It's Raining Flakes

I'm dropping Ariel off at school, and spy one of his teachers, who also babysits my boys on the days my mother-in-law can't. Our eyes meet, and she yawns dramatically.

I approach.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling well at all lately. I can't sleep at night, I'm not getting any sleep these days. I just don't know what's wrong with me."

I put on what I hope is a concerned, empathetic face and then remember that I have to get to work. I don't have time to shmooze. What does this mean for me? I think.

"So what does this mean, hon? Are you still okay to watch the boys this afternoon? Do you feel up to it? Are you contagious?"

"No, I'm watching them today, don't worry. It's just...in general..."

"In general, what?" I prod.

"In general, it's just, like, I'm not sure I can handle working at the school, babysitting, and now taking school, too. I don't know if I can do it all. I'm getting stressed out. I'm not sleeping, I get, like, 3 or 4 hours a night."

You're 19 years old, single, and living at home. WHEN, exactly, are you going to have more energy in life? And who complains about 3 or 4 hours of sleep in a night? I get that most WEEKS.


Also, what school?

"What school?" I ask out loud. "You're taking classes? Are you quitting on me?"

"No! But yeah, um, I have to, like, take this certification course in order to continue working at the boys' school, and it's like, gonna be hard. I don't know if I'll be able to manage it AND babysitting."

"Well, sure. That's a lot. When does the course meet?"

"It's every day, starting at 4:30."

She babysits for me starting at 4.

"Ah ha. So it's actually IMPOSSIBLE for you to keep babysitting."

"Not necessarily, I just need to decide if I'm taking this course or not. It starts in three weeks, so I have to decide already."

"So are you?"

"Well, I just have to take it to keep my job, and I can only take it this year."

"So you are taking the course, and it's impossible for you to juggle it with babysitting because they are at THE SAME TIME, so what you're really saying right now is that you have to quit in three weeks?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Progress. Don't panic...don't panic.

"Ok." Deep breath. "Well, thank you for telling me, because I need to start looking for a replacement."

"Right. I'm sorry."

"That's alright. Try a sleeping pill. There's a reason people get addicted to them."

And that, my friends, is how my first babysitter quit on me. I could tell her heart wasn't into it anyway when Elan would say, "Play with us? No, all she wants to do is watch TV," and I'd come home to the three of them mesmerized by a taped Desperate Housewives.

But still. No phone call? No sit-down? No formal statement whatsoever?

"I'm not sleeping great lately" at the playground = "Find someone new?"

To be 19 again.