Nanny NeeNee?

I just got back from Mari and Joe's house. It is 9am. I spent the night there.

You see, Art decided to go to Canada and visit friends at the college, and stay there for night. I didn't go along because I don't know anyone there anymore. So I was all by myself for pretty much all of yesterday. As evening approached, I realized that I was bored out of my mind, and that I was going to go crazy if I didn't have some human contact.

Also, I didn't want to sleep alone last night, since I heard a loud *KLUNK* in my carport the night before. Yes it was windy, yes we have raccoons, but nothing in the carport was missing or out of place. So I'm paranoid. Apparently that there's a crack-house or a meth-house in the area. Comforting.

So I called Mari and asked her to come rescue me, I packed a few things, and spend the evening cleaning her house. No seriously. I had absolutely no motivation to do my own dishes, so I went to her house and washed their dishes instead. And swept the floor. And vacuumed.

In my defense (and also hers) Mari had an essay to write, and I totally support her doing her homework. And Phil (their roommate) made dinner for me. And there was ice cream cake. So yeah, I was more than rewarded for cleaning, which I really don't mind doing anyway, and plus I wasn't bored or alone.

Also? I got to help Mari with her essay. I think there might be something wrong with me, because you are all probably thinking, "You call that a fun evening?" And I'm saying, YES. I liked it. I got to play house, and then I got play school. I made all sorts of comments and corrections, telling her where to improve her grammar, or if something didn't make any sense. She told me to lay it on thick, so I did. And she was grateful.

She asked me if I ever thought about being a teacher. I only think about it all the time. Do you know that I have been told since I was, like, five years old that I would make a great teacher? And now that I'm all grown up, I realize that all those adults are right. I enjoy it, and I'm good at it. Which is why we are most definitely homeschooling our kids. I'm looking forward to that.

But first I actually have to HAVE the kids. Which I don't want to do for quite a while.

I Think It's Something I Ate

Last night I had a dream that I met a woman whose blog I read. That is the third dream I've had of that kind in one month. Isn't that a little weird or creepy? I mean, reading about people I don't know is one thing. Dreaming about them is quite another.

Also, I had a wedding dream last night. My wedding. That's the second one in a month, and the fourth or fifth since I've gotten married. I'm having more disaster wedding dreams post-wedding than I did pre-wedding.

What is wrong with my head?! Maybe I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. (Recent stress being the six kids I looked after yesterday, and recent trauma being the large spider I found in my bathtub on Saturday. Yes. I'll blame it on that.)

I Now Know Without a Doubt...

...that I am never having six kids.

I co-babysat at church this evening, for the kids of parents who were in the Sunday evening Bible study. The first 30 minutes went fine. They were just playing with toys, in a room far away from the adults.

Then we decided to start a movie. I was going to tell you that we watched WALL-E. But it's more like we "watched" WALL-E.

The oldest (who is probably 10) managed to watch most of it without being harassed too much. The other babysitter somehow made it through most of the movie, despite the fact that she was being jumped on and crawled over.

And I watched bits and pieces wherever I could. The rest of the time was spent telling the other five kids to stop running around, stop jumping on the furniture, stop hitting/throwing things at each other, and listening to: "Can I have a cookie? Where are the cookies? Are there more cookies? Can we have more cookies? Are there any cookies left? Why aren't there any cookies left?"

When I wasn't answering those questions, I had to listen to one seven year old tell me what time it was every minute for an hour. It is my opinion that kids should not have cell phones. At least not real ones with CLOCKS on them.

And then there was the kid who threw a fit. Of course. Because an evening of looking after six kids wouldn't be complete without a toddler screaming his head off, and then, in his anger, turning the lights off, which only made him cry harder.

I think I'm making sound little bit worse than it was. I'm just thankful it was only six kids, instead of twelve, like they originally thought. And you better believe I got paid for it. Ain't no way I'd put up with that for free. Which is why I'm not going to have six of my own.