So, I think my nannying days are drawing to a close.
My son will no longer tolerate sleeping in a pack n' play at someone else's house.
He will no longer tolerate eating in a makeshift high chair at someone else's house.
He has his routine at home and he likes it that way.
For those who don't know, I babysit my 3-yr old nephew and another 3-yr old boy every Tuesday and Wednesday at my sister-in-law's house. I take my son with me who is now one-yr old. It has been a perfect arrangement for the last almost 2 years - I've been able to be with my son, my nephew, and make a little extra money. Perfect!
But alas, the other boy moved to Connecticut last week. And my son is refusing to take naps anywhere other than at home in his crib. This has been going on for the last few weeks, and since my husband lost his job, he has been able to help out with our son and pick him up when he is having a sleepytime meltdown. Sleepytime meltdowns include sweating, screaming, crying, wiping boogers in his hair, throwing pacifiers, shaking the pack n' play, throwing his blanket out of the pack n' play, throwing his monkey out, and essentially trying to flip the pack n' play over on its side so he can crawl to the door and out to safety.
Meanwhile, my nephew is asking me, "Why is baby Max crying? Is it because he is happy? Is he sad? I think he is crying because he wants to go to sleep. I think he just said he wants to go to bed. Where is the remote? Can I have a snack?"
It is torture for us all.
Therefore, for my son's sake and the sake of my mommyhood sanity, when my husband finds a job, I will no longer be Ms. Nannytastic.
As soon we came to this conclusion, I panicked and became very emotional. I was suddenly afraid of losing that small bit of income. Afraid of giving up one of my part-time jobs. My two part-time jobs pay for our groceries! But I really have no choice. I've got to take care of my son and that means staying at home and having faith that my husband will find a job where we don't need that income.
I came home from my sister-in-law's house crying to my husband. Worried. Scared. Afraid. Worried. Scared. Afraid. This is my new name. Ms. Worried Scared Afraid. Hello. Nice to meet you! Would you like some of my anxiety?
Over the last couple of months, I have become a crybaby. Very raw and fragile. I hate it. But, I am now quite the crybaby. I have an unending sense of dread about the future, always afraid now of what might happen next. I was never like that before my husband lost his job, before the miscarriage, before a million tiny things went wrong and started to add up.
Most people have it so much worse than I do. Why do I feel like I could lose everything?
Grrrr...I hate it. I don't like feeling like a victim because I despise that type of attitude in others. I don't like feeling afraid because then I am anxious and sick to my stomach and on edge all the time, ready to pounce.
My husband is a funny, funny guy. That is one of the things that attracted me to him. These days, on the rare occasion that he makes me laugh, it feels foreign and odd and the laughter reminds me that I don't do it much anymore.
Yuck! Whose life is this anyway? I have got to claw my way out of this quicksand. Throw me a stick! Or a branch, or a vine, or a long, tall bottle of tequila! (I just watched The Three Amigos so I've got tequila and Mexico on the brain. I don't really like tequila. Maybe a tall bottle of water. But then that's not environment-friendly...so instead...can someone just pull me out of the quicksand and give me a glass of champagne? And some chocolate ice cream. Wait...I digress. The point is to pull MYSELF out of it. Stop being a crybaby. Right. Got it.)
I'll get there.
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