i see why some insects eat their young.

June 21, 2008 at 12:19 pm | Posted in day to day | Leave a comment
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Guess which child is me.

So it’s summer. Hot enough to make the hydro-squemish in me think seriously about cannon balling into the backyard pool. Summer enough that the Ducks, which for the second consecutive year mated birthed and defecated in our pool, have more or less left. 8 baby ducks this year to the delight or perhaps deep behind the glass frustration of my cat. Either way they didn’t last long. One suffocated under the pool cover (we took it off the next day) and presumably the 7 remaining were eaten by rival ducks. Nasty duck fight went down in our pool a few weeks ago. My mother’s the one thinking the ducklings became entrees.

This being my last summer with no real life, I’m offering my services for minimum wage slave labour. Visit me as your local bagger, ticket stub tearer, popcorn filler, begrudged blockbuster worker. My search is shameless. I did put my foot down, though. I’m not working in the food industry (Subway, JambaJuice, waitressing). I’d need to 1. like people 2. like talking to people 3. communicate well with common idiots 4. like food.

Seriously. Cashiering at JambaJuice would go something like this:

Me: “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK?” Customer: ” ” me: “WHAT?” me: “LOOK CAN YOU JUST POINT TO THE SIGN? WHAT NUMBER IS IT ON OUR MENU?”

What about the multitude of Rubios, Taco Bells, and McDonalds you say?

I’m not only a picky eater but a picky smeller and a ridiculously award winning gag reflex to boot. I can smell Bacon a mile away (bacon is a smell perticularly that sticks like cigarette smoke to everything. i cant stand it when someone microwaves bacon. try and cook popcorn and it PENETRATES the popcorn so i can taste it. kthanksillgothrowupnow). Cheese, too, for some reason gets me gluggling. Mother says I’m going to die if or when I am pregnant and happy happy joy joy get that infamous superduper sniffer.

And now for something completely different.

www.foundmagazine.com

Summer as it is I’ve been babysitting my braincells to childsitting oblivion.

I’ve been splitting this brain matter suicide between the “monsters”, the 6 and 7 year old neighbors, and the 2 and a half year old down the street. Tonight I sat upon the 2.5 year old. Friday I am in charge of keeping 12+ young humans alive (including the monsters) and well for 2+ hours while their parents party in another room. Happy happy joy joy.

The last time I babysat the 2 year old (the first full night I’d done so, The Other Offspring is his usual guardian):

1. he ‘shot’ me with a bubble gun so i pretended to die which he interpreted as he really killed me and set him into hysterics and holding on to me for dear life until I could calm him down (while feeling like shit for possibly planting trauma seeds for a future serial killer or other such serious problems).

2. he is in the process of potty training. sat on the toilet for five minutes – time which he filled not with bodily functions but by methodically using all of the toilet paper to wipe his butt.

3. threw his pjs in the full bathtub while I was getting a fresh diaper

4. got out of the bathtub, beamed, took hold of his penis, urinated everywhere. In the midst of my horror i was extremely grateful that he kept his aim away from me. I wiped up the urine but the bathroom quickly began smelling like a back alley.

Tonight:

1. Started out well. We played blocks, went though dinner without breaking anything (he’s a Thrower), did not hit our heads on anything, and didn’t even watch TV (partly because they have one of those asshole 3 box 4 controller systems that is impossible to figure out without a NASA pre-watch checklist).

2. Then I got the brilliant idea to play taco i.e. roll child up in blanket like a taco. I did so. Child started bawling. Thankfully this quickly ceased when I offered to be the taco. I was then “eaten” (and actually bit into. probably should not be encouraging his biting).

3. Child, whose saliva ducts could irrigate Minnesota corn fields, hocked a disgustingly large loogey into the back of my 2 hours previously washed hair. ichs, i got chills again just recounting it.

4. After a well mannered day we went to take a bath and child decides to be possessed by a demon. Runs around naked. Meanwhile, I keep well away from any projectile urine.

5. I turn to test the temperature of the water and see Child flushing the closed toilet. Thinking I’d see toilet paper, I lifted the seat to see Child is attempting to flush his pants down the toilet.

6. After the bath child runs around naked again while I run with him and try to tape his diaper on. I finally give up and run back for a pull up. In this time I find that Child has thrown his pj bottoms into the (thankfully) drained but wet bathtub. Convinced that I am babysitting a changeling – and frustrated that The Other Offspring gets paid during the day to watch same Child NAP – I put damp pj bottoms on child. “it’s wet.” ‘Yes, whose fault is THAT??”

7. Put child to bed. Clean up messes left around house. Spend 30 minutes pressing buttons on the four controllers. Finally decide that Oceans 12 is not worth possibly breaking their system even if they are assholes having such a boob setup.

8. Get $45 (sadly, less than one tank of gas) and go home wondering how if by theory most teenagers babysit why it is not the most effective birth control out there. Forget this summer’s coming reality television “The Baby Borrowers” (exploitation alert) (pathetic red button flashing. I’ll probably end up watching it). just make your child babysit and that should be it for any future childrearing ideas.

obviously.

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