Posts Tagged ‘mother’s helper’

Rolling Right Along

February 18, 2015

Dear CARMEN,
Congratulations, your FAFSA was processed successfully.

Awesome.

Prepare yourself to go further into student loan debt!

Woohoo!

I actually do not have a problem with this.

Of all the different types of debt I could accrue, furthering my education so that I can have a better life and may be of better service to those about me, seems about the best kind of debt I could have.

I don’t have any other debt outside of my student loans as I prepare to move forward in this next educational endeavor, having more doesn’t really bother me.

That’s just the way it is and I accept it.

I don’t know when I will find out how much I may receive, the application, though, has been processed, my taxes are done, I await further instruction from the school.

Specifically, I await the time and day I will be going in to do an interview with the department for a place on the cohort.

I am getting more and more used to the idea that this is really happening and that I will be pursuing something outside of being a professional nanny.

Today I confirmed that I will be meeting the guy from the Valentine’s Day/night dance for coffee (tea, really, no need to scare the man off with an over caffeinated persona) via a text message while I was at work.

He asked me how my day was going and I replied that I was having a little quite time drawing with one of the boys while his brother napped.

“Oh, you babysit…”

Ah.

No.

That’s what my ego says, no, I’m not a baby sitter, I do ever so much more.

But often times, of late, especially, I don’t care so much, yes, I’m a babysitter.

I’ve been one kind of baby sitter or another since I was young enough to still be needing a baby sitter myself.

I’ve baby sat my sister, my mother, my father, cousins, neighborhood kids, I was a lifeguard–a babysitter with a swimsuit on–a bar manager, a baby sitter with a beer in hand, in one way or another, all of my life, I have watched, with great vigilance, those around me.

I also believe this is what makes me a good writer as well, or at least a writer that has things to write about, I watch, I listen, I observe.

I see.

This will make me a good therapist.

Or so I believe.

There’s more to being a therapist than just that, and often times, especially over the last ten years, I have heard many a person share something with me and seek my counsel.

I have a lot of experience, field work, if you may, to lean back on.

I bristle, but not as much as I used to, when called a baby sitter, but ultimately, it’s just my ego needing to be stroked.

I am just as important as a person who is fluent in C++ or a tradesman or a lawyer or a barista.

We all play our part and I am just playing the role assigned.

I used to struggle against it.

I am supposed to be someone else, something else, doing something more important.

Though, really, I could argue, what exactly is more important than providing for the health, safety, and well-being of a child?

Besides, I know that I am not my job title.

I am what I do.

Really, I am paid to love and I got to do a lot of that today.

The boys obviously missed me and it was really fun to have a moment this morning before we went out to the park where they were both lying across me, snuggled up.

“Let’s just stay here a little while longer,” the oldest boy whispered up into my pony tail, he had wrapped his small paw in it and was spinning a curl around a finger.

“A little while longer, but not too long,” I said, and kissed his head.

“I love you, I missed you,” I told him.

In fact, yesterday, at 3 p.m. I was suddenly confused as to where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.

Usually I am with the boys heading into the pool at La Petite Bailene for swimming lessons.

I literally patted my bag and thought to myself, did I bring my swimsuit?

Not that I needed one where I was at.

I was off yesterday with the holiday.

But, there it was, that moment of longing to have the youngest one in the pool while the eldest got ready to see his swim instructor and I thought, I am really quite lucky to have this job.

Even when there is extra work, like there is this week, the oldest has a school vacation week, I am amply compensated with nice little perks.

Like fruit from BiRite and lunch out at the CrepeHouse.

The mom put extra money in the diaper bag and said take them out to lunch and get what ever you want.

Excellent.

It’s a really nice perk to get fed.

I have had jobs where it was expressly stated that I was not to touch the family’s food.

Most times I am encouraged to help myself, and I have, but this job, I really have taken it to heart, to eat there and let myself have nice snacks and tea and coffee when the mood strikes.

I do so much of the marketing and food prep it seems a part of the deal.

Today was homemade turkey and black bean chili with red and yellow bell peppers, tomatoes, mild chilis, and onions; and I also made homemade corn bread muffins (and oatmeal and brown rice for the week to have in the fridge).

Chop up a little fresh avocado and top the chili, cut up some strawberries, and a kishu mandarin from BiRite, and voila!

