I Love Lucy

You could call her a babysitter. Or, if you were a Brit, you’d call her a “child minder.” I just call her my angel with an English accent. Her name is Lucy, and I love her.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are “I Love Lucy” days. I sit in my office for THREE SOLID HOURS and do WHATEVER I WANT TO DO. It’s so amazing I could cry just thinking about it. Sometimes I can hear JJ screaming between bites of green beans. I hear Chief scratching at the door and barking at the mailman. I hear the dishwasher and the washing machine beeping. I hear the phone ringing off the hook. And I can also hear the sound of my sanity returning when I realize I don’t have to do anything about it.

When I emerge from my office after those three hours, it feels like I’m floating on a cloud of blissful ignorance. “JJ cried the whole time and then spit up on your shirt? I’m sorry to hear that. Chiefy ate a diaper and a pacifier and then threw up on the sofa? I’m so sorry to hear that.” What she doesn’t know is that I’m soooooo not sorry I didn’t have to hear all that!

The greatest thing about Lucy is that she is so capable. I know she can handle whatever JJ might throw at her (literally), and that is an amazing feeling. And then, when JJ goes down for his nap (usually about 30-45 minutes before she leaves), she finds something productive to do with that remaining time. She cleans up his toys, hand-washes dishes, unloads the dishwasher, folds laundry, and swaps out the washer and dryer. I’m pretty sure she’d cut the grass and give me a pedicure if I asked her to, but I really don’t want to push it.

Side note: If a baby cries in the living room, and I’m not there to hear him, does he make a sound?

Side note: No, I will not give you her phone number.