Are you my mother?

Not much new or exciting to report. My whole weekend was spent as a nanny to two kids: one ten and the other twelve years old.

Likely the most self-sufficient, well-behaved kids I've encountered in a while. But then again, it's been along time since I've babysat.

Nonetheless, my car had a VIP reserved spot in the garage, so it didn't roll out of the driveway. And, there were no blonde moments to be had ... which is a very good thing since I had precious cargo in my care. :)

Together, the three of us survived a spaghetti and meatball home-cooked meal by yours truly. Although I do recall tossing a lot of broccoli down the garbage disposal. I think I'll officially blame that on the typical kid's aversion to green leafy things rather than sub-standard cooking skills.

We also survived three basketball games and a few tears courtesy of a jammed finger during said basketball game. Note: I knew it was just common injury, but in typical fashion, I ran down on the court immediately after the injury to assess the situation and make sure my worst nightmare hadn't come true - a casualty while I'm on the clock. Of course, to everyone else at the game who had no idea who I was, seeing a random girl run down on the court must have been a strange scene.

And the official test of ultimate survival: I overcame the horror of someone assuming I was the mother of the two kids. Actually, I'm still trying to get over it. Let me remind you. These kids are 10 and 12!! In a logical situation, that would put my age at 30+ at least if I had indeed birthed those kids. Not cool.

I'm breaking out the anti-aging cream.