How to Lose a Babysitter in 3 Hours

First, make certain that your oldest child has been sporting a fever throughout the afternoon. Give her some Tylenol in hopes that she'll be able to go to bed early and fight off whatever is bugging her. Put the newborn to bed in his crib and smile as he sleeps peacefully. (Sort of facetiously) tell the babysitter that this will either be the easiest night of babysitting ever, or the hardest, if the oldest child were to, you know, get sick or something silly like that. Leave the babysitter upstairs playing with the middle child, and drive to the airport while listening to Pink's new CD.

Once you arrive at the airport and are trying to find the right garage to park in (why are there so MANY of them?), receive a call from the babysitter, who sounds frantic. Listen to her as she says, "Oh my God, Kate just puked everywhere!" Start to fret as you hear the newborn screaming his little lungs out in the background, and wonder to yourself how a 15-year-old is going to handle this situation, when you as a 30-something experienced mother would be extremely stressed out and borderline hysterical. Tell the sitter you will call her back in a few minutes, and pull into a parking spot that you hope is somewhere close to the correct terminal. Shove all the quarters in your possession into the meter, thinking that surely 75 minutes will be long enough to get to the terminal and pick up your 13-year-old niece.

Start walking and dialing, trying to reach your two neighbors on a Saturday night to see if they are available to help. Leave messages when no one answers. Call the babysitter back and hear her telling Kate to run! Find out that Kate is in the processing of vomiting for the third time. Hear the baby continue to cry and try to explain to the sitter that you can't head back home yet because you have to pick up a family member who is flying for the first time, and that her plane is late. Sit at the terminal biting your fingernails, hoping that all is okay at home. Receive a call from one neighbor, who is able to go over and take the baby home with her. Receive another call from the other neighbor who goes over to see if there is anything she can do to help. Talk to the sitter and find out that she has called her older sister who is on the way over.

Stop pacing when you see your niece get off the plane, and tell her that we need to speed walk because there is no time left on the meter and there is chaos at home. Arrive back at the car with one minute remaining on the meter, and start driving. Receive a call from the neighbor who has the baby and find out that Kate is quite sick and lethargic. Try not to stress out more.

Arrive home approximately 35 minutes later to a quiet house. Pay the babysitter almost double what you would normally pay her in hopes that she will actually return your call again some day. Quickly check on Kate and find out that she is super hot. Re-wet the washcloth for her forehead and leave to go get the baby. Spend all night worrying about how high the fever really is, since you can't get an accurate read on the thermometer without removing the washcloth that actually seems to be doing some good. Finally bring the sick child back to bed with you at 5am so you can keep an (asleep) eye on her, and breathe a sigh of relief when her fever finally breaks around 6:30am. Spend the rest of the day utterly exhausted, and finally shower and dress at about 4pm.

Kate seems to be fine now, thank God. She alternated between having a surprising amount of energy and wanting to sleep, and is now resting well. I'm hoping for the best tonight.

P.S. Happy 40th Birthday, Tim! We miss you and love you and hope you at least got to have a near-beer with someone you know over there. I celebrated with a bottle glass of wine.

What you can't see

What you can't see in these pictures is the 2 squad cars parked out of range of the camera, and the officers loading shotguns before "the raid".

This was the scene on our driveway last night after dinner. The cause for the commotion: our neighbors' pit bulls, that are left in the backyard day and night, were viciously attacking one another, likely out of hunger. We think the neighbors have been out of town for the past week. People walking along the greenbelt behind our houses saw what was going on and came to use our phone to call 911.

The events of the evening included: the animal control guy initially telling Tim they would "leave a note for the owners" to which Tim responded without positive enthusiasm, the call for back-up when the use of approximately an entire can of pepper spray did not have much effect on the dogs (although us humans were affected), two police officers standing on chairs in our backyard with shotguns aimed into the backyard next door as several other officers gingerly entered the yard to find the third dog that was hiding, 5 police cars and one animal control truck parked in front of our driveway, and all dogs ultimately being removed from the backyard.

It wasn't the Mother's Day ending we were expecting, but we are hoping it will reduce the dog problems next door.

The pro

Luke had his 1 month well-baby check today. He is officially 10 pounds 4 ounces (50-75%), and 22 1/4 inches (75-90%) tall.

I dropped Kate off at school and then Luke and I went to the pediatrician. I, being the veteran mom that I am, opted to carry Luke inside in his car seat, and carry only my diaper bag-sized purse in with me, forgoing the actual diaper bag itself. I had one of his diapers and a bunch of wipes in my purse and figured I was good. Critical error numero uno.

