Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Blogged by popular request
I spent my Friday night babysitting an adorable pair of midgets with Tracy. They belong to a woman that she knows from work. Sammy is a toddler, still in diapers, but very smart and talkative. Niya is about a year old (I realize I have no idea how to spell her name, especially since I kept accidentally calling her "Nyla"). They were both adopted by this woman and her partner (and I feel really bad that I can't remember either of their names, especially since it means that my memory is turning to utter shite), and they just got Niya not that long ago. We were Niya's first babysitters.
We watched two videos and I crawled around the floor after Niya because while she likes walking around she stumbles like a tiny drunk and I had to keep a hand on her stomach to catch her. She's such a little peanut. She reminds me of my cousin Kerryann's daughter, Tia, when she was a baby. It was a bit of a trial getting her to bed, but we let her cry it out and she was down for the duration.
But the fun didn't really start until Tracy decided it was time to change the boy. Since we arrived he had a sippy cup of milk and a sippy cup of "formula" (malted milk to drink while Niya has her formula) so he was running with a full tank. And he started peeing all over himself, on his stomach and down his back. We asked him if he was done. Of course, he said yes, so we stood him up and cleaned the mess. And he started peeing on the floor. And he did it one more time after we moved him again. We were momentarily caught in a weird sit-com dimension. Tracy rushed him to his little potty with the shield in front for little boys to put their little thing under.
We kept asking him if he was done with the peeing and he would say yes and pee some more. After about twenty minutes of him on the potty and us sitting on the side of the tub, Tracy asked me if we were possibly doing mental damage to this boy, you know, by staring at his privates for almost half-an-hour. But he was having a great time, pointing out everything in the bathroom for us, the two stepping stools, the colors in the shower curtain, the sink, the towels, my hair, his pee-pee, everything. The child never stops smiling.
The peeing finally ended and he was diapered up. Tracy felt bad that the psycho cat had been in the basement ever since we got there and let him out. The cat is fine with Sammy but every time we got near it, the damn thing hissed and swiped at our feet. We made Sammy go ahead of us every time we had to walk by the cat to check Niya. And then Sammy turned into a wacky, fidgety, little worm, which we discovered was code for, "I'm freakin' tired, bitches! Put me to bed!" So we did, and he went down without any problem, which really surprised his moms, almost as much as the fact that he used the potty. They wanted us to come and put him to bed every night.
We watched two videos and I crawled around the floor after Niya because while she likes walking around she stumbles like a tiny drunk and I had to keep a hand on her stomach to catch her. She's such a little peanut. She reminds me of my cousin Kerryann's daughter, Tia, when she was a baby. It was a bit of a trial getting her to bed, but we let her cry it out and she was down for the duration.
But the fun didn't really start until Tracy decided it was time to change the boy. Since we arrived he had a sippy cup of milk and a sippy cup of "formula" (malted milk to drink while Niya has her formula) so he was running with a full tank. And he started peeing all over himself, on his stomach and down his back. We asked him if he was done. Of course, he said yes, so we stood him up and cleaned the mess. And he started peeing on the floor. And he did it one more time after we moved him again. We were momentarily caught in a weird sit-com dimension. Tracy rushed him to his little potty with the shield in front for little boys to put their little thing under.
We kept asking him if he was done with the peeing and he would say yes and pee some more. After about twenty minutes of him on the potty and us sitting on the side of the tub, Tracy asked me if we were possibly doing mental damage to this boy, you know, by staring at his privates for almost half-an-hour. But he was having a great time, pointing out everything in the bathroom for us, the two stepping stools, the colors in the shower curtain, the sink, the towels, my hair, his pee-pee, everything. The child never stops smiling.
The peeing finally ended and he was diapered up. Tracy felt bad that the psycho cat had been in the basement ever since we got there and let him out. The cat is fine with Sammy but every time we got near it, the damn thing hissed and swiped at our feet. We made Sammy go ahead of us every time we had to walk by the cat to check Niya. And then Sammy turned into a wacky, fidgety, little worm, which we discovered was code for, "I'm freakin' tired, bitches! Put me to bed!" So we did, and he went down without any problem, which really surprised his moms, almost as much as the fact that he used the potty. They wanted us to come and put him to bed every night.
Labels: Adventures in Babysitting
Friday, September 08, 2006
Appropriate for my fan base
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
It's all downhill from here
Apparently since I've achieved the heretofore (is that a word?) unachievable, my body has decided that it can fall apart now. As if now that my long youth is over and real adulthood is here, the bod just gave up. I was very, very happy on Saturday. I spent most of Sunday and Monday queasy with a killer headache, completely convinced that my ears were infected to the point of explosion. I've had ear infections where my ears felt full or I felt off-balance, but I've never felt stabbing pain before. I couldn't get a doctor's appointment until Thursday, but luckily things calmed down a bit by then, although I was still pretty uncomfortable. And it wasn't even an infection, it was just a massive amount of fluid stuck behind my eardrums. So I've been on Sudafed to clear that up. Hooray for otc speed! Early Friday morning I did something awful to my hamstring getting out of bed. Yes, merely swinging my legs over the edge of a bed effed me up good and proper. Damn my bladder. The pain kept me up a good portion of Saturday night. Also, because I'm on the pill and a hypochondriac, I was seriously worried that the pain wasn't a hamstring thing at all, but a blood clot that would soon move out of my leg and into my lungs or my heart, killing me. Welcome to my world. Oh, and that constant cough I seem to have picked up? Lung cancer from second-hand smoke (It's obviously not post-nasal drip from late-summer allergies. Obviously). And my heart has felt a bit tachycardia-ish as of late. I think that I'm freaking out a little more than usual since I have no insurance and a dwindling bank account and lots of time to feel and obsess over all my little aches and twinges. Tracy, remind me to ask you about how you got your insurance. I need a physical and I want the Massachusetts taxpayers to foot the bill.
To top it all off, I've got my dad to worry about again. If it's not his health it's something else with him. Basically he has a warrant out for a traffic fine he hasn't been able to pay and he needs to go to court to explain why he has no income and work out a payment plan or else they're going to take away his welfare and his Mass Health and possibly put him in jail. Also, his girlfriend is probably going to leave him soon, so he'll have to find somewhere very, very cheap to live. As awful a decision as it would be, if I had my own place I'd let him move in with me.
And as I type this, I realize that I never called George back when he rang last week. Sorry about that. The thought of putting a phone against my ear was not a pleasant one for a few days there.
To top it all off, I've got my dad to worry about again. If it's not his health it's something else with him. Basically he has a warrant out for a traffic fine he hasn't been able to pay and he needs to go to court to explain why he has no income and work out a payment plan or else they're going to take away his welfare and his Mass Health and possibly put him in jail. Also, his girlfriend is probably going to leave him soon, so he'll have to find somewhere very, very cheap to live. As awful a decision as it would be, if I had my own place I'd let him move in with me.
And as I type this, I realize that I never called George back when he rang last week. Sorry about that. The thought of putting a phone against my ear was not a pleasant one for a few days there.
Labels: Complaints - Health Department
