SAA Ep. #67: SPRING BREAK SURVIVAL

When most people think of Spring Break, they either think of time off, fun vacations, or of fond memories of their teenage years when they went on wild and crazy road trips to the beach.  I work in drop-in childcare, so when I think of Spring Break, I think of beating my head against a brick wall.

Cuz let’s face it.  When school’s out, a lot of people still have to work.  And those people bring their kids to drop-in childcare centers.  At the same time.  After all the craziness that took place this week, I really feel like I deserve a t-shirt or something that says, “I Survived Spring Break at the Drop-In Center!”

Okay, okay, so it really was a lot of fun.  In fact, I think that for a kid, spending Spring Break at the drop-in center might be good training for the wild and crazy road trips they’re probably going to take when they’re teenagers. 

I was never cool enough to go on one of those wild and crazy Spring Break road trips, but I saw a movie about one of those wild and crazy Spring Break road trips once, so I figure I know all there is to know about them.  Basically, you have a lot of young people dancing and running around, whilst making as much noise as humanly possible.  Cars are zipping by, heedless of pedestrians.  Beach balls are zooming through the air, knocking over anyone who dares to get in the way.  People are doing weird and potentially dangerous things (like trying to race the riding cars down the slide), just because they can.  Yeah.  It’s just like that at the drop-in center during Spring Break. 

We even had the obligatory Spring Break streakers and flashers, those rebel toddlers who decided pants were optional…we had to start doing "pants checks" at the bathroom doors....

And then there were the kids who couldn’t hold their apple juice, the ones that partied just a little too hard.  The other bouncers child care providers and I even had to take matters into our own hands a few times.  “Johnny, no more juice.  You’ve had enough.”  “I tew-woo when I haz enuff!” Johnny cried, right before passing out on a pillow in the movie center.

A few kids even had to go in time out for their reckless driving on the riding cars.  You’ve never lived until you’ve issued a DUI to a seven-year-old.

Some kids tried to sneak some illegal, hazardous substances into the facility, but our staff is highly trained to detect and eliminate any potential breeches.  “What’s that in your lunch box, Sally?  That looks like a sandwich.  What’s on that sandwich, Sally?  That’s not sun butter, is it, Sally.  No.  That’s not soy butter, either.  I know what kind of sandwich that is.  You know, too, don't you, Sally?  Do you know how many kids we have with peanut allergies, Sally?  Hmm?  Do you see the sign on the door that says we’re a peanut-free facility?  Sigh.  You leave me no choice.  Looks like we’re going to have to call your mom and ask her what she wants us to order you from Subway, because your sandwich is contraband.  Hand over the sandwich, Sally, nice and slow, and nobody gets hurt.”

Now, the saddest sight I saw all week was this one particular two-year-old.  You could tell this kid had done some serious Spring Break partying in her younger days.  But those days are over.  Now, two years old, can’t hold down a job, no education, no spouse, not even potty trained.  Life for her is pretty grim.  I saw her slumped over in the corner, crying pathetically into a box of raisins that some generous soul had been kind enough to give her.  I thought to myself, “For a toddler, it doesn’t get any lower than this.”  Of course, it probably does.  I mean, the substance abuse didn’t start with raisins, and it probably won’t end there.  It probably started with Cheerios, the gateway drug of toddlers.  The first handful is always free.  Once addicted to Cheerios, many kids move on to the harder stuff.  First, it’s a few Cheerios here, a box of raisins there.  Before you know it, the Cheerios and raisins aren’t enough.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she moves on to Goldfish crackers, especially with all the dealers here in the area.  It’s a sad, sad life. 

Yeah.  You go ahead and cry into your raisins, kid.

The really interesting thing about this week at the drop-in center was that we had a new trainee.  Trainees are so adorable in the way they have energy and care and want to do everything perfectly.  Don’t get me wrong—I genuinely care about the kids and try to do my job well.  It’s just that during Spring Break week, it becomes necessary to kick it into “Survival Mode.”  I don’t think too far ahead; I just do what needs to be done when it needs to be done.  My main goal: No one dies. 