Dinner for the monkeys.

These “babysitting” experiences are just bringing me one step closer to what I am supposed to do next.

I never expected to be a professional nanny.

I never thought I would be applying to go to graduate school to be a therapist.

Don’t you know who I am?

I’m famous in my own mind.

The reality of it though, is that I am heading down a path I do not know where it will lead, only that it seems the next step to take is always indicated right before I take it.

The money for graduate school will be there.

And I can’t fuck it up if it’s meant to be.

I also can’t manipulate it into happening.

I just walk forward, into the blue room of unknown.

Knowing that I am taken care of.

Just as I have taken care of so many others.

So shall I be received.

With love.

My only debt then.

Really.

Is one of gratitude.

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Today Was A Shit Show

January 27, 2015

Actually.

It was a vomitorium.

The oldest boy puking, everywhere.

Just after baths.

Fifteen minutes before I am leaving.

Just after getting home from swimming lessons, a raucous dinner, a crazy younger brother who did not nap and construction on both sides of the house all day.

Plus the housecleaner was there today.

And I made a double batch of the family’s favorite dinner.

Oof.

It was a day.

Not a bad day, either.

Just busy.

Sometimes things happen and it’s not good or bad, it’s just what it is.

Oh and a trip to the market and a trip to the coffee shop and the park.

I mean.

It makes the day go fast.

And I do like being needed.

Although at one point, I think it was when the youngest blew a raspberry at the dinner he normally eats ravenously, “I LOVE IT” is his usual response to said meal, and dumped the entire plate on the floor that I thought.

That’s it.

I’m done.

But the vomiting was still to come.

I was not done yet.

I am glad the day is done and I had a good bike ride through the Wiggle and up into the park and over to 7th and Irving to catch up with friends and fellows and get out of myself for a little while.

Be of service and such.

“You’re single!”  My friend said, after I gave him a big hug.

I missed him last week, but it was Noir City and The Thin Man at the Castro was playing.

We caught up and it was good to acknowledge, that yes, it is true, I am indeed single.

And it feels like it again.

I’m close to saying I’m ready to date, I’m definitely entertaining the thought, although there is no one in mind, it’s just there.

I have no desire, however, to re-open my OkCupid account or to actually activate the Tinder account I had downloaded.

I am going to try it the old-fashioned way.

Let someone ask me out.

I’ll give that a couple of months and if it doesn’t appear to be happening I will actively start asking guys out again.

At the moment I feel that I have to be approached.

I am worth the ask.

“What are you doing this summer?” The mom casually, not really, asked as we headed to the school to pick up the oldest boy for swimming lessons.

Working as much as possible I thought, getting ready for graduate school, hopefully not having to look for another job.

It turns out that I was being felt out about the summer vacation plans for Sonoma.

Oh.

The house in Sonoma.

Pool.

13 acres.

Woods.

Creek.

Llama farm next door.

Llama farm.

Really.

Some where around Glen Ellen, about an hour outside of the city.

The family has taken a month before, but it sounds like they are planning on taking 10 days in June and 10 days in August.

They haven’t gotten the dates set up, they are finding out about the availability of the house.

Did I say pool?

“We would rent you a car so you could come up and go down for the weekend.” The mom explained.

I would work there, staying over night, I believe, I need to check my contract, but I believe I get an extra $50 per day for doing any over night travelling with them.

I would have my own room and bathroom and all my food would be taken care of.

It sounds scary and awesome all at the same time.

I also reiterated with the mom that I wanted to stay with them as long as they wanted and they do want, even when both the boys are in school, I feel that there will be plenty of work that can be done at the house.

Especially since I do so much of the marketing and cooking and general snack and food prep.

“What are you doing when he goes to pre-school,” the savvy pregnant mom at the park asked me.

“I’m heading to graduate school,” I told her, “though the likelihood is that I will be staying on and helping the family part-time.”

“Well, I am at the same school,” the mom said, “my oldest daughter is in the same grade as ________, just in the other preschool class.”

Oh.

Nice.

I like that.

“And I plan on contacting them, because should they not need you, I will.”  She smiled.

That was good to hear.

I’m not going to mention what school that is, but suffice to say, it’s not a public school.

It is good information to have and I know that I certainly have the references to continue working in whatever capacity I will be working in for the fall.

