DailySusan Humor Blog

BIG, BAD JAN

The rod and reproof give wisdom:
but a child left to himself
bringeth his mother to shame.
-- Proverbs 29:15

We just got back from a few days out of town. We were thrilled to find Maddy, 6, even happier and perkier than before we left. Bed made, teeth brushed, toys picked up, library books read. Woo hoo!

We knew things would go well, because we found strict babysitters who don’t let her get away with half the stuff WE let her get away with. Who were they? Two of her older sisters, tag-teaming. They were Homeland Security before Homeland Security was cool.

We rejoiced. One of the most important tasks of parenting is to find tough-talking but tenderhearted babysitters, who can ride herd on the wildhairs while you’re away, enforce your rules, keep the kids out of the Emergency Room and the neighbors from calling the police.

When I was a kid, I had a whole string of them:

Great-Great Aunt Nell kept us busy with endless games of Yahtzee and her parakeet, Dickie Bird. She never shaved her legs, and she drove a really racy Dodge Dart.

Mrs. Peetz was strict and made us do lots of chores but always brought a make-your-own pizza kit, which was exotic and multicultural in those days.

But the best was Jeannie Fink, a teenager with a gift for marketing and promotion. She worked in a candy store. So she would bring a sack of candy that served as a fabulous bribery stash to induce good behavior. Her motto: speak softly, and carry a peppermint stick.

Now that I’m a mom, I’ve been blessed with great babysitters. They’ve been tough, but not unkind . . . tender, but not wimps . . . and delightful, memorable and distinctive, each in her own way. The most memorable one was . . .

. . . Big, Bad Jan*.

She came highly recommended: reliable, experienced, no-nonsense. She cut an imposing figure – Mary Poppins on steroids. The week before she came, I sang this song about her for the kids, just to set them up. It was a parody of that country-western rap ballad, “Big, Bad John”:

When your parents are leavin’

You’ll see her arrive.

She stands 5-foot-10

And weighs 185.

Kinda broad at the shoulders,

Narrow at the hips.

And everybody knows

You don’t give no lip

To Big Jan.

(Refrain) Big Jan! Big Jan! Big Jaaaa-aaaan! Big, bad Jan!!!!

Jan arrived, and the kids gaped at her as she towered over them. I went over the Do’s and Don’ts, as well as a list of fun places she could take the kids to, if they were good.

She urged us out the door. “Don’t worry!” she reassured us. “Just go have fun.” We left with a song in our hearts, thankful for such a great stand-in.

As we drove off, though, I felt a little tug of doubt about the crazy way she’d parked her great, big car in our driveway. It was kind of cattywampus. But oh, well: the kids would be plenty safe in that great, big car.

The week went by quickly. When we got back, the kids had tears of joy in their eyes. We felt great about how much they had missed us, and what excellent parents we were for providing such a solid parental replacement . . . until Big, Bad Jan drove off, a little cattywampus.

Then it all came spilling out:

She had “vampire teeth.”

She hummed.

Her car was stinky.

And she was a terrible driver. They had stomachaches from going around corners too fast. But because I’d given her the idea that I wanted them to go on a lot of outings, she’d taken them all over kingdom come, humming incessantly between her vampire teeth, scaring them with her iffy driving and her stinky, stinky car.

Yeah, but the house was clean, the beds were made, 911 had never been called, the roof was intact . . . and best of all, after a week with HER, they appreciated US.

Overall, Big, Bad Jan did a rootin’, tootin’ good job. And even if she didn’t, I would never give her no lip. †

* not her real name.