To the kids I babysit for:
You may not realize this yet, but you will someday—I am not a “normal” babysitter. A lot of other fourteen- to -fifteen-year-olds have had the opportunity to babysit thus far, but not me. I’m grateful to your parents for allowing me to babysit. I wouldn’t really have blamed them if they didn’t trust me to take care of you, even if it’s out of my control. Even when you’re not very well-behaved, I remind myself this is a good experience for me. I want to have kids someday. Whether that can or will happen, I don’t know, but being around you as toddlers has given me hope that I might not be a bad mom.
Babysitting has given me self-confidence that I never knew I could have. My experiences with little kids growing up haven’t always been positive. Even coming from kids who I’m sure didn’t know any better, their little comments about my physical differences hurt. But you just want a playmate, and you can find that in me. That being said, if I continue to babysit you, when you are older, you will notice that I’m different. There is a part of me that dreads for that day to come. As far as you know, we are on an equal playing field right now, even if that isn’t entirely true. But someday that illusion will be shattered.
If I were you, I would be confused. When I was younger, I viewed older kids as physically capable of anything and superior to any ability that I might possess. You might think that way, too, and I have to tell you that that way of thinking is not accurate. I am not physically capable of everything. I may be older than you, but you are probably close to physically overpowering me. Even at your young age, you are faster than me and more flexible. You probably don’t understand why, if you have noticed these things about me, so I’ll try to explain it to you: I have a physical disability called spastic diplegia cerebral palsy. I bet that sounds like gibberish to you, because at first I had no idea what those big words meant and what they had to do with me. Having cerebral palsy (CP) impacts me because it means I have physical limitations, or things that I can’t do with my legs.
When you’re older, you probably won’t remember that my mom had to come with me to your house to babysit. You probably won’t remember how I stumbled after a long time sitting on the floor, or when you hugged me tightly and I lost my balance. Your parents had to tell you to let go.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t style your hair. I’m sorry I can’t pick you up when you want me to. I’m sorry I can’t cut your food for you. I’m sorry I can’t put your clothes on. I’m sorry I flinched when you leaned into me. Touch hurts me sometimes, and I try to hide that fact as much as I can. I want you to trust me. Maybe that means not hiding part of myself. I’m sorry I can’t keep up with you when we play and I’m sorry I can’t always lift the heaviest of your toys.
Reading this, I’m sure you’re wondering how on Earth I’m qualified to be a babysitter, let alone a babysitter for young, toddler-age kids. Believe me, I question my own competence level and qualifications. The answer to how I am qualified is (mostly) that my mom comes with me. However, being a babysitter isn’t only about the physical things. What I can’t tell you in a letter is how passionate I am. I love seeing you smile when I walk in the door. I like the things I get to do with you independently. I like when you ask me to play with you because it means, for now, that you haven’t noticed I can’t keep up with you. I love connecting with little kids. I’m so happy that my disability hasn’t impaired my connection with you, and when you realize that I’m different, I don’t want our connection to fade.
When your parents come home and you cry because it’s time for me to leave, my self-confidence gets a much-needed boost. Your unhappiness at my leaving means that I’m doing something “right”. It means that, for now, my disability doesn’t impact you. Of course, my CP still exists when I’m with you, but you’re blind to it. That will change someday, I know. Eventually, as you accomplish milestones that I still don’t quite have a grasp on, you’ll realize my differences. Eventually, when you run to your room or want to play tag, you’ll notice that I’m not right behind you. You’ll realize that you’ve physically surpassed your babysitter, the person who is supposed to be your role model, the person who is supposed to have accomplished everything before you do.
You are already faster than me. As you grow up, your physical abilities will continue to be superior to mine. That might be hard for me to watch, if I’m being honest. I know I can do things—I can walk and talk. I can run when necessary. Other than that, though, I feel physically stuck. As I watch you chase and accomplish your milestones, I will be so glad that your challenges are not physical. I hope that though you will physically outpace me, I can still teach you. I can teach you how to be kind and how to accept differences. Right now, you seem to be good at that anyway.
So yes, my mom comes with me to babysit you because there are some things that I can’t do. It is hard for me to step back as she carries you, as she cuts your food perfectly for you. I am beyond grateful for her help, but I want so badly to be one of your caretakers. I know there is grace in accepting limitations. Maybe one day I will be the kind of babysitter, the kind of mom that I badly want to be. Right now, I can’t meet those expectations.
I am so grateful to be a small part of your lives, to see you play and grow. I love that I am trusted to take (partial) care of you. Really, that’s all I can ask for. Your smile as I walk in the room—no matter how slowly I walk—sustains me. Even if I don’t feel as competent to be your babysitter, I am thankful for the opportunity. No, I’m not the usual babysitter. But I don’t need to be. Someday, you’ll discover what my challenges are, and that we all have challenges. I want to be viewed as normal in your eyes, but hopefully the view you’ll have of me is that I am your babysitter, and I will be there for you regardless of my abilities.
Love,
Your Babysitter