I am older than all my siblings and cousins, and spent a lot of my childhood “watching the baby” or playing with much younger kids. I babysat throughout my teens and into my early twenties.I am a high school graduate. I had four years of college, two of which focused on education, and included 60 hours as a teacher’s assistant in the classroom. When I was pregnant with Violet, I took parenting classes, read books about childhood development, and searched the web for parenting resources. I have had countless conversations with mothers who have been there, and mothers who are there with me, right now. I read about discipline, education, nutrition, and child psychology. I have been trying to train for this job for a long time, and continuously work on my “professional development” (What’s to come? Can I do this better? Is there a way to get that freaking kid to stop walking in on me in the bathroom?) What, out of all of this, has prepared me best for my current role in life?
My years of waiting tables.
I spend my day making sure everyone has what they need, when they need it –
Honey? Do you need a drink?
It’s kind of chilly – let me to get you a sweater.
Is this the book you wanted?
Here’s the hoop you were looking for.
Why don’t you guys get out the game while I make you a snack, and then we can play after you’ve eaten (re: when you’re not so hungry and cranky.)
Mealtimes are obviously when it hits home the hardest (“Do you need more ranch dressing? Another napkin? Here – let me refill your drink. What? Yes – we do have Parmesan cheese, give me a minute… ” ) but it really happens all day every day. I find out what they need, I make sure they have it, I keep an eye on them and try to anticipate when they’ll need more, or something else. I, overall, try to keep everyone happy. The difference? They never pay the check and leave. I’m never off the clock. Every now and then I think I am. And then at 10pm when I watching Chuck with a bottle of Cupcake wine and a kid comes out to ask for a red bowl because “I feel like maybe some throw up might want to come out”, I’m reminded that this is the biggest pain in the butt, highest maintenance table I’ve ever had.
Good thing it’s also the cutest. 😉
(I’ve had this theory of motherhood = waitress for a long time, but I was inspired to write it down this morning after I accidentally put Violet’s fruit on Jonas’s plate and he raised his little hand in exactly the same way countless people in my glamorous waitressing past had, and said “Um, I’m pretty sure I didn’t order this.” Sigh.)
awsom