That’s very important.  Yes.

Of course, there are lots of secondary goals, such as “Remember to feed the animals children” and “Investigate any unusual smells, puddles, etc.,” “Make sure Timmy isn’t trying to race the riding car down the slide again,” and “For the love of Mr. Potato Head, get that child to stop screaming!” 

But in “Survival Mode,” I don’t have time to make sure that everything is perfect.  Neither do the other workers.  So when Perky Trainee encountered my “Survival Mode,” I think it kind of scared her a little.  And it should scare her.  It should scare her a lot.

Because I was once Perky Trainee.  Once I thought that everything could be perfect.  Once, I too, had a dream.  I had a dream of 40 children playing quietly and peacefully together, giving the other workers and I adequate time to deep clean the entire facility and do all the administrative work whilst dancing to show tunes, turning cartwheels, and flinging handfuls of white rose petals into the air.  Yes, I once had a dream, Perky Trainee.  I had a dream. 

But my soul has died. 

Yours is next.

Toss back a handful of Goldfish crackers, sweetie, and get used to it.

The good thing about “Survival Mode” is that it forces one to be creative in difficult situations.  For instance, during snack time one day this past week, I decided there were too many kids to bother with conventional snack time things—like tables, chairs, plates, cups…and real food.  No, no.  Inspired by the genius of a fellow worker, I had all the kids sit down in a large mob on the carpet.  Then I started flinging packets of fruit snacks (which aren’t real food—they’re like glorified gummy bears—which might be an even harder kid drug than Goldfish) into their midst.  The kids liked this, though they seemed a bit weirded out.  I suspect they might have been less weirded out had I not gone a bit crazy and started exclaiming, “FRUIT SNACKS!  FRUIT SNACKS FOR EVERYONE!  YES!  HAHA!  FRUIT SNACKS FOR THE CHILDREN!  MUWAHAHAHA!” in a semi-creepy voice.  For no apparent reason.

I made sure that every child got exactly one packet of fruit snacks, though a small part of me wondered what would have happened if I had just thrown one packet of fruit snacks in the air and let them fight over it.  That sounds horrible, but I would only be doing them a favor.  It would have been excellent preparation for the annual celebration of kids beating each other senseless in a free-for-all melee to locate and acquire plastic eggs.

Yes.  The main school system here was kind enough to schedule their Spring Break the week before Easter, just so all the drop-in childcare workers would end their “I Survived” week with one last SHABANG!  Wasn’t that nice of them?

You know what I think?  I think that Easter Egg Hunts can almost, almost be compared with the Hunger Games.  (And maybe I’m slightly obsessed with the Hunger Games.  And maybe I’ve considered naming a future pet “Peeta Mellark.”  And maybe I wish Mockingjays were real because I kind of sort of want one (potentially named Peeta Mellark).  And maybe I want to be Effie Trinket for Halloween.  And maybe I’ve been braiding my hair more often lately because it makes me feel like Katniss Everdeen.  And maybe I’M AWESOME DON’T JUDGE ME!)  

I mean, you’ve got these kids hunting eggs.  Sounds simple and innocent enough, right?  But, dude, kids take Easter Egg hunts pretty seriously.  I mean, I’ve seen kids risk permanent self injury in order to grab an egg before their “friend” can reach it.  I’ve seen kids shamelessly steal eggs from other kids’ baskets.  I’ve seen kids who seemed willing to fight to the death over a pastel colored egg that might hold the coveted Starburst candy, or might hold the lame stickers.  The kids don’t even know what’s inside, but they want it.  They want it bad. 

And luckily, at the drop-in center, parents aren’t there for the Easter Egg hunts—but I’ve witnessed parents do some ridiculous stuff in order to make sure their little Suzie gets more eggs than the neighbor’s kid.  You wanna see some good wrestling?  Forget that stuff they show on Spike TV.  Just go to a nice family Easter Egg hunt. 

…or come spend your next Spring Break at the drop-in center.  You, too, can be a Survivor!  You won’t get a tshirt, but there’s Goldfish.

