13 2 / 2012
Yes, That is my Babysitter
Written by ERICA
I feel like there is some unwritten code among moms when it comes to anyone you hire to help care for your children. Ever since Jude Law diddled his average-looking-at-best nanny, moms have been VERY cautious about the women they invite into their homes. If a super slamming hottie shows up at your door to watch your kid while you go out to dinner, you would be wise to gently slam the door in her face and order in Chinese.
Obviously moms are first and foremost looking for a nanny/babysitter who is responsible, caring, sweet, trustworthy, energetic, loving etc. etc. etc. But I know very few women who, even if she had all of those qualities, would welcome a 5’8”, skinny-mini, big-boobed, gorgeous blonde into their family with open arms.
Which is exactly what I did.
When we first moved to Miami I decided I didn’t need, or maybe more accurately, didn’t want, any full-time help taking care of Owen. At the time I wasn’t working on anything that couldn’t be done from home while Owen played/napped, and truthfully most of the activities or chores I had to take care of revolved around him. Playgroups, classes, supermarket trips…all things I could do with him by my side, so there didn’t seem to be a reason for extra help around the house.
But from day one of parenthood AJ and I made a pact that our weekend evenings were sacred. It was an absolute necessity that we had the freedom to enjoy some adult conversations and more importantly adult beverages. So we decided to hire a regular sitter to join our clan. I reached out to a babysitting agency down here in Miami that came highly recommended to me, and they suggested Cindy*, who was described to me as a sweetie-pie 27 year old from Atlanta, Georgia; great with kids, amazingly positive to be around, funny, enthusiastic, and just a general pleasure as a babysitter.
Cindy showed up and I swear to god I almost wet my pants right there in the doorway. I’m not sure what I expected since I knew her entire life story and had seen a picture in her bio. I guess I just didn’t expect her to be so, um, HOT. I mean, the girl is BEAUTIFUL. Like, southern bell beautiful. She has long blond hair, she’s thin and athletic at the same time, and she’s so tall my head just barely grazes her boobs when we hug (which we do, a lot). Speaking of her boobs, they are everything my recently-had-a-kid-so-I-lost-an-entire-cup-size boobs are not.
Anyway, point being, she’s adorable. I wouldn’t even blame AJ if he had an affair with her. Hell, if I were on that team I’d do it myself. (JUST KIDDING AJ!) So given that realization, any new mom in her right mind would have said thanks but no thanks. “You’re great and all, but you’re a tad too attractive to have around while I spend my days covered in spit-up and I smell like the rejected pieces of Muenster cheese Owen throws at me.”
But before that thought could even cross my mind something amazing happened. Cindy got down on the floor and Owen basically crawled right into her arms. And then I saw it: sparks were flying and my little man was in love. And as I watched them play I realized that I didn’t give a rat’s a$$ if my sitter was a total Angelina to my Jen (you like how I just made myself Jennifer Aniston in this situation? Can you say delusional?!). She is absolutely amazing with my kid, she adores him, she connects with him, and he loves her back.
And turns out, she’s not just amazing with Owen. She is one of the absolute best things that has happened to me since we moved. She’s not just our sitter, she’s our friend. I am crazy about her. We bond, we confide in each other, we giggle over stupidity like when I told her that I shit myself 3 times during childbirth. Wait, did I even tell you guys that? No? Oh, well, uh, now you know. It happened, it’s apparently normal, and we’ll get to that in another post.
So anypoop, I’ve stopped caring that when people meet Cindy they look at her and then say to me with crazy eyes “wait, so that’s your babysitter? Are you SURE this is a good idea?” YES. That is my babysitter. She is amazing, she is smart, she is hot as a mother f*cker and my son is a VERY lucky man.
*Note: my sitter’s real name is not Cindy, but she looks just like Cindy Mancini from Can’t Buy Me Love, the amazing 80’s movie starring a then-dorky McDreamy. I figured it would be best to protect her privacy and not embarrass her entirely in this one post.
