I was just perusing the blogs, enjoying the passenger seat on my way down to my nephew's wedding in Orlando, FL. I caught the post encouraging all to join in and keep the soul train going, and I was immediately brought back to my youth... 15 years old, to be exact. We had no TV and I can honestly say that babysitting was my favorite part-time job... once the kids were asleep, I could turn on the TV (everyone else had one) and watch.
One job I had was babysitting six boys... all brothers and the children of a single mother, a policeman's widow who worked nights as a waitress. The boys ranged in age from 13 to 2 years old and to say they were a handful would be a gross understatement. The 13 year old was a tough guy... always tried to duck out at night, chains hanging out of his pocket and belt loops and sneaky...pretending to go to bed, but ducking out the window (his bedroom was on the first floor.) The 2 year old was a typical terrible two's kind of guy... cute as a button when he was getting his way and a screamer when he wasn't. The four guys in between shared an upstairs bedroom, twin beds lined up dormitory style. Their favorite pastime was to leap from bed to bed, playing some sort of lone ranger, then wrestle to the ground type game that was NEVER started until the lights were out.
Getting to the point of "lights out" with these guys was a feat in and of itself. The 5 and 7 year old were in some sort of tooth brushing competition and they were aided in their quest for the glory by some colorful tablets they chewed. The color of the tablet stuck to the plaque or food or whatever and they got to brush until all the color was gone...or all the tablets....or my sanity... nevertheless, brush they did, while the 9 and 11 year old avoided the whole tooth brushing thing.
It seemed odd to me, even at the young age of 15, that I would be speaking out of both sides of my mouth, "come on guys, get in there and brush your teeth. It's time for bed!" and "Come of guys, that's enough already. You won't have any teeth left if you keep brushing.... it's time for bed!" The 2 year old played with his toothbrush, and eventually allowed me to inspect his pearly whites... no tablets for him. The 13 year old assured me he'd brushed his and was heading to bed (yeah right!)
So it was that one Saturday afternoon I arrived for my sitting job, assured mother the kids would be fine and watched as she headed out for work... I knew it would be nearly 4 am before she'd arrive home and her boyfriend would drive me home....more than twelve hours with these kids was a typical Saturday job. The TV was blaring away and some of the boys were watching in the living room, dark except for the light from the TV. In the kitchen I prepared their supper. After supper, and dish washing, (my chores while they watched TV) it was time to start the bedtime preparations.
13 year old, compliant as always, brushed and headed out the window...
2 year old, vied for space at the tooth brushing gladiators' ring as they chewed, brushed, spit, grinned at their mirror images and started again....
Tooth brush avoiders hung out in front of the TV... watching Soul Train...
And I ran out the front door and snaggged the 13 year old as he tried to escape on his bike, chains clanging ... and he assured me he was ALLOWED to go out at night.... uh huh....
And I helped the 2 year old brush his teeth like the champions with whom he lived...
And I coaxed the avoiders to the ring to join the ritual... and they played their best version of "deaf and blind".... well, I suppose "tunnel vision and tunnel hearing" would be more accurate, because they were INTO that Soul Train show.....
And I discovered the 13 year old was missing again..... and so were his bike and his chains...he won this round.
Finally, the TV show ended, and the avoiders found their way to the sink and the champions conceded one to the other with their tablet proven brushing prowess and headed up the stairs to bed....
And the little guy, went to bed nicely... enjoying several repeat readings of his favorite stories.... and as I read I heard the four in the big room jumping and wrestling and carrying on... and I wondered whether the 13 year old would return before his mother did... and wondered if I should tell on him if he did... and I read the book again because the little guy was still awake....and the crashing and carrying on continued upstairs....
Finally, the little guy drifted off and I made my way upstairs to the room where all the commotion was taking place. Sure enough, the light was off and they were in full leap and wrestle mode.... I was tired and had had enough... there were still at least six hours before I'd be able to get in the car with the tipsy boyfriend and pray I'd make it home before he crashed the car and I was NOT going to spend it listening to these kids try to bust through the floor into the living room below, with their leaping game.
The 7 year old happened to be on the floor very close to the door when I got there and as they all laughed with glee at my obvious displeasure, I picked him up and asked if he wanted to fly through the air. "Sure," he said, and so I tossed him toward bed number two, which I think was his (never was quite sure!) Thinking this would scare him and the others (you know, "wow, that Judy is strong... you better not mess with her!") I told them in no uncertain terms that if they wanted to keep it up, I'd toss each of them as well... naturally, they thought THAT would be a fun game and so we had the tossing boys to their beds game for the next 20 minutes or so... I was exhausted by the end and they, thankfully, were happy to finally go to sleep.
Downstairs again, with the 13 year old still missing, and the realization that I was really NOT in control of this brood, I took the chalk and wrote a note on the message board to the mother. As I recall, it said something like, "I'm sorry, these boys are too much for me... I cannot babysit any longer for you." Now, I had had similar feelings every time I babysat for them, but had always felt better by the time she arrived home and always smiled, assuring her they'd all been fine, blah, blah, blah. But tonight was different, because the kid was gone and I knew I'd be in trouble if he didn't get back before she did.
He did. He rolled in after midnight and just smiled at me as he headed to bed, for real this time. His smile was not a kind one. His smile was that of a kid who knew he'd won and was in control. I didn't care. I was glad he was home and I drifted off as I watched the late night movies........
When they arrived home, forgetting all about my note on the blackboard, I assured her all was well and she payed me the 50 cents an hour that was my rate and her tipsy boyfriend showed me to the car. I made it home safely again... and I never babysat those kids again.... She never called to see what the note meant.... I guess she probably already knew her boys.
Soul Train... not a show I chose to watch when I babysat, but one that will forever be etched in my brain... one that triggers the memory of a 15 year old over her head in responsibility....
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