The first handful is free.

Disclaimer (AKA the stuff I feel the need to say so I hopefully won’t get fired): Work was hectic this week, but it was also a lot of fun for both the kids and for me.  I was thankful for an opportunity to see many familiar kids/families I haven’t seen in a while, as well as meet new kids/families.  I enjoyed playing some group games with the kids that we don’t usually play.  There were so many kids of different backgrounds, ages, and personalities, and it was awesome seeing how they interacted.  The kids all went home, not only alive (always a good thing), but also mostly happy, well-fed, and (when applicable) with dry/clean diapers (and pants).  The drop-in center(s) where I work are safe, clean, fun places for kids to play.  The staff is attentive and caring.  I will tell you that the “Survival Mode” bit is true—sometimes we have to just do what it takes to keep everyone safe, but under normal circumstances, the “Survival Mode” is not needed.  Any crying/unhappy children described above were not being neglected or ignored in any way.  They were just in need of a good nap—and possibly a box of Sunmaids….  I can laugh about the things that happened this week, and write about them in a humorous way, because life is funny and kids are funny.  Life with kids is even funnier.  And I’m just grateful for the amazing privilege of caring for the some of the most precious little people in the world.  …I’m more grateful when those precious little people aren’t screaming their heads off, but…that’s why God invented ibuprofen.  …and chocolate.  …and coffee.  …and, yes, Goldfish crackers.

SAA Ep. #66: What WE Learned In Preschool Today

If there was ever a time when I didn't refer to a toilet as a "potty" or a minor injury as a "boo-boo," I really can't remember when it was.  Working with small children for the past decade or so has definitely taken a toll on my vocabulary.

Sometimes I get the impression that childcare workers believe themselves to be royalty.  Maybe it's because we get to boss our little "subjects" around all day.  I don't know.  But it seems strange to me that every single childcare worker I've ever met uses the "royal we."  "WE don't hit our friends.  WE keep our shoes on at school.  WE share our toys with everyone.  WE keep our food to ourselves.  WE always listen to our teachers."  Um...why do I include myself in all those directions? 

I suppose it helps the kid relate to the teacher if the teacher is including herself in the direction.  If the kid believes that the rules are for everyone, he or she might be more likely to obey.  But probably not.  And half the time, when I'm using the "royal we," I'm not even being honest. 

"WE don't throw fits when WE don't get our way."

Actually...yes WE do.  And when WE do, WE have to go sit in the crying corner. 

I have one in my bedroom.  It's awesome.

Since I work with particularly small children, I like to play a little game with them--mainly because I can get away with it.  This game is called, "LET'S use ridiculously big words for no apparent reason and see what happens."  Like the other day, we were talking about shapes.  My one and two-year-olds kept bringing me shapes from the shape-sorter.  They brought me a red circle, so I said, "Look!  A red circle!"  They brought me a blue square, so I said, "Look!  A blue square!"  I think you get the idea.

Well, then a kid brought me another shape.  I'm not sure how this one ended up in our "basic preschool shapes" shape-sorter, but there it was.  So I said, "Look!  A yellow trapezoid!  Can you say 'trapezoid'?"  Most of the kids just smiled at me, because they're smart enough to know I was just being weird again (they catch on quick).  The youngest of the group, though, raised her one year old chin in the air and exclaimed, "BLUP-BLE-BO!" 

Close enough, kid.  Close enough.  My bad for trying to teach you middle school geometry when you're not even out of diapers.

I also like to have in-depth conversations with this particular child about the artificial sweeteners in her yogurt.  I gotta say, she's a good listener, but she doesn't have much to say about aspertame or sucralose.  Probably because her mouth is too full of said artificially sweetened yogurt.  ...or because she's not even two yet.

Sometimes I really get a kick out of the things I hear myself saying while working with small children.  There was one day in particular when I had to use the same phrase in THREE different childcare environments on the SAME day.  It's not a phrase one normally even uses once a day--or ever.  The phrase, "It's not nice to sit on your friends."  Yes.  Yes.  That SHOULD go without saying.  It must have been "Sit on Your Friend Day," and I missed the memo.  Again.  Just wait till next year, when "Sit On Your Friend Day" rolls around again.  Save a spot for me...on your face.

