When Friday morning finally came around, I woke up, got dressed in my regular outfit of jeans, t-shirt and my converse sneakers. Since my mom and dad were very much into the ’80’s music, (and they went to a lot of concerts back in the days of B.C. – before children), Ian and I were brought up listening to the 80’s kind of music and actually liked it. I also inherited many of their t-shirts and hats that they acquired at these concerts. So, whenever I didn't know what to wear (and usually it was everyday), I just reached in my closet and threw on one of the many cool concert t-shirts that mom and dad had given me. Ian didn't like them very much. He said they were too dated and that he didn't want to be a walking advertisement for the many has-been bands. On the other hand, I thought they were very cool! So more for me!

I plugged in my Ipod and took my crazy dog Prissy for our daily walk. Ian and Johnny would call her S.A.N.D, (Special Attention Needs Dog). Prissy is old, a little crazy, farts all the time, has a lazy eye, bad breath and has a habit of licking the bare floor for no reason at all. But Prissy has been with us since my brother and I were around 2 years old. That makes her almost 14 years old in human years, 98 years in dog years! We love her as part of the family.        

I’ve made it a habit of taking Prissy for daily walks because it makes her happy and it helps me to keep some unwanted weight off. When I walk Prissy, she loves to stop and sniff other dogs poop. Why is that? I’ve always wondered why is it that dogs sniff other dog’s poop. Do they sniff and detect other dogs complete DNA, their breed, gender, height, color, age, if they up-chuck after they eat then eat their own vomit, or chase fast cars going down the street? What is it?

When we got back home, the house was filled with the aroma of oatmeal simmering on the stove. My mom was a very experimental cook, but she outdid herself when it came to breakfast. The oatmeal was cinnamon based with walnuts, raisins and a hint of honey. It was a time of day that the family would always eat together . . . and we did.                                     

Anyway, time to go to work! Ah yes, the American Dream, to be independently employed. I'm going to make some serious bucks this summer.  So, I arrived at the Bells' house and rang the doorbell. It played 'No place like home.’ Yuk. 

"Hiiiiiiiii!" shrieked Mrs. Bells. "Come on in Lina!"

"Good morning Mrs. Bells, it's Nina,” I corrected her. “ I thought Mr. Bells told me you were out of town.”

"Actually, I have to leave in a few minutes,” Mrs. Bells responded. “I need to visit my offices in Morris County, and will be gone until tomorrow. So, Mr. Bells asked you to watch our little angels, so that he could get some work done. Is that okay, Fina?”

          "It's Nina,” I said. “Oh, that’s fine.” Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Bells toke out a spray can and started. . . Ssssssssssssssss. She sprayed me down with an anti-disinfectant. 

"Sorry, it’s just that I like to make sure no unwanted germs come into the house,” she said. “The children are very delicate you know.” No, I didn't know.

           "Anywho,” Mrs. Bells said, “here is a list of all the foods they cannot have, TV shows that they can watch, and just some extra basic things you need to know. Okay now, tata, see you later.” And she is gone. Mrs. Bells is one fast talking-hyper lady.

So I went into the family room, and peeking from a combination office-playroom is Mr. Bells. Wow! So the one place you need peace and quiet to get some work done, is the same room that your children will be going in and out of to get their toys? Genius. 

"Hi, Nina," said Mr. Bells. Oh good, there’s someone in the family that knows my name.

“Good morning, Mr. Bells,” I say politely.

"Ready for a day of fun and games," he said in a kind of half serious half funny tone.

    "Yes sir," I answered enthusiastically.

        "Well, I see Mrs. Bells gave you ‘The List’. . . okay then, I'll see you later bye, bye then.”

        Mr. Bells didn't walk out of the house...he ran!

 "Mr. Bells, I thought you were going to be here with me today!" I shouted. No use, he was peeling rubber half way down the street all ready. 

          Okey dokey. This can’t be too hard? I am 4 times older than they are. I know more. . . I think. I have a broader understanding of everything. And I'm bigger, faster, and stronger... I guess.  And with that thought, my ears were ready to POP!! The TV was up so loud, I was afraid the windows and every piece of glass in the house would shatter! And to make matters worse, The Doodle Bops where on the tube. Mind you, I have nothing against Educational Television for children, which I grew up watching. Programs like Sesame Street, Eureka’s Castle, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, School House Rock, and Bugs Bunny were highly watched over my house. (Hey, Bugs Bunny was very educational. It taught me all I know about classical music and how to be a wise-guy.) But these 3 persons all dressed in bright neon colors were doing nothing but doodling and bopping, nothing really educational about them, just annoying. But the kids love them! And my ears were ready to Poooooooop! 

