last night, the kids played with a babysitter while andy and i went to dinner and a movie. i don’t think that i am merely assuaging my mommy guilt when i say that a good babysitter (and we’re grateful to have several) has the capacity to be “more than i am and everything that i am not,” to borrow words from life’s work by lisa belkin (67). these sitters usually make their entrances during the six p.m. hour, when all of my energy has been sucked up by the day’s celebrations and endless negotiations (kids are little lawyers, aren’t they?). these gals aren’t trying to work from home or fold a week’s worth of laundry.they don’t utter phrases such as, “i’m too tired to play football with you right now.” and perhaps they even possess the resolve and distracting power to enforce rules that i have been known to abandon in my weakest parenting moments.

if all goes well, andy and i return home to two sleeping angels and the sitter’s report that the evening at our house was pure magic. we get a rundown of our children’s antics, most of which are endearing and cause our favorite teenage girls to utter phrases such as, “i love your children.”

there is no better music to my ears… or so i THOUGHT.

last night’s date came after what was, for me, a very challenging week of parenting. the bird pitched screaming fits EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. i changed his diaper, put him in the car seat, and got him dressed. he hit me in the face, kicked me in the gut, and woke up each new day ready for another round (even after an evening when the screaming fits extended past midnight). if it were not for my memories of the monkey (who is now delightful to be around most of the time) acting similarly when he was this age, i would have collapsed into a crying heap somewhere around wednesday.

and so, last night when andy and i returned home to the sitter, i braced myself for what i knew would not be her usual sunny report. she described the evening in detail, which included the bird’s recent fit-pitching trends combined with the fact that the monkey could not find his “it” animal required for peaceful sleep. food was thrown. bath time was pure misery. our dog even added to the cacophony by nipping at her ankles.

i thought it would feel horrible to hear someone, who loves my children, regretfully relay the events of such a trying evening. i was wrong. when the words, “i am so exhausted… i don’t see how you do this day in and day out… how do you wade through this chaos?” came out of this poor girl’s mouth, i wanted to kiss her.

if a sophomore in high school, who is half my age and with three times my energy, finds my existence to be somewhat difficult, perhaps i am not going crazy after all. or, maybe more accurately, my insanity is warranted. god, i love empathy.

i just hope we can persuade this poor sitter to come back!