But today at preschool, I think I said the most amazing thing ever. 

What did WE learn in preschool today?

"WE can't just go around taking babies from people and putting them in OUR mouths."

Preschool lesson #1: Kidnapping is bad.
Preschool lesson #2: So is cannibalism.

I guess it's never too early to learn...

SAA Ep.#62: Unforeseen Occupational Hazards

There are certain ideas most people have when they think of the childcare field.  Some people might have happy images in their minds of happy children sitting in a happy circle around a happy teacher, while happy songs are happily being sung about happy people who like happy things and think happy thoughts. 

Yeah.  I’m not sure where some people got that idea, because in reality, working with children is kind of like living inside a blender. 

While I truly love all of the childcare jobs I have, and I love the children I watch, there are definitely some drawbacks.   Most of these occupational hazards, as I like to call them, are pretty obvious.  Kids whine.  They fight.  They cry.  They poke and tap and jab at you with their persistent little fingers.  Their bodies leak various liquid-type substances.  They play with poo sometimes.  They make messes when they eat.  They get into stuff.  As Shawn Spencer (seriously, I am far too addicted to Psych) once said, “I think children are sticky.”

But in the past several years of working with children, I’ve noticed that there are some other occupational hazards involved in the childcare field.  These are occupational hazards I did not anticipate.  I will now list and briefly discuss five of these unforeseen occupational hazards.  And you will now read them (if you want to).  And I will now stop stating the obvious for no apparent reason….

1) Leading the Monkeys

My love of all things Dragon burst forth in abundance earlier this year, as we celebrated the “2012: The Year of the Dragon.”  I went a little crazy (who me?) and did Dragon crafts and coloring sheets with the kids at work.  While passing out the Dragon coloring sheets, I was talking with one of my coworkers.  I said, “I wish I had been born in the ‘Year of the Dragon.’  I was born in the ‘Year of the Monkey.’” 

My coworker smiled and happily exclaimed, “So was I!”

I looked at my coworker very carefully and did some mental math.  I knew there was no way she was my age, but I didn’t realize how large the age gap was.  Tentatively, I asked her, “You were born in 1992, weren’t you?” 

She nodded enthusiastically.

I nodded, but not quite so enthusiastically.  “I wasn’t.  I was born in 1980.  So that means I’m twelve years older than you are.”

One of the kids shouted out, “HEY!  I was born in the ‘Year of the Monkey,’ too!”

“2004?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“Great,” I said.  “I’m twenty-four years older than you.  There are three generations of ‘Year of the Monkey’ people here.  And I get to be the oldest.”

The kid said, “You’re so lucky!  The oldest monkey gets to be the leader of the group.  I saw that on Tarzan.  So you get to be the leader of the monkeys.”

“Just what I always wanted,” I said.  “Yay me.”

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #1: Feeling Old.

2) Can I Call You ‘Mommy?’

Since I’m not quite as young as I used to be, I’m finding myself in a really unusual predicament.  A lot of the parents of the kids I watch are now younger than I am.  This isn’t really that big of a deal, but it leads to some awkwardness. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like a grown up because I’m not married and don’t have kids of my own, but sometimes I feel a little uncomfortable calling parents by their first names.  Even if I’m older than the parents, I sometimes feel younger than them because they’ve got all this responsibility that I don’t have.  So sometimes I don’t really know if it’s okay to call a parent by his or her first name. 

One of my coworkers likes to just refer to all parents as ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ so she never has to use their names at all.  When greeting a parent, she says, “How’s Mom doing today?” or something like that.  Most parents don’t mind that at all, but I don’t like it.  I just feel a little more awkward calling someone “Mom” than I do calling them by their first name, unless that someone is my actual mother. 