I had to change Luke into a new nappy to weigh him, using up my spare. Then, while we were waiting for the doctor to come to our room, Luke messed his nice clean diaper. I decided I didn't want the kind doctor to open up Luke's diaper to such a mess, so I decided to *clean it up a little* with some of my handy wipes. Critical error number two. While I was attempting to remove baby poo from said diaper, Luke felt the need to relieve himself. He peed all over the paper-covered table and himself. I, of course, was out of wipes by this time, so I had to use some of the paper towels provided for such occurrences. Luckily for me, the doctor didn't arrive until after I had cleaned up my mess, and he graciously offered me one of the office's diapers.

I will be bringing my diaper bag to all future appointments.

Worst week

Isn't there a show called 'Worst Week'? My week has been going okay, it's just today that hasn't gone swimmingly.

It started out at the OB this morning. They did a fetal fibronectin test to make sure I'm not leaking fluid. I'll find out the results tomorrow morning. I've been having contractions...say 6 times an hour off and on for a few weeks, so I'm on the lookout for pre-term labor. I'm really hoping the test is negative, obv, as the RN told me if I am leaking fluid, there is a very good chance I'll deliver within the next 2 weeks. And I'm only 29 weeks right now. So, as much as I am ready to be done with pregnancy forever, I would ideally like to wait at least another 8 weeks until I have the baby. Also, if the test is positive, I would have to go on bedrest for the next couple of weeks, which is sort of impossible. Also also we are supposed to drive to Oregon on Saturday where we will buy our new car, a trip which would be difficult when one is on bedrest preparing for imminent childbirth. So, let's just hope that that little test is negative, shall we? Mmmmkay.

Next: post-lunch, I helped Kate use the bathroom, and the toilet overflowed. Like all-over-the-large-bathroom-floor-perhaps-.5"-deep overflowed. Awesome. After I got the children to bed for naps and came downstairs to find all my cleaning stuff, I heard dripping. In the kitchen. Sure enough, water (TOILET water) was dripping from the AC vent in the ceiling. I had no idea what to do. Of course, the way things go, this sort of event only seems to happen when either 1) Tim is deployed, or 2) he is flying in a Red Flag and is completely unavailable. Today it was option #2. I called both his squadrons with no luck, but someone told me they would run down to the building he was in to tell him to call me. Maybe it was the stress in my voice. Pregnant woman sounds like she is close to tears: better help out. Luckily he called me, because besides calling a plumber, I was at a loss. He suggested calling our insurance company (brilliant!) and they sent a water remediation team over. [My response to the claims adjuster who asked what caused the plumbing problem: "Um...I have a 3-year-old?"] Currently, they are tearing out a large section of my ceiling, peeling back the carpet in Kate's room, and taking all the molding off the bathroom walls. Sweet. It seems the likelihood of us leaving on Saturday is decreasing.

This is not the kind of remodelling I like to do.

In the spirit of "you can't make this shit up" (no pun intended), I heard Kate whimpering from her room where she was playing. She came out and told me she had pooped in her underwear.

So that is the sort of day it's been here. How's your day going?

Full moon fiasco

I'm not sure what it is: are we unmemorable? Do we not pay enough? Or, like I like to look at it, are our kids so good that we don't stick out in babysitters' minds? Clearly, this third observation no longer applies after last night. I jokingly told Tim yesterday when he got home that I hoped the babysitter showed up...and by 5:45 I was on the phone to our sitter, eating my words. It happened again: she had forgotten. In her defense (do I give her any? hmmm), this was her first offense; the other sitters who had forgotten were all in Tucson. But this was the third or fourth time in three years that a sitter has not shown up to our house, and it has always been for a semi-big engagement (two prior anniversary dinners, last night's squadron Christmas party).

After profuse apologizing on her part, she mentioned that she had a bit of a conflict: she is moving this weekend and her landlord was supposed to do a walk-through with her at 8:30pm. As I waited for her to tell me that she would call the landlord and reschedule (obviously we were on the books before the landlord, and also, the party was starting in 15 minutes), she hemmed and hawwed and asked if it would be all right if she took the girls with her back to her house for the inspection. *This should have tipped me off to future issues.* I said that wouldn't work, due to a plethora of reasons, and she said she would "work something out" and would be over "in a few minutes". I immediately called our neighbor, Jen, who's son, Douglas, has watched the girls before. Thankfully, Douglas was going to be around, so I called our sitter back and told her that he would watch the girls for an hour while she went back to her house to meet the landlord.

