Babysitting Nightmares
Babysitting NightmaresBabysitting Nightmares
I was once
asked to babysit for the writer of a well-known magazine. I met her when I was babysitting for someone else and
she brought her daughter over for a play date. She was a lovely lady and her daughter was adorable. I had to use my GPS on my phone
to see where they lived since I'm pretty bad at navigating around streets that have names. At first, I passed their apartment building.
I carefully backtracked. They lived in this skinny hidden building that looked run-down and old-school. The building was a walk-up,
which I would've walked up anyway because I bet the elevator would've been slow and smell like urine. The stairs creaked, conversations could
be heard through the paper walls, and "funny" cigarette smells lingered the hallways. When I got to their apartment, dirty sneakers were scattered all over the house,
sofa cushions were out of place, the glass coffee table had stains all over them, dirty dishes overflowed from the sink, and the place overall smelled like
cat litter. There was no cat. After the parents left, I played with the little girl until her bedtime. Her bedroom smelled like marijuana, probably from the neighbors and
there were old crumbs of food all over her crib. Once she slept, I went over to the living room to watch TV. The remote was mysteriously greasy. I was thirsty, but didn't trust
the cleanliness of the cups. I decided to remain on the chair and watch television. Then, I heard little squeaking noises. I prayed it was just the noisy neighbors upstairs.
I knew I wasn't imagining things when I saw something dash behind the television stand. Next thing you know, this little brown mouse was running around the couch so fast and I desperately
wanted to scream because I'm terrified of mice. It was 11:30 when the mouse was running around, giving me heart attacks. The parents were supposed to return at 12. But for the next 2 and a half hours
(meaning, they came home at 2AM!) I was wide awake making sure that the mouse didn't come anywhere near me. I even had to call my boyfriend because I was panicking so much. I was so freaked out and
grossed out, I couldn't wait to leave. I understand that this is New York City and mice are totally normal, but when the house was that dirty, it was no surprise why the mouse loved having
out at that apartment. Needless to say, I only babysat for them one more time after that....and it was during the day.
My very first babysitting gig was for this family who lived in the Flatiron District. Their apartment was pretty sweet. The mother seemed really nice but I was just a naive 17-year-old, fresh out of high school.
As far as I was concerned, I was going to be taking care of the two little boys (one was 3 1/2 and the other was 13 months). She stressed to me constantly that the youngest son needed to be watched
like a hawk because he always bumped into things and got cuts. I also had to always keep the older one entertained. Okay, fair enough? Not at all. While taking care of both of the kids,
I also had to clean the bathroom floors, bedrooms and kitchen because she was completely "incapable" and in her messed up mind she thought she told me about those things. I started to realize that she was manipulating me to do other things besides babysit, but for only $8 AN HOUR
she was being just a little bit OUT OF HER MIND. I also couldn't use my cell phone or have a lunch break, and if I was in the bathroom for more than two minutes, she'd knock on the door
and ask me if I was "okay". Needless to say, that job totally wasn't worth it. Plus, I was tired of hearing her yell at her husband over the phone all day.
I was out of there after two months by my own will.
I usually go to the Hamptons for a few days every summer to babysit for one particular family. But summer 2013 was the last time. This "we're rich, we're perfect" family
with an arrogant mom and annoying Wall Street dad rented a new house owned by a famous restauranteur (even I've eaten there before). Apparently, a few weeks into their stay,
they found mold under the carpet in the basement where the kids played. They got it inspected and then made a huge ordeal about it - I mean, so huge that the mom was all,
"Oh my gosh, we have to expose the owner!" And they, of course, complained that their whole summer was totally ruined by it (mind you, it was only the second week). The dad went leaps and bounds
to threaten the owner and make him pay for his legal fees and other money bullcrap. They really made it seem like they were displaced after a hurricane. Anyways, hearing them yap for days was pretty annoying. Then, when they finally
rented a new house, it was the little girl's fourth birthday. The little girl was a demon to begin with. Spoiled rotten and plagued with the "I'm-a-princess" disease. Her best friend is also a little snob. The mom made a big deal again
about preparing for the party (might I add, she complains about paying $25,000 for her daughter's pre-school tuition but has no problem buying her daughter $200 jeans. At 4.) when about 80% of the people didn't show up anyway. The whole time,
I had to chase after this little brat and her friend who would not listen to me and would suck their teeth at me, ignore me, and roll their eyes at me. They seriously disgusted me. Every time I came to their house, the mom always made playdates
and stuck me with six kids from infant to four while watching all of them, while cleaning up their toys, and whilerunning around after them. I'm not sure why some parents think it's okay to leave their babysitter with
their friends' kids without even asking for permission because it's not like I was getting paid more to watch all those little brats. I was secretly happy when karma came around because the living room of second house that they were staying in started leaking.
The parents clogged their toilet upstairs which was directly above the living room. Lots of water started to pour down and the paint started peeling off. When they started freaking out, it was the icing to my summer cupcake. They made my summer
miserable and they finally got to be miserable, too! I quit after I got my teaching job and of course the mom didn't say congratulations. But else what do you expect from them when money can't buy you class?