I suspect, again, though, that I will be staying with the current family.

Through the good times and the bad, vomit.

Because I like them and their dog, who always gives me kisses and wishes me a happy hello Monday when I come back from the weekend.

And the snuggle pie boys who yes, are boys and poop and pee and vomit and throw food and splash water out of the bathtub, and fart.

Oh.

My.

God.

The oldest today, after swimming class, was in the car seat and had taken off all shoes, socks, and tossed his whole back pack from school on the floor of the car with all the lunch fixings and containers tumbled about and while I was gathering it all up and grabbing his feisty feet to put them back in their socks, he farted to kill a cow.

I mean.

Holy Jesus on a flaming pogo stick.

It was like sticking my head in a fart oven.

He laughed so loud that he almost peed his pants.

He was the one who threw up all over tonight too.

I am laughing at this all now.

Although at the time I was almost over it.

Poor bunny, coughed so hard it triggered a gag reflex which brought up some phlegm, which grossed him out and then he hurled everywhere.

Everywhere.

Ugh.

I hollered out to the parents, one vomit covered boy, fresh from the bath, so at least he was only in the clean underpants I had just put on him, plus his younger, completely naked brother, who was running around playing 3, 2, 1 blast off with his Meow Meow (his stuffed kitty cat, who he informed me did NOT speak Spanish, when I greeted him with “hola gato.” “No hola!” He trumpeted at me.  “Bonjour mon chat,” I replied. “NO bongor!” he hollered kicking his feet out.  “Well, what language does Meow Meow speak?” I asked.  “Cat,” he said and if a two-year old could roll his eyes, he might have done so.  I mean, duh, nanny, get with the program.) running through the vomit barefoot, to come up and help.

Please dear God, help me now.

Thank goodness for extra hands when you need them.

I left soon after, the dad helping by cleaning up the various piles of puke.

The mom lining up a Pengu video.

I got the oldest one juice with a little bubbly water and some saltine crackers and wrapped up my day.

It was one hell of a day.

But I made it through and I am grateful for my job.

Even when the shit.

Er, vomit.

Hits the fan.

It cleans up fast.

 

We’re Ecstatic To Have You

October 3, 2014

That’s good.

Because today kicked my ass.

I realized when I was riding my bicycle home that the difference was that I did the pick up from school today of the older boy while the younger accompanied the mom to a doctor’s appointment.

The hour to 45 minutes of time that I have had the last couple of days with the little guy while the mom picks up the big brother are super vital minutes in my daily schedule of staying on top of all the things.

Man.

All the things is a freaking lot.

“We are afraid we are pushing you too hard,” the mom said tonight as I was leaving.

Oh shit.

I can’t keep up.

I am not a 29-year-old.

They are going to let me go.

“We don’t want to push you into leaving,” the mom continued.

Oh.

Well.

Fantastic.

“What can we do, I know the double stroller is horrible and we can get a new one to make your life easier,” the mom continued.

Yeah.

That.

The stroller does suck balls.

The family probably paid a pretty penny for it too, strollers are not cheap, especially double strollers.  Even the crappy ones are expensive, unless you are shopping for a double doll stroller at the dollar store on Mission Street.

But their’s is terrible.

I joked with the outgoing nanny that I now knew her secret to top fitness, it’s pushing that stroller around town.

It’s problem is lack of maneuverability, plus the bar is a little too low for a taller gal like me, I can push it in a straight line, but turn a corner, it’s heavy and cumbersome.

So yeah.

New stroller is definitely in the future.

Thank you!

I am also trying to be so on top of everything that I probably look a wee bit frazzled.

When I acknowledge what I did today I have to say, I did a lot, even though I did not get it all done, there were dishes that needed to be put away and laundry that did not get folded, but.

I went to the corner market and picked up food staples for the house, made a big salad for the parents, made sautéed garlic mushrooms for dinner, prepped after school snacks–sunbutter on crackers, strawberries, and peeled clementines, prepped milk, ran the dishwasher, steamed a head of cauliflower, went to pick up the eldest from school while mom ran the youngest to the doctor’s appointment, took him to BiRite for a treat ice cream cone the mom had sanctioned, went to Dolores park to watch the construction while he ate the cone, then to Mission Pool and Playground, a trip to the Pirate Store to look at the aquarium and to dig through the hidden treasures in the store, then back to the house, played in the garage, washed out the stroller, put away half the dishes from the dishwasher, did a load of boy laundry, then took both the boys to the Farmers Market and came back with loads of food–including a roasted chicken for dinner, fed them dinner, washed fruit for the week, ran the baths, played pirates, administered meds, transferred in to pajamas, built a blanket fort, and tried to catch my breath in between it all.

