At work.
Although it did not start out that way.
I got out of bed late.
Not way late, not so late that I would have to call a cab or jump BART.
Not that getting on BART is actually a time saver from here to North Oakland, it is about the same amount of commute time.
I still checked, just to make sure, just in case, maybe it would save me a few minutes of hurrying around this morning.
Nope.
I would get there faster on my bicycle.
So scurry it was.
Again, not a horrible scurry, just no time to do my morning writing.
I still got up, made the bed, did my other normal routines, got dressed, had breakfast, fed the cats inside and out and threw lunch and coffee fixings in my messenger bag.
That was the other thing, no time to make a pot of coffee.
Which is sad, but was necessary.
I dashed out the door with my bag full of food–lunch, dinner, and snack, notebook, extra almond milk for the eventual coffee, phone, two bike locks, keys.
I wheeled onto International Ave, blew one red light and then, no I did not slow down, but I slowed down. I realized that getting there timely was not as important as getting there in one piece.
The world would not end if I was a few minutes late, but if I sped through too many intersections in my journey to be a perfect nanny, always on time, if not just a few minutes early, then my world may well come to an end.
I have too much to live for and have not come even close to doing it all yet for that.
I slowed my roll.
Not during the riding, but at every intersection, even putting my foot down to signal a stop at a few places. Some intersections, yes, I rolled through, but I looked both ways and did it cautiously. Some intersections I did not want to stop and settle waiting for the light, not as I was needing to be speedy, I was needing to keep my eye contact discreet.
There was some heavy dealing and prostituting going on this morning.
I thought maybe it was some residual left over from the long weekend, but damn Gina, it’s now Wednesday. Time to slow your roll.
These are decisions, however, that have nothing to do with me and as I will continue to commute through these neighborhoods I don’t need to be casting a judging eye on what the populace is doing for work.
None of my business.
I am an observer though, and sometimes I cannot help but observe and sometimes my brain provides me with a funny soundtrack to go along with said observations.
“Not my choice of clothes for a morning stroll,” tight cheetah leggings and red broke down flip-flops.
“Welcome to the Friendly Manor,” read the sign, “a scary place to live,” my brain added as I rode past the number of drug deals going down, it was hopping at 10:30 a.m. around the shopping cart full of glass bottles.
It was cracking for sure.
“Not need to worry about being late,” my brain added as I arrived, four minutes early, tucked in my bike and went into the house. Mom was taking care of business, dad was still in bathrobe and slippers and the little monkey was wearing, yes, monkey pajamas and eating scrambled “eggies”.
God I love this kid.
I have a thing for super smart little girls.
They make me happy to be a nanny.
Oh, I love my boys too, don’t get me wrong.
But I feel I have gotten to work with a couple of extraordinarily bright little ladies and I am grateful for the opportunity to be a part of their little girl lives.
Today mom was working from home for part of the day and suggested we take the car and go up to Little Farm.
Little Farm!
Yay.
I was stoked at the idea, it had been awhile since I had gone and it would be a fun little field trip and a chance to be outside with one little monkey instead of three. Plus, I felt a remiss for not having as much interaction with the little lady as I normally do, juggling three babies is not the most optimal for quality time.
It was just maintaining time yesterday.
So, we took the car and headed up in the Berkeley Hills to Tilden Park.
Little Farm really is just that, a miniature farm in the middle of the park.
Cows, goats, chickens, a couple of geese, a hutch of bunnies, a children’s garden, rams, pigs. You are allowed to feed the animals, only celery and lettuce, but you get to interact and it is designed to let children get close to the animals.
My girl even got close enough to pet a cow.
Which peed instantaneously, I saw it coming before it hit the ground and was able to avoid the splatter, but man that was close.
The pitfalls of nannydom are that often times you will find yourself doused with urine or poo or mashed carrots on your tights or smashed Cheerios in your bra, or sand! I have had sand in the bra a few times.
But I was not ready to have cow urine added to the list.
I danced nimbly away and we finished our visit by feeding the last of the celery to the long-tongued brown cows in a nearby pen.
It was a great field trip and she fell asleep promptly in the car.
I got lucky, she still went down for a nap and I also got a late message from the mom of the little boy they do a nanny share with, who said, no coverage needed today, see you tomorrow.
I wasn’t even miffed at the loss of pay, I was relieved actually, to have a nap time that was actually a restful time for me.
I reviewed some e-mails for my friend’s business, made some phone calls, and yes, even took a call from a friend over a very late in the day cup of coffee on the back porch in the sunshine.
It was a long day for me, worked a few extra hours to help out the mom who is busy with work, but it felt like a breeze after yesterday.
So much so, I actually still took her to the park after her nap.
The sun was out and I wanted to be outside in it.
I feel like my body is still recovering from the three baby fest of yesterday, but it was helped along by an “easy day” and I am grateful to be done with my blog, showered (I did not get cow urine on me, but the ladybug did douse me anyhow), and laundry ready to swap over to the dryer.
Heck, I might even watch an episode of So You Think You Can Dance.
Hold the commentary, my brain has already provided it.
Auntiebubba 