Leave the club kinda early cuz they gotta go to work
I mess with supervisors who got credit like Big Turk
So dusty feet, please don't bother me,
I got independent dimes on my mind. . .
It's been a busy couple of days. Also a HOT couple of days. That's a little beside the point though. . . anyway, babysat again on Monday. Took the kids to the rose garden again and we climbed some trees. Successfully changed yet another diaper- and I'm actually getting pretty good at the whole 'grab the kid by the ankles and lift' thing. It was under pressure, too, because as I was about halfway done, the little girl goes, "Liz, look, a doggie," and I looked over to see a very thin, collarless dog staring at us from about four feet away. I kind of picked up the pace after that.
Saw something strange on the way back from the park- a team of movers tying some ropes around a piano and preparing to hoist it up the side of an apartment building. I chose to steer the stroller around the workers rather than between them and the building because, I think we all know how that story was gonna end.
Yesterday morning I went out to San Justo for an appointment as part of the interview process for this nanny agency. Turns out San Justo is not even in Buenos Aires- it's a two hour bus ride to get there and two more hours to get back. And I was not encouraged by what I could see out the window on the way there. Although the email had stressed that the office was in a good neighborhood, all I could see were little shanty houses constructed of cinderblocks. The edges of the roofs were lined with glass shards stuck into cement. A man in a cart pulled by a very depressed-looking horse pulled up alongside my bus. He was riding in a CART pulled by a HORSE. That is only acceptable if you're Amish, and he sure as hell wasn't Amish. He was riding a horse-drawn cart because it was cheaper than a car and, unlike a car, he can EAT IT when it DIES. In short, San Justo is the ghetTOE.
Anyway, I think the meeting went well. It started at ten and ended at noon. The bus ride back, however, was miserable. It was upper 80's, I could only find a spot in the sun, and they don't have AC on the buses here. Two hours of that, plus a leftover migraine, had me feeling super queasy. Fortunately, the bus just happened to pass within two blocks of the American family's home, where I was supposed to be by three.
Because I was a little bit early, I stopped at the ice cream shop on the corner and enjoyed two scoops of banana and strawberry. Now, you all know I think gelato is incredible. I exposed Kyle to it when he came to visit, and he will never be the same, not even being dramatic. But as soon as I tasted that rich, sugary ice cream on the corner of Chenaut and Campos, I realized why American-style creamery ice cream is in a class by itself. It reminded me of a cone I'd enjoyed at Blue Chip Cookies last year (where my dear friend JaNae works). Sweet, rich, decadent, full of chunks of real fruit- it was fantastic. And it made me want to come home a little bit more.
After a cool, refreshing hour in that little cafe, I continued down the street to see my little pumpkins. They'd had a rough morning, going to see a doctor because one of them had a bug bite that wouldn't clear up, so they were in the midst of a deep nap. I sat down with the New York Times Magazine and waited.
Half an hour later, only the little one had woken up, so I went for a little walk around the block with him. We hit up the playground across the street, walked down a street which is a couple of blocks of nothing but bars and restaurants, and then circled around to come home. He's in a phase now where whenever he sees a doorway or a stoop, he has to sit in it or on it (his parents confirmed that he does this regularly). It's like he's posing for a catalogue or something.
By the time we got back, the girl still hadn't woken up, so we looked through some books and ate some yogurt until she did. Then we all went out to the park and they threw sand on me. The heat had finally let up, and the way the light from the setting sun slanted over the tops of buildings gave everything a yellowish-green glow. It felt so much like spring in Kansas City, like when I used to come back to my house after softball practice during the last few weeks of the spring semester in college, and I could count on a few more hours of sunlight. The only thing missing was the sound of lawnmowers.
We got back around seven, and the parents were out getting groceries, so we played a little more and I successfully changed the foulest diaper I could ever imagine. Seriously, it's like that kid is playing mind games with me or something. Anyway, I stayed about a half hour longer than planned, and I was compensated generously for my time.
Then I came home and got into bed, after more than 13 hours of non-stop action, with no intention of moving until well into the next morning.