So I was lying in the boys' room the other night, telling them yet another Mowgli story, and I had a thought: I would never hire the teenage version of myself to babysit for my children.
As a teen I was the "block" babysitter. I'm pretty sure these parents had no clue how dumb I was because they left me with their babies when I was barely 12.
But as you know I am useless at nighttime and, pre-kids, I could sleep through an explosion. I remember parents always explaining they'd be late, and after their kids when to bed to "feel free to relax on the couch and fall asleep" until they returned. Of course I never planned on actually falling asleep, but then I probably shouldn't have covered up, laid back, and rested my head on their comfy throw pillows.
I remember one time in particular when I was babysitting for the O'Riordans, the pretty family in the biggest house on Ferris. I was awakened at midnight by Mr. O'Riordan standing across the living room calling, "Jenni? Um...Jenni!" I startled awake and mumbled something about the book I was reading (no book in sight, by the way). He said, "Wow, you were really out." I stumbled around the living room and couldn't even coordinate my hands to grab my jacket. Maybe the worst part was the 6-house walk home accompanied by Mr. O, me trying to find something redeemable to discuss about the evening with their 3-year-old terror. What must he have thought?
Well they asked me back again and again, so they must not mind a babysitter who would sleep through their kid's screams and a burglar axing down the door. They must have really needed those nights out!
And now you wake up at every sound your kids make! The irony.