          "Erick, turn that dooooown!!" I shouted. They didn’t pay any attention to me, they just continued  jumping up and down, dancing and wiggling about. 

          "Erick, can you turn-that-down. . . please!!" There, I said the magic word, please. Now it will work. No, nothing. So I thought I would take control of the situation, I walked over to the TV set and tried to turn down the volume myself. 

Great, they had about 5 controllers on the coffee table, all laughing at me. “Ha, ha, ha, ah, the babysitter doesn’t know which controller controls the volume…dumb chick!”

So I picked them up one by one and started to press button. Maybe this one is it...no. Okay, it has to be this one because it has the name of the TV on it. . . no. Maybe this thinner one is the controller to the speakers . . . heck NO!!! OMG!! What am I going to have to do, pull the plug on the TV?  I look behind the TV to pull the plug, and what I saw were 100 wires with 100 cables and 100 different power strips.

"Erick, what am I going to have to do for you to TURN THAT DOWN!" And in an instant, the sound was gone. All I saw on the TV were 3 adults, dressed in orange, green, red and blue (their face and hair in just about the same colors), jumping around to absolutely no music. Erick was standing in front of me with a controller in his hand and a grin on his face And as fast as that moment came, the little turd turned the volume up again, dropped the controller and ran. 

I immediately picked up the controller he dropped, pressed the ‘mute’ button, then I went to chase down my suspect. He was running into his room; a safe sanctuary he probably thought.  He was closing the door in my face when I stuck my foot in the door to hold it open.  He may be faster and younger than me, but one thing he forgot. . . I’m bigger and stronger. So I pushed my way through the door and into the room. There he was, in the corner playing with his little cars, as if absolutely nothing had happened. I picked him up by his shirt and locked him in his closet. But when I turned around, with a smug smile on my face, thinking that I was going to show him, I realized giving him a time out in his room was like unleashing a kid in his own Disney World without limits. I sighed and figure then the closet was the best thing to give him a time out. At least the house will be quieter. I had no other choice in the matter, the boy disobeyed me! Just please don't tell anyone.  Oh, he’ll cried, but I won’t be able to hear him. . . still had blood coming out of my ears. 

          I came back to the living room were Kaleen, the 2 year old, was sitting in her tea party table and chair set, playing with her imaginary friends. Everything was quiet since I turned the TV off before hunting my prey. Just the way I like it. Kaleen was sitting at her little tea party table as happy as could be, making believe she was pouring tea in the cups of Mr. Bear, Mrs. Giraffe and baby elephant. Hmmmm, maybe she’s the one I have to buddy up too. So I went over to her table and sat on the floor crossed legged next to Mr. Bear and said with a sotto British accent, “I would also like a spot of tea, please.” I sat there on the floor with my hands folded in front of me on the small table like a nice proper English person having her tea and crumpets in the early afternoon with 3 animals and a princess. The little girl scowled at me and said with her little girl lisp, “Get out of the way, your disthurben Mr. Bear’th thpot!”

So I looked at her with a puckered face and stuck my tongue out at her. She turned her head and made a “hum” sound then looked at me again and stuck hers tongue out, except hers was purple. Probably the lollipop she couldn’t have but ate it anyway. Retched little child.

She obviously wanted to play alone, and that was fine by me. Play time creates imagination and independence, I tried to convince myself. So I took that bit of down time to read the list Mrs. Bells had left me. Four pages long, divided in 6 sections, with 36 bullet points and a lot of sub points. This is not a list, it's a Congressional Bill.

There was a note attached to the bill that read:

“The first thing I would like to say is - Thank you so much for taking care of my darlings. They are the most precious things in the world to me and Erick Sr.”

          Right, that’s why you’re letting a 15 year old girl who has no experience with children take care of them, because I was cheaper than a daycare center. 

          And it continued: “We only want the best of everything for them, so we do hope that you are totally committed in providing the best loving, caring, safe environment for them, just the way we would.”  

