What's Next?: Baby Sitting With Questionable Results

I honestly don't know where to start with this blog. There are so many stories that are all intertwined. I was going to make it one blog, but it has so many facets that I have a week's worth of stories to tell. And I am southern. We like a good story.

Last week my niece asked if I was interested in coming to Athens (Alabama) and staying with two of my girlieques for a night, or a weekend ... I really didn't pay that much attention to the length of time. I just heard time with my girls and I was in.

These are the aforementioned girlieques, Grace, looking perfect and color cordinated, and Caroline, showing off her massive back pack. This picture was taken as they headed out for their first day of school this year. Aren't they adorable? Don't they look angelic? Yep ...

I left Birmingham in time to be early for the car pool line at school. I felt so grown up. (I know I'm 53-years-old but I have never really picked up kids in a car pool line. That's what grown ups do.) Turns out, car pool lines are really boring. I pulled up at 2:20 on the dot and was about twenty cars deep. A minute and a half later, that line was down the road, around the corner and out of sight. Good call on the timing.

A cute little boy came around asking for my "code". Turns out, he was the P.E. coach. Man, he must be a genius to have graduated from college and gotten a responsible job like that by the time he was twelve. I refuse to believe he was any older than that.

By the time I wound my car around the obstacle course to pull up in front of the school, a group of teachers were standing there holding on to two extremely excited, energetic blondes. Based on my experience, God Bless the kindergarten teacher who I am sure was told over and over and over and over ... and over all day that Aunt Jeannie was picking them up at school.

I wish I could describe the joy in my heart when those little girls dove into my backseat trying to hug me and kiss me and squealing "AUNT JEANNIE!!!" at the top of their lungs. I love them so much that I thought my heart would burst in my chest.

Our first adventure was a stop at Publix. I was pretty sure that wine was going to be needed before the night was over, and I wasn't sure that the available supply at the Mallette house was going to be adequate for the occasion. When she heard that we were stopping at the grocery store, Caroline wanted to know if she could have a cookie and a drink. Please note, I have some hearing loss, but any request that Caroline has is at a decibel level that I have no trouble hearing. Understanding can be a different story. If I don't understand, it just moves up to the next decibel level.

I wish there were more pictures of this weekend, but alas ... the only time that taking pictures was possible was when they were still. That didn't happen often.

We made it into the entrance of Publix with only a minor scuffle over who was going to push the buggy. I'm not sure why I got a buggy. Maybe for defense? Anyway, ten feet into the store, they both spotted the cookie counter. Giving the buggy a shove, they sprinted for the counter, where the little boy working there apparently knew them by name and had their choices ready for them. (What is it about all of the children with jobs now ... aren't there child labor laws? I mean really, they are getting younger and younger!)

By the time I caught the buggy, apologized to the woman that it ran into, and got to the cookie counter and found out the cookies were free, the girls were gone. Dodging shoppers and mostly missing them (sorry nice lady) they reached the fountain drink station. As I tried to catch the cups that came flying, they worked on keeping the ice in their cups and the soda from foaming over the edge. (Fail on both counts) I was finally able to grab both sticky cups (not the sticky girls) and get the tops and straws added.

At this point, I explained that now Aunt Jeannie needed to go get her drink. I almost made it. I was so close. But just as I turned down the aisle with the "WINE" sign, Gracie (the oldest) said "wait right here, Aunt Jeannie, I need to see something." Wait, I'm not supposed to let them out of my sight in a public place like that, right? By the time I got the buggy turned around and back to the main aisle, she was on her way back. Yeah ... she was carrying two small pillow pets. Knowing she couldn't get away with just one for herself, she had kindly picked out one for her little sister. And so the begging and pleading starts. She had REALLY been wanting that one. She only had two more at home. How could I possibly say no? They both loved me more that a bazillion! Sigh ... My standard bottle of wine was replaced with a magnum. The woman at checkout wished me luck as we left.

