Blind Date 6.5: SJ’s Kids in the Whitelands
So, with all the family obligations and sadness, I haven’t had a chance to post about a (how do I describe this – not fun, something more like – I’m glad it didn’t kill me) experience meeting the Sarcastic Journalist’s kids. She and the Hubs were looking for a rare night out a couple of Friday’s ago and thought that a shy 12 year-old might possibly get eaten alive by her two under two. I volunteered to bring Zac over and let the three kids wrestle until the passed out on the living room floor.
First off, let me tell you that the Whitelands isn’t all that far away from where I live. It’s just far if you don’t follow directions and instead decide to go pick up more cake as a housewarming present. Getting to the cake made me over an hour late (which conveniently rhymes). By the time I found SJ’s house in the Whitelands, Zac was in total, complete meltdown mode in the backseat. I had picked him day care and driven directly out to SJ’s house. I did not pass go, I did not collect $200, I did not feed him, I did try and give him a bottle which he promptly threw across the backseat in disgust. As we say in my family, he was “not a happy camper”.
Second, SJ is NOT exaggerating about the Whitelands. I have never seen a place like that before in my life. There really is a country club and there really is a giant lake with mansions. I can’t guarantee that everyone who lives there is white, but they certainly make more money than I do, regardless of their race or ethnicity. Pulling up to her house in my crappy car with my screaming child must have shocked many of her neighbors.
I meet SJ and the Hubs and then I’m quickly introduced to Ellie (the almost 2 year-old) and Sam (the 5 month-old stud muffin, a.k.a: the most laid-back baby in the world). She and the Hubs were in a bit of a rush to get out the door and seemed surprised when I kept asking questions about where to find certain items or how to put the two of them down for bed. I joked that she must not be used to leaving her kids with someone and she gave me a long, hard look that said, “No bio-tch. I’m not. And I hope my kids eat you alive”
With little ceremony, and me kind of wondering where they went, the two of them left for the evening. The biggest surprise of the evening was how well-behaved her kids really are. Really. I’m not joking. She usually makes her kids sound like they are the devil incarnate out to suck the life force from any adult they come in contact with. As SJ told me, though, “Who would want to read about how great my kids are? Come on. That shit would be boring”. So, it was a great surprise to have Ellie cuddled up next to me on the couch, watching Barnie, with Sam doing his best to keep Zac from straddling and suffocating him.
My son appears to really, really like other babies. I mean, “Zac-get-off-of-him-before-he-can’t-breathe,” likes other babies. The whole evening I spent pulling Zac off Sam, who was strapped into his bouncy seat like a turkey around Thanksgiving time in the eyes of my son. Zac wanted to kiss him, hug him, and rub his boy belly all over Sam’s face.
I felt like the best caregiver in the history of the world when I had all three kids under two down for bed at 8:30pm. Zac was in Sam’s crib. Ellie was in her “big girl” bed. Sam was (should I really admit this?) on the floor in his parents’ bedroom. On his stomach. On a blanket. I went in to turn him over and save myself the embarrassment of admitting that I really had killed her youngest child. Sam woke up and started crying. Then Zac woke up and started crying. The two of them were like dueling banjos for the next hour-and-a-half until I finally admitted defeat and called SJ and the Hubs home.
Any woman with multiples now has my utmost respect. I must be out of my freaking mind for ever entertaining the thought of having another child.