          I could see Mrs. Bells as she was writing the note, with tears running down her cheeks. Okay, that first paragraph would even make Attila the Hun feel bad about the kids. So, I did the right thing and went over to the closet to take Erick out. As I entered the room, I noticed on his door there was a big sign that said “Enter at your own risk, Erick sleeps here.” Very cute. Then as I continued in his room I realized that all around his room was his name in every form you can imagine. On pillows, towels, cups, shoes, shirts, books, lamp shades, even a picture frame on the wall that gave the definition and the history behind his name: Scandinavian for “Honorable Ruler,” more like “Horrible Fooler.”  I guess Mr. and Mrs. Bells really wanted Erick to know his name or this kid suffers from a terrible case of amnesia. I snapped out of my noisiness and I heard “voooooooom” and “whishwhishwhish.” The noise was coming from inside his closet. When I walked in the closet, Erick was tucked away in the back. Figures, the closet was a walk in-closet almost as big as my room. It had lights inside and it was filled with toys and games. So there was Erick playing with a Hot Wheel set he had all assembled in the back of the closet. The kid was virtually having his own little party in there, all this while I was out here beating myself up and feeling sorry for him. So, I did the right thing again. . . I closed the closet door and walked away. 

     When Mr. Bells finally returned home, we were in the family room watching one of the “approved TV shows” on Mrs. Bells’ list. 

"Hey, Nina," said Mr. Bells. "How was everything?”

       "Fine, just fine, Mr. Bells," I said as the two children laid on the couch, Kaleen fast asleep and Erick half way comatose ready to go down.

      “You tired them out it seems,” he said.

      “Yeah, it seems that way, doesn’t it,” I said between my teeth. I just took Erick Jr. out of the closet no more than 15 minutes ago. Thank goodness children have an amazing ability to forget quickly and forgive even quicker. 

   It was Wednesday morning and I was suppose to meet Johnny at the community park. For no good reason, except that we could. I woke up and did my morning duties -  get dressed, brush my teeth, comb my hair, do my bed, walk the Dog, and have a quick bite to eat. 

"Bye mom, going to the park with Johnny," I told her as I grabbed a piece of toast and kissed my mom on the cheek. My mom was busy in the kitchen cooking breakfast and my brother, Ian, was slumped over a chair wearing a wife beater, a pink worn out robe and black slippers, sipping coffee and reading the New York Times business section. 

"Hey, wait," mom yelled at me, "Aren't you going to wait for breakfast? I'm making fresh organic scrambled eggs with yellow peppers, turkey bacon, and kale!

As I walked to the park I started thinking. My brother always told me not to, because  it would get me in trouble. But I did anyway. I was thinking about the possibilities of making my own money. I really want a cell phone and other unnecessary electronic goodies. But I want to do this myself. My parents always taught me to be self-sufficient. They would say, “reach for the stars”… “the sky's the limit”… “if you believe, you can achieve.” Blah, blah, blah. All I want is a cell phone, I don't want to conquer the world or figure out a cure for the common cold. I was told, “You’re too young to have a cell phone.”  Reach for the stars? I just want to reach for a wireless signal! And besides, everyone in my school has one. Well, almost everyone. My bestest friend, Johnny, has one. Well, he had one. His mom wanted him to have a cell phone so she could check on him whenever she wanted and make sure he's alive. After Johnny went through too many sat-on, water damaged, stolen, run over by a car and swallowed by a dog excuses for losing his phone, his mom said “no more.” So, Johnny had to live like a caveman, using the house phone, or actually visiting people’s homes to talk to them. Go figure.

We’ve known Johnny since he moved into the neighborhood 10 years ago. Johnny, is my closest friend, but at the same time he’s my brother’s BFF. We call him koon, which is a play on the honorific, -kun for a male friend in Japanese. We’re kind of obsessed with everything Japanese; don’t know why, we just are. Not only do I share a best friend and the love of  Japanese culture with my brother Ian, but I have been sharing everything with him since before we were born. We’re fraternal twins. My mom says she got a bargain at 2 for 1, so she decided to quit while she was ahead, and she did.

It’s the end of my first year of high school, and I am 15 years old. My name is Nina Marie Martin and I live in a nice neighborhood in the smallest county of New Jersey, Hudson County. It’s the closest county in New Jersey to New York City. It’s a middle class working neighborhood where everyone puts up their Christmas ornaments the day after Thanksgiving and brings them down the day after New Years. The flower beds are planted in the front yard just before Easter and someone always throws a big 4th of July party. Kids are not allowed to throw eggs at anyone’s house during Halloween, unless the families in those houses are not giving out candy that year. 

 I‘m old enough to work in a few places with my parent’s permission, but they don’t see the need for me to work. My dad makes enough money to maintain our family very well and my mom earns some extra income taking care of elderly people.  My summer vacations are not that exciting. Besides the two vacations a year we take as a family, spending a lot of time in my brother’s room with Ian and Johnny playing video games, the occasional stroll to the park, and of course, the big shopping spree at the end of summer for my “back to school” clothes with Samantha, my summers are nothing but humdrum.

