The quickest way to rip out your heart.

He is fourteen.  I am thirty five.  I can't imagine my life without him.  He has had complete command over my heart, my love, his mire existence has brought such complete definition to my life.  He brought me stability, he defined to me the what the deepest depths of love can possibly be, and I am, and always will be completely devoted to him.

This story is long, but I can make it short(er).

Moving to Boston was a big, and necessary step for me in my life when I was nineteen years old.  I wanted to live with Danielle, reconnect with her, she had moved out of our house when she was sixteen and I was twelve at the time.  An opportunity arose, and I took it.  

As soon as I got there I landed a job at a restaurant on Newbury Street called Charley's Eating and Drinking Saloon.  Here, I worked non-stop for years.  Restaurants like this forge friendships for life.  In this time, I met a man that was doused in red flags.  We had a year long, on-off, relationship, that ended with his tendency to have many female companions.  A few weeks after we ended our relationship, I found out I was pregnant.  I was smart enough to know that I was easily influenced, I wanted all of my decisions to be my own, so I told one person, and no one else until I decided how I would proceed.  By this time I started having grand illusions of a Jerry Maguire movie like existence and was already picking out names, so it was decided, I would do this.  He was not on-board.  I was fine with that and over it.  The pregnancy went well and I still was delusional about survival. 

Luke came into the world on March 29th, 1997 at 1:16am.  The birth was difficult for me so I didn't really get to hold him until 5am.  My first thought was "Oh my god, why didn't I do this sooner.  He is amazing!", my next thought was "oh yeah, because i'm 21, on my own, barely any income, and have no mom experience what so ever."

My life changed, my world changed.  I welcomed everything because I would do anything for my baby.  I moved home to Watertown when Luke was a year old.  We settled and life began. 

This post is not about single motherhood per say.  It's about babysitters.  The heartbreak of leaving your baby with someone is sometimes unbearable.

I've had good sitters, but twice I had the experience of having babysitters that were an absolute nightmare.

The first one was a heavy set Mexican woman named Maritza.  Maritza had one other child to care for besides Luke.  She seemed like an outstanding woman.... at first.  Took Luke to the park, fed him well, he always seemed happy.  One evening after work,  I was giving Luke a bath when I noticed he had two bruises,  one on the top of each ear.  Strange bruises, I initially thought that his bike helmet must have been pushing his ears down.  I say to Luke "Where did you get these bruises?", he looks bewildered.  Then I touch them and he recoils and says "Maritza!  She pulls me by my ears!!".  I was horrrrrrified.  Completely, and utterly horrified.  I did not take Luke back to Maritza's again (obviously), but at the same time, I did not confront her because I was afraid of myself and what I would not say, but do.  I was dropping Luke off to be physically abused?!?!  Horrified.

The second sitter's name was Shelley.  I should have seen this one also.  When I pulled up to Shelley's on recommendation of the local CAPC, I notice she had signs on her windows instructing anyone within visual distance to turn down their radios.  Her neighbor had a blow up doll attached to the side of their house, facing her house, with it's arm and hand propped up giving her house the eternal middle finger.  She was a VERY heavy set lady with an endless pit of toys, all organized in clear totes, labeled, and seemed to have endless amounts of yard toys in her backyard (which was fenced in).  The thing about Shelley was, Luke was safe at her house.  She had all of her T's crossed and I's dotted when it came to safety.  Shelley was a very stern woman.  I thought Luke could benefit from the very clear boundaries that she set for him.

Luke went to Shelley's for a little over a year.  She started to become very comfortable yelling at Luke in my presence, and I felt that it was uncalled for.  If she was doing it in my presence, I figured it was ten times worse when I wasn't there.  There was a day that Luke told me that he didn't like the food Shelley made him. I brought raviolis in the can to her house and she was extremely offended by this and stated that he needed to suck it up and eat what she makes.  When I came back to pick him up, Luke told me that Shelley said "Your mom babies you.", under my breath I said "Well, Shelley is a fat bitch".  Luke has owl ears if he wants and starts laughing and states "I'm going to tell her you said that.".  I forbid Luke from ever repeating anything I ever say about Shelley, but he continues to insist she needs to know.  I tell Luke I will look for a new sitter which spurs the biggest Cheshire cat grin the boy can muster.  The next day I drop him off, and while I am standing there she goes off on how Luke's allergies make him look like he has cancer.  She says (in front of Luke) "Look at him!  His eyes have bags under them, his skin is pale!  On top of that, every time he comes here I have to start over!", I say "Start over?", she replies "I have to reteach him the rules!".  Luke pipes in "Mom is finding me a new sitter.  Aren't you mom?  Can I leave with you now???", Luke's eyes are pleading with me not to leave him there, but I can't take him anywhere else, I have to work in ten minutes and we need the money very badly.  The defeat in Luke's eyes, his tiny shoulders slunched over, my gut hurt from the horrible guilt I had leaving him there.  Ten hours later I picked him up and informed Shelley she would never be bothered with us again.  She seemed elated.  Bitch.

Luke never had bad sitters after that, I became the sitter Nazi making sure of it.  My first born son is someone that drives me nuts, but makes me proud.  I am fond of his independence, his level head, and his humorous personality.  I hope that the experiences he had growing up contributed to who he is today.  Sometimes the bad experiences are rewarding in some way, but as a mother, they ripped my heart out.