But then, sometimes I have a feeling that this awkwardness goes both ways.  I’ve noticed that some parents always call me “Miss Ruth,” even when their kids aren’t around.  I guess they don’t know if it’s okay to just call me by my name, either. 

There is a parent that always calls me “Miss ROOF,” because that’s what her kid calls me.  And I think that’s the most amazing thing ever.  Just don’t call me that unless you have an adorable kid who calls me that, or there will be trouble.

Usually, if I’m uncertain, I just don’t address the parent by any name, which can lead to other unforeseen occupational hazards….

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #2: Awkward Name Confusion.

3) Wait…Parent?  Parent who?

Sometimes, while avoiding addressing the parents by any name, I slip into another awkward situation.  Sometimes, I slip into this habit even when I know the parents and know how to address them.

Maybe it’s because I’m short, but I have a tendency to look down when I see kids.  I look down and talk to the kids, and sometimes I forget to look back up again and talk to the adults.  Sometimes I never even acknowledge a parent is there; I speak only to the child (maybe because I relate better to children).  What’s worse is when I don’t speak directly to the parent, but instead have a vicarious conversation with the parent while talking to the child.

“Sammy, did your mom take you to the zoo yesterday?  Did your mom buy you ice cream?  Don’t you just love your mom?  Your mom sure loves you a lot.  What was your mom’s favorite animal?  Were you nice to your mom at the zoo?  Did your mom buy you anything at the gift shop?  Did your mom like the reptile house as much as you did?  I’ll bet she didn’t.”  It really is too easy to have a conversation with a parent without even talking to a parent.  Scary, really.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #3: Developing the Inability to Communicate With Anyone Taller than 4’2.

4) AAAAHHHH!  I NEED More Sunflowers!!!!

If I didn’t work with children, I might have never heard of the game “Plants VS. Zombies,” and even if I had heard of it, I would have thought it silly.  Okay, so it is silly.  The silliness of it did not prevent me from getting completely, hopelessly addicted to the game. 

It all started out so innocently.  I was watching some of the kids play it, and eventually I understood the concept of the game.  I thought it looked interesting, so I downloaded the trial version at home so I could see what it was all about.  Big mistake. 

I was addicted to “Plants VS. Zombies” for months.  Even now, when I see a child playing it, I start getting a little twitchy.  If a child isn’t particularly good at it, part of me wants to seize the mouse from their little fingers and strategically plant peashooters that will actually protect my his house from the huge wave of zombies that is approaching. 

…and I have to walk away….

I’ve had similar experiences with “Angry Birds,” “Insane Aquarium,” “Feeding Frenzy,” “Fashion Craze,” and “Diner Dash.”  …not to mention Super Mario Kart and Lego Star Wars. 

This is why I’m not allowed to have a Wii.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #4: Becoming a Children’s Video Game Addict

5) Disobedient Children!  I told you to STOP growing!

I’ve worked in the same drop-in childcare center for six years.  That means that I used to change the diapers of some kids who are now EIGHT years old.  Sometimes I tell the kids this because I like to see their reactions.  Usually it’s denial.

Yes, I’m blessed that I’ve formed some really amazing relationships with families over the years, but it is heartbreaking to see a child grow from little to big.  Kids who once thought I was the coolest thing ever now act as if they don’t even know my name.  I don’t know how parents deal with it with their own kids, because I get really emotional about it sometimes.  But I feel better when I realize that I’m not the one who’s going to have to pay for their college in a few very short years.

And of course, there are still those rare kids who still think I’m the coolest thing ever, as long as I keep quiet about that “I used to change your diapers” thing.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #5: Growing Pains

Are there any Unforeseen Occupational Hazards you’ve noticed in your job (whatever it might be) or in your own child-related experiences? 

SSA Ep. # 30: The Low Blood Sugar Monster

Today at work, I got really hungry.  I've been dieting all year...and I dieted a lot last year until Thanksgiving and Christmas took over my eating life.  Anyway, I've kind of had a rhythm going.  Breakfast, snack, snack, (late) lunch, snack, snack, dinner, then NO MORE EATING TILL BREAKFAST TOMORROW.  I've known exactly how many calories to eat and exactly when to eat them.