I present rule #1: if you have to work this hard to make the babysitter issue work out, you probably should just cancel your event.

Our sitter showed up at 6:15, with plentiful apologies, and I gave her the lowdown on how to deal with bedtime for the girls (they get to have the Christmas lights on in their room until they disobey enough times to warrant turning them off; they need to stay in their room; they need to be quiet; if they are not quiet by 8:30, put Claire back in her room in the crib). I asked her if she had heard from the landlord: no. I called Jen and told her that our sitter would likely call Douglas around 8:00. We left.

The oblivious couple enjoys a night out at the squadron Christmas party.

We had a good time. Before dinner started at 7:00, I called the sitter to see how things were going. "Fine!" Had she heard from her landlord? No.

At 10:15, as we were driving up to our house, I noticed the first sign of things not-quite-right. "Where is her car?" I asked Tim. Once inside, I noticed Jen's slippers by the front door. Jen came tip-toeing around the corner: "Shhhhhh. Don't wake them." She had a serious look in her eye. And she looked sort of frightened at the possibility of the children waking up.

"Why are you here?" I hissed. She said that the sitter called her at 8:15, Douglas was in the shower because he had just finished a workout, so she came over to watch the girls. She never heard from the sitter again. She just up and left, and did not return. Let me say this again, as I'm not sure it's clear: the sitter left and Never Came Back. And when said babysitter left, she did not give bedtime instructions to Jen.

Apparently, after Jen arrived, the girls decided to rejoice in the light of the full moon. Kate could be heard from her room: "Miss Jen's here!" They had to go to the bathroom. They had to read another book. At one point, not long after she had gotten them in bed, Jen could hear Claire wailing from their room, "Miss Jen!" When she went upstairs, she found Claire with her pants and diaper half-off. Kate had tried to remove them after she had taken her own pants off. The children argued about whether the Christmas lights should be on or off. They discussed the merits of having the fan on or off. Jen mentioned bringing bungee cords to the house next time to keep them in their beds. In other words, it was a disaster. When Douglas called, she told him to stay home for fear that his showing up would set them off again.

I am pretty sure Jen is never going to speak to us again.

After she left, I looked at Tim and mused, "I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't had Jen come over....Do you think...?"

Tim's response: "Number one, there is no way of knowing what would have happened, so don't ask, and number two, you probably don't want to know the answer."

Ummm...

...what was I thinking? Let's see: we'll get back from our first family airplane trip, Tim will leave early the next morning for a short TDY, and I will try to clean up the house, shop and prepare for Claire's birthday party two days later?

The trip was great. We are tired. The house is a mess. I promise to try real hard to write more tomorrow. Good night!

Codes, codes for eberyone

Sick. We are all sick. All of us who are here, that is. Kate got it first, and gave it to Claire, who then shared it with me. Damn daycare. Now, of course, I'm feeling really bad about getting so very frustrated with Kate over the weekend; she was just feeling ucky and now I know why she was whiny. I want to whine right now, too.

I feel worst for Claire, because she's a baby and can't even pretend to blow her nose. So nostril sucker thingy it is, accompanied by nose drops. She hates it, and I hate doing it to her, but it's worse to let her cry and get so congested that she starts to gag.

The nights are long. None of us are sleeping well, and every time one of the girls wakes up, so do I. Our throats itch and are sore, and the coughing is hard to sleep through. My head is pounding, and the tantrums Kate works herself into are making me a little crazy. Not thoroughly crazy, because I've been able to head most of them off today, but I've got my tickets to crazytown in my hand just in case.

I thought I'd have my husband back to help out tonight, but it seems that this will not happen. Of course. His jet's still broken. Severe thunderstorms are in the forecast for tomorrow morning when he is (currently) scheduled to leave, and I am hoping to have him home by Wednesday. Until then, I'll be chugging Nyquil vodka OJ in an effort to get rid of this bug.

Bonus

After approximately 4 hours of sleep, I woke up with what I am fairly certain is pink-eye. Woohoo!

On the upside, Claire's eye looks way better, and I think she is on the mend.

And most everything is ready to go. We packed the car last night, and only have a few things to wrap up this morning. Stress? Nothing a cup of coffee and a nice swim with Kate can't cure. Really, I'm fine, and am looking forward to this trip, however packed with craziness it might be.