The Babysitter
I’ve been a little out of pocket this last week since I was babysitting my grandsons for four days, and finding time to write just wasn’t in the cards. Brittany and Will were taking a much deserved trip to Las Vegas for the big NFR rodeo, and I was available to watch the grandsons.
I thought I might give a little recap of the adventure. First, I must give my daughter props for the very important and hard job that she does daily. As the mother of an only child I now realize how easy my job was. Double duty is just that, double duty.
As you can imagine when you are awaken at five in the morning by the sound of, “Mimi!” you find yourself retiring before ten later that night. Of course, hearing your precious almost two year old grandson sit up in your bed ( I foolishly thought I might get a few more winks if I brought him into my bed), and exclaim, “Stevie, hmmm?” You see Stevie is their Elf on the Shelf, and even at this tender age the littlest wakes up excited to locate the rambunctious little Santa spy.
Along with human wrangling I was also responsible for a little animal husbandry. Now mind you, this involved feeding the sheep twice a day which was actually not too hard. What gave me pause, though, was the birth of twin lambs which caused a little angst when it appeared that one of them wasn’t quite sure who was his mother.
Now more than anything this was just due to my city slicker ways, and a heart two sizes too big when it comes to baby animals. It appears all is fine, but I didn’t want to lose anyone on my watch.
The other animal related task was letting the chickens out in the morning, and closing up the coop at night. I now truly understand the old adage, “Letting the chickens come home to roost.” What I found extremely amusing was the beeline the girls made to a particular pasture at break neck speed once I opened the coop door. Not unlike a “bat out of hell”, they seemed quite determined to get there as quickly as possible, perhaps with their legs crossed. I’m wondering if Brittany and Will are going to find a clutch of eggs under their pecan tree? Ever since the big storm, and the Wizard of Oz coop incident, they don’t seem to like laying their eggs there anymore.
The days were definitely long, especially when I realized that eight hours had passed since awakening and nap time, but how can you resist their sweet smiles, and sticky hugs? After a day or two I learned to drape their socks over their boots to be ready for the next outdoor playtime, to cut a piece of bread into fourths to spread with peanut butter for the youngest since he liked to open up the sandwich to get to the good part, and to load the dishwasher after each meal, rather than waiting to clean up the kitchen late at night.
We colored a lot (but if the truth be told the markers made their way onto the counter pretty early on), watched more tv than we should, read quite a few books, mastered the swings, made a chocolate cake with red and green sprinkles, and ended the night clean as a whistle.
I wish I could say I had the patience of a saint the entire time, but this old Mimi’s nerves aren’t what they used to be. In fact, the oldest made a comment about my old age when I helped get him out of the tub, while holding on to my arm. When I asked him how he knew I was old he said, “Because your arms were squishy.”
So much for pretending 63 is the new 43!