Let me not forget adventures in brushing teeth, potty training, tantrum negotiating (really your toes are super cute, but not on the table please while eating dinner), reading of many, many, many stories, and changing of diapers.

It is a job.

It is a job I like.

It is a job that is kicking my butt.

But.

“We know this is a lot and we’re ecstatic to have you and want to do whatever we can to make this easier,” said the mom, “really, let us know if we need to pull back on certain things.”

And yeah, there is probably a need for that.

But I think it also has to come from me.

I cannot rush myself trying to get it all done.

I do a poor job then and I am frantic, which is not how I want to be at work.

So, I just have to acknowledge, I can do as much as I can do and if it doesn’t all get done, that’s ok.

It is not indicative of me being a bad nanny, in fact, quite the opposite, it’s indicative of me being proactive with the boys and putting their needs first while I am working there.

I want to keep things as tidy as I can, but sometimes the mess is just going to get ahead of me.

I will keep up on the laundry and garbage and diaper pail, the loading and unloading of the dishwasher, and the breakfast, lunch, dinner food prep,  the compost and the recycling to the best of my abilities.

But first and foremost I am a nanny, so the boys come first.

I want to do it all.

And maybe.

Some days I can do it all.

But I can’t expect myself to always be able to nail it.

I can see that I am doing the best I can and the parents are aware of it.  I was afraid that the mom would be upset with me not being quite as on top of things, despite the many things I did do today, like holding a little boy for over an hour in my lap and reading him stories before nap time because he’s been under the weather.

Just that.

I am worth my pay.

And I am grateful that it is noticed.

I really do want to be the best nanny ever, ever, ever.

And the desire for perfection can bite me in the butt.

I am allowed to ask for a little down time, for a break, for a minute to sit, eat lunch, catch my breath.  I am aware that the parents know this too.

I just need to communicate and not be afraid to talk.

They want to engage with me and help me do the best I can too.

I really get that this is a team effort for them and I am already considered a valuable part of the team.

I am also super glad that tomorrow is Friday.

Whew.

And I get my first paycheck!

Yay.

I also get solid, almost drunk with it sleep, the deep kind of sleep, wherein you have worked your butt the hell off and you fall out like nothing doing when your head hits the pillow.

Like that.

 

But Mom!

September 27, 2014

I don’t want to go to school today.

Hack!

Hack!

Cough.

Sniffle.

Sneeze.

I actually do want to go to school tomorrow but I don’t at all either.

I will be getting up a half hour earlier than I have all week-long to go to an open house at the school I am looking into for graduate work next year–the application for the fall semester 2015 opens November, that’s just a couple of months away.

And the open house was heavily recommended by the admissions officer I spoke with on the phone just prior to leaving for New York.

September is turning into quite the month for me.

Ending a job.

Beginning a job.

Burning Man.

New York.

Graduate school investigation.

“Honey, why don’t you take it easy for a day or two, sit back, put up your heels, relax, this new job is taking it out of you,” he said to me on the phone earlier when I checked in.

In between the end of the work day, grocery shopping, and doing the deal at Our Lady of Safeway, I made a phone call to get some perspective and clarity.

Mostly, I think, I just really needed to check in with a human voice that was not one that I work for.

Not that I don’t like my new job.

I do.

I really do.

It’s just been a big, full, overwhelming at times, transition.

I had my first day all on my own and it was great.

Full.

Busy.

I never really had down time.

But I did have time to find things and make things and help the mom prep for the weekend, run to the store, food prep, cleaned out the fridge from the week, recycled, took out the garbage, did the compost, took out the diaper pail, cleaned the kitchen from breakfast, put away the dishes in the dishwasher, took a walk with the youngest boy in the morning when I first came on, negotiated lunch time with him, read stories, put him down for naps, organized the bedroom, the nursery, and rearranged the books in the older boys room.

And that was before I had my own lunch.

