I am a really picky babysitter. I used to love it- being in charge, little kids, mommy practice? Sign me up man! But the older I've gotten the less I've enjoyed it. Unless I'm with the right kids, that is.
There is a handful of families that I just love babysitting for. Their kids are easy and fun, and I just love them. This weekend I babysat three different times, and for the first time in a while I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Lately I've been wondering if I'll be able to handle being a mom (I've got a long time before that happens, believe me I know, but you know, a girl wonders every know and then. especially when her career of preference is a stay at home mom…). I'm not exactly the most patient girl around, and when I babysit my siblings, I kinda just let them fend for themselves. But when I babysat this weekend, I remembered why I want to grow up and be a mom.
I walked up to the first babysitting job on Friday to kids standing in the doorway calling out, "hi Mallory!" I successfully fed them and had fun dishing out food and cleaning up after. After they had gotten their pjs on, I sat on a bed with all of the kids around me and read them stories in funny voices. And being the photo junkie I am, I asked them to take selfies with me, and they happily obliged (is it still a selfie if you're not the only one in it? it's the question of the week at our house. we're deep, i know).
I didn't get photos with the other two families, but they're all pretty cute too. You know when you're holding a baby and they're snuggling into you, and they're keeping you warm and you just want to hug them tight and kiss their little chubby cheeks and rock them back and forth forever and ever and ever? That happened a couple of times this weekend. It was awesome.
Also, I got hit by a wave of major nostalgia. On Saturday I was playing with my favorite little girls (besides my sisters of course!) and they were pulling out their Fisher Price dolls and dollhouse, the same dolls that my friend Jenna and I used to play with when we were seven. I remember stuffing Target bags with those dolls, as well as American Girl dolls and Sweet Streets, and then biking down the street to Jenna's, where we would play dolls and jump on her trampoline while listening to the Cheetah Girls soundtrack. Well, not so much jumping as walking very carefully. We each had our cd players held out as steady as possible, and then we would walk in slow circles around the trampoline because if you moved the cd player too much, it would skip a bit in the song. Hi-tech, I know. We also synchronized our songs, starting the same one at the same time, so we could sing at the top of our lungs together. We knew every word of every song (i don't want to be like cinderella anyone?).
Then Rascal Flatts came on Pandora as I did my calc homework, and that made me think of my cousin Chris, who is currently on a mission for our church in Brazil. He gets home in May. He was a senior when I was a freshman. We played duets in piano recitals every May, and basically he was that super cool older cousin that you adore, but you would never say that out loud for fear of sounding like the silly baby cousin. I think I've gotten over that now, but I still think he's pretty awesome. He loved Rascal Flatts back in the day. He had a red hoodie with their name on it that he was so proud of. And then Matthew, who is his little brother and one of my very very best friends in the whole wide world ever, and I had a heart to heart on Sunday about how much we've changed and grown up. Sniff sniff. Good grief, all of this talk of graduation and college at school is really getting to me. I'm going to be a big sappy mess by the time I leave!
In other news, today was a good day in crossfit! Like a roll your windows down and blast country music on the way home kind of good day (because country music is pump up music, am i right? and thank you weather for cooperating and letting it be almost warm! only in georgia can it snow for two days and then be in the fifties two days later). The workout was terrible, you felt like dying, but a good kind of death, ya know? And this girl has a new one rep max on front squats, holla!
Sincerely, mad
P.S. Remember that post I wrote about bangs? You've probably noticed, but I decided not to be scissor happy and let my hair grow out. And yes, I wrote this post script just so I'd have an excuse to say scissor happy. Judge me.
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