Rant Time 3

Set in Stone

I've set my decision to never have or raise infants in stone. Here is how one baby set my childfree track on the right path within 22 hours.
My mom and I got really close to one of the parents who used to bring their children to the daycare. They stopped going for many reasons, one being that the mom had a new baby and didn't want him there when he's so tiny. Their children are exactly two years apart. One is 2 years, the other is 6 weeks old today.
The mom has a friend who watches them both everyday during the week, Monday through Friday, but the friend can't watch them on weekends, particularly Saturday because the dad is off on Sundays, so when they stopped daycare, they were left fending for themselves on Saturdays.
They looked to my mom and I for help. I only work Monday through Friday, with the exception of one Saturday every few weeks. We agreed to watch them on Saturdays if at all possible. We have watched them both at my house and the daycare for the past four weeks. They stay at my house from around 2 pm to midnight.
Not this past Saturday, though.
They needed someone to watch the kids overnight because they were going to get off work and have time to themselves after. So they brought them to my house at 2:30 pm and said they'd be back at noon the following day, which was yesterday. So that is about a full day with these kids.
Now, the baby is high maintenance. He has severe gas problems and spits up a lot. Like, projectile vomit Exorcist type shit. He's on a special formula that has to be mixed with gas drops, plus I have to syringe gripe water into his mouth every few hours. He's also very fussy and cries for no reason. Since I'm used to him, I have my own tactics to calm him down, but if all else fails, guess who is losing her sanity and slowly dying.
I can deal for ten hours once a week. But a full day? Overnight? With him sleeping in my room? Jesus Christ.
His brother is not a problem. He's a good kid and I never have issues with him. But the baby is one of those babies that is like those simulator dolls the schools give out to students that never stops crying.
My mom had to stop by work to leave a door key, so I was by myself with the two of them. The toddler was watching Sing and trying to feed my dog gummy snacks, and the baby was crying in the bouncy seat. I didn't crack under the pressure. If I can care for several kids at once, surely I am do this. Right?
My mom came back and we split up responsibility.
I take care of the baby and my mom takes care of his brother. So I spend my day literally covered head-to-toe in spit up with a crying newborn in my arms. I don't even bother to change my shirt because he's just going to throw up on it again anyway. My mom passed by me, cringed, and said, "You smell awful! Like formula!"
I know. I know. He fucking barfed all over me when I was trying to put him to sleep after I fed him. He was still crying and only stopped when I wrapped him up like a fluffy taco, syringed the gripe water into his mouth, and laid him in a specific position in the bassinet.
He was going to sleep in my room. I thought it wouldn't be that bad. Just feed him, burp him, change his diaper, lay him down, and call it a night. Wrong. I had the bassinet at the foot of my bed but it sounded like he was right next to my ear. He screamed and screamed and screamed.
It was ten at night. I'd just gotten him settled in my room because his brother fell asleep in the living room. I had his bag full of diapers, wipes, formula, etc ready. My nerves were so shot to death that his crying made me spill some of the formula all over my desk. I fed him and he quieted. I laid him down and he finally fell the fuck to sleep at eleven.
While I had some peace and quiet, I decided to slink off to the kitchen at midnight to eat some cereal. I had the baby monitor with me just in case he decided to test out his lungs again. Thankfully, he didn't. Around one, he woke up ready to eat again. I hadn't slept yet so I wasn't groggy but I was still worn down.
I fed him again. Rocked him to sleep. Laid him down. And then I fell asleep at two.
Four in the morning. I woke to the baby screaming his head off. I have a habit of falling back to sleep after anything wakes me up, but he wouldn't stop. I literally rolled out of the bed and made a bottle of formula with my eyes closed. I know I fucked it up but he still drank it. I was leaning over the bassinet, holding the bottle in his mouth. I'm lucky I didn't fall right on him.
It was decided that food wasn't enough. He needed to be changed. So I laid him down, pulled his stuff out of the bag, and changed his diaper with my eyes barely open. He screamed the entire time. The wipes were too cold. It took forever to get him back to sleep. Every time I put him back down, he whimpered. The pacifier did nothing.
Finally, he was asleep. I jumped in bed and was out cold in five seconds. I don't even remember my head hitting the pillow. I was fucking exhausted.
Seven in the morning. My human alarm clock woke me up. He was screaming again. I knew he was hungry. But I couldn't deal this time. I picked his crying, wailing ass up and took him to my mom's room. She was barely asleep since she had the toddler under her arm and the dog at her feet. I handed the baby to her. Stomped back to my room, made another bottle of formula, and let her feed him.
I went back to sleep. Sweet, sweet silence. No baby. Bassinet was empty. My mind was at peace. My world was silent.
Ten in the morning. Mom wakes me up. The baby wants another bottle. I have the formula. So I make another bottle (I've lost count of how many of these I made) and feed him, since I know I'm not getting back to sleep. He ate, then I gave his brother some yogurt and changed his diaper and put some clean clothes on him.
My mom left them with me to get changed before their parents showed up. I took the toddler out with me to get the mail. If the baby cried while I was out, oh well. My eyes were glazed over and I smelled awful. I was covered in throw up and my hair was falling out of my ponytail. My neighbors saw that. They saw me covered in yellowish stuff with a toddler (who kept asking what's that?) on my hip, looking like I've just seen a car accident.
I wasn't embarrassed. I couldn't fucking give less of a shit. I went back inside, accidentally slammed my toe in the doorframe, and swore my head off. Fuck this.
I put the baby back in the bassinet in my room and let the toddler watch cartoons on my floor. I looked over five minutes later and both were asleep. Fuck yes. Put the kid on his mat in the living room and changed the baby one last time, when he promptly gave me the angriest face ever.
The grade finale. The parents came and got them at noon. The mom gave me $120, but I gave half of it back. It didn't feel right to take it from her. They're struggling and don't need to waste that much on a babysitter, no matter how much sleep and sanity I lost.
I ate something after they were gone and jumped back in bed. Such relief. But I could still hear that baby screaming in my head. I swore he was still there. It happened the first time I watched him, too. He was literally screaming in my dreams.
I'm probably going to watch them this weekend, too, but just for the day.
The reason I'm writing this is to show you that it's not easy. I had them for one day. One night. And I'd had it. I couldn't think or feel anything. Imagine if I had my own baby. I would not make it. It was hard enough for just one day.
If you value your sleep, sanity, and quiet time, do not have a baby. I got a taste of parenthood this weekend. It was a wake-up call. I do not want kids. My uterus shriveled up and died. All anyone talks about how parenthood is the most amazing thing ever. But no one talks about how bonkers it makes you. I'm not a mom, but I got to step in a mom's shoes for a day. I can't imagine walking a mile in them, but then again, it was a choice. Having kids is a permanent choice. You can't have a kid and then say, "Nope. Not for me."
If you want a test run, watch a newborn for a day. See if you come out still wanting kids. This has set my decision in stone. And I'm kind of thankful. I'm thankful I was spat up on, thankful I had to hold a screaming baby while I was trying to sleep, thankful that I need a shower because I reek of formula.
Thank you, high maintenance baby, for showing me it's harder than it looks. I will not be having one of your kind. Ever.
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Guess who's working full-time now. 😒
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Sierra 🌙