Monthly Archive

There was once an eight year old girl who wasn’t pretty. She wore thick glasses so heavy they rubbed sores on her nose where they sat. The other kids called her four eyes. She had long, stringy red hair. Everyone had long, stringy hair — it was the seventies. Still, the other kids chanted, “red head, red head, fire in the woodshed” every day at recess. She wore hand-me-down clothes that the other kids called high water pants and chanted “bird legs” every day at recess. She had two huge, crooked front teeth that made her look like a beaver so she never smiled in a picture or any other time that she could help it. Her nose was too big for her face. So were her lips.

She was a dismal child and mostly kept to herself. She read books all the time. She loved to read books from the Anne of Green Gables series because Anne was also a red head who wasn’t pretty. Except Anne grew up to be beautiful and loved. She dreamed that the same thing would happen to her one day. She loved A Little Princess because Sara was saved from the mean people in the end. She loved Laura Ingalls and hated Nellie Olsen. She loved lots of books but she hated herself.

Her mother was disappointed with her because she was so ugly and didn’t seem to have any friends. She never noticed that the little girl loved to read and brought home straight A report cards every time. She only saw that the child was ugly.

A few years later the little girl began to write stories but she didn’t believe the teachers who told her she was good at it. She wasn’t good at anything and she knew it because the first thing you have to be good at is being pretty and making friends. Nothing else counted if you couldn’t do that.

A couple of more years pass and you find the little girl an awkward adolescent. One of her teachers has entered her in the state spelling bee. She studies long lists of words alone in her bedroom night after night. No one ever quizzes her or helps her study. The day of the spelling bee arrives and she is dropped off outside a big building and left there alone. She doesn’t know where she’s supposed to go but she finally figures it out. All the other kids have parents with them. All the other kids have people in the audience. Too bad she’s so ugly or she might have parents there too. They must be ashamed of her. She takes 24th place and gets her name in the paper. Second from the bottom, there she is. No one cut it out and saved it.

Fast forward thirty years and you see that the little girl is now a woman with a daughter of her own. Her daughter is very pretty but she doesn’t like to read and she doesn’t care about straight A’s. She watches Anne of Green Gables on DVD instead of reading the books. She won’t be entering any spelling bees.

The little girl that is now a woman is disappointed with her daughter.

I hate Monday. You wouldn’t think that I would since I don’t work outside the home. It should just be another day but somehow it never, ever is.

I don’t especially like kids. I love my own kids. Sometimes I even like my own kids. But if I’m smiling at your smelly, bawling baby you can bet it’s a fake smile. If you are showing me your hundreds of crappy photos of your kids you can bet I’m planning my escape. If you’re bragging about your “gifted” child who knows their ABC’s for the 127th time this year I’m probably choking back bile in an effort to not puke on you.

I’m not answering my phone today. When the phone rings on Monday it’s because someone that has me on their speed dial list for free, short-to-no notice babysitting is calling. It’s always because they are having a bad day or because they have so much to do that they can’t get done with their kids underfoot or because they’re in the middle of the 42nd emergency requiring child care this month.  Why, oh why, did these people give birth if they can’t stand the thought of actually spending an entire day with their own kids?

I am having a bad day. Not answering the phone was ineffective since we still have a door and people know where we live. I somehow have a child here that is not my own even after I thought I had made my stance pretty clear. At least it’s only one this time. I figure they knew that a) I was not going to answer the phone, and b) once they were at the door my kids would make my life a living hell for the rest of the day if I sent their unexpected “play date” away.

I’m not stupid. When you call it a play date, telling me what a great opportunity it is for my poor lonely little homeschooled kids to socialize, but then flee my house leaving your brat behind on your way to go enjoy something I probably haven’t got to do in years, that is not a play date. It’s babysitting.

I have lots to do. eBay auctions that I do for a third party who pays me money are over a week late. My house is filthy. My daughter’s schoolwork is behind. I need to balance the checkbook and pay bills before we incur late fees. All but one of these things would be easier if I could pawn my children off on someone else for the day. They would at least be possible if I only had my own two children under foot. I haven’t been to the doctor or dentist in years. I can’t go and take two small children with me. I haven’t been out with my husband, just the two of us, in several years.

I’d rather be having a root canal than babysitting someone’s kids today and probably any other day.

My husband has forbidden me to ask anyone to babysit for me under any circumstances since I would then be expected to return the favor tenfold. He’s tired of coming home from work and finding a houseful of other people’s kids instead of getting to relax with his own family. He’s tired of having kids still here, not picked up on time, well after midnight on nights when he has to get up early to go to work the next day. He’s tired of having our life disrupted.

I’m thinking of starting some horrible rumor about myself in hopes that I can avoid being coerced into babysitting in the future. It needs to be bad enough that no one will want me watching their kids but not so bad that I end up getting my own taken away pending an investigation. Any ideas?

I tried forwarding my phone to the Child Care Referral hotline last week but my husband got freaked out when he called and left work to see what was wrong at home. I’d hate for my mother to drive seventy miles to check on us if she were to get the same results when calling my phone. Besides that won’t help with the “play dates” at the door that don’t call ahead.

It felt good typing this rant. Perhaps I will make Monday Rant a regular feature. I’ll probably lose all my connections when they find out what a disagreeable curmudgeon I actually am.

Coming soon: Customer Disservice Hotlines