Dating the Babysitter
Apr 19th, 2011
by Alexis Novak
My lifeline to relative sanity and contentment- our very first real babysitter- is soon leaving the country for good. Besides that I think she is unforgiveably selfish for leaving me in my time of need, she is young and her life is deliciously spread out before her with bad choices to make and fun regrets to be had; a stage that must be embraced fully. This is what I tell her because I am happy for her. But I am tweaking out for myself as I am in the mom stage of intense and sometimes crushing responsibility. I need help. Hands. I cannot revert back to the stressed, overwhelmed mom I was pre-sitter who never hit the gym or found time to pluck her eyebrows.
So I placed a heart-warming ad on a site that is supposed to take care of this sort of thing for 30 bucks. They even rate sitters on a percentage matching scale based on key words.
I couldn’t help feeling like finding a good babysitter for us was exactly like dating. Painful. Slow. Confusing. Never really knowing what the hell the other person is thinking. The awful waiting to hear back after you put yourself out there. The hoping against hope that someone will want you as much as you want them. Turns out, dating’s even worse than I remember.
The ones we really liked and messaged didn’t message me back. The ones I would never like messaged me even though they had zero traits my ad stated we are looking for. One Granny-Nanny emailed with me for a week and just when I was beginning to fall for her with her Southern sweetness and ultra-respectful emails, she dumped me. “Geographically undesirable in a time of rising gas prices,” she wrote in a good-bye email. Ouch. Wasn’t I good enough to make the 20-minute drive for?
Then there was the sorority girl who launched into her demands and her packed schedule before our first date. Her emails read like texts to a sorority sister. On meeting: “Day and time????” Her terse tone sounded like she was doing us a favor-no doubt her own dating attitude.
Some posted professional-modeling-looking pictures that translated as either scary or pretty, we couldn’t decide. We just knew one in particular made us uneasy. Those photos with piercing eyes said something like “remember Rebecca De Mornay in ‘The Hand that Rocks the Cradle’”? more than, “I can’t wait to change your baby’s poopie diaper”, which was the look I was seeking.
Initially, my dream sitter had preschool experience, a college degree, creativity, a flexible morning schedule, a kind face, years of babysitting. Now I’ve whittled my expectations down to someone who is kind and able to keep my precious bambinas safe and semi-entertained for the hour and a half that I check in with myself. Or groom.
Just like dating, you find your match when you least expect to. For me this was on Facebook where a former student who was a favorite of mine joked about “sitting on babies” as her job. I messaged her that second. She was available ASAP. Could do flexible hours. Couldn’t wait to meet my kids (and hopefully wipe their butts). This was it. After all the frogs and missed connections, I found my Happily Ever After Sitter, whom I already know and love.
She starts working for me next week and no, I can’t give you her name or number.
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