Trial by fire: Childcare

We've  been eating dinner for an hour. Big one just exclaimed, Mommy, I didn't know there were olives in here. Observant she is not.

Hanging out with my beauties. Absorbing the sea turtle movie with large eyes. We're all girls tonight. Time for Momma fun: a trip to the library. The brightest spot in a long, challenging, growing pain day for this momma.

We've entered a new venture - childcare {that sounds like the girls have raised themselves like wolf-children up to this point}. I should say, care of someone else's children. I now have four girls under age three in my care. {I'm sorry. Did you just choke on your coffee as you read that? Me too.} How did this transpire? Who would ever trust me to guard the wellbeing of two more babies? I still shake my head at my optimism, my unfailing belief that I can 'make it work.'

I am three days into babysitting and have almost reconciled myself to never using the toilet again. Without fail, the girls deny needing to use the potty until my hand touches the bathroom door. As soon as I need to relieve myself, the toddler bladder dance starts. I need go potty right now!! Inevitably, I let the toddler jump line so I don't have to clean up an accident. Once one is using the potty, every other baby realizes how badly they need to go, even small one who is wearing a diaper. Now I have a line of hopping children when the first one on the pot says, I need go big poop. Of course you do.

But toddlers in the bathroom are contained under a watchful eye. My larger problems occur when I sneak away to the bathroom. Problems such as dumping a brand new box of formula on the kitchen floor, then throwing it up in the air and grinding it into sweaty tiny toes. An example. {I still cannot comprehend how those three tiny figures, barely 75 lbs. among them, managed to spread that formula as far as they did.}

And what did I do when the formula formed a sole-like crust on my bare feet, and the infant it was supposed to feed started wailing? I sang {my other options: maniacal laughter with the accompanying eye twitch, torrential tears, or cursing that would redden a squid's cheeks}. So I sang. Mostly to interrupt Big One from asking again, Mommy, what did you do to Baby Mollie's formula?

Trust and obey, for there's no other way. At that moment, literally no other way to keep from using my tongue to exact revenge on four unsuspecting girls. Trust and obey. Something tells me this venture will take an enormous amount of trusting, obeying, and singing.