Note to self: Lock liquor cabinet, bedroom door

I started babysitting at age nine, and until the end of high school it was my main source of income. Most of the jobs were fine, and even fun. But there were a few that sucked so bad … here are:

My Worst Babysitting Gigs Ever

--The week subbing for the FT nanny for three girls, ages 18 mos., 4 years, and 7 years: The kids were sweet and all, but I was 16, it was all day every day for a week (starting at 7:00 a.m. on my summer vacation), people looked at me like I was a syphilitic leper when I went places with the three of them (people assumed they were all mine), and worst of all: NO READING MATERIAL IN THE HOUSE. Well, the 7-year-old had some books about New Kids on the Block, but I went through those pretty quickly, and then naptimes and TV time were fucking ETERNITIES.

--Regular gig with a fat ugly baby, W.: I mean it, y’all, he was hugely fat and seriously ugly, and he made the worst. poops. ever. Incredibly disgusting and voluminous ones, and at least a couple of ‘em in any given evening. No idea what they were feeding that damn baby. His parents were INCREDI-NERDS with no good music or movies to pass the time, so naturally I hit the lone old bottle of wine in the fridge once the FUB was in bed. I filled it to the tiny penciled line w/water, and they never noticed. (Nerds, see. Non-drinkers who’d leave an open bottle of red in the fridge for months.)

--Three kids belonging to this couple who were on some sort of religious exploration within the Methodist church (who knew?): I saw their wedding picture — he was married in a brown priest-type robe, similar to that worn by all his groomsmen, and she had a veil down to her knees in front. Three strikes: Only books in the house were religious horseshit, they lived way the fuck out in the country, and they paid DICK (less than my going rate for one kid, forget three) and acted like it was gonna fully stoke the ol’ college fund.

--The five feral offspring of a weirdo budgie breeder (dunno if that was an all-consuming hobby, or what he actually did for a living, but either way, there was birdshit stank all over the place) and a contentious bitch with whom my dad had a long-running theological feud at church: Ranging in age from two to ten or so, these kids required me to team with a friend just to get through the one awful day I spent out at their tumbledown commune-lookin place way the cocksmoke out in Bumfuck, Egypt. The youngest two weren’t potty trained, nor did they wear diapers — think about it. The oldest was clearly used to being in charge and HATED having babysitters, so she spent her time inciting the other four to riot. All but the oldest still breastfed, although thankfully we didn’t have to witness that. Their house was a complete wreck — nowhere felt safe to sit or lean. When finally we were released, my friend and I drove home in utter shell-shocked silence, and neither of us accepted another babysitting job for like a month after.