Saturday night was babysitting night. Babysitting for the Legs.
I’ve been to this family repeatedly over the last 18 months and the kids and I are great friends. It’s tough to get to know the parents when you’re only seeing them for 15 minutes at either end of the evening.
These guys are lovely, and the mother and I have conversed occasionally. I thinks she’s pretty shy so she always feels just a little bit distant when we speak.
I think nothing of it. I mean, there are some families I’ve totally bonded with and others I see occasionally and appreciate the brevity of our relationship but because of how often I go to the Leg’s, and the fact that they ask for me by name, they fall somewhere in between.
Tonight I had been studying and watching photoshoptv whilst the kids [little angels] slept, and when Mr and Mrs Leg came home the conversation, while I was packing up my books, turned to the uni course, which is of course Arts and Theology… and consequently branched off towards church and the question of exactly which church it is that I go to.
That’s an easy enough question to answer. A bit of a simple geography. The answer to which is basically the one with the orange roof on the corner of… etc.
The tricky question that followed of course is how is that different from Anglican or Catholic churches (the universal points of religious reference)? I explain that it’s an conservative, orthodox Christian church, that has an expression of worship that’s modern and relevant and lively.
But that isn’t enough…
And I take a deep breath and enter ‘sounds like a cult’* territory mentioning p word and the Holy Ghost/Spirit part of the trinity and the whole prohesy and speaking in tongues stuff… She nods and smiles and I make a hash of trying to sound like a normal person and close [hopefully] with a sort of “it works for me and enriches my life” etc. etc. etc. (refraining from mentioning the whole heaven and hell bizzo). And she holds out her arms and says’
“That’s great, I can give you a hug for that.”
I hug her… doing my best to hide the wide eyes and raised eyebrows carefully entering hitherto unexplored territory in our relationship… [shakes head] Hugging Mrs Leg…
I’m still somewhat bemused…
That one moment turned on the lights in my already foggy brain and I realise she’s on the verge of off her face (clearly has better luck with margaritas than me)… which means she likely won’t remember it… and likely won’t realise whaat a clueless Christian I was…
The Bible says be ready with an answer in and out of season… well, I guess this proves it was the off season for me tonight…
*I mean by this that it ‘sounds like a cult’ to the untutored ear. [Though actually when you get to the speaking in tongues stuff etc many Christians start imagining cult territory too… For the record, I’m not in a cult… My mind is far less controlled by the church than I think even they, would prefer…
= pentecostal
For the Love of Kids
It never ceases to amaze me, the beguiling honesty of children. There is no adult I’ve met who can freely tolerate who they will and diss those they won’t with such eqanimity.
With kids you’re either in or you’re out. And while it’s possible to wheedle your way into a child’s affections you can’t always be guaranteed of a permanent place, as capriciously as they admit you into their world they’re capable of shafting you and leaving you out in the cold.
Kids have a bullshit o’meter second to none. They know if you’re genuine in your interest or if you are after their affection for some other motive. If you need their affection to make yourself feel better you may well end up feeling worse than you started. But if you are genuinely interested in them and their world you are likely to be rewarded with a prize beyond measure. A ticket to an unparalleled view of a simple life, a simpler pleasure; the unbridled affection of a little person who invites you to stoop down and become part of their universe.
I have the happy knack of speaking the language of children. It has given me great joy over the years, it means I’m a hit with my niece and nephews and with the kids I sit for on Saturday evenings.
JJ, my godson, is adorable, with big blue eyes, and blonde curls you’d die to have for yourself… He’s another one of the fully paid up, pint size members of the Aunty Dee Fan Club…
His mum is my best mate Kirk and she and her little fella come up to my office occasionally on a Friday for coffee and cookies; a good opportunity for me to down tools and have an early lunch. She called me as she about to leave the house on Friday to confirm I was still going to be around to meet them… and boy was that little man bellowing in the background… As it happened he’d been promised a visit to see Aunty Dee and when Mama got on the phone rather than into the car he made sure she knew that she wasn’t moving fast enough; as if to say “Mum! We’re late for Aunty Dee… get a bloody move on!!!”