I was just sitting down to eat my lunch when the little guy squeaked.

Oh shit.

Then I remembered the other nanny had said that he often would do that, sit up, babbble a little bit, then re-settle himself and sometimes sleep for another half hour or more.

Yes.

I was able to eat my lunch and navigate through my calendar and make some notes about the boys schedule and my schedule in the next few weeks–I’ll be helping some extra hours next week and also the week after–one will be in regards to the eldest boy having a school holiday for two days and the other is a work trip function for the dad.

Then it was time for the nap to be over and the snack to be had and the milk and a snuggle with grandma and grandpa.

Then mom was home and the oldest was back from school and we had an outing to the park and to the book store with the grandparents.

After that I went with the family to Sugoi Sushi on Valencia and had an amazing meal en famille.

Watching a two-year old eat sushi rice is an incredibly messy and entertaining time.

I also felt very much a part of the family and needed and wanted and that was great.

At times the boys have done some push back in regards to certain things, behavior at the playground, some playful testing of my boundaries, but really they seem to be adjusting super well to me and I to them.

That’s not to say that there were a few moments when I was exhausted and wondered, will I be able to make it the year.

And it’s just the first week, which means, it gets easier, I will establish routines and systems and I will navigate my way through.

When we got back to the house the mom wrote me a check, my bonus, for $300 to help me transition until next week when I get paid from the accounting firm they use.

I am so grateful to be working for people who appreciate and care for me and support me as I support them.

I feel really lucky.

“They are lucky to have you,” he told me point-blank.  “Really lucky, don’t forget that.”

I won’t.

But I am grateful too, to have this opportunity that seems to be working really well for me to pursue a graduate school goal as well.

So.

Despite not wanting to get up early tomorrow, my first day off from a full and busy week, the alarm is already set for 7:30 a.m.

And I will get up and shower and get my breakfast on and go.

The one thing I may decide to do differently is not take my bicycle.

It will mean that I have to be on MUNI much longer than my bicycle ride would be, but I think the ankle needs a break.

I had to take some ibuprofen pretty much as soon as I walked in the door and I have been icing it the entire time I have been blogging.

It is doubtful that I can take the entire weekend off from my bicycle, but I can take tomorrow off.

Sunday will be my day of rest.

I have nothing planned.

Just grocery shopping and making food for the week, which is a chore, but one that is quite helpful in making my week smooth and easy.  I’ll probably stay out here in the Sunset the entire day and just market and cook and read magazines.

That’s the plan for the weekend.

It always feels like a lot of work, and when I acknowledge it, it is.  I worked a new job for 40 plus hours this week, rode my bicycle back and forth to work every day for the first time since I injured my ankle (13-15 miles every day), went to do the deal every night, wrote morning pages every morning, and blogged every night.

No wonder I am tired.

I suppose I best get used to it.

That’s what I hear graduate school is all about.

More work.

And that’s cool.

I would rather work it out than not.

I’ll see you on campus soon!

All The Things

September 26, 2014

And then some.

“Oh, before you go,” the new mom told me tonight, “I just wanted to let you know that we talked about how you’re pay is delayed and we want to help the transition, so we’re going to give you a $300 bonus tomorrow in cash to get you through.”

Well ok.

If you insist.

Damn Gina.

I mean I wasn’t thrilled to learn that my pay would be delayed a week, but as I looked over the calendar this morning when I was writing, I realized that, another bonus, October has five Fridays in the month.

So.

I am fine.

And now I am more than fine.

I was really touched when I was told this, it does help the transition and I felt like, whew, they like me.

I mean you wouldn’t give someone a bonus in their first week if you didn’t like them.

This may also be the fastest I have ever received a bonus at work.

Four days in.

Thank you.

And thank you for the latte yesterday and the smoothie today and the Diptyque candles from Paris.

“Do you like candles?” The mom asked me yesterday, handing over a white box to me.

Yes.

Uh.

Wow.

I have been surprised in these kind of sweet unexpected ways all week.

From the littlest boy grasping my name so fast and being trusting and giggly and the oldest boy wanting a bite of my apple tonight at dinner, to the grandmother thanking me for the awesome photos I took at the Farmers Market.

That’s a bonus.

