At the beginning of this summer, I hung up my shingle: Experienced Hot Mama at yo service! My motto: ‘Come to Mama’!
Wait a gosh darn second! I am not talkin’ about ‘those’ kinda services! Gross! How dare you think that way! I’m 57 years old — who even thinks about sex?
Baby Mama Again!
You betcha! My services were once again required for babysittin’ you fools!
I have one client, who apparently will be a repeat customer. Why not? The price is right. Free babysitting in the Hamptons during the summer! On second thought, I better keep this a secret.
Why do you ask? I will find babies dropped at my door step by workin’ mamas.
No thanks! Really. One baby is my limit.
The Client
My client, the baby, aka Miss Izzy, is really cute. This kid, at 8 months old, is just way too adorable.
Ah yes. Babies are farting, pooping, crying, teething, and inconsolable bundles of joy! And the best part is, they are totally incapable of taking care of themselves. Hmmm… just like men!
The nerve of a baby! So selfish! Too needy! They just want, want, want. Crafty little fuckers. It is amazing that they master the art of crying so early in life. Pavlov my arse. Babies instinctively know at birth, the louder they cry, the more attention they get. It is a fact.
Come to Mama Gay!
Miss Izzy came to my house yesterday to spend some quality time with me. You may recall, I was her babysitter in May. The baby Mama is my masseuse. And we have a barter arrangement.
I babysit Miss Izzy so baby mama can work. The barter? No, I do not get a free massage. I get to spend time with the princess. Yes, despite my intellectual brilliance, I ain’t no red hot businesswoman.
Sometimes, we experienced, wise hot mamas, need to lend a helpin’ hand to our younger, new baby mamas. In truth, makin’ someone else’s day a little bit easier makes me happy. Although cash would be nice too.
Separation Anxiety
I can assure you that I had no separation anxiety when the baby mama left me alone with Miss Izzy. Oh wait, separation anxiety occurs between a baby and their mama. And by the by, I finally separated from my mama last year. Better late than never!
Baby mama left me with a very happy, smilin’ baby. No separation anxiety in this hood!
Babysitting Time Period 1.5 Hours
Piece of cake to watch a baby for 1.5 hours. Such a short period of time. Right?
According to the baby mama, Miss Izzy can play by herself with her toys on the floor. Oh, and she crawls and stand up. Sounds like this little gal is just on auto-pilot!
So sorry baby mama, but Miss Izzy did not want to play by herself. No. She would have none of that.
I am the Entertainer
Babysitter my arse! Kids, babies only want to be entertained. My meter was runnin’, and I knew there would be no tips!
As soon as baby mama left, Miss Izzy turned to me, and in fact said, ‘Dance Biatch! Make me laugh’!
I said, ‘yes ma’m’! And I was a dancin’ and a singin’. I looked at the clock, and thought I burned through a half hour. Mutha fucka! Only 12 minutes of this nonsense.
I got down and dirty… I’m rollin’ on the floor, squeakin’ toys, singin’ 20 verses of ‘wheels on the bus go round n round’, and read a book about ‘7 monkeys jumpin’ off a bed’. And no, I did not bother looking at my watch…what was the point?
Then I see Miss Izzy is droolin’ and shoving her fist in her mouth. Can you believe this? Baby mama neglected to tell me that this kid was ‘cuttin’ a new front tooth. Oy vey!
Clingin’ Baby
This baby was clingin’ onto me for dear life. Oh, the teethin’ pain.
Where is the Baby Orajel (extra strength)? Where is the Baby Motrin? Oh… this new generation of baby mama does not like to use this tried and true medicine. They prefer the ‘organic’ and ‘natural’ way of doing things.
Goin’ Rogue
It was like I was livin’ on the prairie. No medicine, no nothin’. I gave the baby a spoon, a few teethin’ crackers (that my dog Latte loved!), and some water. That lasted about 7 minutes.
I even threw in a complimentary diaper change. Miss Izzy did not give a shiat, literally.
And then pure genius struck me like a lightnin’ bolt! I grabbed a sugar-free natural ice pop. Miss Izzy had no idea what I was givin’ her, but she ain’t nobody’s fool — she’ll eat anything. And just like that, I corrupted this poor child with an orange ice. She took one lick, then a second, and then said to me, ‘bless yo heart mama Gay’. Peace at last…
At the end of our 1.5 hour play date, Miss Izzy had a new tooth, and I had a new friend.
