Jesus, God I am tired


Good gravy.

Good grief.

Good fucking thing I am only working one day a week like today.

Three kids.

I have never done three before.

Well, that’s not true, I did three in Paris on a number of occasions, however, they were 2 years old, five years old, and seven years old; I have never done three children in this age range.

Baby number one: three 1/2 months

Baby number two: twelve 1/2 months

Baby number three (who does not feel like a baby since she is so ridiculously smart): 20 months.

I am run ragged.

Add to that the commute, which was a grand total of two hours, one hour each way.  I left Graceland at 7:40 a.m. and arrived on Cole Street @ Frederick in San Francisco at 8:40a.m.

One hour on the nose.

I am uncertain how many miles I put on my bicycle itself, the ride from Graceland to the BART and then from Civic Center station to Cole Valley, probably four miles?

Perhaps a bit less.

Put up and down a lot of flights of steps and when I made the return trip I had stopped off at Rainbow to get some groceries.  The cupboards were bare, bare, bare.

I was so hungry I did not get on my bike to come back to the East Bay to make dinner.  I sat on a little stool in the entry way to Rainbow whilst shoppers came to and fro grabbing baskets and pushing carts.

I zoned out and ate veggie sushi on brown rice, plantain chips, and a strawberry/banana organic fruit smoothie.

I felt depleted.

I still feel depleted.

My arms and shoulders ache in a way they have not in some time.

I constantly was picking up a child, burping a baby, feeding a baby, pushing a baby in a stroller with another baby in a sling strapped to my front, changing a baby diaper, checking the baby diaper, juggling the baby, dropping the baby.

Just kidding.

Although I did feel that I was walking a fine line a few times, the stairs and the child gates and navigating how to get two bunnies up and down and all around, let alone three.

You know you are having a moment when you need to stop and pray and ask God to help you open the baby gate.

God damn it.

I thought about climbing over it and I just could not bring myself to do it, it would have been horrid and unsafe and I could see me and a pile of babies at the bottom of the flight of wood steps in a very messy heap.

I paused and looked at the gate again and after a few more times of getting rattled, albeit not rattling the gate, the twenty month old was taking care of that for me, I got it open.

Thank you jeebus.

I am quite lucky that the house is nice and the set up has loads to offer and I like the parents and I adore all the babies, they really are just little peaches, and the topper, that which makes it bearable really, is that I don’t have them all at the same time.

I got them in waves.

I showed up at 8:40 a.m. drank all my water in my water bottled, wiped the sweat from my face, texted the family and asked to put my bike in the garage.

The next baby did not arrive until 9:30 a.m.

And thank God, the 12 1/2 month old baby is still taking two naps.

He was down sleeping while I received the second wave of baby.

Baby number two arrived fussy and ready for naps, and within five minutes was secured in the swing, swaddled, and warm and lights out.

I got a few minutes to orient myself in the house and make a cup of tea.

You know you’re a nanny when you reheat the same cup of tea more than once in the microwave.  In fact, I believe the tea-cup spent more time sitting in the microwave waiting for me to retrieve it then it did near my mouth.

Hard to juggle a tea-cup and two babies, let alone the three I ended the day with.

Tuesday are a “short day” for my eldest monkey, just three hours in the afternoon, the robust and brilliant 20 month old, who I, and I meant it with the highest compliment, accidentally called a wee space alien to the father when he picked up.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I love her, she is beyond adorable (and I do love her already, I realized yesterday when I got a text from the mom that I was missing her and the way she says her own little name), she’s just preternaturally smart and I forget that she’s not even two yet.”

“I know what you mean,” replied the dad, “I forget how young she really is too all the time.”

The pops had asked me how it was to juggle three kids, and I answered honestly.

It was difficult, it was a challenge, and I am grateful that it is only once a week.  I don’t think I could do three all the time.  Not unless they are a little older.

When the baby, which one? The smallest, the youngest, cries, I really have to pay him the most attention, get the bottle, burp him, rub his little tummy.

He was super gassy today.

Which is not a stinky thing, not really, when they are that young, but it is distressing to the baby and they, well, most babies scream.

He had an all out fit for about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.

I don’t know for sure, I lost track of time, it just became an unending wail.

Change the diaper, rub the tummy, move the legs, burp the monkey, snuggle the monkey, try to give a little milk to soothe, grab a pacifier, rock back and forth, and back and forth on my heels.

Don’t even try to think about putting him down.

I am lucky that the third was not in attendance at this time.  I would have fallen over.

Once I work out my routine I will be fine and it will be merry.

And, I repeat, only once a week is this happening.

It is the only day I have overlap.

To think of how nervous I was about all the information I was going over for the new job helping my friend and then how much energy I expended today watching three babies.

I’ll let you have one guess which was harder.

So, despite being tired and a bit wrecked when I got home, I still fired up my computer, looked over the incoming e-mails that needed addressing, reviewed the things I learned yesterday and realized I had already learned something new and used a new gizmo on my Gmail account.

And voila!

I wrote my blog.

Now off to make some tea and crawl into some pajamas.

I am going to sleep.


Like a baby.


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