This past summer I confessed to some serious household shortcomings in respect to having a paid sitter come into the house and have to deal with my lack of organization.
It has not gotten better.
In case you were wondering.
Although – I do now have toilet paper in the house and there are no longer lottery tickets sitting on my counter … and we haven’t bounced any more checks. There are new problems with my brain.
I remember hearing a story once about a babysitter who wanted job security so she would find the people’s birth control and tamper with it. As in, if it were condoms, she’d poke holes and if it were pills she’d … I don’t know, mess with them. I don’t know how.
This scared the crap out of me because who the heck knows what someone is looking through when they’re at your house and you’re not there?
Now. Step aside. I fully and completely trust the ladies we employ not to sabotage my ovaries. And I trust that if they’re nosey … soon they will not be because I’m sure they’ve found stuff by accident and then decided to shield their eyes for ever and ever, amen.
I’m making it sound like we’re freaks aren’t I?
Meh. Deal with it.
ANY WAY. It has happened before when I come home and start picking a few things up or walk into our bedroom to change or something only to notice the discarded birth control wrapper. I am not spelling this out for you. And I immediately shrink to about 2 inches tall inside and gasp at my total disregard for modesty.
I am married so 2+2=we’re doin’ it. But I don’t really want you to KNOW that. I don’t want you to see the evidence.
There have been countless times when I’m taking out the trash and see toiletries that are less than pleasant resting right on top and I’ve had to wonder to myself … OH MY GOSH! Why haven’t these girls up and quit on us?
Because when I was babysitting, none of this stuff was ever shoved in my face over and over again. I didn’t even go into the parents bedroom. And I’m not saying our sitters do – but our kids do! They love to play in there, be on the bed, wear my clothes. To be completely honest I don’t really care if our sitters do, either.
One thing I’ve learned since becoming a parent is that modesty, in all realms, is really just security for less embarrassment in a crowd. And once you’ve been projectile pooped on in your church bathroom during a service and had to walk right back out and sit down next to the wonderfully put together mom of 4 while you struggle with your ONE … modesty just has no place in that business. At all.
So, I do a mental check now before a sitter comes over. Toilet paper? DIAPERS?! (which I have forgotten many-a-times) Trash cans – clear? Diaper pail – fresh? (I’m bad at that one) Birth control evidence? Clean clothes?
Oh. Laundry. What a waste of time. I always have clean laundry piled high in our basement waiting to be folded and put away. Does it ever happen? Oh yes, about twice a month. And I feel amazing and on top of the world, until the next morning when half of my daughters closet is on her floor and in her hamper once again and it begins all over.
So you will totally be accosted with laundry upon entering our basement and I’ve just stopped apologizing for it. I’ve also stopped making sure that my nitty-grittys are somewhere underneath the entire pile of laundry because I’m sure I’m the butt of many jokes … literally … about how terrible my granny panties look.
That is correct I have not actually thrown them away yet.
But now I must.
Also? I’ll be crawling in a hole today and staying there for eternity.
I leave my camera to Jessica. Good bye.