Babysitting… Marie Style (An oldie but goodie)

When I first found out I was pregnant I put out an offer to babysit in order to get some experience under my belt. My plan was to blog about my adventures, and this week that plan becomes a reality.

But first we’re going into the McKinney-Oates Cereal Archives and pulling out an oldie but a goodie.

You’re welcome.


It’s weird being this age. It seems like all my friends have babies. Which is great. It really is.

It’s just weird. Because I don’t know how to interpret it when people do this weird, half-smile thing when I offer to baby sit. It’s this smile that says,

“Um, yeah. We’re friends, Marie. So I know you. Like know you, know you. I’ve even read your blog. You talk to your ‘step-cat‘. Please end this awkwardness and never ever ask to be the sole caregiver of my child. Please.”

I offer anyways. Watching people fidget is hilarious.

One night a few months ago I ended up inadvertently babysitting a friend’s baby. She thought my mom would be watching Baby A, but my mom was leaving for Bible study.

Baby A was mine for the night. Heh, heh, heh.

Everyone present looked, well, scared when I declared, “Don’t worry. I’ll watch her.”

My mom looked at my friend. My friend looked at my mom. They gulped.

“Do you know what to do,” my friend asked.

“Um. Hold her. She can’t walk yet, right? And I don’t think I can feed her because I believe you said she was still on The Boob, and as you can tell this store is out of milk,” I answered, gesturing towards my chest.

“Marie, are you sure? Maybe I don’t have to go to class… it’s just one test…”

“Go. to. class. We’ll be fine!”

Christina left, and it was just me and Baby A. The minute the door closed my 6 month old bundle of joy started wailing.

Oh. no.

“Why are you crying? Your mom will be back. No worries.”


Oh dear. I had to think fast. Christina was going to be gone for at least 3 hours, and I wasn’t sure I could handle 3 hours of…


Yes, Baby A, ‘Waaahhh’, thank you for the input.

Think, Marie. How would a counselor handle this, right?

“Baby A, tell me about your mother.”


“A real bee-yotch, huh?”


Talk therapy was not working.

I had to think needs. What did Baby A need?

I once read a book about how our ideal state was the womb, and all of the discomfort and agony in life is because we will never be as satisfied as we were in the womb.

Baby A wanted to go back to the womb! Of course!

I needed to recreate the womb experience. Dark. Warm. And I was sure there was a liquidy feel to the place.

So I closed her up in a bucket of water.

Just. Kidding.

We went to the bathroom. I turned off the lights. Held her tight. Turned the faucet on to hear the rushing water.

Gentle, quiet sobs.

She was calming down! By golly, just call me Baby Whisperer.

My dad had gotten home by then and asked what exactly I was doing with all the bathroom faucets going.

“Recreating the womb. Don’t worry. I’m a professional.”

*I kid you not when I say she cried for the first hour and a half. The only thing that could quiet her down was the sound of rushing water. I really think I’m a genius sometimes.


One thought on “Babysitting… Marie Style (An oldie but goodie)

  1. Paul says:

    Marie seriously too funny. You’re a great writer and have encapsulated the plight of a parent with a crying baby too well.

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