So when someone asked me the other day, whether I’d be happy to live without having children of my own I had a bit of a think about it and came up with this…
The truth is, I can’t believe I have this affinity for kids if I weren’t destined to have any of my own and while the immediate future may not appear to be revealing a father for the kids I’ve already named in my heart. I’m equally convinced that the future can change in a second…
I reckon you just never know just what’s around the corner… And if I’m wrong?
I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it…
Night of 1000 dramas, I mean dilemmas
Well, not actually 1000 dramas, dilemmas.
More like one really…
Anyway, it was a baby sitting situation, Mum and Dad and kids x2 are staying in temporary digs while their house is having renos done. I arrive to babysit and am introduced by Mum to Hostess (I think s-i-l) who will be relieving me later in the evening as Mum and Dad are planning to have a big night.
The money is left on the counter and Mum, Dad and Hostess leap into cab and toddle off while I settle in to watch Bruce Almighty on the telly
All is quiet on the Western front…
… Still quiet…
… yawn…
Time passes…
12.00am. Sounds of door slamming, car doiong a u-turn and keys fumbling into the keyhole…
Door opens…
Hostess stumbles in… very much the worse for wear…
Slurs a hello, responds rather negatively to the question “How was your evening?” and flops down on the sofa.
Falls asleep immediately.
Snores…
Time passes…
… still snoring.
I look over, Hostess and dog called Archie are both snoring…
and drooling on the pillow…
I decided to watch the conclusion of Bruce.
Hostess is still snoring.
Crash heard from upstairs… baby screams… fallen out of bed…
Drop everything and run upstairs to cuddle Baby and snuggle her back to bed… Return downstairs… Hostess and Archie still snoring on the sofa…
Bruce concludes… I remain…
Question: Should I leave kids in care of comatose Hostess?
Hover…
Tis 12.30am… need sleep… Mum and Dad can’t be too far surely?
Shake Hostess to tell her goodbye and officially hand over responsibility…
Shake her again…
Shake and shout “see you later”…
Still comatose…
Decide to leave.
Guilt leads me to SMS Mum and Dad from the car… “Have left home, owe you $30.00 will return tomorrow. Am concerned as Hostess in bit of a state… Are you far from home?”
Skip forward to today…
Arrive to drop off $30.00 and Hostess opens the door… Is on the phone.
I hand her the envelope and she tells me sorry about last night… special circumstances… would have woken up if anything happend…
I didn’t think I could tell her… “Baby fell, Baby screamed, tried 3x to say goodbye, while you slept on”… without looking like a b*tch.
So I nodded and smiled and didn’t feel guilty at all for the SOS SMS*…
(SMS is Australian for text message)
I Take it ALL Back
Ok… it’s like this… when I promised not to rave in dribbly fashion about my gorgeous nieces and nephews it was before the little peach arrived on my doorstep from New Zealand yesterday.
HE IS GORGEOUS!
There, I said it… a real little treasure…
So…. here’s the thing and the reason my eyes are on stalks this morning…
Sis and babe and I all slept in my room last night. Sis and I sleep like logs in usual circumstances… so I had no qualms sharing the bed.
However… his nibs snuffles… cries… tossess and turns… and generally was a preventative measure in terms of my ability to sleep last night. Sis appeared to be completely immune to his quaint night time charms.. I, however, am not. AND… As NZ is 3 hours ahead of us due to daylight savings also he was was up round 4am…
So… the time is now 7.06… Sis and Bliss are sacked out, on the sofa and bed respectively and Bubs is back in his crib…
Me? What? Sleep in the daytime… gah.. physically impossible….
Sigh… so I am posting and eating breakfast and not complaining at all because to have them here is worth far more than a good night’s sleep!