Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment so an unnamed babysitter came over to help out. I trust this person completely, so I allowed him to take JD out in the car. But I completely mom micromanaged the situation.
When the babysitter arrived I told him not to leave the house until JD drank some juice and had some cheese and fruit. My kid needs snacks or he melts down. I then reminded babysitter to have JD pee prior to leaving the house. I provided babysitter with a water bottle and snack for the car. Then I left for the doctor. Sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, I called the babysitter.
“Did he eat his cheese and fruit?” I asked.
“No, he played with it,” babysitter said.
“Did you encourage him to eat it and make airplane noises or something?” I asked.
“No, he didn’t seem hungry,” babysitter said. Grrr. I would have negotiated ½ a cheese stick + 7 grapes.
“Where are you now?” I asked.
“Pulled over getting gas,” babysitter said. “I’m hungry,” I heard JD say in the background.
“This is why you give him a snack and make him pee prior to leaving,” I said. Did he at least pee?”
“I told him to, but he said he didn’t have to,” said babysitter.
“OMG, you still make him try!” I said. He always goes.
I hung up the phone, because I was called in for my appointment. My child was hungry with a full bladder. Great.
Forty-minutes later I checked in again, obviously.
“Did he eat?” I asked.
“No, we’re running errands,” babysitter said. “He did pee. In the parking lot.”
“WHAT!” I said. “When we left the mall I forgot to take him to pee and when we got outside he said he had to pee, so I let him pee. He’s a boy, it’s fine.”
“It’s fine to pee in the woods on a camping trip. It’s illegal to pee in a parking lot,” I said.
“Well we’re not in custody,” babysitter said. “We’re going to Wendy’s now.”
“It’s one! JD eats at Noon,” I said. “He's probably starving!”
“No, no, no I gave him Goldfish and he ate, like, the entire bag,” babysitter said.
“That’s a family size bag,” I said, SMH.
I hung up the phone and realized I am a control freak. So I got a manicure. JD was home an hour later with dried ketchup on his mouth. “To the bathroom, child,” I commanded.
Do you mom micromanage?