July 27th, 2009
Dear Diary,
I’m sorry that I haven’t written in a while. Nothing much has changed, other than my becoming a little bit more social (if hanging out with one person counts). It feels like Brittany and I are long lost sisters reunited and I’ve become attached to the children as well, babysitting them three times a week. Babysitting makes me feel as if I serve some sort of a purpose, unlike my job, where all my other coworkers (besides Brittany), treat me like I’m practically nothing. Let me tell you about Brittany’s three children!
Chrissy is Brittany’s oldest child. She’s seven years old. She’s so adorable. She looks like a younger version of her mother, only she’s chubby. Her red hair is always separated into long, shiny plaits adorned with barrettes. She’s two times bigger than other kids her age. She walks around like she’s the Incredible Hulk, as if she’s in charge, which is hilarious. She’s also the most outspoken.
Tyla is six years old and is the complete opposite of her sister. She has brown skin with the most beautiful big, brown eyes. Her hair is a lot shorter than Chrissy and is always in cornrows. She’s so tiny that you would think that she’s deprived of food, until you see how she eats like a 250lbs man. She always looks like she’s surprised with everything that’s going on. Although she’s very shy and soft spoken, she has her share of questions.
Deon is four years old and he never sits still! He looks like a male version of Tyla with the same skin, hair, and eyes. He’s the smallest and acts like he’s the strongest. I had to put him in time-out numerous times for being too rough on his sisters. Not only that, but he back-talks me. Sometimes I get the urge to yank his little ear, but I can’t because he’s not my son.
Although they’re quite annoying, always asking for something every five minutes, or wanting to chat with me about the pointless things that children like to talk about, I appreciate their company. Also, when I talk, they listen. Even if I get a negative response, it’s still a response. Sometimes I feel like their mother…although I’m in no shape to be a mother right now.
I will admit that the first day I babysat them, it was nerve wrecking. They didn’t seem as talkative towards me when their mother was around. Now that she wasn’t around, it was if they got a little bit too comfortable. It was almost as if they were giving me an interview. They all asked handfuls of questions, but Chrissy was in the lead.
“Why don’t you talk much?” asked Chrissy.
“I don’t have much to say.” I replied.
“How old are you?” asked Chrissy.
“I just turned twenty.” I replied.
“When’s your birthday?” asked Chrissy.
“June 30th.” I replied.
“Ain’t that SpongeBob’s birthday?” she asked.
“HUH?” I replied.
“You got any kids?” she asked.
I replied “No.”
“What are you infertile or something?” she asked.
I was really taken aback by that question and it’s not a question that a seven year old should be asking. So I replied “Spell ‘infertile.’” Then she changed the subject. They really drained my energy, as it seemed as if the kids were either getting into an altercation, getting hurt, wanting to play games, or wanting something to eat or drink every five minutes. When Brittany finally came home, I ran out of there like a soldier who was held hostage for months.
I came home to another note on my door from Ronald’s wife. She still doesn’t seem to realize that I haven’t seen him in months. I would very much not like to confront her, as I don’t like making scenes. Brittany offered to talk to her for me, but I’d rather not have other people handle my battles. I also don’t like adding “extras” to the equation. In the note was another Bible scripture. Here’s what Preacher Wifey’s most current note says:
This is the way of an adulteress: She eats and wipes her mouth and says, “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
-Proverbs 30:20
She’s still oblivious to the fact that I didn’t know that Ronald was married. I try my hardest to put this whole situation in the back of my mind and not allow it to get the best of me. However, I can’t do that if I keep receiving notes that remind me of why they’re being sent in the first place. I don’t know what to do.
Tags: children, depression, low self-esteem, Suicidal Jasmine
