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A young friend of mine asked if I'd watch her nine month old baby for a couple hours because she had a doctor's appointment in a nearby town and she didn't have anyone else to leave her with.
I used to have a great rapport with babies. I started babysitting with my sister when I was nine and she was twelve. I was too young to get the jobs and my sister didn't like kids so she would accept the jobs and take me along to do the work and then we split the money. Worked for us. Also, I had two kids of my own, but I think unless you have grandchildren or continue to 'mix' with children in some other way, you just don't relate to babies anymore.
Sunny brought little Pearlie at ten o'clock Friday morning; Pearlie was so fascinated with my Min Pins, she didn't even notice when Sunny left. We were off to a good start.
I put a blanket on the carpet in my office and sat Pearlie down on it with a few of her toys. She was more intrigued with Mia and Gia than she was with her toys. Maybe she was getting a kick out of me chasing Mia and Gia off the blanket and chasing them down to retrieve Pearlie's toys. At least I was sure the toys were very, very clean; I must've washed them five or six times before I was able to convince "the girls" to leave them alone and go get their own toys. I can understand though, Pearlie's toys squeak so nicely and Gia tore all the squeakers out of their toys.
Pearlie continued to coo and laugh at the Min Pins for quite some time. She also crawled around and played with her toys and drooled and squealed.
About noon I decided to look through the diaper bag and find a diaper and get her all cleaned up for lunch. Then, I pulled out the jars of baby food. Oh, God. I had forgotten how gross baby food looks. There was a jar of some awful looking meat something or other, a jar of creamed spinach and some teething cookies. I retrieved her bottle of milk from the fridge so it would come up to room temperature and I opened up the little jars of food.
I haven't had a high chair in many years so I sat Pearlie on a dining chair and tied her in with a length of fabric. I gave her a little of the meat stuff on the spoon. I couldn't even imagine eating that stuff, especially unheated, but I was just following Sunny's directions. Pearlie smiled and cooed; we were getting along famously. Next, I gave her a little taste of spinach. Again she smiled and cooed and gurgled. Then...the spinach began to ooze out between those beautiful little baby lips. I forgot one thing...a napkin to wipe her mouth with. I reached into the drawer of the sideboard and grabbed three or four napkins. This looked like it could be a messy project. By the time I turned back around, Pearlie was smiling from ear-to-ear and she was drooling spinach down her chin, down her neck and onto her cute little onesie. Geez...where did all that come from? I know I only gave her a little taste on the tip of her baby spoon.
I scraped it off her chin with her spoon and I wiped her neck and her onesie with the napkins. She was still smiling and still drooling green slime while trying to 'talk'. Then, she started the dreaded spitting!
"Oh no, honey, don't talk and spit anymore. There's spinach all over my blouse and, no, oh no, not...on the...rug!
Ok, I had completely lost control of the situation. The baby definitely was in control. I tried to recall the days when my kids were babies and I thought the best thing to do in this situation is to remain calm and not encourage her in any way. If I tried to reason with her, I knew I would completely lose the little dignity I had left with my blouse splattered with spinach. I was terrified of saying anything that would make her laugh and spit spinach again.
"Ok", I said, with a friendly smile, "Pearlie, I know this is disgusting but we have to get through this". I had to take back control. I untied Pearlie from the chair, sat her sideways on my lap and tucked her chubby little arm behind me. I gave her first a spoon of meat stuff, then a spoon of spinach. No more fooling around, this was serious. We were going to discuss the economy and that would definitely deter the smiling and...well maybe not the spitting. We got through lunch pretty well and then I started giving her her bottle when she fell asleep in my arms. Just then, Sunny came in; we talked a little bit, but I was not encouraging her to stay and chat.. I realized, as much as I cherish her friendship and adore little Pearlie, I adored them more at their house.
As they were going out the door, little Pearlie, in her sleep, smiled over Sunny's shoulder and drooled a little spinach. Now really!
I started babysitting when I was 11 years old. My mom always thought it was something she did that made wish not to have children. I told her it was all the babysitting I did (clear up until I was 20 ... perfect job because you can do your homework too), but really it was much more complicated than that. I've never regretted my decision and now, with your article, I think I am even more vindicated in it.
Life is certainly never dull here. I'm still working on getting the spinach out of my blouse and carpet. Oh well, I love adventure! Thanks for reading and commenting, I really appreciate it.
» left by Brianna Popsickle (63 days 4 hours ago.)
Spit up spinach or not, your story made me want to run out and hold the nearest baby. It brought back memories of my children at that age. What a wonderful time in my life, spit-up and all. :)
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