The Reality of Soap Operas, Busy Week and Babysitting (more detail than you could possibly want)

I have figured out the problem with soap operas in relation to real life. Monday at the gym the only elliptical available was the machine in front of the Channel 7 TV, so occasionally I would look up and see what was going on (I much prefer the ESPN TVs). There was this one chick (her name was Courtney) on General Hospital who should have had a revolving door installed on her apartment. In one scene, she's sitting on the couch with her soon-to-be-ex-husband (apparently they had been married a VERY short time – weeks, perhaps?) discussing what to do with the wedding gifts and Thank You notes which hadn't been written. The next scene some new guy knocks on her door and gets all jealous because her still husband is there. Guy #2 had come from another woman's apartment (Emily, I believe). Soon-to-be-ex-husband goes from Courtney's apartment to Emily's apartment to discuss Elizabeth (for what reason I couldn't figure out). Next time we see Courtney's apt. (same evening), there is another friggin' knock on the door and this time it's Elizabeth who is engaged to Guy #2's brother. And then we see Guy #2 in a garden or something and his brother comes out and gives him a hard time about wanting to be alone. After that I have no clue because my hour was up and I had things to do. My point of contention is that I don't get three people knocking unexpectedly on my door three times in one month, much less one evening with all the accompanying drama of being pregnant by someone (by God only knows whom) and not being able to tell soon-to-be-ex-husband because it might not be his! It's no wonder they can do a TV show about these peoples' lives because there's always something happening to someone. It's complete craziness. The other storyline had someone's brother trying to kill someone else's son and it was all just simply insane…to say nothing of being beyond believable.

I do not understand why people watch this stuff. I just hope the ESPN machines are available today. I don't think I could stand more of that drivel.

It seems to me that just last weekend (Sept. 30-Oct. 2) I had only a hockey game planned for this week, but now my entire week is completely booked with events that take me out of my apt. way past my desired bed time of 9:30 p.m. Monday night was the hockey game and it was definitely worth staying up! The Wings won in OT with 50.9 seconds remaining before heading to the Wings' first Shoot Out of the season – something I did NOT want to see. I realise that I'm in the minority on this, but I'm not a fan of the shoot-out. AT. ALL. And I was dreading it, so I was very very happy when Jiri Fischer scored the game winner – not that the Wings deserved to win as they played like complete shite, while the Sharks skated their fool heads off. But I'll take the win, because I know there will be days when their passing is crisp and their skating brilliant and they'll manage to lose, so I'll take the ugly win!

Last night I ended up babysitting for the Terror Children so BAB and SIL could go to some Christian "rock" concert at one of the local Mega-Churches. They didn't get home until after 10:30 and I didn't get home until close to 11:30 and I was actually on time for work today (unlike yesterday when I just couldn't get out of bed). And tonight I'm off to see Rollins' Spoken Word concert out in AA with my friend Jim. I’m sure it'll be another very late night. Tomorrow is my only free day and we all know that Thursday is usually Happy Hour Night with Martha. I'm going to beg off this week though. I have to sleep and more importantly, I have a rosary to make by Saturday for a Quinceañera at church. And then Friday is my second DSO concert of the season. It's all good stuff, but couldn't some of it happen next week??? I'm so tired and it's only 9:05 a.m. on Wednesday!!!

The Terror Children lived up to their names. They're such angels, IMHO, when their parents are home (who yell at them constantly and threaten punishment for the minorest of infractions), but the second the "adults" leave, the two boys go into complete terror, PITA mode. They start yelling and then jumping on me and telling me that they hate me. I live alone with two cats, the nonstop yelling would be enough to put me over the edge. We (read: the Terror Children) expended some of their extremely excess energy outside riding their bikes, but then the second we walked in the door…actually I wasn't even in the door yet as I was waiting for older sister, the youngest TC (YTC) hit the middle TC (MTC) and the MTC responded by KICKING YTC in the chest which, of course, caused the YTC to cry at top volume.

I told MTC to go upstairs and get his PJs on immediately. "No, I don't want to." I told him that if I were lucky enough to be at home, I'd have MY PJs on. I also told YTC that if he hits someone, he can pretty much expect to be hit in return – I think I called it an equal and positive reaction. Hey, the brain doesn't work when it's surrounded by three children under the age of 8! I go into shutdown mode and thank the merciful Lord that I have no children. Anyway, I got all three kids into pajamas by saying there would be no DVD or treat. I love threats and bribes!!!

