happy halloween and a blessed samhain

I am who I am. I can't, won't, and don't need to change that. The people who matter love me despite my flaws and faults. They love me, and appreciate me, for who I am. I don't need to be graceful, because I have people that will pick me up when I fall. I'm not afraid of the lightning because I've already been struck too many times. My past does not define me, but it has shaped me. It's impossible for it not to. I don't believe in living in the past, but I also believe we shouldn't ignore it. Things happen for a reason and as history has taught us, when we don't pay attention to the mistakes we've made, we're bound to repeat them. I've repeated several mistakes and I'm still learning. It's one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. I don't always like myself. There are days when I can't bear my own reflection. When people are snarky or ignore me or have something to say to put me down, it's hard not to believe it because anything anyone can say to me is something I've already said to myself. I'm far more insecure than I let myself show. I don't believe in being weak and I don't trust easily. If you see, and understand, my vulnerabilities and my Achilles heels, you are someone I cherish. You are someone who has earned my love, my loyalty, my respect, and my trust. I'm afraid of letting people in close, afraid for them to drop the ball. Everyone is human, mistakes are bound to happen. I make them. Everyone makes them. But some of the mistakes have left gaping holes in my soul. Holes that have been filled up by certain people, certain things, and others I'm not even sure where to start. I'm not whole and I might not ever be, but I am strong, I am independent, and I know what I deserve and what I don't. At the end of the day, these are the only things that matter.

some things I've learned from a decade of babysitting

a baby sitter's dream come true - extra pacis in the utensil drawer!
So, the time has come. It's either your first time leaving your baby with a baby sitter or perhaps it is the first time with a new baby sitter. All of the families I have sat for over the course of my life have either been neighbors, people I worked with at the daycare center where I was a teen, or friends/coworkers of my parents. In that case, you and your child(ren) might be familiar with this person already. Even so, I highly recommend having a "get to know you" night BEFORE the night you're going out. Have your sitter come over, play some games, read some books, watch the bedtime routine, etc.

Here are a few different categories and scenarios that should be talked about/made known between parent and sitter.

1) How to prepare their bottle. Whether you formula feed or breastfeed, show your sitter how you make the bottles. If you breastfeed, feel comfortable enough to leave frozen milk with the instructions to just hold the baggie of milk under hot water until it begins to thaw and warm up. I've found this is helpful for moms who feed directly from the source and only pump occasionally to have backup for when they do want to go out. The first baby I ever watched who was breastfed was like this - she rarely took bottles so mom rarely pumped. Since breast milk lasts upwards of six months in the freezer, it was easier for her to pump whenever she had time and freeze it rather than worry about having to pump that day.

If you formula feed, either prepare a few bottles ahead of time to be left in the fridge or show your sitter how to make the formula. With my niece, they used room temperature nursery water mixed with formula so her bottles were made at every feeding as they didn't need to be warmed up. It's also a good idea for your sitter to know formula making instructions on the off chance they need to make a bottle or two should the need arise.

2) Under six months, babies usually aren't on any kind of solid schedule that a baby sitter would need to know, but if your child is on solids and will need them, jot down a quick set of instructions for your sitter to refer to when the time comes to heat it up!

3) Lovies. These. Are. Huge. If your child has a special blanket or animal-blanket head, make sure your sitter knows how important this is. Lovies will come in handy when baby is over tired or ready for bed or just wants a cuddle. If your baby uses a pacifier, do your best to make sure there are a couple of spare ones lying around. Trust me, I KNOW how hard this is. Especially when you get babies who like to participate in the Pacifier Throwing Olympics. As long as there is one spare paci that your sitter can lay their hand on in a moment of need, you're good.

