A Letter To My Kids’ Babysitter

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Dear Babysitter,

Hey! How are you? Me? I’ve been Insta-Stalking you for the past couple of weeks, and I see you’ve been enjoying being on break from our nutty, stinky, household (big news: we’re potty training!). Looks fun.

But let me cut to the chase: How would you feel about coming back to babysit a little earlier than we had discussed? Like, maybe tomorrow? I know we talked about resuming our regular sitting schedule once school started and I went back my regular work schedule, but I’m in need of some backup. Now. Here’s the current situation:

The boys and I had some good times together this summer. We scattered hundreds of those “biodegradable” water balloons across a bunch of Brooklyn’s best playgrounds, and had days where there was no schedule, and we could just wander from café, to park, and then home for a movie in the heat of the day. But now… I am losing my mind.

I know I went into the summer with this big can-do attitude when I told you I was planning on working less and spending more time with the boys and that you wouldn’t be needed until the fall. You looked at me a little worriedly, when I proudly touted this idea of hosting “Camp Mom” complete with a weekly itinerary and possibly matching T-shirts that would look cute on social media. I wish I hadn’t ignored your offer to stay.

You make everything fun, Dear Babysitter. How do you do it? I’m not good at doing all the stuff they love to do, you know the “playing” and “singing” and “crafting” and “treating.”You, on the other hand, have the energy of a cheerleader, whether you’re pretending to be a pirate, taking them out for ice cream, or even pushing that 1,000-lb. double stroller uphill without breaking a sweat like its NBD…like you actually enjoy it.

I need you. We need you. I think that even the boys are getting sick of me. When I pick them up from whatever activity they’ve done for the 20 minutes it feels like its been (even though

technically three hours have gone by) I’m starting to sense disappointment. Every day, it’s the same face they see: Mine. And it grows wearier, and sweatier, and more slathered in preventative anti-aging sunscreen every day.

Dear Babysitter: I cannot wait for you to return to us and bring me back to my regularly scheduled programming. I love my kids, I really do. And I love spending time with them. Just — not this much time, in extended, consecutive periods. Perhaps you don’t like it much either, but I thank you for putting on a good show of feeling otherwise.

You are a Goddess. Come live with us and be The Second Wife. Brooklyn’s dirty playgrounds are beautiful at the end of summer.

Xoxoxox,

Alexis (aka Mother who just wants her Babysitter Back)

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