I didn’t love babysitting. I dreaded it each time Mrs. H. called or Mrs. B, especially Mrs. B. Her kids were brats. I was a kid myself, I wanted to be a brat. I needed the money.
There were sunflower seeds and watermelon sticks to buy at Circle K on a hot middle-of-the-summer day. And earrings, I loved my little turquoise posts. I collected glass figurines that I bought from a glass shop in Old Town. Carmen and I took the city bus there, age 13, and shopped all day long like tourists on a vacation. We didn’t have anything else to do.
I hated being alone at night in those big houses after the kids went to sleep. The B.’s house had too much glass. I could see my reflection against the dark night. Skinny legs, brown, brown skin from being outside all the time. I was obsessed with all things scary – murders and sharks and airplane crashes and ghosts – yet I was scared to death. Still am. Still hate being in a big house by myself.
I loved nothing about babysitting, not the way Mrs. B. would tell me to feed Armin his peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich by pretending each bite was a plane. BRRRRRRR comes the plane in for a landing in your mouth. Not the way I felt compelled to look in bathroom drawers, looking for condoms or girly magazines, any evidence sex went on in that house. Not the way it made me jump when the phone rang or how the kids always fell asleep so soundly and so fast. Not even the money. Twenty-five cents an hour in some cases. But what else could I do?
-from Topic post Job! What Job?; writing practice on one of the jobs from this list
Hey! I liked this! Strange how some things connect. I picked up on the Turqoise and the reference to Old Town and I was in Albuquerque again (grew up there for a bit). Jolly Watermellon or Cherry Sticks…Circle K…the trees near the river and no where else…
peace,
P
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Never babysat but I’ve been a house sitter and that can be weird.
I was about 18 when house sat at this ranch house halfway between Deming and Silver City. The rancher had died a few years before and now his wife just passed.
I was all alone in this old cowboy house in the middle of the desert…nothing to do. I walked around in the desert some, I walked to Lampbright Draw, I explored the out buildings, I went inside and looked at their old record collection (wish I had that now…Sons of the Pioneers, Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, Hank Williams, etc.).
In the middle of the night a strange light and loud noise flooded the windows like a Steven Spielberg movie. I thought it was a UFO for sure but it probably an Army helicopter. I was too scared to get up and check it out.
I was sure glad when dawn came, I don’t think I slept much.
The house sat abandoned after that night. I might have been the last person to sleep there (maybe a few illegal aliens took refuge there).
A few years later, I learned that Phelps Dodge bought the property and razed the old house. I was sad to see it go. When I drive past that spot on hwy 180, I still look over where the house sat and remember that night.
Strange…
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Egads, I would never have been able to housesit for a house out in nowhere. Did housesitting make your excel spreadsheet list of jobs?
“trees near the river and no where else…” – that’s Albuquerque, isn’t it? Maybe you lived (for the brief time you were here, P) near the Circle K where I hung out. That would be like Albuquerque, too.
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No, I need to add that one. I just remembered that story this evening. I don’t remember getting paid for that gig. It was the mother-in-law’s house of a friend of my dad.
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