I lost my babysitter yesterday. No, not for any hugely dramatic reason, but her family is moving to Burbank (today!) and while she can still bus in and attend her same school, working for me in the evenings is just too far, too late, too dark. She is only 14 and I understand where her mother is coming from.
She was running a little late so we only had a minute to talk before I left for work. When she gave me the news I immediately called Paul to make sure he could pay her when he got home. Then I gave her a hug and hoped into the car where I cried the whole way up to La Crescenta.
I wasn’t crying because I’d just lost such an awesome babysitter — even though it did put us in a momentary “how can I keep working without her?” I was crying because I’d miss her. Would her new ward take good care of her and her family? Would they know what to do? Would they care? Would she be okay? Will she have someone looking over her to make sure she keeps her grades up and plans on college? Please, world, let her be the one to break her family’s cycle, graduate from high school, do something with her life, and not have children until she’s married and settled…
Getting a new babysitter was easy — after all, Angela lives three doors down. Whether I pay her in cash or babysitting I think we’ll both benefit from the situation. But already, without even missing a day of Esme, I miss her. And I really really really hope this move sticks for their family. They could use the stability much more than the money I was paying her.
I just didn’t expect to be giving up Esme for Lent. (Well, maybe that’s what I get for not celebrating –that’s not the right word — participating in Lent.)