May 2021 | Mental Health

WRITTEN BY BLAIR FJESETH

My husband and I left our children with a babysitter for the first time in more than a year.

Talk about hermits, am I right?!

“A what?!” He said nervously.

Doing my due diligence, I explained to our three children that a very nice girl named Maggie would be coming to hang out with them the following day. The older two children (ages 7 and 5) are savvy to this situation. They knew they would have Maggie captive and forced to play with them for hours on end. Those stinkers knew they could leverage the situation and request whatever dinner they wanted and, of course, they would get dessert – probably extra – to shore up a good babysitting review. They know how to play the babysitter game, and a yearlong break wasn’t about slow them down.

His eyes darted at me with intensity. “Oh, we are, are we?” he said to her, his eyes still piercing mine.

As for my 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter, well, this was the first time she would be with someone unfamiliar to her.

“I’m having a babysitter,” Nell asked? “Yes,” I replied, “and she will be really nice and fun.”

When my husband arrived home from work an hour later, we were both caught by surprise when she ran towards him and yelled, “Guess what, dad? We’re having a baby sister!”

“A baby sister,” she confirmed.

I quickly reiterated the “sitter” part of babysitter. I even made her practice it. “Can you say it- it- it- ter, Nell?”

“Baby siTEEERRR” she said, exaggerating the “er” part like she was a dog growling.

The next day I received a very supportive congratulations on the soon-to-be baby from one of her day care teachers. I quickly clarified the situation. “lol’s” were exchanged, and I moved on.

At pick-up, she once again declared to the entire room of parents that she was having a baby sister. I quickly squashed their joy by firmly saying, “No, Nellie, you are having a babysitter, not a baby sister.”

On the drive home, I reminded myself that all this effort was worth getting to spend alone time with my husband.

When Maggie arrived that night, Nell ran to the door screaming, “My baby sister is here!” Poor

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Maggie wasn’t what Nell had in mind as a new baby sister. Nell’s joy quickly and dramatically turned into sobbing and burrowing into a pile of blankets on the couch. My husband peeked in on her to instill comfort, but all she could mutter through buggery tears was “Daddy, I don’t want a baby sister.”

After showing Maggie the ropes and introducing her to my children (except Nell, who would not even look at her), we were off on our date. It was glorious. I ate with both hands and wasn’t interrupted every other second.

That night before climbing into bed, I mentioned needing to do that more often to my husband. As I lifted the covers, I saw my sweet girl had secretly climbed into my spot . . . her little body curled up around her favorite stuffy.

“I suppose once a year is good enough for now,” I whispered.

Blair Fjeseth is a working professional and proud Montana mom.

You can reach her at blairparker.inc@gmail.com. Follow her Instagram @blair_mt for more adventures.