How I came to watch the fake child

I don't talk about fake child much on my blog for privacy reasons, but today I wanted to write about how babysitting came about because I believe God was watching out for me.

I never wanted to babysit children. My mother made the suggestion years ago when Katie through Matt were still little and I pooh-poohed it (and rolled my eyes and gagged and sighed and harumphed) because I had enough of little children, thankyouverymuch. But when the time came for me to contribute financially to our circumstances, it was the best out of some not-very-palatable options. Matt was still at home when I started babysitting for a different family, but that lasted only two years. The dad decided when their second baby was born that he would become primary caretaker and thus my services were no longer needed. I spent one last pre-school year with Matt (although he was in kindergarten) and braced myself for entering the workforce as a substitute lunchlady or noon supervisor or some other non-certified school staffperson. I had even filled out an application and was about to turn it in when I got a letter in the mail.

The letter wasn't actually for me. It was for my neighbor behind me. The mailman made a delivery error. I didn't know my neighbor very well, but I had chatted with her from time to time over the fence while she was gardening. I hadn't seen her lately or her boyfriend/husband (didn't even know their status). I kept the letter on the counter for a few days, wondering when a good time to deliver it would be.

The next Sunday (it was in early spring, one of the first warm days of the year), I saw her in her back yard sitting in a swinging bench with a baby. I didn't even know she had been pregnant. I grabbed the letter and went out to give it to her.

We got to chatting and she mentioned that her husband was in Iraq and she was supposed to go back to work in August but she didn't have a sitter lined up.

Ding!

without thought, I offered my services.

Later on that day, I hemmed and hawed over my outburst of support. On one hand, I didn't want to babysit again, but on the other hand, I don't like leaving my house. I spent all summer wondering how to get out of the situation. I wondered too long and my neighbor called me up to ask if I really wanted the job. She mentioned the pay and suddenly all hemming and hawing disappeared. I took the job.

I'm still not overjoyed at having to babysit, but I've come a long way and have learned not to complain. I'm at home when my kids get home from school and I still have some freedom from a work schedule. My hours vary, and sometimes go late into the night, or start early in the morning (early for me), but I can take the fake child grocery shopping if I need to, or over to the church to practice the organ. She's a well-behaved child for me, too.

Next year will be my last year babysitting fake child, since it's her last year before she goes to kindergarten. I have been babysitting her for nearly four years. I don't look forward to going somewhere to work; it's been a blessing to work at home. That little mis-delivered letter has blessed my family in many ways and has helped me to earn much-needed money and still be at home where my children need me to be.