The Good, The Bad & The Babysat

Maureen over at Island Roar blogged about the Babysitting Blues today. As I left my comment, I was flooded with memories of being the babysat and the babysitter.

I was torture for my babysitters. I started crying the moment my parents left until I exhausted myself and passed out. Looking back, I remember these sweet teenage girls (who taught me swimming lessons in the summer) trying EVERYTHING in their bag of tricks to distract me from my woes. My parents still refer to my past babysitters as “the poor Kelly girls.”

I wouldn't be surprised if the circle of babysitters in Pines Lake blacklisted my house. My “Other Mother” across the street was the only person who could keep me from thinking that the world was coming to an end because my parents left the house. But since my parents often went out with their friends across the street, my “Other Mother” was rarely my evening babysitter. In fact, I don't think my parents went out much until my brother was old enough to be in charge.

When I reached high school I got certified in first aid and CPR then hung out my babysitting shingle. There were plenty of opportunities in Pines Lake. Unfortunately, karma remembered my name and exacted revenge on me on behalf of the Kelly sisters.

Yes, I had my share of holy terrors.

I think karma paid me back with interest. But once my dues were paid, I was rewarded with some really good kids. My favorite memory is of a family that lived down by the bridge. They had three children. The oldest was a 9-year-old boy that played video games and more or less ignored me because I was a girl. Then there was the 6-year-old girl who always wanted me to brush and braid her hair. Finally, the 4-year-old boy was my little sweetheart.

The first time I put the little guy to bed I tucked him in, said goodnight, and headed for the door. As I reached for the light switch he screamed, “NO!” I thought, Great one that’s afraid of the dark. Then he innocently asked, “Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?” I never had this request from the little demons I had babysat before. I walked back to the bed and leaned down. He threw his arms around my neck and kissed me full on the lips. Then he said, “Goodnight” and snuggled under the covers. I was stunned. It was the sweetest thing that had ever happened to me while watching someone else’s children.

Do you have any good babysitting stories to tell as the kid, the sitter, or the parent?