4) Bedtime routine. This one is important for a couple of reasons - sometimes, babies (and toddlers) don't want the same routine their parents use from someone who isn't mommy or daddy. I've run into this a few times. Any attempt to put them down the way mom or dad does results in fussing, back arching, arm waving annoyance. In my experience, the parents I sit for have always been lenient about this. With one little one, who didn't have a sitter until she was 7 months old, I used to have to lay on her parents' bed with her and snuggle her up close to me with her pacifier like she was side-lying to nurse (which is what she did with mama in the middle of the night). Her face had to be smushed into my arm or my chest while she sucked on her pacifier while I rocked her back and forth sideways on the bed. If I didn't do it this way, bedtime was a nightmare. Said child is now 3 and as long as I tuck her in tightly and give her lots of face kisses, she'll happily go down. Heck, she even ASKS for bed when she's tired now! However, at seven and eight months old, while dad could happily plop her in her crib with her favorite blanket and pacifier, she never accepted that from me. And I was okay with that, as was mom.

If you are a proponent of any type of crying it out, understand that this might be unsettling for your sitter. It's not that your sitter doesn't trust you or is questioning your parenting abilities. Trust me. I'm all for parenting the best or most effective way for your child. After all, you know them best. But sometimes, depending on the cry, I physically get anxious listening to a child cry. It's like I'm not sure if this is how they sound for mom and dad and I'm worried that they're crying a different cry and I worry that I'm doing it wrong. In cases like these (and depending on how well I know the parents/how comfortable I am with knowing their boundaries) I'll either sit in the room and rock the crib or I'll sit next to their bed and sing quiet lullabies. I do my best to never take them out of their bed once they are in it if that's not what mom and dad do, but I also know that they might be feeling anxious because mom and dad didn't put them down and I want them to know that everything is okay and they are okay. If your child is older and this is an issue of terrible twos or threes and it's become something of a power struggle, make sure to let your sitter know. For me, personally, when I know this is a boundaries pushing issue on the part of the child, I'm more at ease with listening to them voice their displeasure. Sometimes, depending on their language skill, you hear some pretty hilarious things come out of their mouths!

5) Boundaries within the house. A friend pointed out, when I asked for ideas for this post, that her bedroom is off limits even to her own kids. This is important to know. As referenced back in the bedtime category, a lot of bedtime routines often take place on mom or dad's bed. Whether it's story reading or rocking a baby to sleep, sometimes mom and dad's room offers an extra level of comfort when they're not there. Same with animals. If you have animals that don't like random people in the house and are more comfortable being kept in a room by themselves, make sure to alert your sitter to the fact that the cats are in the bedroom and prefer to stay in there. Also, don't be afraid to add a pet task on to your sitter's list of tasks for an evening! If an animal needs to be fed or watered or let out, your sitter should have no issue with this. Especially if the kids can help and it turns into an activity that kills a few minutes in those "will it ever be time for bed?" moments when kids start to get overtired and cranky. Most parents give their sitters free reign of the kitchen and pantry. However, if there is something you have that is needed for the next night's dinner or lunch the next day, just stick a post it note on it or tell the sitter what it's for. This also helps when little fingers know what's in the green bowl in the fridge and try to get inside of it!

6) Electronics. This one can be tricky, at times. Especially if a child has misbehaved during the week and has lost privileges. If that happens (and you think your child might try and get the sitter to let him or her use the device), it's best to put it away before the sitter arrives. Even if it's something that the sitter might use after the children go to bed (like the Wii or the television remote controls), if it's put away before the sitter arrives, they can play dumb when asked to use said device. Often times, I've had parents text me to let me know where they've hidden things after they've left so the kids don't know that I know where it is. This way, it ends the tantrums of "Please please please? We don't have to tell mommy!". And yes, this has happened more times than I can count. In fact, I remember trying it with my own sitters! Being able to say "Mom put it away before I got here! I don't know where it is!" is a really easy way to diffuse the situation.

If you have a limit on screen time for your children, make sure your sitter knows. Sometimes, allowances can be made on a Saturday night. During the holidays, I've often brought movies with me (like Charlie Brown, for example) for the kids and I to watch. I also usually bring popcorn and we snuggle on the couch and eat popcorn and watch the movie. But I always check with mom or dad first before I arrive with a treat.

