Posts Tagged ‘nanny share’

Almost But Not Quite

August 13, 2014

So close, but so far.

So close, but no cigar.

Almost there, but a little further to go.

ARGH.

I thought it was all wrapped up, but no, it’s not.

And you know what?

I don’t give a fuck.

Pardon the French.

Because the shit’s going to work out, it always does, and I just don’t have the time to worry, or frankly the need, or honestly, the fucking belief, I am being taken care of and I am going to Burning Man and I am going to have fun.

So there.

Damn it.

The nebulous nanny schedule can just take a back burner to the present moment.  I am over being anxious.  In fact I am a little mad.

Not so much at the situation, but that all through the years of being a nanny I have never been dropped, some thing has happened, some family has shown up that has needed me for the exact days I needed to be covered and it all worked its way out.  Anger then, that I ever wasted time being worried, because it always worked out in the end.

No matter what.

I found out today that the family I thought was going to be a full-time solution is not going to be needing me full-time.

They can’t do it.

They can do three days a week.

I almost want to cry.

But really.

I have no energy for it.

Although I am blasting Underworld at the top volume level I think I can get away with before the housemate tells me to simmer down.

I wanted to give myself the extra push to get the blog writ.

I was pretty tired by the time I got on the train home tonight.

I had been at the nanny gig in Cole Valley an extra hour and a half and my brain was a little boggled by the whole thing.

The families met and it was a great match and then the bombshell.

Well, I see your bombshell and raise you an I don’t fucking care.

I mean I guess I do, or I should or I would, but I just surrendered to the thing of not having the ability to do anything more about it.

I can’t.

I leave for the Burn in, what the fuck is today, the eleventh?

No.

Shoot.

It’s the 12th.

I leave in three days.

I don’t have time to arrange, meet, interview, or field any other prospects.

I got what I got and the playa, God help me, will provide.

When has it not?

I am going to show up and do an amazing job because I am an amazing nanny and then I will come back go to New York, kick it with my friend, eat a fat steak, see some museums, go to the top of the Empire State building, stand on the arms of the Williamsburg Bridge and  cry out, “Hey man, well, this is Babylon,” and not the metropolis before me, but to the mindless cacophony in my brain of worry, anxiety, financial insecurity.

I ain’t got it.

It’s gone.

Bye bye.

Burning Man you beat me down before I could even get out to you and like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my unexpected change-up in employment, I will rise to the occasion.

I mean, what else is there to do at this point?

Surrender.

Go to the winning side.

Be grateful for what I do have.

I have a solid three-day a week share with two little monkeys and the other two days will come together.

I’ll just keep putting it out there, throwing it at the wall, and seeing what sticks.

Both the families adamantly expressed that should I find a full-time nanny share gig they would step back without rancor and bid me best of luck.

Gotcha.

So.

When I return.

I can look into that.

I can do lots of things.

But I ain’t got it in me to do anything else before I leave.

I just can’t.

I wanted to be rested and ready and rocked out for my adventure on playa.

Without further ado, I cede the job hunt until after the event and let it all go.

I am going to live like there’s nothing wrong and go have an amazing time.

I have a feeling this is going to be my best year yet.

I think I have always said that and it always is.

I don’t really look back and go, it was better when, I am not a jaded fuck, I have liked my growing involvement and evolution with the event.

Who knows.

Maybe I’ll pick up some hours at the organization.

I certainly know enough people there.

Nanny three days a week and then go do some office assisting for the organization itself or something.

I mean.

Really.

I do have skills outside of changing diapers and signing the “itsy bitsy spider.”

Things never quite work out how I think they are going to and somehow I am always taken care of.

As long as I continue to take action and focus on a spiritual solution to my “problems” I will be fine.

I mean, when I was in Paris I didn’t know day-to-day, let alone week to week, what my work schedule was going to be like or if I would even have any.

I am not arguing for the fact that I can continue to subsist like this, I would like solid employment, I see folks all around me somehow pulling it off and taking vacations and owning cars, they probably are no smarter or luckier or wiser than I, so I should be able to as well.

I have a great future in front of me and I know enough to not sneeze at work that is being offered from a family that in the two brief bits of time I met with, really like.

I told the mom to write-up what they could do.

We will start September 15th and go from there.

I repeat my mantra.

I am taken care of.

My rent is paid.

I have work for the next month.

The solution and the problem are two different things.

I know what I need to do.

And worry is not it.

It’s all working out without my meddling or anxiety.

Just you watch.

