Showing posts with label babysitting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babysitting. Show all posts

Monday, October 8, 2012

Hide the Playboys, it's Time to Find a Babysitter


Let’s talk babysitting.

I have no idea how to pick one, how much to pay one or, most importantly, how to trust one.

I’ve recently been thinking about babysitting and that has me pondering how this world has changed. Babysitting, like everything else, has evolved over the past generation.  

I’m not saying the art of watching children has changed. If you were skilled in that in 1970, you are skilled in that now. Actually, if you were skilled in that in 1970, you might be dead now. Or at least using a walker to get around, and that would make it tough to be a good babysitter.

What I am talking about is what babysitting says about us as a society. Gone are the days of calling up grandma or the trusted neighbor down the street. We are much more mobile now and that makes it much more difficult to find a good babysitter.

I also want to clarify that I believe babysitting and child care to be two different things. Child care is something one does as a profession. I formerly sat on the board of 4C, the local child care education and referral agency, and am fairly knowledgeable about child care and brain development from birth to 3. You want a child care professional spending 10 hours a day, five days a week with your child, not a babysitter.

Child care professionals take this s--t seriously. This is a permanent job for them, not a temporary gig. It involves teaching and developing children, not just making sure they don’t set the house on fire.

It is when my child care provider has an emergency and needs the day off that I must turn to a babysitter.

In fact, that’s really what got me thinking about this. Our provider needed a day off to put her dog to sleep. Sidebar: This situation just about brings me to tears, and it is not even my dog.  I am a dog owner and lover. I barely knew this dog, but the plight of anyone having to put their dog down sends me spiraling. I know it is a choice I will have to make one day with my 9-year-old German Shepherd, Vegas, or my 8-year-old Weimaraner, Murphy, and I am sure I will be a blubbering mess when it happens.

So, my child care provider needed a day off. But that meant that either Brooke or I had to take off work. In fact, any time our provider has a day off, one of us is cashing in a vacation day.

That is the state of our society today. Thirty years ago, generations of families lived within the same town, if not on the same block. If you needed someone to temporarily watch your child, you had a half dozen people to choose from. A couple of grandmas, aunts, uncles, even a trusted neighbor.

But, over the past generation, society has become much more mobile. I ended up in Cincinnati because of a job and stayed because I liked the town. Brooke went to school here and stayed. Neither of us has family in this area. Mine is four hours away, hers is six.

When we need a babysitter, we are s—it out of luck. Whether it be an emergency day off from our child care provider, a wild Friday night on the town or even something as simple as having to work late – we don’t really have anyone to turn to.

I’m sure there are people who would do it for us. We have friends. But they work during the day, too. We know some people with children in their teens. But they go to school and have after-school activities.

I envy people whose families live in Cincinnati. They simply dial a number and say, “Mom, I have to work late tonight. Can you get Johnny from school today?” My wife and I have to play the game of “who has more important things going on at work?” Or even, “who will get in more trouble for taking off?”

Another sidebar: Work is important and all, but you know when a babysitter would really come in handy? Saturday and Sunday mornings. It would change my life. Not only could I catch up on all the sleep I miss during the week, but I could do a little guilt-free partying on Friday and Saturday nights because I would have someone to watch the Berenstein Bears with the little one in the morning.   

I’m not saying we couldn’t find a babysitter if we really put out the effort. But the truth is, I’m afraid to leave my child with someone. I work in the child protection field. I hear stories every day of terrible things happening to children. I don’t want Sydney falling down the basement steps because my babysitter was distracted by an intense texting conversation with her BFF over which country song best resembles her current love life. Nor do I want the husband of one of my wife’s friends, who might drink 13 beers to "wind down" at night, giving my daughter a hard shake because she is making too much noise.

In her 13 months, Sydney has been watched by my mom for a week while we went to a wedding in California, my mom for a night when we went to a local wedding, and by my wife’s friend for three hours while we cashed in an expiring Groupon for a Cajun dinner.  Other than grandma and Libby, and her child care provider, Amber, she has spent all of her time with either mom or dad.

I know this can’t last. Something will come up that we have to be at. Or want to be at. Like a Ryan Gosling movie. Or a Justin Bieber concert. I need to break down and find a babysitter. I’m going to have to trust someone.

I guess I’ll start with the kids of friends. But how do you know if someone is trustworthy? Every parent is going to say their kid can babysit. And there are a lot of kids who can do everything right in every other walk of life, but they might get stressed by a crying baby and give them a good shake to settle them down.

I guess I could interview them and background check them like I did my child care provider, but what 16-year-old can hold up to that kind of scrutiny? Besides, aren’t all kids a bit irresponsible? When I was that age, I would have considered myself more responsible than most, but I remember visiting my girlfriend while she was babysitting and attempting to get my groove on while the children slept in the nearby bedroom.

