By Sonya Spillmann
@sonyaspillmann

Mother of two seeks daytime (but sometimes nighttime) care for my children, ages 3 and 11 months. Details below. 

JOB DESCRIPTION: Take care of the kids. Mostly, just play with them. I don’t care how or what, as long as it doesn’t involve sharp objects or moving vehicles. Feigning interest is fine. (I do it all the time). Actually, I don’t—which is why I need you. Please play with my kids. I don’t know how. 

Feed them per the 17-page schedule I left on the kitchen counter. It’s just a few things I wrote out and had leather bound. (A second copy is in the hall closet by the fire extinguisher). I know it says they eat a snack at 10 a.m., but they might need to eat earlier. But also maybe later. It depends on your ability to decipher their specific pitch of whine and timber of cry. You may want to push off snack time if everyone seems happy. But don’t wait too long! It’s tricky. You’ll figure it out. 

There’s food in the pantry my toddler said she liked yesterday. She probably won’t like it by the time you get here, though. The fridge is stocked with healthy choices they don’t really want. But they might. And there’s also the freezer—they love everything in there—so don’t waste too much time with the other options or they’ll get too hungry/cranky to wait for you to warm it up. Sorry! Kids are maddening. Try a banana and a muffin. (One hundred percent of the muffin will end up in crumbs on the floor, and the baby will demand another one in approximately 34 minutes). Oh my gosh, I almost forgot, please cut any grapes in half. Or even quarters. And if it’s not too much trouble, can you clean the muffin crumbs up off the floor and load the dishwasher? That would be a real lifesaver. 

NAPTIME: The little one likes to be swaddled— know you’ve never done this before, but it’s easy—like you’re wrapping a burrito into a straight jacket. Just make sure it’s not too tight, you don’t want to suffocate him! But don’t make it too loose. Yeah, suffocation again. And the toddler won’t sleep if her room is too hot, too cold, too dark, or too light. She needs the noise maker on, the nightlight on, the fan on, the hallway light off, and the door open 1 ½ to  2 inches. We have the video monitor, but please also check on her in real life just once, and mind the creaks in the hallway. She’s a light sleeper. If she doesn’t nap, the rest of our day is ruined. I’m sure you’ll be fine.  

HOURS: Variable. Based on my budget and subject to change. 

Ideally, you’ll arrive five to seven minutes before our agreed upon time. But if I text “we could really use you as soon as possible” at 5 a.m., consider coming early. Also, be open to sometimes coming later, like if I am elbow deep in a blowout diaper and the toddler just peed on the floor 10 minutes before you’re supposed to arrive and I still haven’t had coffee or showered. 

On occasion, I might call you off completely, like if any of the children have an unexplained fever or rash or nothing but decide the only possible position in which they can live through the day is with their clammy arms wrapped around my neck and their chubby fingers woven into my hair. My call will most definitely come at the last minute. 

Alternatively, I may ask you to stay all day, every day, for months on end. 

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE: Preferable, not mandatory. Do you have a pulse? Ha! 

VACATION DAYS: Please let me know, in writing, at least 6-8 weeks in advance when you need to take time off. Invariably, this day will coincide with the very important work meeting/doctor’s visit/bikini wax/hair appointment I’ve put off for the last two years. 

TRAVEL: There is a possibility of accompanying our family on an all expense trip to somewhere exotic (think: hotel with a pool within driving distance) to offer us nothing more but an extra set of hands from the witching hour until bedtime.  

REQUIREMENTS: High tolerance to repetition (ex. Goodnight Moon/Peek-a-boo for three hours straight), inoculation against the phrases I no wan it (even though they just asked for it) and Me do it (even though they totally, like, can’t), and an ability to mouth-breathe (diaper changes). 

BENEFITS: 

• Help yourself to the coffee. It won’t be fresh, but the microwave works great. Lots of half-eaten chicken nugget bites and smears of raspberry yogurt. All you can eat PB&J crusts!

• You get to go home.   

• The last benefit, largely unseen, is the potential day in your future when you are a mom who doesn’t live close to family, who feels as if she’s suffocating under proverbial swaddle blankets, who desperately seeks childcare out of fear she might literally crack under the weight of all this love and responsibility and repetition, and you’ll realize just how cherished you were by this family. 

Almost forgot! Must drive.  

Photo by Lottie Caiella.