I was 18, starting my second year of college, handicapped and learning disabled, and for a month before I was to take care of three boys 8, 8, and 10 when I had never babysat before. Anxiety was my constant companion and it was hitting the ceiling. I meet the boys and I felt totally inadequate. I had hardly gotten there when the parents left. The only experience I had was helping my Grandmother and the guide of what to do was love. I was soon to find out it works with children.
My first stroke of luck was I had been mistaken about what the parents had told me to do and so after our first dinner I had the kids clean their plates and put them in the sink. They obeyed as I thought they would since it was their routine. I found out later that they had never done so before. That gave me a feeling of confidence.
My biggest scare was when the twins got the runs. I thought I had done something wrong. Perhaps the house was not clean enough, so I scrubbed from top to bottom. When that did not work I was worried sick and and beside myself, I thought I had killed them and it was only a matter of time before they died. I called a lady on the help list. She explained that they did this routinely every few months and not to worry. I can not tell you how relieved I was.
I learned how to keep track of them calling the parents of friends they would visit with in the day. I had to know where they were at all times so I would not feel helpless if they came up missing for a while. Things would go wrong but overall it was a very good experience. Little did I know someday I would have three boys of my own, I was preparing the groundwork of what to do. This would save me future anxiety. It also built up my confidence I would need to tackle college on my own, I was being more then independent. Kids are always great and workable, little did I know someday I would work with street kids, up to seventeen, alone, at a time from ages three to seventeen, and have little to no trouble. This experience had helped.
Classes had not yet begun. That thought gave me much anxiety. Living with a family, even though it was not my own, could help or cause more anxiety. Anxiety was my constant companion. It forced me to look for solutions and that may have been a blessing. It would not let me rest or overlook what I might have missed. One thing with a disability is you always feel lesser, weaker, dumber, and less worthy even when you do not know what the disability is. Confusion had only just begun. I was still very shy, quiet, and outside of nurturing very unobtrusive. I could not follow gossip, fads, fashions, or popular songs and movies. In other words, I was not in the loop. I forgot so much that someone once said I would never be bored because I rediscovered the world daily. I had a lot to learn and remember. I had to come up with new ways to process or quickly fall behind.
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