On Friday evening we planned to hang out with M, our frequent bedroom guest star.  We always try to get together shortly before Christmas to exchange gifts and hang out.  In 2010, after our friendship added a sexual component, we had a fun holiday threesome.  This was unfortunately not repeated in 2011 because she was dating someone.  Since she’s currently single we figured why not?

As we’ve mentioned elsewhere on the blog, there is a dearth of available, reliable babysitters who are able to watch our daughter overnight, or even until late at night.  We’ve got relatives who live locally and who will watch her until, say, midnight, but we can’t count on their availability.  At any rate, midnight is hardly sufficient time to have a threesome, though when we’ve had to wrap it up early, we’ve never complained about the looming deadline.

The only person who was available to watch our daughter on Friday night was Jill’s sister.  As I went through my way-too-short short list of prospective babysitters, getting some variation of “Sorry, I’ve got plans Friday night” from each one, my heart sank because I knew that I would soon reach the bottom of the list and be forced to call quite literally the most unreliable person we know.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like Jill’s sister is a bad person, or even a bad babysitter.  On the rare occasion that she’s babysat at our house as opposed to hers, she’s never raided our liquor cabinet, or invited her rowdy friends over.  (Disclaimer:  She has no rowdy friends.)  She doesn’t get high, rarely drinks, doesn’t subject our daughter to R-rated movies, or do anything else that might make parents dread leaving their child in her custody.

No, our frustration stems from the fact that she is completely unwilling to watch our daughter late at night, especially if our daughter doesn’t sleep.  And she rarely does; Jill’s sister can’t or won’t consciously put her to bed, meaning that if our little one is asleep when we arrive to pick her up it’s because she stopped playing and lay down because she was exhausted, not because she was compelled to do so by an adult.

In January, we had plans to meet friends at a local bar.  Jill’s sister agreed to babysit, but only at our house, which meant that we had to clean thoroughly, hide all sex toys, and shut down and password-protect our computers lest she stumble upon this blog, or our Twitter accounts or Moby album.  She arrived at 8:45 and we planned to get to the bar around 9:00.  Our friends would be there between 9:00 and 9:15, and Jill’s sister asked that we come back at midnight.  This was hardly ideal for a Saturday night, but we had three hours, and we were going to make the best of that time.

We made sure the baby didn’t nap all day, and by the time Jill’s sister got to our house she was fast asleep.  We arrived at the bar close to nine and got drinks.  Our friends hadn’t yet arrived when the text messages began coming in asking us if we could come back; apparently our daughter had awakened and the babysitter had no clue what to do.  Note that this was not her first time babysitting, or even her first time babysitting our child.  Most of Jill’s siblings have children, and her sister has had ample experience.  No, we were certain that despite her preference for not babysitting at her own house, she was probably scared to be at our place more or less alone.

As the text messages grew more insistent, we realized we had to leave.  Jill offered to leave me there while she ran home in the hopes of getting the baby back to sleep, but I wasn’t going to let her do that.  We waited until our friends arrived, said a quick hello and good-bye (with an explanation thrown in right between the two) and headed home.  We relieved the help, and Jill got the baby back to sleep in moments.  It occurred to me that had the babysitter gone into her room and made an effort, she would have been able to do the same.  But between the fact that our daughter was expecting to see her Mommy and Daddy and not her aunt, and the fact that her aunt (a) couldn’t be bothered or (b) just wanted to go home at that point, it simply wasn’t meant to be.

This is why I hate using this particular babysitter.  Given her lack of a social life or any real commitments, she is almost always available, even when others are not.  However, she is very much a “bare minimum” sort of caretaker.  Our daughter has never been grievously injured while in her care, knock on wood.  On the other hand, if we don’t prepare dinner for her, she isn’t going to eat while in her care, either.  And as stated earlier, she’s not going to make a conscious effort to put our daughter to bed so that she is asleep when we arrive to pick her up.

This was the case in October, when we had M over for dinner and hopeful hanky-panky afterwards.  The fun had barely gotten started when her sister texted me – a half hour before the scheduled pickup time – saying that she needed us to come get the baby up so she could go to bed.  I left the ladies at home and headed over to pick her up, my fingers crossed the entire way that she was asleep.  Of course, she wasn’t.  I sang lullabies all the way home, but she made it very clear that she was wide awake and ready to party.  We were disappointed by the lack of clothing-optional fun that night, but salvaged the evening as best we could.

Last night, on the other hand, the festivities were already underway when the ten o’clock pickup time rolled around.  All three of us were naked, and I smelled, to put it bluntly, like multiple women.  But Jill and I both noticed that her sister never called, which seemed to imply that our daughter had somehow fallen asleep.  I reluctantly got out of bed, put on some deodorant and Skin Bracer, gargled with mouthwash, and got dressed.  As I drove over to my sister-in-law’s, I imagined myself returning home with a sleeping child, putting her in her bed, and returning to my own where four breasts, two vaginas, and two mouths were waiting for me.

I arrived at the house to find my daughter sleepy-eyed and yawning but awake.  Jill’s sister confirmed that she had in fact fallen asleep at eight o’clock and just woken up.  She’d been napping for two and a half hours.  There was no way she was going to sleep anytime soon.  What’s more, I was told that she barely touched the dinner we brought her, which meant she’d also be hungry.  Right before my eyes, my Christmas threesome flew out the chimney faster than Santa Claus.

I tried not to be upset.  Frustrated with my sister-in-law’s half-assed babysitting, definitely.  But upset?  For all intents and purposes it was in fact a threesome, just not as much of one as I wanted.  As I strapped my daughter into her car seat and mentally prayed that she’d somehow fall unconscious for the rest of the night, I called Jill to tell her that I was more than likely returning home with the same rambunctious child we’d dropped off earlier.  I took a circuitous route home in the hopes of giving the two ladies a few final orgasms, some cuddle time, or whatever they needed.  I ended up taking around half an hour to drive less than three miles, and they used that time to take a shower that I really fucking wish I’d been there for.

As I said, I tried not to be upset.  Jill was pretty pissed off though.  And yet it was no one’s fault, really.  Her sister had done what we’d asked of her, with no further effort put forth than we’ve come to expect.  When we ask her to babysit our child essentially what we can expect is that she will not die or sustain the sort of injuries that will have Child Protective Services investigating us.  That’s it.  She’s not going to put her down for the night.  She’s not going to cook dinner for her.  I presume she’s not even going to change her unless she can tell without looking in her diaper that she needs it.  On Friday night, we needed a babysitter and this is what was available.

We’re not ready to dip into the local talent pool to find a reliable babysitter with whom we’re not personally acquainted.  Yes, we realize that we could find someone who will, for pay, feed our child, tend to her diaper rash, ensure that she’s just fallen asleep when we pick her up, and for that matter maybe even keep her overnight.  We know that.  But we’re not ready.  Bear in mind that we just spent our first night away from her in April.  Baby steps, as they say.

When we arrived home, I can admit to being disappointed to find Jill and M already out of the shower and dressed, but it was inevitable.  Jill had a light snack ready for the baby shortly thereafter, and put her to bed around eleven-thirty.  As expected, she didn’t fall asleep quickly or easily.  M and I drank a bottle of wine on the couch while watching Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and eventually dozed off.  All things considered, it wasn’t a terrible night.