You Always Land On Your Feet

August 1, 2014

A friend said to me yesterday when she called to chat and catch up and I let her know that I was losing my full-time employment with one of my charges.

She’s right.

I do.

I am like a cat with 19 lives.

So, despite the news coming as a bit of a shock yesterday, I am feeling ok about it today and I got to have a really sweet day with the little guy and my girl Thursday.

There was much giggling, story telling, chasing through the grass, eating of bunnies (Cheddar Bunnies, people, please), singing, I recorded them doing if “You’re Happy and You know it,” and sent it off to the folks.

One mom responded how she loved that I said, without dropping a beat, as one of them started to meander, “hey where are you going,” and continued with the song.

My life seems to be like that, a curve ball, a momentary, hey where the hell is this going, then back to the song, back to the refrain, back to the day and what is in front of me and what can I do about it.

I put it out to the interwebs in a very soft way last night and got a plethora of response, it looks like I even have an interview next week, I don’t have to worry and I know I will find work and I know I am a great nanny and it’s all good.

I took that today and ran with it.

Cleaned the house where I work, took out the compost and the diaper pail, tidied, and made sure the monkeys were safe and snuggled and loved.

This is not to say that I didn’t hazard the occasional thought of, I don’t want to be doing this–this being the finding of new families to work for, but I know that I do land on my feet and that, unlike when I was in Paris, my options here are really quite vast.

And it’s super sweet to know that my families will vouch for me and that I have great references and that there are so many little people in my life that I get to engage with.

I also know that I get to choose how this happens.

I have been given a lot of notice and I will be working full on until September 2nd or 3rd, a few days off from the burning thing in the desert, a quick dash out to New York to see my friends and have that New York experience, then back to San Francisco and nanny nation.

I am covered the following week as well, up until the 15th is the way I see it.

The family that is putting their son into pre-school is going to leave me with that last week paid as a kind of severance and I am super appreciative of that.  My little girl Thursday will be acclimating into her pre-school as well and the mom asked for a few half days to help with that adjustment.

Then the little guy in Cole Valley will have me for a few days too.

I am not certain how that will pan out, they only need me two and half days a week after the event until Mom’s contract ends, the way I see it, I need to source and find families before that happens.

I am not a fan of the process of finding the next set of families, I want to do a share, that makes the most sense financially for me and ends up being a great way for the kids to socialize, but I have done it enough now that I know the process won’t be that hazardous.

The main thing is that I will be off to Burning Man two weeks from today, or tomorrow to be technical.

I will work full time hours up to Thursday the 14th of August with my full complement of kids, then go to the family in Cole Valley, do an evening shift, spend the night, and leave with them Friday to head to the playa.

I will be effectively unavailable to meet anyone from the 14th of August until the 8th of September.

That’s a big chunk of time to be out of the loop, although I do have internet access out there, so I can e-mail prospective families.

However, like my friend said, like my experience has shown me, I land on my feet and things happen, if they don’t happen by the time I leave for the event it doesn’t mean that they won’t, it just means the Universe has something better for me up its sleeve.

I really am not worried.

A darling friend also pointed out to me, “you were out of work for a month with your ankle and you were perfectly taken care of, what makes you think you wouldn’t be now?”

Uh, exactly.

I am taken care of.

That is not an excuse to shirk the work, I still have to show up for it and I am pretty open to it all.  My first focus will be on finding a nanny share, full-time, benefits, 10 days PTO, paid holidays, I know what the market rates are and I know what to ask for.

I am holding out for the best scenario for myself, I have to like the family and I am not taking just anything that comes along because I am in fear.

For the first time in a long time, in regards to this particular task, I find myself not afraid and I am going to use that to my benefit to find the best fit for me.

That way, everybody is happy.

Happy nanny equals happy children.

At least in my experience, and I dare say, I have some.

I am excited about the future, I am.

The best is yet to come.

And.

I get to go to Burning Man.

 

Are You Listening?

October 2, 2013

Because I am yelling at you.

I almost decided to not hear it anyway, but as I sat this evening unwinding from a challenging bodily fluid day of nannying (thrown up on twice, and the poop, oh dear god, don’t even get me started I don’t want my blog to be hit if you google fecal catastrophe), I got another set of gentle reminders.

Back to back.

“Yeah, never would have thought that after all these years and all the degrees I have, I would now be studying to be a yoga instructor,” an older male acquaintance of mine I have known in and around San Francisco for over eight and a half years.

But I tell you, it looks damn good on him.

He’s always been a pretty healthy guy, but man, he was fucking glowing.

Glowing.

