Thursday, September 1, 2011

And now we are....really old

Another birthday has come and gone. I took the day off work at the last minute (I had vacation days HR was needing me to "use or lose") so it was nice to wake up and watch an uninterrupted few hours of Netflix with a cup of coffee in my jammies, before heading out to do some errands unencumbered by children. Followed by dinner and a movie with my husband.

Unlike so many disaster-tinged birthdays of yore, it was actually a lovely day.

However, I will say that overnight August 31 started out very, very shaky. As in...the horrendous experience that was the evening of Aug 30 leading up into the wee hour of the morning.

After I post this into the blogosphere I plan on expelling it, Harry Potter into the Pensieve style, from my memory forever, so here goes:

Eric's band practices each and every Tuesday. Mainly, this is the time when they learn new songs, but they will often have potential clients, who may have heard of them through word of mouth or the internet, come out to watch them...an audition, if you will.

Now, to back up a bit further, several of the band members have children, but two of the band members have children together. For them, babysitting can sometimes be an issue and on this night in particular, their regular sitter cancelled and rather force the band to cancel the audition I agreed to babysit their three kids.

So, for a few hours in the evening, I will have one-seven-year old, two 5-years-olds, one 3-year-old and an 21-month old. Its probably nobody's idea of a good time, but sacrifices must be made....


I just want to put it out there, that I like the two band members in question, I really do. (And no, they don't read this blog, so I'm not just saying that). But, things started out poorly when, mere seconds after coming inside, the 7-year-old...who I will call Angel...and is beyond precocious and speaks and acts like the snarky teenager of our collective nightmares, marches up to Kieran, and confronts him with something along the lines of "you have a baby hand and a regular hand and that's weird." She doesn't say it with any type of innocent curiosity, it is definitely an accusation and Kieran, who has in no way mastered the art of the witty (ok, any) comeback, stares at her blankly. Her mother on the other hand, scolds Angel  loudly giving the usual "we are all different and special in our own way" speech and puts her in a time out. Now, we already do have a relatively thick skin in terms of Kieran's hand (and he appears to as well) and kids are kids...so we move on.

Now, they are getting ready to head out, and amid the profuse apologies for even having to ask me to babysit at all, they say they will come back after the audition and not stay to practice.  Angel, who is quite used to babysitters so I'm surprised is not more laid back, suddenly says with snark that I didn't realize children could possess barks: "I'm not staying HERE. They have no TOYS." Which is shocking since we are quite overrun with toys, I believe, but again perhaps more of the 5-year-old boy variety.

I fear this is not going to go well.

Meanwhile, the other 4 are already off elsewhere playing with our many, many toys. So I put on a movie for Angel and she is, briefly,  appeased.

Now I am alone, and it takes me a few minutes to remember that an 21-month-old is loose in my no longer baby-proofed house. I locate her in the bathroom where she is pantless and licking (or possibly chewing) my deodorant. I start moving things up a bit higher, but now the other 4 are engaged in some loud-getting-louder-oh-now-they-are-crying-argument about something that requires parental intervention.

And so it goes...for hours and hours, the baby got into everything and anything. Dishwasher cubes? check. Floor cleaner? Check. Bandaids...do you know any 21 month old who can get them out of the wrappers in mere seconds...I do. Cat food? Yummy. Cat water...all over the floor, following by a succession of at least three kids wiping out (It's Home Alone 5!!)all of the place. Now, I can HEAR you all saying...Lady, this is what kids DO. But really, she went from one thing to another with lightning speed like a pint sized tornado. Honestly, I was thinking afterward that I was going to have to call FEMA or the Red Cross for aid.

Now, where was I? The baby is soaked from the cat water, and oh...did I mention she was having some sort of diarrhea issues? No? She was. And since she wanted to sit on the potty every 17 seconds I had just left her pants off, and now that her shirt is drenched, I go to find her new clothes and a diaper. Enroute, I am waylaid by the 5-year-old (not mine) asking if he can play with the Lego in Kieran's room. I say: "Sure! Lego! What I good idea." And off he goes. He's a good boy.

A few minutes go by and I'm attempting to wrangle an uncooperative baby into clean clothes and Kieran comes wailing out of his room.

"Mom, why did you say Jack could play with the Lego?" he sobs. Turns out Jack had been eyeing a trio of previously constructed Lego vehicles (jet plane, racecar, helicopter) that Eric had painstakingly made with Kieran last Christmas and have been sitting on a  shelf on display ever since. Kieran likes to show these creations to guests;  breathless and telling them not to touch. Now well, there are many Lego blocks on the floor.  Crap. So now I'm trying to salvage what I can of Kieran's jet plane before I remember the half dressed, diarrhea baby I left roaming around the house. I locate her in the kitchen with a tube of toothpaste, mere moments before it was going to be wiped on the cat who I toss outside hissing: "Wesley, I'm a goner, but save yourself!"


Now is well after 10 pm, and I am beginning to realize realize that perhaps I have been misled to how long this babysitting gig is going to run. So I figure it's time to at least get my own kids to bed, if possible. Luckily, all the kids seem to think this in a good idea, but of course, we don't have enough beds for all 5 kids so four of them head onto Kieran's bunkbeds. (Kaya, who was totally disinterested in all the other shenanigans going on in the house and just happy to be enjoying an evening under the radar, was happy to climb into our  bed with her CD Player). Kieran gets into his bottom bunk and the older two get up onto the top bunk where they immediately start throwing things off. A tossed book whacks me on the cheek and the giant dog that Kieran got from Eric's parents and which is not only huge, but sawdust heavy, comes rolling off the top bunk like a dead body, landing right on the baby's head and flattens her to the floor like Wile E Coyote.

We are now all crying.

Finally, the band arrives back at around midnight. There are zero kids sleeping and I have had 3.5 solid hours of what can sans exaggeration, only be described as hell on earth.

As they are all packing up (didn't take long, I had all the bags and backups packed a waiting by the door),  Angel, as a nightcap, kicks a soccer ball at the wall right into two professionally framed portraits of the kids. The portraits were unharmed...but the night ended the way it had began, with profuse, embarrassed apologies and a time out.

When they all finally left I collapsed on the couch. It's 12:15 am.

"Happy Birthday!" says Eric. And then he made me a BLT.