Hopeless negotiating with a male babysitter

I just spent the most ridiculously expensive night out in the history of me having kids. Really. Not sure how it compares to you, but back home in my Philly suburbs I'm used to paying about $10 per hour for a sitter. 2 kids. And we provide the food, the entertainment (usually in the form of a DVD or wii games), plus two sleeping juniors by 8:30 pm. (Okay, maybe 9 pm on a night like tonight when they're a little revved and on vacation.) Still. $10 per hour.

Alas, while on vacation in the Outer Banks, enjoying relaxation and the ultimate in summer fun, the husband and I decided we <del>wanted</del> needed a date night. Like last year I phoned the clubhouse, which is run by college interns who offer a babysitting service on the side. Tonight, most of the girls were "out of town" so we hired a guy. A great guy. A South Jersey guy who has relocated down to NC State and is certainly enjoying a summer of surf, beach, fun... and a little work on the side. Nice, right? A cool, responsible guy, hoping to make a few bucks, I shook hands and hired him on the spot at the beach.

Stupid. Stupid. I failed to ask how much he charges.

So, the husband and I enjoyed an evening of window shopping, dining without the kiddos where the convo, of course, still revolved mostly around the kiddos (though, admittedly, more around the impending addition of a still unnamed kiddo number 3 who's soon-to-be-room in the Philly burbs awaits in distress and mess, but I digress) topped off with a gi-huge-ic helping of Kona Coffee Ice Cream in a waffle cone (apparently, kiddie size doesn't translate down here at The Fudgery.)

Sure, it occured to us that we didn't ask what he charges, but I figured 3 hours out and I'll be good with $40. I mean, that's a hefty tip compared to home (fave babysitters at home, please don't be reading this!) And we returned home. Where a happy Dylan reported well behaved children who are now in bed, finally. And we're all happy. The kids are fine. Everyone is smiling and Corolla-style relaxed. And Dylan has plenty of time to meet his buddies at a local bar and discuss todays riptide and tomorrow's forecast.

So I mention, "oops, I forgot to ask how much you charge." And, you see, this is where boys differ from girls. Nearly every time I've asked this of a female sitter she's shyly replied "oh, whatever. I'm easy." But Dylan, my first male sitter, expresses, "well, they told me that everyone is getting $20 an hour." And of course, because he's a guy who has just watched my kiddos who are happy (they suddenly "woke up" when we came home) and safe, I clam up and get all nervous. How can I negotiate that? The job is done. They're safe. I opened my wallet to find the $40 I had planned to pay. And rather than saying, "oops! I figured it would be less than that, will this do?" I turned to the husband and asked for another $20. Because Dylan is a boy. A man. And I have no clue how to negotiate with him.

In retrospect, while I'm kicking myself at the keyboard for spending $60 on a sitter who watched Buzz Lightyear and half of The Wild for 2 hours and then rerun sitcoms for the hour of "sleeping" time, I'm also reminded of something my mom once told me: Sometimes nights out are so necessary that it doesn't matter who it is or how much it costs. What matters is that the kids are alive and happy. And you and your husband had a much needed night out.

With that in mind, I breath a sigh of relief. Really, what's an extra $20? Especially because Dylan also did the dishes.

Original Philly Moms Blog post.