I’m petrified to leave my baby with anybody. Neurotic? Yes. Okay with it? Oh yeah. And now, I have good reason to be.
My husband booked a babysitter for Saturday afternoon so that I could spend some much needed birthday relaxation/beautification time at a spa. I wrote out a few notes for the sitter (only two pages), gave her a quick tutorial on the Baby Bjorn, and asked her to feed him/play with him/take him for a walk if she wanted to enjoy the beautiful sunshine. (And this would only cost us $17 an hour.)
Easy enough, right?
Wrong.
There was an early sign that things were a bit outta control when I received a Facebook notification that I had been tagged in a picture. And here it was:
I didn’t realize that the $17/hour included babysitter Facebook-ing. I can read my baby’s mind in that picture. He’s thinking, “This is not listed on the two pages of notes my mommy gave you.”
Okay, it’s sorta funny…and cute. A few hours later, Matt came home, paid the sitter, and sent her on her way. I was relieved when I walked in our front door to find a happy baby playing with Dad. Ari was squeaking and shimmy-ing and I could tell he had news to share but just couldn’t find the words to do so. He didn’t sleep well that night (it had nothing to do with us unswaddling him for the first time in 5 months) and today, when I received an email with more pictures from the sitter, I realized he must have been having nightmares.
The first picture. Good babysitter, way to follow directions:
Okay, I take the blame for this one. I did show her how to use the baby carrier and suggest she take him on a walk (outside). I didn’t exactly expect her to go shopping. The $60 was already burning a hole in her pocket.
