Babysitting

It's Dan this time, and since I actually have a blog, I decided to post something to it. Ever since Patrice and I have been dating, we have been periodically asked to babysit for our brothers and sisters, and since we don't have any kids of our own yet, we obliged when we didn't have other plans. I also pride myself on being the favorite/most fun uncle, and babysitting helps to solidify my position. Last month we babysat for Emilee and Eric while they attended a neighborhood Halloween party. We had lots of fun taking Alysa, Max, and Ryan to McDonalds to eat a little dinner and let them play around in the playplace (and let me be honest, the big kid in me enjoys it too). They hardly ate anything, except for Alysa, and after about an hour, we decided to wrap it up and take them home, mostly because Ryan had a particularly smelly diaper and we had not taken any clean ones with us.

When we got back to their house, we started getting them ready for bed because it was close to eight o'clock. I had the (un)pleasant task of changing Ryan's diaper, which was the second most disgusting diaper I've ever changed (the first belonging to Max from last year). Afterwards, I put him in his pajamas and made a bottle for him to go to sleep with. I followed Emilee's instruction on putting him to bed, which entailed putting him in his crib with his blanket and rubbing his tummy and saying goodnight. But as I was closing the door behind me, Ryan started screaming and crying really hard. I figured it was because he didn't want to go to sleep yet and I let him cry for a minute before I went back in and to see what I could do.

When he saw me, he got up in his crib and was reaching out for me, so I picked him up and tried to rock him and settle him down. Nothing was working, so I gave up and took him out of his room to the family room where Alysa and Max were playing. The funny thing is, he stopped crying as soon as we left his room. So I assumed everything was ok and I sat down on the couch with Ryan on my lap. I was trying to relax him and as he was recovering from the tears, he threw up on me! I just sat there dumbfounded for about 3 or 4 seconds and then he threw up again! He started crying again and I got up from the couch and made sure none of the puke got on the furniture or the floor, which it hadn't (just all over my chest). I went into the bathroom in case he did it again (which he did, but not as much). I knew I had to clean him up because the puke was all over his clothes too.

When I got into the bathroom, put him in the tub and he just sat there crying the poor kid. Patrice asked if she should call Emilee, and I emphatically told her yes. So while she came home, I cleaned up Ryan. I stripped him and wiped him down with a warm wash rag and took off my own vomit-covered shirt. I put a new diaper on him and then just held him until Emilee got there. Emilee got him calmed down and put him to bed and then went back to her party.

I realize this may not be as entertaining of a story if you have to read it (I tell it much better because of the actions), but at least you get to hear from me. I usually just leave all of the posting to Patrice. So in the last six months, I've been puked and pooped on (while visiting Charles and Joyce in England, I was holding a naked Sammy right before she was put in the bathtub, and she decided to go potty, a funny story for another posting). I feel almost ready to be a parent. But don't get excited yet, it's still a little ways off..