Stew

I have not had a worse day than this in awhile. I spent the entire day reading and responding to a series of nasty e-mails from our sitter who, at twenty (and childless), has deemed herself an expert on parenting, and has also deemed me to be the worst parent in history. (Note, her frustration stemming from the $32.50 she would have received had I not decided to stay home today.) For this reason, she felt compelled and justified in accusing me of never disciplining Kicky (little does she know of the time-outs, the toy confiscations, the screaming!). She also said some other cruel things having to do with old sippy cups and runny noses that, despite being way off base, still stung. I stuck to the high road. I didn't remind her that on more than one occasion I had to wake her up when I got home (at 11:00 a.m., no less) as Esmee napped, that my house was always trashed after she left, that she once put Esmee to bed with only a diaper and a bib (a bib!) on, and that she was always, always fifteen minutes late, but that I continued to pay her for those precious minutes. I didn't complain that she made Kicky feel like the ugly stepsister, that I never once saw her read them a book, or that I'm spending half of the money I make teaching to have her watch the girls (she's also underpaid, apparently). Sorry. I just had to let that out. It's been bubbling. A terrible stew.