitter who is really good at what they do and makes your kids laugh and have fun. Feelings get hurt, blah blah blah, but this was an important lesson for me. Sometimes...it's better to say no so that you don't start something you can't finish. Or end up with more people to babysit besides well...yourself. :-/

Language My Dear...is Everything.

"Swearing was invented as a compromise between running away and fighting."

~Peter Finley Dunne, Mr. Dooley's Opinions, 1900

Holy hell can kids curse....

Since the weather in the New York region was phenomenal this past week, I spent the beginning of this week picking March up from school and taking him to the park to burn off some impish energy. (Yes I called March an imp...and yes I am okay with that. And no you may not be...) Tuesday was no exception- we stayed in his school's play yard, with him walking around shooting a rub band gun (completely NOT my fault, though I warned him about the dangers of causing irreversible retinal damage if he wasn't careful) and myself collecting a tan. 

Anyhow, I was sitting, minding my own business- okay that was a lie I was watching BBC's Luther on my Android which is GREAT (oh Idris Elba.....*swoon*)- when I saw  some older school boys playing soccer and one was accidentally pushed to the ground in slow motion. Story goes said boy got a hand flung to the face. I know I shouldn't laugh but that was slightly amusing. What wasn't amusing was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he stared up at his friends from the ground:

"What the f*ck man?! What the f*ck?!!?!?!" -here he gestured wildly-

The only way I could react was internally thinking (though very loudly) "Aren't you ten? What f*cks do you have to give?" But it got me thinking. Dangerous I know. It got me thinking about how I've noticed more and more often that March has taken to saying "ass", "damn", "dang" and on the occasion "f*ck" and "sh*t" and laughing about it whenever I make a face. Now I've been trying to work on this with a Penny-Penalty system (the aliteration was by accident Scouts' Honor!). Whenever he says a "bad" word, he owns me a penny, and if it's really ridiculous then two pennies and so on. This system also works with rule-breaking which has been really effective. So where does a child's need to curse come from? Now coming from me who cusses like a sailor (it's ironic) but still, a serious question! I came across this amazingly well written article on Early Childhood News by Ph.D Timothy Jay about why and what causes children to curse. Very good. A bit dry, but well researched. Basically if you don't plan to read it (which I know you won't but that's okay), its main point is that children's access to so much media and surrounding environment affect how the child registers language and cursing. Kind of self-explanatory right? If you curse, they curse, etc. Though I found a really interesting counterargument on another blog/website about why this particular dad lets his son say whatever he wants. 


His argument? That words are words (which I agree...to an extent) and that if and when kids see that cursing/swearing/blaspheming as forbidden, like Eve...they will take a big ol' bite of that fruit and say "Holy Sh*t Batman, this f*cking apple tastes GREAT!" Okay so maybe not to that full extent, but you get my meaning. Now I get what Mr. Traister is saying, however...there is a certain joy that comes when you are figuring out the appropriate nature/age in which you can curse. Especially in front of your parents. My "coming of cussing age" was 19. Yes. 19. Nearly entering my third year of college. (I still don't curse in front of my dad...that...would be very bad.) 


So what does that mean when it comes to March? Well...I try not to be too "Oh goodness WHYDIDYOUSAYTHATSDMASFJDADFNASDFJ" and instead explain to him what can happen when he uses that type of language. Either way...I still get to keep the pennies he gives me :-P

Why Everyone, Including Adults, Need Time-Outs too (ESPECIALLY when you are 22...)

So kids are funny.

Perhaps it's by design where the size of their craniums don't quite sync up to their body weight so that they just fall over ever...so......slowly. Or maybe it is by sheer accident because their black and white vision allows them to not be so grown up and complicate already discombobulated emotions (there's that English major...). I say this because over the weekend, MANY life factures (both kid and grown-up sized) collided like the good ol' Big Bang. Here's what happened:

