While we were packing up last year for the move into our new house, I found something very interesting that highlighted just how
anal retentive detailed I can be, especially when it comes to my child. It was a three page instruction manual for the babysitter we had in California when my daughter was three-years-old. I wanted to die of embarrassment after reading it.
It was very, how would I say it? Hmmm. “Specific” would be a nice way to put it but I’ll go with a bitchy control freak with a generous helping of mad crazy.
Just the first page alone is a listing of meal and snack times and the specific foods that should be eaten at these times as well as in what way the food needs to be prepared and cut up.
Grapes need to be cut in half and banana slices cut in fourths because if they’re not, holy shit, there will be hell to pay, apparently.
This shit comes off more as a threat to the babysitter. Poor lady.
On the second page, half of it details what we do to fill the days i.e. trips to the park, different parks, play with her riding fire truck, etc.
Oh my god. I put in very, very specific terms of the activities that my 3 year-old could do during the day, specifying what options she had to choose from.
Talk about me being the helicopter mom from hell.
The second half on the second page details her favorite television shows, The Wiggles, Elmo, Caillou – that little fucker-, Max And Ruby, and what channels they’re on, plus, what time they come on. I put that in there in case of emergencies.
My biggest worry was that after my husband and I would leave our daughter, she was screaming and crying for us and in a tizzy.
In reality, the hummingbird was probably saying “Bye, bitches! No hurry!”
The third page of this absolutely ridiculous and comical instructional for the babysitter are several different sample schedules of play time, nap time, park time, when to change her diaper, what to do if she gets fussy, what if she doesn’t take a nap and on and on.
Oh my fucking god.
I was that crazy, overbearing, control freak of a mother.
I would like to think that I have improved over the years but I still want to know absolutely everything, even if she’s just going to our next door neighbor’s house, which she’s been to hundreds of times.
My mom was like that when I was younger and it embarrassed me so much. Especially when she would ask to speak to my friend’s mom or dad.
I swore I would never be like that.
Well played karma. Well played.
I’d like to think I don’t have this huge stick up my ass and should just chill out from being such a panicked parent but that sucker is in there tight.