Babysitters are different than DARBYsitters.

Babysitter: n.  1. A person engaged to care for one or more children in the temporary absence of parents or guardians.  2. A person who cares for or watches over someone or something that needs attention or guidance.

DARBYsitter: n. 1. A person engaged to care for and hopefully keep alive, one little redhead in the temporary absence of parents.  2. A person willing to risk life and limb to keep a redhead alive for several hours.

There is a difference...a LARGE difference, between a BABYsitter and a DARBYsitter.

A babysitter is required to change diapers, play, possibly feed children a small snack or meal, and possibly put children to bed.  I try to spoil my sitters.  I order pizzas for dinner.  My kids are always in their pajamas, and I'm fine with them watching a pre bedtime movie.  It's usually a pretty easy job, and I pay well. 

A DARBYsitter MUST be a different breed.  My assessment of whether or not one can stand the test of time when considering whether or not she will be hired for the job is based on three things:

1.  Does she have experience with young children?
2.  Does she work well under pressure?
3.  When the water boils, do I think she'd crawl into the fetal position?

Not everyone makes the cut.  

When I return, I always carefully assess my sitter's face.  Is she pale?  Does she look overly stressed?  Is she sweating?  Has she been crying?  I know the symptoms of DPTSD (Darby Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I perpetually live life experiencing them.  Most importantly, are Darby AND the babysitter still alive?  After assessing those things, I dreadfully ask how it went.  Most of the time, I get a "it went well," although most of the time, I think they're lying through their teeth.  It's all good, so long as I still have a select few who would be willing to risk life and limb to help on occasion.

One time, I came home, and one of Dallas's grilling knives was on the counter.  You know, the ones that are two feet long?  They're more like machetes than knives, and I'm convinced that they're all for show.  I think he uses it to feel powerful in front of his grill.  That day, Darby must have wanted the power trip, because she somehow got it out of a locked cupboard and ran up to the sitter with it.  The sitter said she "turned around for a second, and Darby came running up with it."  You know what?  I totally believe her.  I'm just happy Darby didn't impale herself!

On the first day of school, I got a sitter for Darby so a friend of mine and I could go grab coffee sans children.  A celebration of freedom, so-to-speak.  Starbucks is 25 minutes from my house, but I make the drive...because I'm addicted.  Right as we were pulling in to Starbucks, I got the dreaded phone call from home.  It was my sitter:

Sitter: "Kelly?"
Me: "Oh, Hi, Sitter, how's it going?"
Sitter: "Weeell...Darby locked herself in the study."
Me: "Okay, you're going to have to look on top of the door frames for the little door unlocker things, okay?  If you don't find one, you're going to have to call your house (next door), and ask for someone to bring you one of yours.  If it works in your house, it'll work in ours.  Okay?"
Sitter: "Okay."
Me: "I'll call you back in five."

My friend, having heard my end of the conversation, and after putting two-and-two together:
Friend:  "Darby locked the babysitter out?"
Me: "Yep."
Friend: "HOW do you do it?  I mean, how are you not totally freaking out right now?!"
Me: "I guess I just don't really freak out about stuff.  I mean, what would that do for me now?  I'm 25 minutes from home."

After my friend and I got our coffee, I called my sitter back.  She had gotten Darby out of the study successfully, and was not in the fetal position, so I felt like I could stay out for awhile.  My friend was still overly shocked at "how well I took things."  I finally said, "You have to realize, this sort of stuff happens four or five times a DAY at my house.  It's nothing new!"  She agreed, and we enjoyed our "freedom" for another hour or so, and thankfully, both sitter and Darby were still alive upon my return.

I claim small victories.
That was one of them.

If you are a sitter of mine, you are valued.
You are cherished.
You are appreciated!
Your efforts do NOT go unnoticed!
And, Please!
Please!
Please!
Please!
...sit for us again!  We need you!