The drive home went well. Of course, that took two minutes and seventeen seconds. As the car doors opened, the whining and tears started. That would be Caroline. I'm trying to get my bags and herd my dogs and find the key to get in the house. She does not want to carry her back pack. She doesn't know how it got open, she closed it at school. She is too little (a common problem she has when she doesn't want to do something). By the time I had everything and everyone in the house, she had was on her stomach in the middle of the hall crying and kicking her feet. I honestly cannot tell you why. I'm sure it was important, but I can't remember. After stepping over her a few times I finally explained that tears, whining and collapsing in the floor did not work on me. After all ... just ask my dear friend and former boss Terry Finley ... NO ONE can out whine me.

For about an hour we settled into a state of mostly peaceful co-existence. They plopped on top of me, in front of the TV, to get their second wind. That's Gracie tucked under my arm and Caroline lying on my stomach as she holds Roscoe. Sam had retreated to the foot of the couch.

When my niece originally called, she said that she would try to board her golden retrievers. These are sweet, beautiful dogs. But they are still puppies - fifty to sixty pound puppies - extremely high energy puppies. When I got to the house, I never heard them bark. (Of course that could have something to do with the cacophony of screams, whines, squeals and storming feet that came into the house with me,) I never saw them at any of the multitude of windows and glass doors surrounding the house. So I assumed that Kate and Daisy were elsewhere. Unfortunately for Roscoe, I was wrong. I opened the door for Roscoe and Sam to go out. Sam knew better and refused. Roscoe made it about ten steps out the door before being bombarded by one hundred plus pounds of golden slobbery fluff. These girls would never intentionally hurt anyone, including extremely pissed off little white dogs, but they just can't contain themselves. They are just SO HAPPY! They are just SO EXCITED! They are just SO!!!! One strategic rescue with minimal injuries and Roscoe was back in the house.

OK ... time to relax, right? Yeah ... right. We settled at the kitchen table to play Go Fish (now known as Gold Fish), Old Maid (who is apparently a very frightening character) and Crazy 8's. I went for the all time favorite babysitter backup plan for dinner and ordered pizza. For the next forty-five minutes, life was good. Then the door bell rang.

I had just let Roscoe and Sam out the side door for a potty break. The yard is so large, that they stood a good chance of doing their business without attracting the attention of the goldens. But when the door bell rang I totally lost control of everything. Girls started to screech that the pizza was there. Sam was already back in the house and charged the door while he alerted the world to an intruder. I took off to the door to grab girls and dog before the front door could be opened. In doing this, I left the side door open. Roscoe, hearing the alert, charged into the house letting everyone know he was in charge. I grabbed him and opened the door to a very bemused pizza delivery girl (another child who clearly was too young to be driving a car). From behind me I heard ... "NO, KATE!!! OH NO, DAISY!!!" Yep, you got it. Through the open side door, two excited, happy, wet, fifty-plus-pound golden retrievers joined the chaos at the door.

I did the only thing I could do. I slammed the door in the pizza delivery girl's face. I don't think I will ever forget her expression from the other side of the glass door. Shock and sympathy mixed with tears of laughter.

We were every slapstick comedy routine you have seen. The goldens could care less what the temperature is outside, they regularly go for a swim in the pool. My niece's house and most of its furnishings are brand new. Disaster! Daisy and Kate alternated between laps through the living room, dining room and entry; attempts to play with Roscoe, who was backed under a hall bench baring his last two teeth; and groveling in front of Sam who had already bitten their noses for getting too close. The girls were screaming and chasing them through the house. I was screaming NO and OUT and STOP and whatever other totally useless phrase went through my head.

Finally the girls herded the goldens out the door and I was able to threaten the little dogs into the kitchen. I opened the door and apologized for the chaos and rudeness. I knew she understood when she sympathetically said "do you want to go deliver pizza with me?" Such a nice offer.

I won't go into detail about the kicking, pinching, hitting and teasing that I refereed for the rest of the night. No need to go into more detail on the whining of a five-year-old, the attitude of a nine-year-old, or the begging of both. At one point the nine-year-old looked me in the eye and said "You are really strict, Aunt Jeannie. You should work on that."