But lately, I've gotten pretty close to my weight loss goal.  I wouldn't mind losing another five or ten pounds (preferably ALL from my tummy and/or thighs).  But I'm starting to notice that my body is changing a little.  It's shifting from "OH HECK YEAH!  LET'S BURN OFF ALL THIS FAT!" mode to "actually, we kind of would like to keep just a little of this fat, if that's okay with you" mode.  What that means is that I'm getting hungrier.  My body is demanding more calories. 

But I'm a creature of habit, and today I just didn't want to deviate from my snack/meal routine.  The problem was, I was at work with a whole lot of little short people (aka children) running around.  And I got hungry.  I got very hungry.

No worries.  This story does NOT end with me eating a child.

But it did end up with me turning into the Low Blood Sugar Monster.  This monster is no where near as fun as the Tickle Monster...or the Hug Monster...or the Brainzzz-Eating Monster.

Yes, today, without warning, I turned into the Low Blood Sugar Monster.  Well, okay...so there were warnings.  For one thing, I was ravenously hungry, and should have, well, eaten something, instead of being so determined to stick to my eating schedule.  Then, I was also ridiculously cold.  I'm usually a pretty hot-natured person, so the fact that I was having to steal a kids' blankie to trap in my body heat should have clued me in that there was a problem.

And then came the really interesting part.  One of the other grown-ups was trying to tell me that one of the kid's parents had come.  I heard her the first time she said it, but I couldn't find the child.  So I started walking towards the front of the room to see if the kid was up there.  The other grown-up kept saying "So-and-so's mom is here" as if I couldn't understand her.  I nodded to let her know I understood.  Again, this grown-up said, "SO-AND-SO'S MOM IS HERE!"

Well, the Low Blood Sugar Monster came out in full force.  "I KNOW!" the Low Blood Sugar Monster growled fiercely.  "I CAN'T FIND SO-AND SO!"

The other grown-up realized that I had transformed from mild-mannered child care professional into a dangerous beast of some sort, and immediately left the lobby area to join me in the play area.  She was probably running an escape plan in her mind..."How do I get the kids away from the evil Miss Ruth without alerting her to my plans?"

Then she pointed.  Little so-and-so whose mom had just arrived was standing directly behind me.

I decided it was time to go have a snack.

Later, after my blood sugar and sanity had returned to somewhat stable levels, the other grown-up described the Low Blood Sugar Monster scene to me from her perspective.  It was frocked with humor.  That's right, I just used the phrase "frocked with humor."  Get over it. 

She described the Low Blood Sugar Monster as looking somewhat like a bag lady, with her hair tossed up into a messy bun and a raggedy child's blanket around her shoulders.  She didn't seem to have a very good grasp of the English language since she didn't realize she was supposed to be getting a child that was standing directly behind her.  When she attempted to communicate, her "words" came out in a series of loud, angry, gutteral growls.  She was like a mental patient.

All in all, I'd say the Low Blood Sugar Monster would be a LOT of fun at parties.

On a side note, when I finally did get my snack, this kid came up and asked me to help him with a Wii game.  I told him this:

"Have your parents ever told you that it's dangerous to disturb an animal while its eating?"

The kid shrugged.  "Yeah."

I smiled sweetly at him and said, "Well, don't disturb me while I'm eating, either.  I will be with you in a moment."

I think I need to start upping my calorie intake, lest the Low Blood Sugar Monster make another appearance.  Hooray for eating more!

SAA Ep. # 29: Adventures in...Child Care Professionaling?

Before I go any further, let's get one thing straight.  I am NOT a babysitter.  I am a child care provider.  A child care professional, if you will.  What does that mean? 

It means I'm a glorified babysitter.

If you had told me eleven years ago that I would be working in childcare for a living, I would have laughed and laughed at you.  It wasn't that I hated kids, but I wasn't aware that I liked them very much.  I only realized I liked them due to a coincidence.  ...if you believe in coincidences, which I don't.