SIL had set out two packets of microwave popcorn for the kids' treat (when I was a kid it was called dessert, but these days everything is a "treat"), so while the kids watched Schoolhouse Rock (the American History portion – which other than I’m just a bill is just not that intriguing), I popped popcorn in the microwave. This is something I NEVER do as I don't like microwaved popcorn. I don't think I need the additional chemicals and whathaveyou and besides it's not like it takes that long to pop popcorn the old-fashioned way with oil and a saucepan. This is all a precursor to the fact that I burnt the first bag of bloody popcorn – it said 4 minutes and before that four minutes was up, it was quite obvious it was burnt. *sigh* Thankfully SIL had left two packages out. I put the second one in and stood there and waited for it to stop its popping. The kids got the good popcorn while ol' Aunt Kat got the burnt popcorn. As a punishment for kicking his little brother, though, I made MTC eat one kernel of not really that burnt popcorn. Yeah, I'm not a softy, I couldn't deny the kid a little popcorn.

OH YEAH! Another event of the evening while trying to get said Terror Children into their pajamas MTC started crawling on me which of course made YTC also crawl on me. YTC did so by standing on the backs of my calves (I was kneeling down at the time). MTC lost his balance and bumped YTC who proceeded to fall and smack the every living crap out of his noggin' on the dresser. Oh, the crying and screaming – not that I blame him – he hit that fucker HARD! MTC is freaking out saying, "I'm sorry, YTC. I'm sorry." I finally told MTC that he didn't have to apologise because he didn't do it on purpose, but I would like to hear him apologise for kicking YTC earlier. Another abject apology, "I'm sorry, YTC." "You're forgiven, MTC." I mean, really, what four year old says, "You're forgiven."

I get MTC and YTC calmed down when the OTC (Not over the counter, but Oldest TC) shows up and she's crying. I'm bewildered as I had no clue why she was crying. I hugged her and asked why she was crying, "I hate it when YTC is hurt." I reassured her that there was no lasting damage to YTC and got them situated in the living room so I could burn the damn popcorn.

After watching Schoolhouse Rock and Thomas the Tank, I told the darlings that it was time for bed. They are not allowed to brush their teeth all at the same time – one kid at a time, even though there were two sinks. I finally get them in bed and I go down and decide to watch Winged Migration. Not even 30 seconds later I hear, "Aunt Kat!" at full volume. *sigh* I pause the movie and head upstairs where MTC informs me that YTC needs me. YTC's tummy hurts which is his way of saying he's having trouble breathing. We traipse downstairs for a breathing treatment which takes FOREVER. 30 minutes later I have him back in bed and I start the movie again. 90 seconds later I hear my name being bellowed yet another time. I pause the movie, head back upstairs to referee the very important discussion about whether or not penguins fly.

AK: "No, YTC, penguins don't fly. They walk and they swim."
YTC: "But I've seen them fly."
AK: "No, you probably saw them diving off cliffs into the water, and it might have looked like flying, but no, penguins can't fly. They're a flightless bird along with ostriches and emus."
MTC: "What about flamingoes? They don't fly, do they? And peacocks."
AK: Flamingoes and peacocks do fly. The only flightless bird…
MTC: But Mom said Flamingoes and peacocks don't fly. An I've never seen them fly.
AK: *heavy sigh* Okay, it's time to sleep.

But the kids are wound up and they start yelling and being generally annoying. I told them that I did not want to hear another word out of them again or I was going to turn out the nightlight. Yes, mean Aunt Kat threatened the nightlight's existence. YTC immediately freaked out, "NO!" I said, "Okay then, I don't want to have to come back up here."

Back to the movie, and I actually get to watch maybe five minutes when I look up and there's YTC. "My wrist hurts." ARGH!!!! There are two tiny little bumps on his wrist but they are apparently quite painful (yeah, right). *sigh* Back upstairs so YTC can show me where his Mom keeps the creams/ointments. He says that she uses the "wrinkly" one which is a prescription only tube and I can't figure out what it's for. Needless to say I didn't use that one. I told him that he could have the Cortaid (OTC) or nothing. I put the smallest amount of Cortaid on his little wrist and tuck him back into bed. And finally, we were done.

And I didn't get to finish the movie because BAB and SIL came home before it ended. DANG IT! I gave a sterilised version of the evening (I said MTC smacked YTC back – although I know the dumbshit is going to tell on himself and it's going to come out that there was a shod foot involved), mentioned the bump on the head and the various trips up and down the stairs. My goal in babysitting is to make sure the kids don't get spanked the next day.

And after sitting at my desk all day trying desperately not to fall asleep, I have decided to blow off the gym and have a nap tonight before I go and see Rollins. It would be exceptionally bad form to fall asleep on him…it might be a fantasy as well. ;-)

And if any of you lasted the entire way through that excruciatingly detailed account of my babysitting evening, I commend you! Or your job is beyond boring!!!