Help Wanted

My mommy is a rookie too at finding full-time babysitters.

I never had a babysitter growing up. Ever.

I had extended family instead. My mother was pretty much Betty Crocker until I was an adolescent, making our baby food and clothes, tending the garden, taking a break from dusting to watch "As the World Turns," and generally being an extraordinary farm wife.

When my dad taught her how to drive one of his semi trucks and she joined him in his grain hauling business, my brother and I took a short trip through the alfalfa field to our grammy's house in the mornings. She fed us Fruit Loops -- an awesome treat since my mother took the church co-op rather seriously in the '70s -- and set our grandpa's horrific photo development timer to make sure we wouldn't miss the school bus. (That buzz would have woken the dead.)

In the afternoons our great aunt, who lived between our farm house and grandparents' house, would be waiting at our home when we got off the bus. My brother always marveled at how she poured the milk at just the right time so that it wasn't too searingly cold to have with our cookies, without a timer no less.

Now that's the way to leave your kids when you go to work: with trusted family.

My parents aren't in retirement, though. True, my dad isn't hauling anymore, but he is maintaining all three properties. And he's better with kids already out of diapers. My mom can swing a few days a week tops, and other family members have their own careers and families and obligations.

And we live a bit farther apart than one little alfalfa field.

So I have begun the cheerless task of finding a sitter for my baby. It reinforces some resentment and anxiety about returning to work. It's especially odd since teen Gabe has been on autopilot for so many years. In some ways he may be watching my dad when he is at the farm! (I wonder if he sets out milk and cookies for his grandpa.) As I said before, Gabe is the brother and not the primary babysitter for Max, although he does help out a great deal when I am trying to get things done around the house.

I started with some word of mouth, or rather word of Facebook in this social media age. I got some bites for folks willing to care for my baby in their home, but I am really hoping to keep Max in his own home -- especially with the major change of his daddy coming and going every three months or so.

I turned to Care.com, a site for posting jobs and resumes for caregiving of all sorts. It's good, although you have to pay a monthly fee to view full profiles and communicate with prospective candidates. And there are a bevy of filters to screen the best matches and background checks already on file.

I was willing to pay for that, certainly. But I got sticker shock when it came to paying for the actual sitter. Most folks will accept $20 a day if you bring your kid to their home. But the rate triples and even quadruples if you want someone to come to your own home ... and watch your full cable lineup and sit in your air conditioning and log onto your wi-fi and eat your food and use your washer and dryer.

I guess I understand part of it. There is the driving, and the not being able to wipe down your own kitchen counters. But everything else is the same. You'd better shower and get out of your pajamas at your own house too if I'm paying you to be with my bambino.

Good care is worth it, though. I felt like I was on eBay trying to get this wonderful young nursing student to come here, offering her more and more until she said yes. She was the only one I felt like could have been part of my family, and that was what was most important.

Post Script: No, I'm not going to pay you $40 a day for any damn thing, and certainly won't let you near my children, if you write to me things like: "I seen your ad" or "Your welcome." No. Way.