I spent five summers of my life working at Ridgecrest Baptist Conference Center.  I knew about this place because my dad worked there way back in the 60's, and my sister worked there one summer in the late 90's.  I had never had a job before (and I was 20 years old...pathetic?  Yes.), so I figured I'd give it a shot.  The first summer, they stuck me in the laundry department.  So I folded towels and sheets for an entire summer, and for some odd reason, I liked it.  So when the next summer rolled around, I decided to go back and I requested the laundry department again.

Imagine my surprise when I got a phone call from a friendly volunteer lady asking me what size t-shirt I would need for the preschool department.  I was like, "Um, I didn't know I was going to be in the preschool department.  I don't really like kids.  Can I be in laundry again?"  But she was just a friendly volunteer lady who didn't know anything about it, so I figured I'd just suck it up for a summer and work with kids.

But that summer, to my amazement, I found out I really liked kids.  I found out that they were pretty much awesome.  And I went back to that summer preschool program three times after that. 

If you count those summers and all the odd childcare jobs I've had, including the almost five years of being a nanny (for three different families) and the over five year gig at the drop-in childcare center, I've been a child care professional for about a decade.

Wow.

And now that I think about it, a person of my particular talents is probably pretty well equipped to be a childcare professional.  I can sing like Mary Poppins and/or Maria from the Sound of Music (I can't magically jump into chalk sidewalk pictures or make playclothes out of curtains, but nobody's perfect...except for Mary Poppins).  I can accurately mimic the sounds of a chicken, a cat, a dog, a frog, a duck, an elephant, a horse, AND a velociraptor (my version of Old McDonald is the stuff of legend).   I can make practically anything out of fuse beads.  Oh, and I'm BFFs with Santa Claus AND the Easter Bunny, which isn't a talent, per se, but it's still pretty cool to a five year old.

But over the years, I've learned some things.  I've learned that kids are full more bodily fluids than I even knew existed, and I've learned that I actually DO have the ability to hold back my gag reflex long enough to clean them up (most of the time).  I've learned that "Tom and Jerry" has magical powers to keep kids of all ages entertained for more than ten minutes.  I've learned that the pizza man being late with his delivery IS a life or death situation.  I've learned that kids say the most hilarious things ever.  I've learned that strong-willed children are often my favorites (yes, I have favorites)...probably because I'm strong-willed, too.

There have been scary things to happen to me in childcare.  Like the time I went to the bathroom and heard the girls I watch say, "What will happen if we throw it down the stairs?"  I'm stuck on the potty (yes, I call it a potty), unable to move, wondering what they're trying to throw down the stairs.  Their mother's vase?  The television set?  The betta fish?  Their little sister?  Turns out, it was just a hacky sack...but I had a mini panic attack before I was able to figure that out.

Let me be honest, here.  I work three (or four, if you count MOPS...or five if you count the random babysitting jobs I sometimes do) jobs in the childcare field.  That gets stressful.  That gets tiring.  Sometimes, it just gets downright old.

But despite all the stress and frustration that comes with taking care of kids, I really am grateful to have so many wonderful kids (and parents) in my life.  The kids at the preschool where I teach (and by teach, I have to admit that my skills are limited to shapes, numbers, colors, animal noises, and "It isn't nice to sit on your friends") just had a music/arts program this past week.  After my class did their portion of the program (they're all 2 or younger, so they basically just stood on stage while I prayed they wouldn't cry...or fall off the stage), I just went into the audience and watched the other kids sing and dance.  I was suddenly just overwhelmed with the knowledge that God's given me the opportunity to love so many kids.

Yes, I would like to eventually be able to support myself just with my writing.  I'd love to be able to call myself a full-time author.  Right now, though, I'm very much enjoying my life with all these fantastic kids.  I get to help shape these little lives, and that's a huge responsibility.  It's also a great joy.

If I ever do get to the point where I can quit my jobs and just write for a living, I have a feeling I'll miss working with kids.  But for now, I'm just loving my life and being VERY grateful for "Tom and Jerry."