 I do get kind of excited during the summer with the expectation of running into my lifelong sweetheart and love of my life, Andy. I've known Andy since 7th grade and it was love at first sight... at least for me. I'm not sure exactly what Andy thinks of me. When we’re together he’s sort of nice. He’ll throw his arms around me in a playful way, and wink at me every once in a while. He totally takes my breath away!

I finally arrived to the park by the playground where, as usual, Johnny was on a swing upside down talking all weird. "Well, if I wuz you, I would start my own flower garden and sell them,” Johnny said. Johnny had an obsession with my mom’s herb garden. He always thought that she was perhaps growing illegal stuff or plants for "medicinal purposes."

 "Oh, yeah, that's what I’ll do,” I said swinging slowly. “Like that’ll make me lots of money.” 

“Well, I don't know, your mom has that herb garden that she likes soooo much, you know she has some good expensive stuff growin' in there... you can make lots of money that way,” Johnny said still hanging upside down like a confused monkey.

“Hey, that’s my mom you’re talking about!” I shouted. “And besides, you’ll probably be my only customer.” Johnny finally straightened up, and was as red as a lobster but seemed very happy about it. Weirdo.

“Dude, don’t take offense,” Johnny shouted looking like he was ready to pass out. “You know that I think your mom is totally cool. Whoa! I feel like all the blood in my body is in my head.”

“That’s because it probably is.”

“Whoa, yeah.”

“Oh, you and that herb garden,” I said. “She grows oregano, basil and mint, okay?  Now just drop the subject and help me figure out a way to make some money!”

"Why don't you just ask your parents, they have enough do-re-mi-money.”

"’Cause, I want to do this on my own,” I said very seriously. “I want to show them that I can make my own money!”

"Yeah, and you want to get the most expensive, state-of-the-art, totally cool, iPhone. Ugh, my brain doesn't feel right.”

 Ok, he was right. I couldn't go and ask my parents for a cell phone. Knowing them, they would get me the cheapest, plastic looking, cell phone they could find; with a circle of friends consisting of my mom, dad, brother, grandma and 911.

"Hey, if I could pay for my own phone, then there's nothing they could say, right?" I questioned.

"Yeah but, what are you going to do about the monthly charges incurred by such an advanced, hi-tech and expensive piece of equipment?" Johnny asked.

"I never said my plan was perfect." And BANG! Johnny dropped to the floor face down on the sandy area beneath the swings. I turned him around and checked for a pulse and that he was breathing. Great, his breath smells like corn chips. I made sure he would stay face up by placing two pieces of wood on either side of his body and left. He just needs to sleep it off. He’ll be okay, this happens all the time. 

I was slowly walking home, wondering what I was going to do to raise money this summer. I could try to get a summer job bagging at the Super Store, but that’ll mean that mom would have to take me and pick me up, or I could take the bus... nah! I could try getting a job at one of the many shops on Bergenline Avenue.

Bergenline Avenue is a 100 plus block, never ending, outdoor strip mall where you can buy everything from a toothbrush to a Cuban sandwich. The only problem with working on Bergenline Avenue is that it is also a great place to hang out for the young people that live in my neighborhood, and it’ll be kind of a bummer for me, if I have to work and also watch everyone else enjoying their summer. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind I was thinking about what mom was cooking for lunch. My mom is a great cook, but she sometimes becomes a little too creative in the kitchen.

As I was walking home, I heard someone screaming and crying just past the gates of a perfectly manicured lawn. I was kind of intrigued to find out what was going on, so I stopped to listen. It was coming from the house of one of our neighbors who lives down the block, the Bells. They’re the perfect, affluent family with the 4 bedroom, 2-1/2 bathroom, 2 car garage and a big pool house. They are also the first to contribute to any community activity, help any family in need, and lead in 'Best Yard of the Month' nominations. Yuk! Way too perfect. But, something was happening past that lawn. Something deliciously evil and I couldn't pull away.

When I put my ear to the gate I heard things like, "Open the door young man!... I'm counting to 3 buddy then you'll see what happens… Here we go: 1, 2, 2-1/2, 2-3/4; okay, here I go... 3… Did you hear me!? I said 3! If you don't apologize right this instance for locking the door, you’re getting a time out!” Nothing. “You better apologize... you don’t want a time out, right? Okay, here goes again… 1, 2, 2-1/2...” 

WOW! Is that what parenting has come down to? Parents negotiating with their children whether or not they should be punished? We've come a long way baby. The only problem is, it’s the wrong way.

I slowly opened the gate door and said, "Hello Mr. Bells. How's it going?"  Everything all of a sudden stopped and Mr. Bells swiftly turned around.

“Well, hello, Nina. How are you?" he said with a shocked look on his face.

