Babysitting

photo of a boy reading book

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I have known for quite a while I don’t like little people. That’s why I didn’t become an elementary teacher. I just couldn’t handle it. It drove me nuts.

Then I had my own child and I survived the little people stage. It wasn’t as challenging as I thought it would be, but I was glad when it was over. I definitely didn’t want to repeat it again. It’s one thing to watch your own young kids. It’s another to watch someone else’s, no matter who they are.

So, naturally, I hate babysitting.

But, I find that I am required to do so once in a while for a family member. Mostly it is because I feel obligated and can’t really say no, even though my selfish heart really tells me I should. I have no desire, at all, to spend time with little people. None.

Unfortunately, my sister needed some help this last Saturday and thus, I am obligated to watch my 3 year old niece. She is smart. She is relatively well behaved. I still don’t like it. I can’t wait for nap time to come.

Like really.

Nap time for her. Nap time for me.

Why do I say yes to this torture……??

It cuts not so deep

straight razor kit

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The morning ritual of shaving (something my face can’t handle on a daily basis so I alternate) has got to be one of the worst forms of torture. Can I just stop hair growth on my face?

For a tiny little razor, it sure makes my face bleed red. How is that possible?

The blades are minuscule, and for the most part they lay flat on my face. I try to keep the angle correct, yet somehow I end up with red spots and scrapes and my face looks like I was attacked by a lawnmower. Those little cuts are just enough to be annoying but not deep enough to be a medical emergency.

Ugh, I hate it. And yet, I don’t really have an alternative. So, the torture continues…every other day.

Shut up already!

Every office has at least one. Every school faculty has one too. I am sure every factory has one, I just haven’t worked in one. To be fair, it is probably true of just about every place of employment around the world.

What is that, you ask? The only co-worker that asks a question at the end of a staff meeting that makes the meeting go unnecessarily long. Am I right?

Can I ask one more question? Can I get some clarification on…? Would it be ok…? Why…?

The questions come in all shapes and sizes but what we all know is that the question could have been addressed in a private conversation or in a covered in an email. But instead, we are left sitting in a meeting we didn’t want to be in in the first place listening to people we don’t like or marginally tolerate ask questions we already know the answer to or don’t care to know.

Just shut up already and let us get back to work! Please stop the torture.

#smh

Your snore is anything but a bore

woman sleeping

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Someone in the bedroom last night was snoring and it wasn’t me.

Well, not really snoring so much as a honking. It’s very nasal-ly and not a deep-throated snore like most. Instead, it is loud enough to be heard and annoying enough to keep you awake but not obnoxious enough to wake everyone else in the house or neighborhood.

So, yeah, sleep last night was sparse to say the least.

To be fair, I snore too. But when I do it, I am at least serious about it.

Oh, and the dog snores too. So there’s that.

So, laying awake at night and staring at the ceiling is fun. Not.

Anyone else tortured by this affliction? Or are you doing the torturing?

Is this what Hell looks like?

apartment chair clean contemporary

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I think I was being punished yesterday.

Why, you ask?

I attempted what no rational adult should attempt.

I went shopping at IKEA with kids. OK, there, I said it. I have known it for a while but I am irrational.

It is a HUGE mistake to take your kids shopping with you at IKEA. They whine. They complain. They constantly have to be taken to the bathroom. They touch things. They run around. All while you are slowly losing your mind and repeating yourself incessantly. Yes, they do have a “play area” for kids. BUT, get this…apparently there are so many rules that few kids even qualify. And if they do, they can only stay there for an hour. Yeah, you read that right, AN HOUR!! It take like three hours just to walk through the store, let alone try and shop.

No rational conversations can be had. No decisions can be made.

All you wanna do when you’re done at the place is smash your head against something hard until you pass out. Yes, that must be what Hell will be like…eternally shopping with your kids.

Here’s an IDEA…IKEA should be a kid free zone.