As an example of a treat, (and I realize that this only applies to sitters who have been with your family for years and love your kids like part of the family), two Christmases ago, I went to Target and got P and C (who were 5 and 3) each a set of Santa forks and spoons, a Christmas themed bowl, and a Christmas cup from the bargain bin. Then I got a blank card and wrote to them as their Elf on the Shelf. I had talked to their mom earlier in the week who had said that they'd been having great behaviors lately so when I arrived with the presents, I told the kids that I had woken up that morning and their Elf had left them presents at my house. Later, while I was changing the baby for bed, I hear P whispering to the Elf, thanking him for her presents and telling him how much she loved him.

7) Illness & Medication. If your child is sick and needs antibiotics or pain relievers, write down the dosage on a piece of scrap paper for quick review. Also make sure your sitter knows the best way to get your child to take their medicine. From droppers, to spoons, to medicine pacis, to syringes ... each child has their own preference and it'll help your sitter out a lot to know each child's preference. While I never give medicine without permission, either before mom and dad leave or after they leave through text or call, it's good to know where things are in case the need arises. That way, when you're out, you don't have to try and remember where you left the Tylenol the last time somebody needed it.

Also make sure that your sitter knows where your thermometer is and how to use it. Some, like the ear ones, can be tricky. Chances are your sitter won't need it, but it's a good thing to know and have on hand just in case, especially in the winter months. If you have a child who is teething, give your sitter instructions for medication if you medicate for teething pain. For example if the child is just fussy, a popsicle or a teething toy will more than likely suffice. However, if you have a child who teethes badly and ends up in hysterical tears, chewing on their fists or anything else they can get into their mouth, let your sitter know what parameters you follow for giving Tylenol or Advil. In most cases, I'll text mom and say "T's been crying for the last ten minutes and the teething ring isn't working and she won't take the popsicle. I'm going to give her the Advil." This way, mom is up to speed and she can check back with you in twenty or thirty minutes to make sure the meds have worked and your child is comfortable again.

8) Communication. With the advent of cell phones, it's easier to keep in contact with your sitter. A quick text message and all is well. As a sitter, I try and remember to text mom or dad and let them know that I'm getting ready to put the kids to bed and my cell phone is downstairs on vibrate so if I don't reply right away, don't worry. Sometimes, though, if bedtime is hectic, I forget to text. If you text your sitter and don't hear back in about ten minutes, double check the time. If you know it's bedtime, you won't worry that you haven't heard back.

The other thing is phone calls from the kids. For some kids, a quick "good night, mommy, I love you!" is enough for them to go to bed without issue. For others, sometimes a phone call does more harm than good. If you have found that it does more harm than good, make sure to let your sitter know. That way, when a child asks to call, the sitter can pretend to call and then tell the child that mommy or daddy couldn't hear their phone and that you can try calling again in a little bit. Nine times out of ten, they're asleep before they remember we never tried calling again.

As a sitter who loves the children she sits for, know that I will do everything I can to make sure everyone is healthy and happy. Even if that means walking back and forth across the living room with a fussy four month old for an hour or more (been there, done that. Nick Carter helped me out of that jam!) or laying down in a teeny tiny toddler bed to rub a head or a back until they're calm enough for sleep ... if it's something they need to feel comfortable, and it's within reason, I'll do it for them. I've given nebulizer treatments, rocked sick babies for hours, patted backs and given sips of water, held hair while they've thrown up and cleaned up any sicked up mess ... I'm not mom, but I do everything I can the way I know mom would do it because I want them to enjoy their time with me. I want mom and dad to be able to go out and do things without worrying that the kids are freaking out or have tied the babysitter up.

