Kids, kids, kids. Also, jeans.

Exhibit A, the jeans. Read on for the description.
As those of you who have been following along already know, I babysit for two children during the week. Their parents call me a nanny, others refer to my situation as a home daycare, but to me, I’m a babysitter. Regardless of what you call it, I have two other children in my house for 10 hours a day, 5 days a week. Yeah, that’s a long time. As a stay-at-home mom, my hours have always been long, so I’m (kinda, sorta) used to it.

Those two kids are aged 7 months and (almost) 3. Hard work. Hard ages. Pair that with my own kids, aged 5 and 6, and it’s really hard work. They aren’t old enough to NOT need constant supervision, so I always have to know who is where, and what they’re doing. And most of the time, I’ve got the baby on my hip. (But it’s a big hip, so he fits there just fine!) Right now my oldest is at school, the baby is napping, and the other two are blasting Laurie Berkner in my daughters room while systematically trashing said room. I may be able to get on the computer now, but the hard work will come when the baby wakes up, and I have to supervise the other two (drill sergeant style) while they clean up. I’ll pay for my leisure time, oh yes, I will.

(I know I had a point to writing all this, but I can’t remember what it was. I’ve really got no where to go with all this… but rambling seems to be where I’m at today anyway. So I’m just going to ramble on for your pleasure – as in, watch the crazy lady ramble on and on. You can’t seem to look away, and it’s oddly entertaining in a weird glad-it’s-not-me kind of way.)

Oh wait, I know what I was going to say when I started all this…. Since I’ve started babysitting the kids I’ve had people say to me, “Doesn’t having a baby around make you want another one?” And I can say with all honesty, no it doesn’t. Nope. Not at all. The one person who got it right was my friend S, who said, “doesn’t it make you glad you decided to not to have any more” or something to that effect. And yes, it does make me appreciate my two being the ages they are at right now. I’ve made it through all the bottle feedings, teething, spitting up, temper tantrums, middle of the night wakings, potty training, changing diapers, time-outs, etc…etc… I can appreciate these two little ones, and watch them grow, yet I am not ultimately responsible for raising them. And I like that. I am potty training, and bottle feeding, but there is also a daily end to it all for me. And the weekends are baby-free. That’s nice. Really nice.

I enjoy working with children. As much as you may hear me complain, understand that the majority of the time I really love being around kids. It’s just more fun to write about that train wreck – who wants to read “I’m content right now…nothing much to say” ?

(But that wasn’t really much of a point… so the rambling continues….)

I got the QVC jeans in the mail. I was excited when I pulled them from the package and saw that the blue was a good blue. I was afraid they would be that weird shade of blue that some jeans are – know what I mean? So good blue, good. Then I had to try them on immediately. I pulled them on, and here’s another good thing, they buttoned and zipped easily. No tight waist. Very good. And the length was perfect. Very, very good. They were a little tight in the butt, but most things are for me. So I was thinking, I can’t believe I bought a pair of jeans off of QVC and they fit! Then I turned around. I wanted to check out how the jeans make my butt look. And… Oh. My. God. What I saw in the mirror was so hideous, I can’t even describe it to you in enough detail to give you an accurate picture. The words just don’t exist. (So I included a picture!) But let’s just say that the pockets were not flattering. Not at all. Not even when I took the jeans off and turned them around to unbelievably stare at the pockets did they look any better. I thought for sure it was just my butt – nobody made jeans with pockets like these anymore, right? Apparently I was wrong. Somebody does make jeans with small pointy pockets spaced wide apart. Pointy and small enough to make the expanse of your butt look like a giant, well, butt. And I do mean giant. It was a horrifying experience. The jeans are going back, and I will never speak of this again.

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