"Oh, I'm fine thank you. I was just going home and I kind of... well... is everything okay?"        

 Mr. Bells came closer to me and whispered, "Everything is not okay. Stacey is out of town and these two are driving me insane!” 

 "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

 “Yeah, get junior to open the door. He locked himself inside the house, again, and the baby is in her room napping.”

 I walked over to the locked pool bathroom door and thought for a minute. “Erick, hi,” I said sweetly. “It’s Nina, I live down the street from you.” I figured I would create a sense of familiarity with the boy, you know, kind of make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Guess what?”

“What?” he answered.

Ah, it worked. I made him talk. “I have some candy and a lollypop, want some?” I asked. Sweets always seem to work with kids. There was no immediate reaction, but then the door swung open and the kid came out looking for his candy and lollypops.

 “Heyyyyy, where’s my candy and lollypop?” he asked. Mr. Bells popped out from behind the door with a red face.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get something real sweet in a moment or two, just you wait and see,” I said to the little weasel.

“Get-in-the-house-right-this-MINUTE!” shouted Mr. Bells behind me. And Erick Jr. ran into the house in tears. Mr. Bells ran after him to make sure the baby was okay.

I don’t like lying, but I needed some leverage for my negotiation process.

“Thank you, Nina," Mr. Bells said coming out of the house again. "The baby is still asleep thank goodness. I came out to check on the mail, and Erick locked the door on me. Thank you so much.” 

“Sure, no problemo. If there’s anything I could ever do to help, just let me know,” I said.

 "Well, actually, yeah... maybe there is something you can do for me. I'm going to need to take a few hours off from being Mr. Mom on Friday. I have a deadline to meet from work, and I need someone to look after the kids while I do some work in my office. What do you think? Would you be interested? I'll pay you.”

Yes! He said the magic word... pay! "Oh, sure Mr. Bells, I would love to get paid, I mean help!" I said very enthusiastically.

 "Okay!” Mr. Bells said. “Friday morning. You can swim with them so bring your bathing suit. Feed them, read to them, play with them, oh and make sure Kayleen takes her afternoon nap. Does $8 an hour sound ok?"

Holy moly! Eight dollars an hour? I'm gonna be rich! My prayers are answered; this is what I'm going do this summer to make money! I’ll take care of these beautiful, innocent, charming children. My life has just been made. "OK, sounds good Mr. Bells, see you then.”

My mind was racing as I walked home. I could buy my phone, all the updated games for my PlayStation, the New Fit for the Wii, a new guitar for my brother (nah, scratch that out, he could make his own stinkin' money) and a brand new GTI. Black, with chrome wheels and a tricked out sound system and of course, a pink Sakura flowers hanging from my rear view mirror. Oh, and a little geisha girl bobble head on the dash; but first I have to get my license. Like my parents always told me, “the sky's the limit!” I felt great! Nothing could spoil my mood!  Nothing I tell ya!

 "Hey mom, I'm ho-ome,” I said with a bounce in my voice. "What's for lunch?"

"Broiled Chicken with steamed turnips and brussels sprouts, dear.”

There goes my good mood.

Our weekend was fun, and of course, Johnny  stayed all weekend. On Saturday night we watched the last 3 Star Wars movies. (In our opinion the last 3 are the best, at least that's what our parents taught us.) Johnny had too much popcorn, cheese nachos, licorice and root beer, so he threw up all over my mom's sofa. It was disgusting! Ian and I started to crack up when Prissy came over to lick it up, but mom stopped her - party pooper!

"What are these 3 marbles doing on top of the vomit on top of the sofa?" mom asked exasperated.

My brother and I looked at Johnny with wide eyes. Ian had dared Johnny to swallow 4 marbles earlier during the day.

"Dude, where is the 4th marble?" Ian whispered to Johnny.

"Dunno, I guess I'll find out tomorrow morning in the toilet."

Mom sent Johnny to take a shower, brush his mouth and go to bed. The shower and teeth brushing happened, but when my parents went to sleep, we spent all night playing Super Mario games. Sooooooooo much fun! Old school video games rock!

We slept all Sunday morning, had a hardy br-unch-ers (that's a breakfast, lunch and dinner combined), then went back to playing video games until Sunday night. A complete weekend in my opinion.

Today is Monday, and I stayed in bed until noon. Ah, that felt so good! My mom woke me up at 8am, 9:30, 10:35, 11:15, then at noon. I couldn't take it anymore. She would get louder and more threatening every time she would come back. And also I could smelled grill cheese with tomatoes frying downstairs. That'll definitely get me moving!