On day one of babysitting my dad asked me if we needed any groceries and I gave him a list and on it was coke. He brought me a case. According to the number of cans I brought home, I drank 5 in three days. Sad, sad, sad. I'm very tired and I really don't think the soda helped me keep up with the children, neither did the cookies or the pizza for breakfast. I gained two pounds over three days of babysitting. You know that saying "an inability to plan on your part doesn't constitute an emergency on my part", I didn't plan and I ate like it was an emergency and it wasn't. Clearly my dad would have brought me anything I wanted and I didn't ask for salad and fruit. I have to go back next weekend for a birthday and there's another birthday dinner on tuesday, it's going to be a long week of walks and salads and cake mixed in.
The children wore me out completely. Three days have never passed so fast in all my life. I knew going in it would be hard and I should count myself lucky that they're not the sort of kids who cry over being with babysitters. Maybe it's different when it's family, I don't know. I wish I had thought of more fun stuff to do, mostly we played in the dirt and then blew bubbles with dish soap bubble stuff (get dirty and then play in soap, I'm a genius).
I'm finding it hard to sum up my weekend. I had all these grand schemes of writing and being brilliant but it turns out that all of my sister's neighbors have passwords for their wireless networks, bastards, and also I spent every minute the children weren't awake cleaning up noodles and cookie slime and sleeping myself. I brought some netflix to watch and didn't even get close. Instead I have every line of Dora Saves the Mermaids lasered on my brain. Not that Dora was all bad, there was an island with pirate piggies and one of them had a peg leg and I really wonder who ate it because pigs that solve problems by dancing the conga probably don't have raging sea battles. Mmmm, barbecue.