Oh. One last bit of advice. This is more for the sitter than the parents - no matter how hard they beg, DO NOT AGREE TO PLAY HIDE AND SEEK! They know their house better than you and their little brains will think of spaces you wouldn't even begin to imagine hiding in. Hide and Seek is a surefire way to give yourself a heart attack when 20 minutes have elapsed and you still can't find the three year old and the five year old is laughing her butt off because she knows where he is, but she's not telling you because it's funnier to watch you scramble around trying to find her brother. Not to mention, nobody wants to break out the butter or Crisco to get little heads and hands and feet out of places they really don't fit.

xoxo
Caitie
asaintedsinner

on how bullying effected my life and continues to do so to this day.

As I sit here writing this, I am currently 27 years old. Most of the events that take place in this happened when I was 11, 12, and 13. For the most part, I’ve managed to put it all behind me and move on from the bullying that I endured for three years. In 2010, when it was our ten year reunion from middle school, we met up for dinner. Silly me thought that maybe people would have changed in ten years. Instead, they laughed about how funny it was when they had teased and taunted me and when I told them that those things had actually hurt and had caused a huge fall out, they continued to laugh and tell me that I was being too serious.

There were two major reasons for my being bullied; my religion and the music band Hanson. Let’s start with religion. I was born and raised Roman Catholic. In the Catholic faith it is believe that when a baby is baptized, he or she is cleansed from original sin and can thus began their life washed anew. There are other sacraments, like first communion, confession, and confirmation that help to keep you free of sin as you journey through life. My classmates didn’t believe this. My classmates were mostly Baptist with a few Episcopalians and Presbyterians thrown in.

One girl asked me one day when I had been saved. I remember looking around, confused, because I had never heard that term before. I asked her what she meant and she asked me if I had gone to the principal and prayed with her and agreed to accept Jesus into my heart. I told her that no, I hadn’t, because I was Catholic and had been baptized and I already had Jesus in my heart. I was then told that I was wrong and when I went to hell, it would be fault and my fault only for not following the true teachings of Christ.

That’s where the issues first began. I was 11 years old and suddenly I’m being told that I have not in fact been saved and cleansed of sin and I’m going to hell unless I do it their way? I went home that night in tears. In fact, tears would be a common theme for those three years. There was rarely a night where I didn’t sob over my dinner because of how terrible school was. Even the teachers were in on it! They kept pushing me to accept Jesus and every time I told them that I had, I was told that I was a wrong and an infant cannot accept Jesus.

In addition to all of that which was going on, during my sixth grade year, I became a fan of Hanson. I just loved their music. As most fans do, I had the tshirts and the books and the whole shebang. I can remember one dress down day, there were whispers going everywhere. I didn’t pay attention, because at that point I was tired of the whispers, but before I knew it there was a parade of upperclassmen opening my classroom door to look at and laugh at my Hanson tshirt.

I was trying to hold it together, but it didn’t last very long. I excused myself to the bathroom where I had a good cry. In that moment, I decided that I wasn’t going to let them win. Why should I?

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t still cry about it at night. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t purposefully wearing things I knew they’d tease me about, but I wanted them to think that they couldn’t get to me. That they couldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t true, but at 11 what did I know, really? I remember one class, we a substitute and everyone else was being holy terrors. I had finished my assignment and was reading a book when the substitute came over and asked me to point out my name to him. I pointed it out and he thanked me.

    At that school, we had a check system for the day. It’s been so long, I can’t remember how many checks it was but if you got more than two checks for bad behavior, you received detention. I was the only person in the classroom that day that didn’t get a check mark. Oh, you can imagine the insanity that happened. Someone tried to tell the teacher it wasn’t fair because I had spoken to him. I think that was the beginning of my true breaking point. They were willing to stoop that low? They wanted to hurt me that badly?

    In seventh grade is when I began to cut. At first it was nothing more that little scratches because I was afraid my parents would find out and I didn’t want to hurt or upset them. In school, I would dig my fingers into the undersides of my arms with my arms crossed until I drew blood. It was the only way I knew how to keep myself under control. Seventh grade was also when I finally broke down and went to see the principal and accept Jesus into my heart. My thinking on that one was that I already believed he was in my heart, so what harm could it do?