The Farmer’s Market on Thursday is right down the road from the house and we went this afternoon.  The outgoing nanny introduced me to some of their favorite vendors and to some of the other nannies in the neighborhood.  I met the apple farmer the family loves and I have to say, I now love that apple farmer too.

I got some of the prettiest, tastiest apples I have had in a long while, and I eat a lot of apples.

We sat awhile in the long slanting sun of late afternoon watching a local musician play guitar and banjo.  The boys danced, the other nanny and I ate black berries and raspberries and counted down the minutes until the return to the house for dinner.

The other nanny has a really nice routine in place for the boys and I will be using said routine tomorrow as it will be my first full day alone with they boys.

Well.

Not really alone.

Grandma and Grandpa are visiting and mom and dad work from home.

There’s not really alone time.

There is, however, some down time built into the schedule as I was witness to this afternoon.  Time to run to Walgreens and pick up prescriptions, time to run to the local market on the corner to get a bunch of bananas, time to cook and prep meals for the family.

I may not also stay as late as my typical day will run.

Grandma and grandpa visits are special and they will be spending some time with them tomorrow as well.

Tonight was special and sweet too.

Literally.

As the grandmother told the little boys about Rosh Hashana and the New Year, mom sliced apples from the farmer’s market in the kitchen after dinner and poured out clover honey in a deep glass bowl.

“You dip the apples in the honey,” the grandmother showed the two boys, “for a sweet New Year.”

It was one of the most endearing things I have witnessed.

I love bearing witness to family traditions and holidays, there is such a special feeling of family, community, home, maybe that’s why I nanny, aside from loving the little ones I work with, I get to be a part of a family and join in their celebrations and rituals.

And drink coffee from Ritual.

“Would you like a latte or an Americano,” the dad asked me this afternoon.

He made a coffe run yesterday and brought back a latte for me.

“Uh, well, as much as I would,” I laughed, the generosity of my new family is way above the average, “I just was asked about a smoothie and I have a juice coming back from SideWalk Juice.”

“Ok, you change your mind, you text me.” And the dad set out to Ritual.

Pinch me.

I must be dreaming.

I don’t want it to sound like I haven’t had super amazing families before, I have, this is just a different set up for me.

It’s the most I have been paid (well, sort of, I will be having taxes pulled, so it ends up being a little less than other jobs), it’s the first family to give me a health insurance stipend (I get up to $200 a month, which will over and above cover my Healthy San Francisco payment which I have for another year.  So much so, that I am actually going to get dental insurance on my own.  The outgoing nanny told me about Delta Dental and how it’s about $100 a month.  Perfect.), and it’s also the most household work that I have experienced.

There are times when I feel overwhelmed by it, but I feel like once I get into a groove I will find the systems that work for me and them and be able to become extraordinarily efficient.

The cooking and marketing and the household running is not anything that I haven’t done, I reminded myself as I set the table tonight for dinner.

“I have done this before, I know how to do this,” I told myself in my head.  I adjusted the silverware on the thick cloth napkins and placed the water-glass above the knife tip.  “I can do this now.”

I can do this.

Especially when they are already making me feel like a part of their family.

I sat and ate dinner tonight with the family and then helped with the dishes, clean up, watched the ritual of dipping the apples and eating the honey–the littlest one got smart quick and just kept dipping his apple slice in the bowl of honey and licking it off–helped with bath time, did pajama time, and some snuggle time before dropping them back with the grandparents.

“FART on my belly!”  The littlest guy tugged my hand.

I laughed.

“That’s called a ‘zerbert,’ not a fart, come here, let me see if I can find one on you.”  I lifted his striped pajama top and blew a raspberry on his perfect, round, full of sweetness belly and then gave him a big hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” I ruffled his brother’s hair, “see you after school, pumpkin, it was an awesome day.”

And it was.

Full.

Busy.

Detail oriented.

But a really good day.

And tomorrow’s Friday.

Whew.

Almost through my first week.

Amazing.

Whoa Boy

September 24, 2014

It’s about to be a party up in this nanny gig.

Tomorrow the grandparents are coming into town for a six-day trip to visit the boys and mom and dad and the new nanny and the old nanny and the dog.

Oof.

It’s going to be a lot of adult navigation of space on top of two little monkeys.

And the are capricious little things.

Bath time literally had me in a sweat.

