Bob and Becky live on a farm in Vermont. They make ice cream there. The brand is “The Sisters of Anarchy.” The reason for the name? Their wild, smart, talented daughters – Lily, Sunshine and Maggie. I worked with the girls last February on a jingle for their company – a rap about ice cream. Don’t judge me till you hear it, that’s all I’m asking.
http://www.sistersofanarchyicecream.com/media/
Anyway, a decade ago, Bob and his bride Becky took off for the Left Coast, far away from their families that lived in New York. Or Vermont. Or some northeastern clime. One day I got a call from Bob. He and Becky been called home immediately for a family emergency. This was their quandary. Did they take their babies with them, or leave them back in California? Since it was a high stress circumstance, they asked me if asked me if I would consider babysitting for the endurance of their trip. Lilly was 2 3/4 years old. Sunshine was 9 months. I agreed happily.
As I flew to Pasadena, I relaxed into what I thought would be a vacation of sorts. How hard could babysitting be? I’d just dazzle them with card tricks and they’d be so overwhelmed by my charm, they’d be as meek as lambs. Right?
Becky picked me up at the airport. Both the girls were asleep in the back, taking car seat naps. They looked like wingless angels with their corn silk hair and cheeks flushed pink. I admired them for a minute while Becky thanked and thanked me for coming to help. I told her, “no thanks necessary… it’s my pleasure!”
The rest of the day I watched while Becky and Bob tended to the kids. Their movement around the house was like a choreographed dance. Feedings, naps, baths, reading books at bedtime. This was going to be a snap! Plus, Becky had typed me out a 4 page user’s manual, covering menu, schedule, emergency numbers, diaper bag contents, etc. I skimmed over it quickly and thought, “I probably won’t need this, but if it makes her feel better about leaving the tykes, I’ll glance over it while I’m soaking up some of that California sunshine out on the patio.”
That was the last cognizant thought that I had for the next four days. That’s when I discovered that the favorite word in a two-year old kid’s vocabulary is “No.” Breakfast, lunch and dinner were always punctuated with that word. “Lily, don’t you want some more scrambled eggs? Drink a little juice. Use a fork, youngin.”
“No.”
Lily really let it fly at bedtime when I found out that “No” is the standard answer to all questions regarding personal hygiene. “Lily, do you want to brush your teeth? Lily, can I comb your hair? Lily, do you have to go to the potty? “No. No. No.” Welcome to the terrible 2’s.
I’m not going to lie; the first day was pretty brutal. We were all stressed out of our minds. Finally I got them to bed (with Lily shouting “No” at the top of her lungs). Finally, it was quiet and I fell into bed to sleep like the dead.
Until four hours later, when Sunshine began to cry. I got up three times, feeding her, changing her, trying to comfort her. I felt like a zombie, stumbling through the dark, stubbing my toe on the unaccustomed furniture. I read in Becky’s 4-page pamphlet that Sunshine might have a stomachache. Leaning over her crib, I patted her back until she belched and she fell asleep again, this time sleeping till morning.
Despite all Becky’s notes, I didn’t have a clue. So, I fell back on something I did know about…dogs. I looked at the girls and thought, “If my dogs were this stressed out, what would I do? I’d try and find a dark hole for them to crawl in until they settled down and felt more comfortable.”
So, that’s what I did. I drug all the couch cushions and blankets underneath the dining room table and made a big nest. Then I told the girls that it was a tree house and that we were monkeys. There we read books and Sunshine the baby crawled all over us to her heart’s delight. All the girls (including me) were relaxed and having a wonderful time. At one point, Lily crawled over beside me, put her little arms around my neck, and whispered, “I love you, Mimi.” I kissed the top of her gossamer hair and said, “I love you too, Lily.”
After that, things got better. I learned the girls and they learned me, making our living together much more easy. By the time Bob and Becky got home, Lily was letting me comb her hair and Sunshine was sleeping through the night. But Lilly was still a little contrary…she was 2 3/4 years old, after all. When I was leaving for the airport, Becky wanted Lilly tell me thank you.” Lily didn’t want to and hid behind her daddy’s legs.
I whispered to Becky, “It’s ok. She already did.”