    Unfortunately, the principal announces to the school who has finally accepted Jesus and all I got were smug “I told you so” looks from the bullies. From that point on, I was a different person entirely. I was defiant, I didn’t care what they wanted me to do or who they wanted me to be. I purposefully did the exact opposite of what I was told to do simply because I was tired of trying. I had cried for so many nights and I had even gone to the principal about it and I was told that I just needed to conform and everything would be okay.

    Once I left that school and entered high school, things were okay. I wasn’t bullied there, but the scars from the past remained with me. I made very little friends because I didn’t know who I could trust and who was going to hurt me all over again. I had people I was friendly with, but nothing that I would consider a true friendship. However in high school, the panic attacks started and for four years, I suffered silently because I was afraid there was something really wrong with me.

    The attacks were random, but they all had the same common theme : death. I was so afraid of what comes after that I would end up hyperventilating, unable to breathe, crying, shaking, and sweating. If the Baptists are telling the Catholic they have it wrong, and the Muslims are telling the world that they have it wrong (I was a sophomore when 9/11 happened), then who was right?! I couldn’t handle the stress of not knowing. I tried researching and I realized that there were common themes in all religions but I still couldn’t find the answer that would calm my panic attacks.

    The self mutilation got worse in high school. Or rather, maybe I should say it became more frequent. I was honestly afraid that I was downright mentally insane and I was going to be put in a mental hospital if I spoke a word of it to anyone. So I hid it and didn’t say a word. Every time I had a panic attack, I would bite my hands or my arms almost to the point of blood and then I would stop. For some reason, the pain centered me and brought my mind out of it’s panicky fog.

    I remember one attack. I was sitting in religion class and I suddenly felt like … like I wasn’t in my own body. That feeling where your skin is all pins and needles and prickly and you can’t tell if this is real life or if you’re dreaming. Only my mind interpreted it as “HA! You’re not alive! You’re dead. This is death and you are trapped in this school forever!” I remember running from the classroom with permission to the nearest bathroom. I was so panicked and so shaken up that I began to vomit and couldn’t stop.

    Once again, I turned to self mutilation to calm my brain down and when the shivers and shakes had finished, I washed my face, rinsed my mouth out and returned to class. My teacher looked horrified. My eyes were red from crying, my hair was matted down from being so sweaty. I gave her my best smile and told her that I wasn’t feeling well and since it was last period of the day, she told me to lay my head on my desk and rest.

    From 2003-2008 I dealt with a lot of death. I lost a beloved aunt to ALS. We lost a wonderful family friend due to old age. I lost my grandfather in 2006 and the hardest one of all, my gran in 2008. She died of a massive and sudden heart attack. No one was expecting it and to this day, I go to pick up the phone to call her or send her an email. Luckily for me, in the summer of 2004, I had a panic attack so bad (I know that doesn’t sound lucky, but it really was) that my mom finally clued into the fact that something just wasn’t right.

    I had been napping on the couch and had gotten overheated in the humid summer air. For some reason, heat is a huge trigger for me. If I get overheated and can’t cool down, a panic attack is guaranteed. That afternoon I had a dream that I was headed off to college (which I was. I went to RIC in the fall of 04) and while I was in my dorm, someone broke into my house and killed my family and when the cops came to tell me, the first thing they said was “The man came for you. If you had been there, your family would still be alive.”

    That panic attack was so bad that I ended up in the ER two days later. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t sleep, I felt like there was a rock lodged in my stomach. I lost 9 pounds in almost three days because of how horrible I felt. I remember, the day of the attack, my mom sitting with me on the couch and it finally all came pouring out. The six years of attacks, the reasons why, why I didn’t want to

tell anyone, all of the reasons why I was so scared to be me. She called my pediatrician that day and we set up an appointment for three days later but ended up in the ER due to dehydration because I couldn’t keep anything down.

