Mata ne
24 September 2008, 17:41
McG left for Sydney today for Web Directions South - leaving a little girl who asks rhetorically every half an hour “Where’s Daddy? Daddy’s at work. In the airplane in the skoi. Makin’ the money. So we can buy strawberries.” It is her mantra. Bless.
Permanent Link | CommentsAuditioning for E.T
22 September 2008, 17:39
I killed the iPod...
17 September 2008, 20:16
...but I swear it was in self-defence.
Shuffling off this mortal coil
Ever wondered what an iPod would look like if it went through a wash (delicate cycle, but nonetheless)?
Wonder no more.
Permanent Link | Comments [1]Her First High Heels
14 September 2008, 19:15
I wish I didn’t love these. So, so wrong on so, so many levels but so, so feckin’ adorable. Would I ever put my child in a pair? Ahem, NO, are you frikkin’ kidding me?
I actually want them for myself. Such guilty pleasures…
Babysitter's Club
11 September 2008, 20:20
As a Babysitter I would have made a great mum. I’ve never been particularly “maternal” but picked up the occasional babysitting job when I was an impoverished Uni student in Queensland.
It was easy money - $10 an hour (yes, this was a long time ago) and mostly it was kinder-aged dolls who played with my hair for an hour or so before passing out in a post-hair-playing-stupor. I did have a rather hardcore babysitting job all day Sunday looking after 5 kids from age 2 to 11. Yes, 5 kids. Age 2 to 11. But all I can say is kudos to the friggin’ Little Mermaid - she saved my arse when I was lying flat on my back after an overdose of trampolining with 2 very energetic pre-pubescent Montessori girls. God Bless You, Ariel, God Bless You.
Today, I just felt like recounting my most memorable babysitting experience. It was for the Vice Chancellor of U of Q and his socialite wife - nice enough people, but the wife had a DIET, yes, a DIET on their fridge for their 6 year old daughter (the one who loved to play with my hair). She was a lovely little girl with a bit of baby fat, but no more than any other 6 YEAR OLD, so this amazed me.
The VC had 2 kids, the other being a 4 year old boy (still in nappies, but I can’t talk yet - Scout has no inclination whatsoever of losing the nappies and she’s 2.5) let’s call him “Tacker”, who had….. issues. Now I don’t want to question the parenting skills of his mum and dad, because at the time, I was hardly a paragon of maternal instincts, but ah fuckit, what the hell - his parents had raised an extreme tantrum-throwing screamer who would go MENTAL if I asked him to do anything. Which, as it turns out, is quite normal for a toddler, only I didn’t know that at the time.
One day, though, when I arrived at their posh-o house, I must have scared little Tacker as he was watching his third hour of TV, and he spun around and started SCREAMING “She HIT ME! SHE HIT MEEEEEE!!!!!” Omigod. I threw my hands up like a slapstick movie criminal in an “I didn’t do it” pose and the mum, well, she knew he was foxing and said “don’t worry about it”, but still, omigod. What 4 year old has that in his box of tackle, I ask you? The She Bloody Well Hit Me vibe, don’t leave me mummy or THAT IMPOVERISHED ARTS STUDENT LADY WILL HIT ME AGAIN!
Funny thing is, at the time I thought he was a total little bratty shit, but looking back on it as a mum now my heart goes out to him. His parents were out on the voluptuous party circuit every second night (and that’s not an understatement) - of COURSE HE HAD THAT IN HIS BOX OF TACKLE. What normal, self-respecting child would not?
So, any babysitting horror stories out there? I’m in the mood for some vicarious living…