Then on the heels of his words, another man adds, “yoga has saved my ass too many times to count, although I can’t count on it as my primary spiritual practise.”

Well.

There it is.

And then there was the yelling bit.

You never know who is going to say what, and it is important to listen, to hear when things are being directed at you and to take those instructions.

I was walking with the babies around the block coming back from an adventure at the Golden Gate Children’s Area, when I noticed a very happy bum walking down the side-walk.

Weaving really.

And talking pretty loudly.

I kept my eyes focused on the baby in the stroller that was gently dozing off and kept my hand over the other baby, who was snuggled into my chest in an appropriately named, Snugli, keeping his ears covered so he wouldn’t wake up.

He did not sleep at all today, except on me.

Snugli

Snugli

Which is not the worst thing in the world, but man my shoulders are sore, sore, sore right now and I could stand some stretching.

And probably some, yes, yoga.

As I pushed the stroller at an even pace past the happy drunk, who made way, but then started chatting to himself, to me, to the world, about the kind of stroller I was pushing.

It is pretty cool.

It is a Stokke and if you haven’t seen one, they are pretty space age and ergonomically designed, so that you are not bent over pushing the stroller, you can in fact, walk completely up right and the handle bar is textured and probably the easiest stroller I have ever maneuvered.

And I was busy maneuvering as far away from the smell of malt liquor and dirty socks soaked in urine and left to ferment, he hollered out at me something about now seeing that I had TWO children, jesus, and a bunch of gobbedly gook, shortly followed by the most comprehensive, articulated words, like something or someone else was speaking through him.

“Go to yoga class,” he said.

I actually stopped walking.

He had not, still stumbling, he was past me, careening up the street towards the park, but I could hear it again, “go to yoga class,” he repeated.

Then once more!

What the heck?

I don’t know if he mistook me for one of those über fit moms that push jogging strollers, maybe he didn’t see the tattoos, “she’s like Mary fucking Poppins with tattoos,” but he thought I should get myself to my yoga class, that was pretty obvious.

I did actually go on Saturday to check out the studio that is two blocks from the house, but it was closed in between classes.

What I noticed, intriguing, is the “Digestive Yoga” that is taught there three evenings a week at 8 p.m.

That might be the perfect evening class for me.

Gentle yoga meant to promote evening digestion.

Plus, the time of day is right on for me.

I generally get done with work at 5:45 p.m.

I go take care of the crazy in my head sometime around 6:30 p.m. in the vicinity of 7th and Irving, then ride my bike back to the hood.

I am typically getting back to the house right before 8p.m.

I could make this happen.

I am definitely going back in this week.

You know that saying if three people in a row are assholes, then the asshole is really you?

Well, when I hear from three different people today, some adamantly, some reassuring, and some out of faith, that yoga is what to do next, well, then I am going to take those suggestions and stop thinking about it and just go.

I am going to need the help.

My body is needing the help now.

I may be starting up a week earlier with the new charge, I have a full week this week, an extra shift next week, and the possibility of a three child share care on Mondays.

I can handle it if my body is being taken care of.

Besides, as I see my body returning to its pre-Paris self, thank God, I am now aware of what my bike can do for me and what needs working on.

My bike is fantastic cardio, awesome transportation, and a superior leg strengthener.

I have some bicycle thighs, I do.

They are rock hard.

I also have a pretty nicely define upper waist line again, abdominal muscles play out a lot more in biking then most people realize.

If you have sore arms, it is most likely that you are relying on your arms too much and not your core, your arms are just to steer.

Which leads to the areas that could use some work–my arms.

I hear yoga is good for that.

My flexibility can use some tweaking.

And I need to strengthen my lower back and my knees could use some strengthening.

All areas I hear yoga addresses.

That and the meditation and spiritual practise all rolled up into one.

Shit, living at the beach, doing yoga, eating organic foods, riding a one speed around San Francisco, going to Burning Man all the time.

I must be some sort of new age hipster (don’t fucking call me a) hippie chick.

With tattoos, or course.

Lots of them.

 

Head Ache

September 11, 2013

I have had a head ache since right before I left work.

I keep telling myself I did the best I could, I am doing the best I can.

But despite my best efforts one of the babies bit the other baby and it broke my heart telling the mom.

I also felt like I did not respond in the way that was comforting.

I was also wiped out.

Not one of the three took a real solid nap today.

Nappus Interruptus.

When wee monkeys don’t have enough sleep and don’t feel like they are getting the kind of attention they deserve, shit can crumble fast.