    The doctor I was referred to was amazing. He was patient and kind and he listened to everything I said, everything I babbled out. Both of my parents were there at the appointment as support and he asked them questions as well as me. Both of my parents were surprised at the symptoms they had noticed but had assumed was normal adolescence. When we came out of the appointment, I had a sample box of Paxil to try and a slew of diagnosis.

    I currently (as of the writing of this article in 2013) have been diagnosed with bipolar II, generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, and obsessive compulsive disorder. Now, as a medical person myself, I do know that most of these are caused by imbalances in the brain chemistry. But what I also know is that the bullying that lead the onset of my panic attacks didn’t help. Would I have developed panic disorder anyway? Maybe. It’s certainly a possibility.

    But I also know that when therapists and doctors ask me when all of this began, I can pinpoint it. I can say to them “It started in middle school and got worse through the years”. This isn’t a piece on who is right and who is wrong when it comes to religious beliefs. I consider myself agnostic now as I try and find the pieces of who I am and what I believe. This is a piece that I hope even just ONE person reads and realizes how serious and traumatizing bullying can be.

People take their lives because of bullying. I’m a lucky one. My parents are my rocks and without them, I don’t know what I would do. I know I’m lucky but there is one child out there, right now, who won’t be so lucky. I write you this story, this piece about my life, in the hopes that maybe someone won’t have to turn to suicide to feel better about who they are. We’re all amazing. We all have potential. We just need someone to believe in us.

   

knowing when to cut your losses

I've not had the best luck when it comes to "love", so to speak. The only real boyfriend I've ever had sexually assaulted me and the one man that I was in love with never loved me enough to choose me. I met someone that I thought could really fit me. We seemed so compatible. He was like me, only a dude. But I guess there are some things that aren't meant to be. Maybe I said too much too soon. But I felt backed into a corner with constant questions.

My brother tells me that it's all a "game" these days and that if you don't play the "game" then you're not going to get anywhere. I am 26 years old. I do not feel like playing any games and if I have to play one to find someone? I don't know that I want to find someone. I don't trust easily and it takes a lot to gain it so once you have it, you better be careful with it because if you lose it, you won't be getting it back. Maybe that makes me a bitch and maybe it means I won't ever find love. I don't know. I like to think that some guy out there will want to take me on as is. I guess we'll see what happens in the future. 

Christmas .....

Today was hard. So incredibly hard. I don't have the words right now. Today was the first day I've been back to my Gran's grave since she died almost 5 years ago. Today was the first holiday held in her and Papa's house since she died. It was just ... unbelievably hard. Thank god for my cousins. They help to keep it real, help to keep me grounded. I miss her so much, I can't even begin to describe it. The pain has mostly dulled but every so often, like at dinner tonight after grace was said, it's like a knife in the heart. I miss her deeply.

Gran's grave. She's buried with her mother & her father.

My Gran and Papa. I believe this photo is from 1992.

The Frazier side of our family did a photo shoot together.

I believe I was about six in the photos, so 92 is my best guess.

The poem that was on Gran's funeral cards.

All 16 grandchildren, 6 daughters, & 6 sons-in-law

all laid white roses in her grave, along with my Papa.

I can't believe it's been almost five years. It feels like just yesterday. I just miss her so much. More than I ever knew was possible to miss someone. If there ever was a time for faith, it's when I'm missing her and hoping that I'll get to see her again someday. Please, let there be a someday where I'll see her again.

We will never forget ....

Today is 9/11. It is a day to remember our fallen heroes and the victims of the terrorist attack.