I had to spend the previous week dealing with personal family affairs which caused me to have to not only leave town, but leave my babysitting job a day early. Compounded with lady hormones and preexisting life conditions called "I-don't-really-need-to-deal-with-this-motherf*****-s***. Period." I just was having a tough time being around young things. So as you can already forsee, things may not turn out so well. Now I have the fortune of babysitting a brother and sister pair who are 5 years apart. Seeing as they will be the frequent topic of conversation, I shall call the six year old boy March and the 10-nearing-11 year old sister June (I usually only babysit March....I'm a paid playdate essentially! And June is just way too mature for her own good and had a life schedule I secretly envy). March and I have a tenuous relationship in which I often wonder if he is really a forty-six year old man in a little boy body or if he is just bonkers for NO REASON. (I often find that I ask him unbeknownst to my brain 'Who are you March?" to which he will look up at me contemplatively and say "...I'm March D.Babysitter. -Blinks- You're so crazy...". This has actually happened. No, seriously.) Despite this random age/time-vortexy thingy, we usually have a lot of fun together. Like stupid I don't wanna grow-Toys 'R Us fun.

Back to the story. So March misses his father a great deal, who is in LA currently filming tv shows and having essentially my life. What has become apparent is that this "missing a parent syndrome" can manifest in many ways in a little body. Most of them are ugly. And most of them requiring a LOT of patience from you as a babysitter/caregiver. Both things which I didn't have that day. For March, it was a combination of clinging to his Mother and crying at her having to leave him with me, and not listening to me or anyone (which for a six year old he is generally very good about). So, to assuage the time we had left, March and I played Spies. It was very aerodynamic and cardio. And involved Nerf guns. Which was SO EPIC. So June finally finished her homework for the night and joined us. Here is where the pole heads South.  June and March don't get along. At all.  I think this has a lot to do with their 5 year age gap and they don't often play together. But when they do play is it On-like-Donkey-Kong-kids-so-tell-Crash-Bandicoot-to-Move-over. They were rough. And March just couldn't understand that when someone said 'Stop', it was not a suggestion. This my readers, resulted in a March experience a five-min timeout. (Tip of the day: How to make Time Outs Effective.)

I had to sit down and explain to him why the time-out had happened. I found that it was important to really break down that he isn't bad or not good, but that he did something that wasn't good. Differentiation is KEY. This helped him understand that a fun activity stops being fun when not everyone is happy. Now he wasn't too happy about the time out and neither was the mom surprisingly- but that's a different post altogether- and there were probably things I did that weren't so great (cause I'm only 22...yes...yes I am), but all you can do is try. However, I was scared when picking him up from school today that things between us were going to create even more static between us. Sure enough, I walked up to his kindergarden line and he popped up like a Spring Weed and grabbed my hand and off we went to the park where I got a tan, he got sunburned (only slightly!), and we read Star Wars books.

I suppose this really became a lesson about how even adults need time out too. I had to learn things won't always be right when you babysit. Even if you are quite good at it.

The Moment Where You REALLY Question Your Life Choices

I should preface this first post by making the following statement:
                                   ....I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

I should also preface the aforementioned statement with the following statement:
                ....No one does. Though, some people are very good at presenting
                                                  a semblance of order.

There are many days where I wake up, stressed out and in a severe sweat- something that my sheets and I have had many conversations about- simply worried about how I plan to pay my rent. And my gas and water bill. And my credit card bill. And that sponsorship for a child in Equador or the DR I managed to get talked into on the street. Oh...and that pesky little thing called Student Loans. (grrrrr.....) One thing that your Provost/College President/Big Kahuna of the Academic kind doesn't tell you during your commencement (I went to a LibArts college and this is the apparent name for when you get your degree) ceremony is that, getting a job out of college is easy...in theory. Or rather....MY College President didn't tell me that (granted I may have kind of, sort of, nappedduringtheceremonywhatever).

So after college, I wanted to be a big kid and move out of my parents' house from Jersey and to New York. With $500 in my bank account post graduation. Not the smoothest move, but hey, I didn't major in mathematics. (African American Studies and English majors and Studio Art minor respectively thank you very much) Anywho,  let's just say that within a period of 4 hours that $500- which is quite a lot of money when you're in Nowhere, OH doing Not So Much- went Bye Bye faster than Birdie. Therefore, in order to make sure I didn't die of COMPLETE starvation (let's call it "functional hunger") while I had my trusty internship at hand, because said internship at the time only paid about $55 per WEEK, I had to succumb to the powers that be of the financial kind...

I became a babysitter. An awesome one at that. To which I will tell you next time...(insert maniacal laughter)