Yesterday, I kicked our nanny-caregiver-lazy woman who sits on her butt all day and says she's watching my child to the curb. It's been a-brewing and, yesterday, in the death throes of sickness, I gave her fat ass the boot.
Lemme give you the back story: The booted fat-ass is fellow mom, whose kid is in the same grade, though not the same class, as my daughter. From the moment I met her, she was so desperate. Desperate to be my friend. Desperate to get the children together because, you know, kids who are the same age, automatically get along swimmingly. "Come over! We've got a big ol' play room and we can just talk." Sure, I'll call ya is an old stand-by that still works 'cause you know I never did. Call her that is.
Fast forward to December, I want to quit taking evening classes and try a little daytime action, again. So, I talk to fat-ass about it and she's gushing all over herself. "I'd love to watch Bubba. I've got a big ol' play room full of toys. It'll be great!" I tell her what our schedule will be, she lets me know she watches another child but "it shouldn't be a problem."
Two months later, it's a problem. Or, rather, she's the problem. She told me she would provide meals for my children. She fed my children Froot Loops, PB&J, and frosting. PB&J I can handle but Froot Loops are sugar trying hard to be Cheerio-s, which is we don't buy them or eat them in our house, and frosting. It's frosting! It's whipped sugar. Why not shove Pixie sticks in their mouths all day long?!
I'm not Martha Stewart but I do provide a hot breakfast for my children most days of the week, either oatmeal, Belgian Waffles or a warm Pita with scrambled eggs and cheese (way better than a Pop Tart and just as portable). I expected my caregiver to do the same.
I also did not expect my caregiver to turn on the Disney channel and let the tv be the damn babysitter. What the fuck?! In our household, television watching is severely limited during the week (as in one hour per day) and on the weekends, we carefully choose what the kids watch (no whiny Caillou, that's for damn sure). Plus, we don't have cable, so PBS is pretty much it.
And we actually DO have a big playroom and it's filled with lots of toys that require very few batteries and lots of imagination, so once my children had run through all her battery-powered toys they were left wondering where there "real toys" were. She was stumped.
Also, fat-ass has a dog and Bubba is really afraid of dogs. Oh, no. He loves the dog. He's fine when you leave. Really? So, Bubba screaming and clinging to me and telling me he's afraid of the dog is really him...loving the dog? Okay. You ARE as dumb as you look.
The final straw came recently when she accused me of being inconsistent in my scheduling because the kids are not there every single day I've scheduled (we've been sick for a month!), so she decided to give the other family, for whom she provides childcare, priority over ours, which means their three children come before my three children. So, if I need care on a day they have already "reserved," I'm shit-outta-luck. SOL is kicking in right. about. now. Spring Break? Can't help you. In-service school day? Oh! Nope.
Tell me, how the hell can she be mad at us for being sick? Did you want me to bring my children to your house when they were spewing green snot and toxic waste 'cuz those were good times, lemme tell you!
Ugh. I'm so over it. So, I fired her ass. I told her we would not need her anymore. New childcare plan: Daddy. Yup, my fearless husband is going to take on the child wrangling for the two days I'm in class. Doing so will use every single minute of his vacation time, but at least I can trust the person on the other end of the frosting spoon.