We buried my great uncle this morning. He served overseas and had a military burial. Around the time of that one of the towers fell, we were sitting in the funeral home chapel, paying homage to my great uncle, a war veteran. We listened to stories of the things Pop Pop Charlie had done. I wanted to stand up and say something, but I felt that what I had to say paled in comparison. The only thing I could say was "He was the only one who always called me Caitlin Bridget. Always." because, you see, three months before I was born, my cousin Caitlin, spelled the exact same way, was born. So to him, I was always Caitlin Bridget. It was how he made me special in a world full of people with the same name.

My brother, a Airman in the US Air Force, stood in his dress blues and saluted my great uncle's casket while TAPS was played. My great uncle was also his godfather and my brother felt it proper to pay him homage this way. He looked so handsome standing there in his dress blues, at attention, his hand up in a salute.

I had almost forgotten what day it was today, being so wrapped up and emotionally strung out from the wake last night and the funeral today. And for some reason, seeing my baby brother (okay so he's 24 but he'll always be my baby brother), I just started bawling. How did he get to be so big? Will something happen that will send him overseas to protect us because we've  been attacked again?

Everything is up in the air, but tonight, I do know one thing. My Pop Pop Charlie, my Grandpa, and their brother George are all reuinted together. Even more important, I know that my Pop Pop Charlie and his beloved wife, whom he lost in 1974, are sharing a dance that's been a long time coming. While it's hard for us to lose him, I know he's missed his wife every day since she passed and it must have felt like coming home again to see her there when he stepped through the gates of Heaven. I have no doubt that she was waiting for him.

I didn't get a picture of the casket with the flag on, but I did get one from the window of the car as we were pulling away. There's a simple sort of beauty to the display of love in this picture. While I don't like the idea of him in a box, it's a beautiful box, much like he was in life. He has so many who loved him and will continue to love him until we see him again.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

(traditional Gaelic blessing)

What Truly Makes Life Worth Living

I'm a very lucky girl in a lot of ways. I have amazing friends that I have the pleasure of calling family. Amazing little ones that I get to call my nieces and nephews and who call me Auntie even though we don't share any DNA. I love those kids just as much, if not more, than the people whom I do share DNA with. These last few weeks have been really hard on me. I've been in a place in my life where I don't really know if I'm coming or going. I can't decide what the next step is. I can't decide where I want to go next.

I'm 26 years old, I have a job that I would love if my boss wasn't such a narrow minded irritant. I only have an associates, yet I am nationally certified in what I do. I want my bachelors. I want to find love. I want a family. I'm envious when I log onto Facebook and see all of these friends I went to elementary and middle and high school with who have found their lobster and are married, have kids, or are about to have kids.

I feel like I've been wasting my life. What have I been doing? What do I have to show for the things I've done? What are my achievements? And you know what I've come to learn? 

Being a good person, doing things for others without expecting anything in return, wanting mankind as a whole to be better simply because I know they can be? That's a damn good achievement. Having people in my life who KNOW they can count on me, people who know they can pick up the phone and ask a favor and I'll be there for them? That's a damn good achievement. 

You see this little dude right here? This is the Birdman. His mom and I were friendly in high school. She was a year older than I and I always admired her. She was strong, the kind of girl I wished I could be. Randomly, last October, she was in need of a sitter for Calix and I offered. I'd worked daycare, I wasn't a total stranger to her. Let me tell you. Best. Decision. Ever. Made. I have a date tonight with Birdman and I'm excited. I'm excited every time I see him.  I get the biggest hugs and the sweetest kisses and he snuggles up to me on the couch and says "C'mere, I just wanna hug ya" and when I pick him up to carry him to bed his little arms tighten around my neck and his little voice whispers "I just love you so much, you know that?"

The last time I watched him, he started calling me Auntie on his own. Up until now, I'd just been Caitie. And without warning or preamble, he was calling me Auntie. Not even "Auntie Caitie" just Auntie. And let me tell you, I already thought this boy couldn't make my heart swell anymore than he already has. I thank my lucky stars that his mom and his dad entrust him to me. They trust that I'm going to take good care of their boy and love them when they're not there. They know I'll attend to his hurts and soothe bad dreams and I'll do everything they would do if they were there. Because that's what Aunties do, you know. They love you like your parents, keep secrets like nobody else, and they help to keep you in line.

