Question: How many of you out their were told to do baby sitting when you wanted to make some extra cash? Show of hands. That’s what I thought.

So there I was, a naive fifteen-year-old with grand dreams of spending more than just her allowance. When the opportunity for a babysitting gig popped up, I thought, “How hard can it be?” Oh, sweet summer child. Spoiler alert: It’s really hard. Scarely so!

But I tried. Imagine for a moment if you will, it’s a Saturday night, and I’m decked out in my best babysitter attire—sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt of my favorite boyband that has seen better days (to be fair they told me to come comfortably dressed, I took them at their word). The parents are thrilled to escape for a few hours of much-needed adult time they said (because who wouldn’t want to leave their precious darlings with someone like me? Please don’t answer that.). SO there we were, getting things straightened away. They hand over the keys and $40 in cash—holla! That was like winning the babysitting lottery! Though it was sorta strange that they paid me in advance, thinking about it in retrospect.

Let me set the scene for you. There’s me. A house. And kids that needed sitting. Standard ingredients. The kids were adorable at first glance (aren’t they always)… but then they started bouncing off the walls like hyperactive kangaroos after a sugar rush (the sugar rush was sort of my fault, that one could have been avoided). This family had two little ones (probably still do, just they’re not that little anymore): an energetic five-year-old boy we’ll call Tim who could definitely moonlight as an Olympic runner and his four-year-old sister who we will call Cher—let’s just say she had some serious opinions … not just a few … about everything from snack choices to which toys deserved her undying affection (now I know what you are thinking, diva, but it was more like mini-diva).

An hour in, chaos reigns supreme. But still, $40 bucks is $40 bucks, and it was one down three to go.

They’ll get tired soon.

What a lie.

By now Tim has climbed onto the kitchen counter (how?!), while his sister is sobbing inconsolably because I offered her apple slices instead of cookies (I know, right? Apples are nature’s candy!). By now, I’m gasping for air as I try to mediate negotiations over toy ownership rights while also figuring out how to keep them both alive until their parents return. I had a tamagotchi once, it did not live long and I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. Believe me.

To make matters worse, let’s talk about snacks. In my infinite wisdom (14 years feels like a long time), I decided popcorn (Oh, popcorn! I love popcorn!) was a great idea since it’s easy and harmless—wrong! It turned into a popcorn explosion that left kernels everywhere…and when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. At home I was known for my popcorn popping skills. There should’ve been warning labels on those bags: “Caution: Potentially hazardous when combined with overly excited children.” Because in all my 14 years I’d never had a mishap of this magnitude (that my mother couldn’t clean up)!

It was ten sorts of terror for the remainder of the time.

Fast forward to when the clock strikes 10 PM; instead of feeling like a hero saving the day, here comes the cavalry—the parents return home! And let me tell you what they found: me looking like I’d just survived an apocalypse with wild hair sticking up in every direction and massive bags under my eyes that could rival any luxury handbag brand which I can’t afford.

They walk in and immediately burst into laughter—a laugh that felt more like mockery than amusement if we’re being honest, which I am. Let’s be real; my future as a full-time babysitter disappeared faster than those cookies should have! They thanked me profusely (it felt kinda patronizing at that point and honestly they were probably just happy they weren’t the only ones to screw things up for a change), I left with honest earned money in my pocket—and there it was—the catalyst for my next big adventure.

A year later on the verge of my sixteenth birthday—I got crafty! Noticing [how calming candle-making can be]() after what felt like a war zone evening—it became my passion project filled with as you know trials and tribs. With scents wafting through the air rather than toddler tantrums echoing in my ears (thank goodness! I’d have probably taken up drinking.), I went from surviving chaos to creating catastrophes calm.

So now here we are. Instead of basing my early successes on babysitting nightmares, I got started pouring wax into jars and blending fragrant oils while reminiscing about how one chaotic night led me down this crazy entrepreneurial path I’ve been on for years. If you ever think about venturing into babysitting? Don’t. Or at the very least know this—bring some earplugs or better yet… stick to something where small children aren’t your co-workers—you’ll thank your past self later!

And if you’re willing to share your own hilarious anecdotes or tips on how NOT to babysit children or any other crazy side hustle teenagers end up trying… please do! Because honestly? Everyone could use a good laugh now and then—and let’s face it; nobody wants those hot popcorn kernels ending up in their baggy N’Sync shirt (ah … JC Chasez Chris Kirkpatrick)!