Lest you think I was a complete knucklehead, please be aware that I cared for my younger brother and sister after school when I was about 13. I cooked the hot dogs or mac and cheese or Hamburger Helper when mom worked late. The house did not burn down. No one got arrested. My sister did get hit by a car once, but I was right there loading her into the ambulance when it came. 

But that was a simpler time. When I was a kid, my mom could have left me with any of our neighbors and I would have been fine. But nowadays, you never know if your neighbor is a psychopath and you’ll come home to find your child cooking in the microwave.

A friend of mine is a teacher. He gets all his sitters from his pool of students. That’s bold. I’d be afraid they’d rummage through my personal affects and I would show up at school on Monday to rumors that I have a prized Playboy collection dating back to 1988.

Not that I do. (Wink, wink.)

If I do finally find a babysitter, how much do I pay them? I was talking to a guy the other day who said he pays $15 an hour. So if he and the wife go out for Happy Hour to closing time, or spend a Saturday night at a wedding, he’s spending $100 on child care, as well as what he spent taking the wife out or buying the wedding present.

That’s a little out of my public-employee pay range. Plus, that guy has three kids. I have one. I’m thinking maybe $8 an hour? Here’s where writing a blog comes in handy -- you tell me what the going rate is these days.

There is so much that goes into this babysitting decision. Who to pick, how much to pay, where to hide the Playboy collection….I long for a simpler time when my street was filled with relatives and trusted neighbors who longed for nothing more than to earn $2.50 an hour watching babies.

Massillon, Ohio, circa 1978, I’m coming home. Keep the light on for me.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Daddy's Main Goal: Keeping Baby Alive

Women and men take care of babies differently.
I’m being nice here by simply differentiating. The fact is, women are just plain better at it.
Taking care of Sydney is an EVENT for me. If that is my job for the day, that is pretty much all I do. Plan on hunkering down in the house, with a pile of toys to one side and a stack of diapers to the other. This is a job that requires 100 percent of my focus, for fear I screw it up.
But it is not unusual for me to come downstairs and see my wife with Sydney in one arm while she does the dishes with another. Or, she has no problem taking Sydney with her to the store, or incorporating her into other normal parts of her life.
For her, Sydney is just part of her daily routine. For me, I won’t even make a sandwich if I am watching Sydney. When Brooke went away for a weekend bachelorette party, I lost seven pounds.
Why is it like this? Why are the genders so different when it comes to baby rearing? I realize I am generalizing here, but in my conversations with other mothers, I’ve discovered many dads are just like me: inept at multi-tasking with the baby.
Why can I never miss a beat at work while simultaneously taking a call from the media, writing a speech for my boss and directing one of my employees on how to handle a client complaint, yet I can’t seem to keep an eye on my daughter and feed the dogs at the same time?
My attempts at multi-tasking usually end up with the daughter crying. Loudly. Either she has a dirty diaper for four hours or she has plopped off the bed onto the floor or she is choking on a piece of debris she mistook for a tasty treat while rolling around on the carpet.
Seriously.
I can be sitting there with my daughter for two hours and my wife will enter the room and within 15 seconds say, “She needs her diaper changed.” I check and she does. Mommy wins again. Daddy 0, Mommy 1,247.

Sigh.
If we decide to go out to dinner, Brooke has no problem packing up a couple of bowls of baby food and feeding Sydney dinner while she is eating her own. I would be completely uncomfortable doing this and would opt to feed Sydney before or after the restaurant. That way, I ensure she is not a distraction from my own eating (very important if you know me!) and I decrease the chance of her causing some sort of scene in the restaurant.
But my wife nonchalantly feeds Sydney her sweet potatoes and peas with one hand while nibbling at her Frisch’s Big Boy with the other.
I once took Sydney outside to sit on the porch and wait for her mother to come home. Easy enough. It is like being inside; we just sit here and play.
Well, there is sun outside. And babies are fair-skinned. And there was a huge yellow jacket burrowing its way into my wooden porch railing, so I got distracted tracking down a can of wasp spray and flooding the hole. Next thing I know, Sydney is sweating and turning lobster red.
Dad of the Year strikes again.    
I wouldn’t even attempt to take my daughter on some kind of adventure outside the house without my wife. I’m just grateful I have managed to drop her off at the day care every morning on the way to work without forgetting her in the car.
Someday, this will change. A day with daddy will be a trip to the museum or the playground. But for now, I am not taking any chances. When mommy is not around, the living room becomes command central. Sydney alternates between the Jumperoo and her toys on the floor while daddy stands at the ready, diapers in one hand and baby food in the other.
My smug, multi-tasking wife can look down on me all she wants. At least Sydney will be alive when she gets home.