The Sitter (Cue Hitchcockian Music)
When she introduces herself by shaking your hand and saying, "peace and blessings," all while sporting a Bush = Hitler illustration onto her messenger satchel--a little weird right?
(And hey, you all know how I feel about Bush. But I can assure you I wouldn't show up at a new job sporting a two-foot long cartoon rendering of him side by side with the fuhrer.)
And when she talks about her children, and then you ask her how old her children are and she says, "well they're not really my children but when you take care of them like I do they're your children" but then later tells you that she does have children--a little weird, right?
And when she doesn't stop telling you how nice everything is, and how nice your furniture is, and how nice your art is, and how nice it would be if she had the money for such nice things--a little weird, right?
And when she calls your cell phone a mere half hour into your SigOth's big thirtieth birthday celebration for a non-emergency; actually a query as to where some teething biscuits might be long after the baby was supposed to be sleeping--a little weird, right? Oh, and she didn't ask because the baby was fussy or teething or anything, but because, "well I just thought it would be nice for her to have one. I mean, babies like that stuff. Hey, I'd like one myself right now if you have one."
And when you get home and ask what time the baby went to sleep and she can't quite remember but "maybe 10...no, 9:30...no wait, somewhere near 9. Or 9:30" and you ask why, because after all, you told her to put the baby to sleep around 8 and she answers, "yeah, I tried but she just wanted to hang with me. So we hung for a while."--a little weird, right?
I mean, just a little?
Oy. This mothering thing is going to be the end of me.