I was on top of it, I really was, I was running up and down the stairs like a fucking sprinter, changing diapers, warming bottles, feeding this one and that one.

I had just gotten a re-settled down group when I smelled the offending smell.

Albeit a rather pleasant one as far a baby shit goes, let’s be frank here folks, some kids eat better than others, and this group of babies is super healthy, but yes, it still smelt and it was time to run upstairs to change this one.

Two of the babies use the compostable diapers and their parents have a service they use.

The other baby uses cloth diapers.

The other baby has to be changed upstairs, but now that I am writing this, I wonder, I could set something up, not that I can change anything that happened today.

I cannot.

The best I can do is forgive myself for not being super human and having 18 sets of hands.

At least I saw what happened and I responded immediately.

Thank god, I had just finished with the changing of the cloth pants.

Yeah, get over it, I am writing a blog about poo and if you can’t handle it, go read something else (the poo will finish in a moment), occupational hazard, you could say.

I was setting the fresh diapered child down on the mat on the floor, one of those awesome cushion ones that have interlocking puzzle pieces, when one baby leaned into the other and bit down on the little baby mouth.

I saw it happen like it was in slow motion.

I almost screamed at the child.

I held my breath, dropped to me knees, pulled them gently apart and scooped the smaller baby into my arms, who for just a moment I wondered, did the bite happen, there was pure silence.

Then the wail of terror and hurt.

It was horrendous.

I calmed the child down and it happened so fast that I did not think that the bite was a bad as it later appeared to be.

I took the other child and popped the baby into the crib, immediate time out.

I did not yell.

I did not scream.

I breathed deeply, soothing the other baby, and spoke in an even, saddened voice, expressing my thoughts on how we don’t bite the people we care about, how it hurts, that we are loving and kind and gentle.

The child understood and was so abashed I wanted to hold them both and soothe both at the same time.

While the third looked on in wonder, what the hell is happening?

And that makes me wonder, am I not cut out for three?

Is it just too much?

I felt rotten, but not as bad as when the second mom picked up her child.

I had examined the bite and did not see broken skin or bleeding.

The baby fed really well afterward, another bottle and a half and a pouch of pureed food, and had a third nap, waking happy and bouncy and wanting to interact with the other children.

But when examined the bite had swollen up, there was a red demarcation on his upper lip and it was obvious how hard the bite had been.

I was horrified and cue the instantaneous head ache which has throbbed in my brain since the mom took her child.

Worst nanny ever.

Just quit.

Then I thought, they are never going to want me to nanny again.

Then, the thought that saved my ass, if that happens, you will still be taken care of.

You are not being dropped.

You are not perfect and you cannot expect yourself to be.

I felt some relief at this, but the head ache had settled in for the duration.

It is also, come on, admit it, Martines, the stress of moving.

I moved yesterday.

I have been on the move for a really long time.

I am not settled yet, I am not in my sweet spot yet, I don’t have a bed yet.

Yes, there’s a blow up mattress, with a slow leak, ack, but fortunately, it is slow, that I have to sleep on.  And my friend has said we can make a run to Ikea on Thursday.

I will just get a bed there and assemble it and be done with it.

I am tired of looking on craigslist.

I just want a bed.

And a few other things to make the space more of a home.

Things will come together, the head ache will pass, I will forgive myself.

Really, I already have.

I did the best I could.

I was not putting the baby in a room with a rabid dog.

It was another sweet child.

Things happen.

I cannot protect them every second of every day.

Neither can their parents.

Sigh.

Sometimes I wish I could, I wish that there was no pain, no sorrow, no suffering.

I wish that teething didn’t hurt and that there was always cuddly nap time and good story telling, that poking and pinching and pushing and biting didn’t happen.

But they do.

I don’t believe that it is ever done, especially at this age, with malice, no child bites like that maliciously.  It is a call for attention.  It gets a reaction.

I have been bitten by every single child I have taken care of.

EVERY one.

I knew a nanny that got so fed up with a child she was taking care of that she bit the child back.

I have not and never will do that.

Never hit, never bite, never slap, or shake.

Just doing the best I can in the only way I know how.

I think it is more heart ache than head ache.

But the pain remains the same.

Funny, how, both children have probably forgotten, but it sits here on my chest like a weight of doom.

Gotta let it go, it does not serve.

Besides I have another day tomorrow to work and be present and that starts by taking care of myself, and that means, the hot shower, the cup of tea, the apple, and the wind down.

Grateful for the experience.

Grateful more for knowing that forgiveness of self is how to move past this.

There is no other way through.

But through.

 


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