Do you wanna date my avatar? oh brilliant life.

Felicia Day and cast of The Guild introduced us to their brilliant music video "Do you Wanna Date My Avatar?" at Comic Con. It’s super catchy (I’ve had the chorus stuck in my head for 5 hours) and in the way that is Felicia Day – hilarious.

(Let me know if you can see the video) the link is

This summer I was left in the wake of the economic crisis unable to get even a low level entry job (okay, I didn’t try too hard to go below retail. I wouldn’t be able to handle myself in Fast Food. I gag at the smell of a lot of food). It wasn’t all that bad since I continued the age old teenage vocation: babysitting (or when you tell other people – "nannying").

The job pays $7-8 an hour. I’ve heard of parents dishing out as high as $15 an hour, but that is mostly in rich areas in which I do not live. I don’t think a teenager can justify a $10-$15 salary for a job that often involves naps, reading books, and hide and go seek. I feel like it violates the very nature of our job – letting the parents go out for a good time who are already paying for a movie or nice restaurant. I always let the parents decide how much they can afford to pay me and what they think is fair. (One lady told me her daughter lives in Orange County and pays out $15 an hour while she works as a summer school teacher and the cost of babysitting is barely letting her break even with the income from her job. That is ridiculous.)

Trust me, I know that children aren’t that easy. My sister and I have been babysitting our main source of income for 2 years. He is 3, adorable, and a friggin’ spawn of the devil. He is super smart, but likes to bite, throw things (food and toys), and refuse to do anything you ask just on principle. John has been kicked out of three preschools already for not listening and once for biting (playfully) a kid in his class. John’s mother just had a baby girl and John is uber jealous. His potty training has regressed and he refuses to take naps (god help us when he doesn’t take a nap).  The potty training issue this summer is his most frustrating trait.

At the community pool:
*John is clutching at his crotch – the international "potty dance"*
Me: "John, do you have to go potty?"
John: "Nope".
Me: "Let’s go anyway. I need you to watch the door while I go."
*in restroom* *John on toilet*
Me: "John…I know you have to go."
John: "No. I went in the pool."
Me: "WHY? I told you to tell me if you had to go."
John: "Because. It’s easier."
Me: *facepalm*

Hanging around two, three, and four year olds for six plus hours a day during the summer gives me a lot of experience in the child rearing department. There’s often a point in the day – John in the middle of a FIFTEEN MINUTE red faced screaming tantrum (during which I was on the edge of tears as well) – when I wonder why the hell some women crave children (those high school girls a while back who made a pregnancy pact? CRAZIES). By the time John goes down for his nap I often go into the next room and conk out myself. (Once, I fell asleep with him on his bed – which is a normal twin sized bed and fits us both perfectly –  during his nap and his mother came home and found us there. Heh. Oops.)

On the day of John’s Fifteen Minute Screamfest, he literally did not go ten minutes without some kind of grouchy mini breakdown. I thought I was going to have to kill him and then myself. He threw a bucket into the fishpond towards the end of the day and as I leaned in to get it the motion detecting sprinkler drenched my side.

No matter how many times I get close to snapping, the kids remind me why people think they’re worth it.

At 3pm: My sister (asking friend): "What time is it?"
Friend: "Three."
John (in stroller): "No, it is eleven."

Friend’s 9 year old little sister to friend: "I knew you in mommy’s stomach. I saw you get cracked!"

*sister is hiding easter eggs – some empty some not –  in John’s house for him to find*
*John finds one in a shoe and looks at my sister, deadpan*
John: "Please don’t hide empty eggs in my house."

Sweet life.