I know I keep going back to this subject. But I still have a lot of anger in me towards Mr. & Mrs. R. and it helps me to write about it. If you don't want to read about it...you might want to skip this entry.
As I've said before, I still have second thoughts about quitting. I miss the girls so much. I often wonder what would happen if I were to see them somewhere, like in a grocery store or the mall. If they didn't see me, I don't think I would approach them. I'd slip away, hopefully unnoticed. As much as I'd want to run over and sweep them in my arms and smother them in hugs and kisses, I wouldn't want to open up the situation with them again. Have them wondering why I so suddenly disappeard from their life and why I so suddenly reappeared.
But if they saw me? I'd hug them and kiss them and assure them that I love them, very much. And that I miss them every day. And that I was so, so sorry I never said goodbye to them. In hindsight, I didn't make the best decisions while quitting. I should have just told the R.'s some reason why I quit. And been able to say goodbye to the girls.
I should have said goodbye to them.
I should still be with them, actually.
But on these days when I do wish I was working for them again, I dredge up old memories of why I quit in the first place. Why I just couldn't stay in their house any longer. These aren't the only reasons, by far. But they were what I was thinking about today.
Mr. R. was at a meeting. Mrs. R. was at Starbucks reading. I was getting dinner ready for the girls and I felt awful. I felt so sick. I tried to keep going as long as I could but I felt like I was going to pass out. Finally, I called Mrs. R. and asked her to come home because I needed to leave. She said she'd leave Starbucks, which was about 2 minutes from their house, right away. But could I please start feeding the girls? Okay, okay. I fed the girls.
Then I bathed them.
Put them in their PJs.
And I was in the middle of a bedtime story, sweating with a fever and honest to god about to pass out, when she came home.
"Oh, good, the girls are almost ready for bed. Can you put them down while I go change into my jammies and shower?" she asked, the moment she saw me.
I almost said yes. I almost gave in. But I mustered whatever strength I had left in me and told her no, that I felt like I was dying, and that I needed to go. And I did.
The next day I found out that Mrs. R. had called Mr. R. home from his meeting to put the girls to bed. She stayed in her room and watched TV the whole time.
One Friday night I was having a party for a few friends at my house who I hadn't seen in a while. I had told the R.'s this early in the week and asked to get off 30 minutes early. They readily said yes, and all was good.
That Friday night, they had gone shopping for Mr. R.'s wardrobe. They promised they'd be back by 8 at the latest--they couldn't imagine being any later. I had asked that they be home by 8:15, so it was okay.
Yep, you guessed it. 8 rolled by, no sign of them. 8:15. 8:30. 8:45. People were going to be at my house at 9, and I needed to leave. The R.'s weren't answering their cell phones.
9:00. 9:15. I called the people at my house and told them to let themeselves in. Finally, at 9:30 the R.'s came home. They were fighting. Mrs. R. went straight into her bedroom and slammed the door. (Did I mention they slept in seperate bedrooms?) Mr. R. went straight into the living room and turned on the TV. I just stood there, waiting.
After five minutes, I asked Mr. R. for my check. He paid me and I left.
I never asked them for overtime money. I never asked why they were late. I never demanded to know why they couldn't have been there earlier, so I wouldn't be late for MY party. I just let it go, and I'm kicking myself for that now.
One last story that I've got to get off my chest. Then I'm signing off.
Last summer, A. got it in her head that she wanted to have a lemonade stand. I was all for it, so we went to the store and bought some lemonade mix & cookies. We didn't buy much, though, because, as I told her, it was late in the afternoon and not many people would be walking by. We got back to their house, made the lemonade together, and got ready to set things up in the front yard. Mrs. R. walked in and A. told her what we were doing. Mrs. R. was so excited. She made a huge to-do about what a great idea it was! She said she would call all of her friends and tell them to come over to our lemonade stand, and that A. would make so much money. A. was thrilled. Mrs. R. actually left and went to the store for more lemonade and cookies, telling us to set up right away cause her friends would be coming soon. A. and E. were both so excited.
We set up out front and waited. Nobody came. A half-hour passed, then an hour. Mrs. R. wasn't back and wasn't answering her cell phone. The girls and I drank all the lemonade we had cause it was so hot outside. I had a feeling of dread in me, knowing Mrs. R. probably got distracted, or something...but I let the girls wait out a little longer. Finally, after 2 hours and nobody there, all three of us sitting outside in the 105 degree heat, I told the girls to pack up and go inside. A. pitched a fit. I felt so badly for her...she so wanted to have a fun lemonade stand and it didn't happen. After a lot of screaming, I fed the girls and put them to bed.
After the girls were long asleep, Mrs. R. finally came home. She asked how the afternoon went, and I told her that A. had had a major meltdown.
"Why?" she asked me.
"Because of the lemonade stand..." I answered, slowly.
She blinked. "Oh, that," she replied. "I forgot all about that. Oh well."
Oh well? Oh well? It's not like this was a one-time thing. Mrs. R. was always making A. promises. To take her shopping in the afternoons, to pick her up from school, to have a dinner just the two of them. A. would get so excited and I'd know, I'd just know that it would never happen. And it hardly ever did. And my heart broke for sweet A. and I wondered how much longer she'd believe her mother's lies.
I so badly wanted to rescue those girls from the wrath of their parents, especially their mother. There's been no physical abuse. But there will be enough emotional problems to last a lifetime.
And I abandoned them.