Last night, I babysat for the family Alayna usually works for. I’m friendly with the family, have subbed in as babysitter a few times, taught the girls voice lessons for awhile, etc. but I had not worked for them since the latest addition, baby #4 was born. I said yes immediately since Alayna was out of town at a wedding and unable to work.

And then I sort of panicked.

The older kids were easy: homework, dinner, books read, light supervision, easy peasy.

BUT A BABY?

A YEAR OLD BABY?

The twins haven’t been babies in YEARS and I thought that I would forget what to DO with one of them.

Not to mention, babysitting for a family that you’re not familiar with can be a little anxiety-inducing. I’ve been with the twins for four years. I know the books they like, their bedtime routine, the snacks they’ll eat, where their pajamas are located, how to tell one kid from another, how much chocolate syrup to put in the sippy cup with milk, which toys cause tantrums and which don’t, etc.

This whole new family was a WHOLE NEW FAMILY not to mention a family that included a LITTLE BABY.

I tried to think of what the twins were like as babies. They crawled, yes. Babies crawl. They got a bottle. RIGHT! BOTTLES! They also threw up a lot due to their acid reflux. In fact, their puking was probably the thing I handled the best. I could tell exactly when it was going to happen, swiftly got them to a non-carpeted area, even going as far as to catch puke IN MY BARE HANDS because that’s what kind of badass babysitter I was, folks. I would then rush to the sink, dump the mess, rinse off my hands, strip the baby down, wash them and get them dressed in new clothes in less than two minutes. BABY THROW UP EXPERT! Holler!

But…

What do I do with a baby who doesn’t have acid reflux?

What if that baby FREAKS OUT when he wakes up from his nap and sees that I am neither his mom nor Alayna and screams his head off for ten hours? WHAT THEN? What if I can’t get him to sleep? What if I drop him? What if he escapes?

I needn’t have worried, which is a constant theme in my life. (THANKS, I KNOW.)

The baby was napping yes but when he awoke, he was the most happy delightful little package of wonderful I had ever experienced. He was all smiles, coos, laughs and these little weird wolf howls he screeches which are awesome, naturally. We played with toys, we read books, we played silly song games, most of which I made up on the spot in a light soprano.

“Ohhhhhhh babyyyyyyyy you are such a…babyyyyyyyyy. So cute and delicious BABYYYYYYYYYYYY. LA LA LA BAAAABYYYYYYYYY.”

I helped the girls make Halloween decorations and then cooked dinner, succeeding on the second try. (The first time, I burned the bagels in the toaster oven.)

The six year old: You BURNED them?

Me: DUDE, in my defense? Your toaster oven heats up SUPER FAST.

The ten year old: Um. Actually it doesn’t.

Me: YOU ARE ALL GROUNDED.

So the burned bagel thing knocked my babysitting ego down a bit but at least people were getting fed and so I count that as a positive. I put the baby in his high chair and alternated some food, seeing which he took a particular interest in. His favorite? Goldfish. Though he tolerated some yogurt and some Cheerios.

He chewed happily and attempted to dump yogurt on his head, smiled and laughed, was just hanging out, eating dinner and then all of a sudden, his face contorted in a way that I knew all too well.

I prepped for it, grabbed a papertowel, held out my hands and sure enough, that’s precisely when that little baby gagged a little bit and then proceeded to throw up all his food all over me.

Covered in regurgitated Goldfish crackers, I emerged from my night of babysitting TRIUMPHANT!!!!!!!

Forget that I had given him a bath and washed his hair without making him cry. Forget that I had given him a bottle, had rocked him to sleep, had made him giggle.

I CAUGHT HIS PUKE!

And I realized at the end of the night that I was indeed one KICK ASS babysitter, burned bagels and all.