Problem:
A mom I met at a parenting class (that we were both required by law to attend) has been asking me to babysit her kid.
I did it for a couple days before I noticed she was taking increasing advantage of my kindness (read: if you ask me a favor I won't say no right away, therefore you've got a window of time to walk all over me until I come to my senses).
She'd say she needed me to babysit him for 6 hours, the next day it became 9 hours, then before the next day was done she'd jacked it up to 12 hours.
"And oh, by the way, rather than pay you with money, I'll pay you with the books I'm selling. The reason I need you to babysit my kid is because I'm selling books at the PX."
Well like I said, I came to my senses and came up with a GREAT explanation for no longer being able to watch her kid. I would love to tell her that I simply hate babysitting and that I have a tendency to get really mean when irritated, but that's not a polite thing to say. So I told her another truth instead: I'm not FCC certified, and never will be. She understood that military housewife lingo right away which means that I am not a certified child care provider, therefore it is unlawful for me to provide routine child care while living in the military quarters provided to us through my husband's career.
So she kept her kid with her on Friday. It was not my concern how difficult she told me it was for her to sell books with a wiggly 2-year-old strapped in a stroller all day.
Friday night, 9pm the doorbell rang. Can we babysit her boy all day Saturday? Just Saturday, she promises. He'll be here at 9am, but no end time was specified.
I was caught off guard, in my jammies, watching the debate, half-asleep, and as if those serve as some sort of excuses for being caught off guard as a doormat again, I said, "Sure! no problem!"
By the way, she still hasn't paid me in "books," so I'm on my way over to her PX kiosk here in a bit to pick some out (even though I really don't need books - that's what the library is for. What the world has taught me that I deserve for my time and services is money, and it's hard for me to reprogram my brain into believing that payment in books will suffice instead). I'm just scared to death that she'll give me those pathetic 40-year-old puppy dog eyes that should have learned effective mothering skills by now after 23 years of parenting...