It's not about blood or DNA or any of those things. It's about the organ that sits in your chest, eighteen inches from your head. It's that organ that clenches tight at the sound of a wail and explodes into a million pieces with a sweet little kiss.

There's another little three year old that I watch. I call him Mac. He has a baby sister, who's nine months old, and a bit of a clingy girl. She hates when Mama's not there and sometimes she takes up a lot of my attention, leaving the older two to play together or watch a movie. And I always feel bad. I feel bad that T takes up so much time and that I can't play with them like I want to.

Last Saturday, I was watching them and Little Miss T needed a bath. Sweet potatoes stain blond hair, you know. And Mac came into the bathroom with me, wedged his little body right between the toilet and the tub and put his little hand on my shoulder. "Caitie? You take such great care of my sister. Thank you for taking care of her," and he kissed my cheek as I was knelt over the tub, trying to wash apricots and sweet potato from the giggly girl's hair.

And you know what? It's not about the degrees you have or the job you do or anything like that. It's the way the people in your life make you feel and the way you make them feel. I posted these last two things on Facebook the other weekend. The first one was while I was watching my nieces and nephew, aged 8, 6, and 2. The second one was while I was taking care of Mac and his sisters, aged 5, 3, and nine months. Said nieces and nephew are in that pic at the top of my post. The little dude in my lap, and the two girls in pink right beside him. The dude in black with the goofy smile is my actual brother. He's 24. 

Anyway, it's late and now I am officially rambling. Here are those two facebook posts and with those, and this post, I finally feel like maybe ... just maybe ... I've been on that right path all along.

Things I Have Learned Today: (8/24/12)

*I hate driving in traffic. (I knew this, but it was reinforced.)
*2 and a half year olds are AWESOME birth control
*Telling said 2 and a half year old "Jay Thomas, you sit down or take that pop out of your mouth!" gets me a twenty minute "Who Thomas? Thomas Train? Why you say Jay Thomas?"
*Grateful little girls who say please and thank you make me want to give them the world.

*My boobs are apparently the perfect aiming target for aforementioned toddler.
*Playing Call Me Maybe is the PERFECT bribe to get a 2 year old to pee in the potty. Also, Junior Mints help too.
*Listening to my little nephew's voice telling me sweetly "Hi, Auntie. You home now. We go Chuck E Cheese. I play games" as the first words out of his mouth when he woke up and saw me makes me want to take him and let him play ALL the games.
*I still want kids, but I want a few more years of sleep.

Things I Have Learned Today (8/25/12)

* Accidents cause traffic even if the accident isn't on your side of the highway. I HATE RUBBERNECKERS.
* I have FINALLY learned the difference between T's mad cry, hungry cry, and sleepy cry. THIS ONE IS A BIG WIN FOR ALL.
* I love snuggling post bath, freshly smelling babies who want ALLTHESNUGGLES.
* I have a very melty heart when a very adorable 3 year old says to me "Caitie? You take such great care of my baby sister. Thanks!" as he pats my shoulder and kisses my cheek as I'm knelt over the tub giving said baby sister a bath.

* Don't ask a 3 year old a question unless you are REALLY sure you want the answer.
* There is nothing sweeter than listening to a big sister read bedtime stories to her little brother.
* There is also nothing better than two VERY understanding big siblings who understand their baby sibling needs a little extra TLC and do their best to help me and/or occupy themselves without killing each other, the cats, or destroying the house.
* Zo-Li sip cups are the most amazing invention ever and they get fussy baby to take mama milk without fighting me and the bottle.
* Ticklish almost 9 month olds have the best laugh in the world.
* A quiet house, with three sleeping children and the sound of lullabies playing from upstairs makes me feel accomplished and eager for another night to do it all again with them.

xoxo,

Caitie