Music: I’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you- Black Kids
I was walking to the train yesterday and I smiled. A big smile… I think I may have skipped a little. Just a little.
Yesterday was my first day of playing the part of a “domesticated person”.
The family I am staying with (Nat’s family, of Travels with Nat) is absolutely amazing. Just right up there with things like Peanut Butter, tabs on cans that open the can without the aid of a can opener, the bicycle, daisies and cockroaches. THAT amazing! Basically they are taking care of me as though I was their own. (ex. “Lindzy, don’t forget to throw your dirty clothes in the wash sweetie!“…. what?!?! I haven’t hear that since I was .. ten years old.)
Anyways, to show them how grateful I am, I have started babysitting their youngest, Kaitlyn, while the parentals are at work, as well as, giving the house a nice big clean, on mondays (my day off… not anymore obviously).
I woke up early, about eight am, just in time to wave goodbye to Lachlan (their older son) from the front door and see Sharon off to work. Just me and Kaity. Now, we’d had some trouble in the past, (Scene one: “Kaitlyn! No peeing on the floor! Get over here and clean this mess up!” Me, forcing paper towel in her hands; she wailing at the top of her lungs, throwing herself down on the floor. Ashleigh suggested that she may be too young to clean up her own messes. My thought process was that, hey, you break it you buy it… or something along those, eye for an eye lines. Scene two: I hear the sound of crying from the toilet. Oh great. I get up and go over and, well, she’s no Picasso, but it did appear as though she was trying to make some form of art out of her feces … everywhere. Gagging and inner raging I plopped her in the bath and took five min shifts at trying to clean up the mess.), but I felt like today would be different.
“Ok Kaitlyn, I’m gonna clean the house, take a shower, and then we’ll go the park!!” She lights up and says something, I don’t know what. She’s two, her language makes no sense to me.” Good, now go colour and stay out of my way, and don’t make a mess!”
Right
As I’m vaccuming, sweeping, mopping, cleaning, toilet washing, shower scrubbing and putting things away, I’m sweating buckets (it’s effing 30 degrees here!!). Furthermore, I’m pretty sure I broke my toe on the weekend, so all of this walking around can be painful.
Cleaning with a two year old around is damn near impossible. Everytime I turn around, she’s dropped the most impossible items on the floor. Two year olds know, oh they effing know. She climbs up on the garbage and finds an almost empty bag of chips… you know, so just the little stupid crumbs, that no body wants are left. They easily find their way to the floor. Also crackers. Can’t bite into one of those without having crumbs falling everywhere. I’m cleaning up after her, just as much as i’m cleaning the house.
Either way, it gets done.
It was also my first time using an electric steam mop… thingy. Don’t ask. It’s a mop that you have to fill up and plug in. Things I wish I had known: don’t leave it standing for too long. It takes a few minutes to heat up… so I walk away for a few seconds… next thing I know, the living room is flooded and starting to mix with cracker crumbs. Also, being plugged into a wall really hinders how far you can walk/mop.
Kaity and I make it to the park.
It was also my first day of realizing that I finally have money! After a mix up with the bank and my job, i thought I had missed a paycheque… when actually, for the last week it has quietly been sitting in my bank account. I’ve had money this whole time?!?! GOD! I sat on the train home just staring at my transaction record wondering how in the hell… (Got home and checked online banking, and sure enough, everyone lied to me about this missing a pay day bullshit; to think! This whole time (the last week) I could have bought my own beverages at the bar and not made suckers out of men (boys) everywhere!)
It was also my first day of volunteering. (Just to back up a bit for those of you that don’t know, I’m volunteering at a Center for Refugees who have experienced something traumatic or tragic… I’m a tutor on monday afternoons for high school kids seeking a little help in their studies). I was a little nervous going in, but everything turned out absolutely wonderful! I walked out thinking (after helping a kid with an essay he had for English class on how Youth are Represented in the media based on five sources) ‘I can’t wait to be a teacher!’ . It’s nice to know what you want to do in the future eh? Plus, kids that don’t pee their pants are an absolute pleasure!
On the way home, I thought, hey! with all of this money, why don’t I pick up my own dinner, rather than eat whatever Lachy and Kaitlyn haven’t turned into a weird mushy mess on their plates. So, it was my first time since I left Canada that I had Couscous! Yum! (Couscous and pumpkin salad, try it).
It didn’t happen yesterday, but it’s also my first time with a broken toe! Same ankle that has gone through two sprainings (back in China and field hockey in high school… ugh, crutches were not awesome in grade nine). How did it happen?! For once, this was not my fault! Some giant of a woman crushed my poor foot under her equally massive dagger like high heels. I cry whenever I look at my beautiful foot turned black and blue and swollen, my cute little baby toe like a bloated dead slug. Evil foot crushing barbarian.
Do you know what the number one thing is that people say when you tell them you might have a broken toe? I do. “Well, nothing you can do about a broken toe.” Ya, I know, kay?
