bootsy

Posts Tagged ‘babysitting’

workplace + childfree = i’ma go apeshit soon. 5.

In awkward, babies in adult places, childfree, heh, manners, new moms on November 7, 2012 at 7:15 pm

ok, since i read this, i’m officially finished complaining about any baby incidents at work. until something else happens.

but thank god no one at work brings their kid in every single day. like this italian mep, licia ronzulli. she started taking her baby to work at 6 months – and has continued ever since! omfg. the baby’s now a toddler and there are even pictures of her voting in parliament with her mother. let’s hope those votes don’t count.

it turns out bootsy really doesn’t have much to complain about after all.

and furthermore, why the heck is offbeat momma giving her a “two thumbs up”? there’s no explanation, only a summary of the story that originally appeared in the guardian. but i can’t imagine any situation where it would ever be ok to have a baby sitting on your lap while in parliament. either you have a job, or you’re a mom. i appreciate that women are capable of doing both, but please – if you want to be taken seriously as a professional, and to keep from marring the reputation of all womankind – please, please don’t intersect the two roles. the rest of us struggle hard enough to be taken seriously by our professional male peers.

babysitting.

In awkward, babies in adult places, childfree on August 31, 2012 at 4:48 am

i was babysitting the other day. i think i’m not a good babysitter. i don’t know why people keep asking me. trust me – the only reason i say yes is because they’re usually entirely desperate by the time they ask and i’m a pretty decent human being. although maybe if i showed them this blog i’d have fewer requests…

i’m not a very fun babysitter. i don’t know why the kids all love me so much. i don’t like playing. unless we’re playing house and it’s nap time. i don’t like pretending. i’ll let them do my hair because it feels nice but that’s about it. i never have anything good that kids want to eat in the house. i mean nothing. you’re thirsty? have some water. ice? nope. you’re hungry? how about some gluten-free crackers with nothing on them? no? well, your mom should have fed you better before she shipped you over here.

i find child-minding to be incredibly boring. i have no idea what to talk to them about. i don’t know what’s appropriate for their age groups and what isn’t. the idea of being a parent and having to go to the park every day, well, gouge my eyeball out with a spoon. even worse than that: hanging out with my mommy friends at the park for some good, grown-up convo about (no! not what actually interests us…) kids! guh.

ahhhhh, babysitting. i’m counting the days until school gets back in.

thanks to idontwannagrowup.com for the image.

don’t call me. i have plans.

In about me, childfree, heh, manners on July 6, 2011 at 2:22 pm

just because i was clever enough not to have kids in the interest of my own freedom, doesn’t mean that i have nothing to do.

you can’t call me up asking if i can babysit in 20 minutes. i’ll probably have plans.

don’t ask me if i can babysit so that you can make your friday night date, in desparation to find yourself a new babydaddy. i already have plans.

don’t swing by my place with the hopes of dropping your kid off for ’1/2 an hour’ while you go to the dentist. i was just about to run some errands.

i don’t spend all of my childfree time sitting around on my duff (just some of it). i make plans. i see people. i do stuff.

i don’t want to make friends with anyone at the playground.

In about me, awkward, childfree, heh on June 25, 2011 at 4:34 am

i rarely find myself being asked to babysit. i’m pretty much a last resource in my family (although if any of them knew about this blog i’m sure i’d never be allowed to see any of those kids again!). so when i do find myself in that situation i’m pretty much stymied for things to do.

what on earth do kids do?

hot tip!! it turns out the park is a fail safe.

personally, i don’t mind it too much. unless it’s cold. or there’s a lineup for the swings (why is it that if i get there first i’m not allowed to enjoy some swing time. kids.)

inevitably there’s a small huddling of lonely, bored parents there. they take their kids out to the park only to get them out of their hair. now i’m an entrepreneur. my livelihood depends pretty much solely upon my networking capabilities. but i just can’t force myself to talk to parents at the park.

do i really have anything in common with them? the small talk will inevitably revolve around whose kids are whose, and how cute/funny/silly/smart/talented they are. gak.

so instead i sit there watching the one kid i came there to watch – never taking my eyes off her lest she should fall and break her femur or pop her collar bone out of joint. and when the parents smile at me like they want to branch out and try to have a life, new friends, someone new to gripe to, i just look the other way.

because when i’m looking for new friends i want to make sure we’ve got some of the same values from the get go.

the secret to babysitting is…

In awkward, childfree, heh, lessons learned on June 12, 2011 at 6:57 pm

well i just spent a joy-filled evening babysitting my dear niece and nephew. don’t get me wrong. i adore them and would do just about anything in the world for them (that explains the babysitting gig). but the night was less than idea. as is so often the case with the beh-behs.

the youngest one gave threw a fit because he wanted his parents to stay home. as a result he refused to move from between the couch cushions all night and shot the stink eye my direction the whole evening.

the older one complained that she was bored but didn’t want to do anything i suggested. harumph.

so i gave up trying. we watched shows and ate popcorn and chips. i guess, after all, that’s what being a fun aunt is about – letting them do what they’d like to do.

here’s where i leak the big secret:

you can pit the kids against each other. no matter what it is they don’t want to do, all you have to say is, ‘last one there’s a rotten egg!’.

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