Separation Anxiety - Possibly Worse Than Teething

Sarah's new bout of separation anxiety would make most stalkers proud. She won't let anyone other than me give her a bottle (Her dad thinks this is great. He's really hoping diaper changing is next.). I catch her watching me around corners, and I swear she's trying to figure out how to use the phone to keep tabs on me. The person who has suffered the most with this new stage is Sarah's babysitter, Ludmilla.

We went through several babysitters before we found Ludmilla. There was the capable but not so bright blonde girl. Her blank stares made me nervous and she answered every statement with "ok".
Me: Sarah needs a bottle at 3 o'clock and a nap at 4 o'clock.
Her: (blink, blink) ok
Me: The bottles are in the refrigerator. Her crib is in her room. Her room is in this house.
Her: (blink, blink) ok
Me: Sarah is the baby - the wiggly thing wearing clothes.
Her: (scanning the room) ok
Me: No. That is Sancho. He is a dog.
Her: (blink, blink) ok

We didn't ask her back again.

There was another one I like to call "The Napper". When she showed up, I explained that Sarah needed a nap in about an hour. About five minutes later, she said, "Sarah, you are ready for a nap." There's one thing about Sarah. If she's not ready for a nap, taking her anywhere near her crib will incite torturous screams. Of course, Sarah started wailing. I told her again that Sarah was not ready for a nap yet. She seemed to understand, but started babbling to Sarah about how it was almost time for a nap. I left hesitantly. Sure enough, when I got back a couple of hours later, Sarah was in her crib and not happy about it. We didn't ask her back again either.

Then, there was Blanca, the one that got away. I'm still not sure she was real. She could have just been an illusion of perfection. Babysitters of this caliber are usually the subject of fairy tales. Blanca walked in the door while Sarah was napping. While we waited for Sarah to wake up (about three minutes), she washed the dishes, cleaned the kitchen sink, swept the floor, mopped the floor, and started scrubbing the bathtub. When Sarah woke up, she scooped her in her arms and began to sing and play with her immediately. I left them giggling on the floor. When I returned a few hours later, Sarah couldn't have been any happier. My house couldn't have been any cleaner. If I had to pick one flaw with Blanca, it was that she had searched through Sarah's drawers and managed to find the only pieces of clothing incapable of ever matching and dressed Sarah in them. Sarah had on some knee length navy blue flowered pants paired with an Elizabethan collared neon yellow top, hot pink socks, and a red ski cap. Wow! She looked like a toothless jester, but I would have been willing to live with this quirk to keep Blanca around. Unfortunately, she got a full time job and couldn't come back.

Finally, we found Ludmilla. She is wonderful. I've never had to give her directions from our driveway into our house, she's never been late or an hour early, and she adores Sarah. Up until last week, Sarah adored her. Now, with the separation anxiety, Sarah sees her as the one who keeps her from me. Ludmilla has been handling this well. She sings Ukrainian songs to her and when the wailing becomes overwhelming she tries to distract her with walks around the neighborhood - two hour walks. I'm afraid if the blisters on her feet don't drive her away, the ringing in her ears from the constant screaming will. I don't want to lose Ludmilla, but Sarah seems determined to make her crack.