Axed

Oh readers I come to you with a heavy, and pissed heart. Two days ago my boss told me to leave my entire set of keys in my mailbox because her boyfriend had to do something with them. Um ok, weird, but ok. Then tonight I get an email saying this dog walking thing with me just wasn’t working out. Yeah. You read me right, I was fired from the most embarrassing job to begin with. The reasoning: STUPID MOTHERFUCKING BABYSITTER. My boss said I was late three times and she can’t rely on that inconsistency with her business (not word for word, I’m more articulate than she). My babysitter was obviously late more than three times, but the times I couldn’t compensate I had to tell my boss. Remember that blog where I was complaining about my babysitter’s irresponsible lateness? Yeah, that in turn was responsible for me being fired, un-fucking-believable. Also remember when I said I was embarrassed to tell people what I did for a job? Well now I’m even more embarrassed to say I was fired from said job.
So back to the drawing board, job search, job search and pray to Jebus something comes my way. I’m getting a little sick of the luck we’ve been having since moving to Kingston, so I think I’m owed a little something.
Mumma C

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Batteries needed

I’m sorry for the delay in writing, it’s been a busy dog walkin week! I’ve had a lot of messages asking what happened with the cleaning after I spoke to the babysitter so this blog will cover her first week, my multiple face smashings, and why I’m a good mother.

So on the second day of babysitting I was going to tell her to clean up after herself, and there were other things I wanted to bring up to her. I made a list of everything I wanted to talk to her about just so I didn’t forget. When it came to the next morning I didn’t have the heart to ream her out on her second day, so I decided to say nothing and see if anything changed. I come home that day and her dishes are clean, baby’s are clean, AND mine are clean. I’m figuring she either saw my notes, or read my blog. I’m a dirty slob and I’m all about, do as I say, not as I do, so I felt really bad that she went that far from reading my notes. So being the good employer that I am I told her she only needed to clean up her stuff and baby’s… um no I didn’t. It’s a week later and she’s still cleaning my dishes, and today she tidied up the entire living room/kitchen area. She doesn’t go as far as a cleaning lady would so I feel I’m not entirely exploiting her. She’s starting to do a great job with my house, and the boy is still alive so all in all I think I’ll keep her. Unfortunately no crazy stories on that side other than I have a new babysitter and “house tidier”.

This week has taken a toll on my face however. Yesterday I was sitting down, yes peeing, and I bent over to pick up toilet paper and smashed my forehead coming up on the sink. Somehow I’m not bruised but it hurts to touch or to make any of my numerous hilarious facial expressions. And today I whacked my nose on something and I’m PRETTY sure it’s broken. If I were a doctor, and I think I am, I’d say it’s broken. My nose is bruised and painful as fuck; if my forehead were bruised too I’d be one messed up looking chick. Tomorrow I’ll probably break my arm at the rate I’m going.

Little sirs has a turtle animal light that shines stars on the ceiling that he just loves to go to sleep with and push the buttons before he falls asleep. It’s been weeks since the batteries have been dead, well who are we kidding, probably months. Once I finally decided to change the batteries for him it took me another week just to get the stupid lid to the batteries screwed off, and that didn’t even get finished. That only got done because my parents stopped in and finished the job. I was like, yes finally can get this thing working again, alas I had no batteries. Yes, I could have gone out and bought three AAA batteries but that seemed like WAY too much work. I only had one thing battery operated in my home that took AAA batteries, so I went to my underwear drawer and took my batteries out. Don’t ever think I’m not a good mom based on this blog, this proves that I’m a great mom, one who sacrifices her own happiness for her child’s. 🙂

Missed you guys, hope you enjoyed!
Mumma C

Babysitter care: lather, rinse, repeat

Since the babysitter is finally starting tomorrow I’ve been losing sleep over how she is to eat while here. Is it like every other job where you pack a lunch or am I expected to feed her my own food AND pay her? That doesn’t seem right, paying someone to eat my food, which I already have very little of. Should she eat what the baby eats at lunch, a peanut butter sandwich and fruit, or should she go BBQ herself some chicken? Do I say help yourself to anything, anything that you can find in the corners of the cupboards and the fridge. Is it rude to be like, “bring your own food, don’t want you fainting while looking after my kid”? Definitely need some feedback on this one as I have zero experience with it. The only babysitting experience I have is when my babysitters would look after me in the evening or just after school, and they just ate whatever junk food in the house they could find and used our landline to call their boyfriends. Oh the good old days when the parents didn’t want the babysitter using the phone because if there were an emergency no one could get through, and where you’d be too scared to eat their food but you saw some chips or cake that you just couldn’t pass up.
As a young babysitter myself in the 90s, the era of landlines and stove popped popcorn, I don’t remember ever getting fed during my jobs. But times have changed and I’m pretty sure what we were doing back then was a form of child labor, and we were happy to get paid 20 bucks for an entire days work looking after 5 kids. I did the math, and this is after a little child labor of my own, our babysitter is getting paid MINIMUM 300 a week. 300 a week??? I don’t think I even make that picking up poop! Fucking bullshit right there. I don’t think this girl deserves my food after getting paid more than half the working population of Canada.
Any advice would be appreciated readers! And those on Facebook, please comment here, not on the post as it comes up there.
Mumma C

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Touch what?

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We have more or less narrowed down who the lucky babysitter will be, however I still found the need to look for more tonight… Hmmm. The more and more I saw caregivers who have their own children in their home while looking after my precious, the more freaked out I got. I’m convinced all kids, and not naively, want to touch each others genitals. I’ve decided that my son is the only one who gets to touch his penis, not some 9 year old girl, or even a sweet, innocent 1 year old girl. I know this is a very taboo topic, and I’m making lighthearted jokes about it, but make no mistake, I’m not fucking joking around here. It terrifies me to leave my child with some stranger, and their weird kid. Most people ask for a criminal reference check before leaving their child with someone, but is there one for their 5 year old? Ummm nope. So needless to say, I’m just not ready to leave baby sirs with a caregiver and their pervy little child.
Which babysitter did we pick? Well, unbeknownst to her yet, we chose the 16 year old, and no, not for Tim to “drive home”. I’m still looking at other options before we let her know, because I’m too nervous still to have someone else look after my kid. Once again, something other parents didn’t tell me, when do you know it’s the right time and the right person for your kid and you?
Mumma C