Juggling a two-year old boy and a four-year old boy into and out of a bath is no small feat, and then into pajamas, and then ready for story time and snuggle with mom and dad time.

I realized about half way between juggling one little guy and the other, potty training, the older boy also taking care of business, that I had forgotten the towels for the boys and not gotten the pajamas either.

I had been busy herding the cats up the stairs after dinner, dishes, kitchen clean up, and a mellow wind down moment on the couch with two new books from the library at 24th and Bartlett.

The day went by quickly.

It was pretty non-stop go from the minute I walked in.

Which is good, but just a little exhausting at the moment.

Day two.

No whimper.

Lots of BANG!

The boys have a great routine and routine is what saves a nanny behind every time.

It’s also a task keeping to that routine when you are fresh to the scene.

The out going nanny has been absolutely fabulous helping me adjust and there’s no awkwardness at all between us, which has been helpful.

There’s been a moment or two when I have felt odd asking the mom a question, but had no qualms asking the other nanny.

“Camera’s?” I asked yesterday as we walked to the park.

She nodded, “yeah, I’m pretty certain there are, I could even show you where I think they are.”

Nah.

I’m good.

I act like I’m on camera anyway most of the time.

I have been in so many households now with nanny cam or a drop cam or some sort of surveillance that I just assume it’s there.  However, it is nice to know.  The last place I worked in Cole Valley had camera’s right out in the open.

I will never forget the weekend I was cat sitting for them and I was watching a movie and had riotous gas and was letting them fly, I mean, no body was around, the cats didn’t care, and as I shifted on the couch, I heard the camera shifting with me.

Scared the crap out of me.

Well, thankfully, not really.

But I did swear.

I was not at my best, had relapsed for three weeks into some really negative food behaviour and the reason I had gas was I had just eaten a box, yes, an entire box, of cereal, with milk, and was at that time also consuming a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

I am lactose intolerant.

Not a huge amount, I can eat dairy, but it, well, makes me gassy.

Let me tell you about mortification.

They had seen the entire thing.

Not me at my finest I can say with complete candor.

So, I am used to being on camera, still it’s a nice thing to know and I don’t have any plans on testing whether or not they are actively engaged in watching me or not.

I suspect I already have been closely observed, and that’s fine.

I’m with two new boys and despite my squeaky clean record and my many years as a nanny, sometimes it takes a family a few days to trust.

Mom and dad do a lot of work from home, it seems doubtful that I will have much away time from the parents, they have a big home office right off the kitchen and they will be very much a part of my day.

My very, very, very busy day.

“Yeah, I was a little resentful at first when I started with them, I was taken aback at the amount of work, I think they should rename the job and be a little more accurate about it,” the other nanny said today in the kitchen as we were preparing food for the day while the youngest was napping and the oldest was still in school.

“Mother’s assistant,” she said, rolling out a pizza crust on the counter top, “is probably more appropriate, don’t get me wrong though, I love them, they are a great family to work for.”

The job is definitely above and beyond the nanny experience I have had, much more marketing, errands, household running, organizing, and cooking than I have experienced.

Household assistant for certain.

That being said I feel like it’s a great fit for me.

I am organized and capable and despite being a little overwhelmed, let me remind myself it is only day two of the position, I feel ready to take it on and grow with it.

I am also hoping to grow with it as the youngest boy enters into pre-school next year.

The family is still going to need help, but not as much as what it does now.

This seems to be the perfect fit for the imminent heading off to graduate school.

“There’s an open house this weekend!” An acquaintance said that I had not seen in years said to me this evening after work; turns out she is in a program there as well.  “You should come.”

“I am, I RSVP’d last week, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, and don’t do the PsyD, it’s too long for what you want, do the Intensive program, get your MFT, and then you won’t have to spend a quarter of a million dollars to get your degree.”

Good fucking point.

I’ll still be laying out a pretty penny, probably around $50,000, but it’s certainly a bit less than $250,000.

Besides.

Should I decide later on that I want the PsyD, I can go back to it.

But first get the MFT and transition, perhaps with this family, it seems like a good fit, from nanny to therapist.

It’s still going to be a couple, three years.

But it’s going to happen.

One sweet little day at a time.

But it will.

I just have to show up for it.

And get a really good nights sleep tonight.

There’s going to be a slew of people there tomorrow.

I got to gird up my nanny pants.

I’m going in.


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