The *Real* Nanny Diaries

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Hey there neighbor!

Last night I arrive home sometime around 230, parallel park my car a few houses down the block, get out and begin my journey to leftover Indian food in the refrigerator. What I didn’t expect was for some lady, who had also just parked her car, to get out and start attacking me with questions and insults.  Apparently one day I parked in front of her “driveway” — this driveway is actually just two slabs of concrete on which nothing is ever parked.

Now this lady was so worked up that it might have been comical if it weren’t 230am on a Friday night, and I wasn’t high, and she wasn’t middle aged and I a young lass.

I’ve replayed it over in my head several times, and like many situations, I wish I had thought of such wittier things to say or do at the time. Especially when she told me she knew the car was mine because she took down the license plate.

Um, no bitch, you know the car is mine cause I just got out of it.

And you know the car that was parked in front of your “driveway” because it’s the only white SUV on the block. Not because of the license plate.

Please, keep in mind the entire time that this was at two-thirty in the morning.

I had a few good lines like “You don’t need to be so stuck up about it” and “Good luck with that.” I don’t really remember what she said to me because, one like I said I was high, and two, I don’t listen to crazy people.

This afternoon, like all other afternoons, I rocked James and sang to him as he drank his bottle and got ready for his nap. Except this afternoon, unlike any other afternoon, we only got halfway through our standard repetoire of lullabies. I had just finised ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’ when Miles looked up at me and said, crystal clearly, “Take. my. nap.”

“You’re ready for your nap now?” I asked, slightly stunned.

“Yeah.”

James rarely answers in the affirmative to anything you ask him. So either (a) he must have been really tired, or (b) his language, reasoning, and decision-making skills are finally catching up to each other. I’m inclined to believe it’s a bit of both.

This is also the first 3-word sentence/thought I’ve heard James utter. A week or so ago he started using two-word composites for the first time, and just blew up from there. I’m half expecting to come back from vacation and hear: “Nanny, I’d like to take my nap now.”

Or not :-)

Nanny Uggee

When asked if Nanny is ugly or pretty, James unwaveringly responds that I am, in fact, ugly. Actually it’s more like ‘ugg-ee,’ but I get the hint. I’ve even tried posing the question several different ways: switching the order of ugly and pretty, omitting the word ugly alltogether, etc. My hope was that he was just responding with the freshest word in his head, so if I asked, “Is nanny pretty?” he’d be inclined to say pretty—or perhaps Yes or No. But nope—still ugly.

And they say children are always honest…

It’s okay though, because Miles is actually a liar. He often says something that he doesn’t mean, so I think that’s the case here. Or maybe he’s trying to make me jealous? Maybe there’s some other sexy chica that’s changing his diapers on the side.

God I hope not.

Or do I?

Ranting

If you don’t want your son to wake up in the middle of the night every night, maybe you shouldn’t come home and drink too much and turn all the lights on and shout on the phone to your friends every night.

It really is—in my opinion—just downright obnoxious, insensitive, and frankly, unacceptable behavior for a working professional. This isn’t college. We have responsibilities and we are sometimes required to make sacrifices.

Or, if you need to think of it in self-centered terms, you’d think you just wouldn’t want to wake up every night to soothe a screaming baby.

…But hey, that’s just how I think…

Oh I’ve got your Elmo right here, bud.

Have you ever seen a 1 and 1/2 year old carry around a laptop and cry Elmo at the top of his lungs?

Because I have.

This morning, at 6:30, Katherine dropped off the bundle of joy that is James in my room—along with a laptop playing continuous loops of Elmo skits. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), the laptop died about 15 minutes later. That’s when all hell broke loose.

James stood up in my bed and screamed and screamed and screamed. I knew things were serious when even the lullabies didn’t quiet him down. (They always work for at least a moment.) I tried all of my tricks: I sang to him; rubbed his back; even held him down, but there is no soothing a baby distraught over no Elmo and no Mommy.

Is it terrible that I find a crying baby sort of adorable?

Anyway, James wimpered out of the bed and began picking up the laptop. He’d carry it about a foot, then drop it at his feet, then repeat. “Elllllllllmooo! Ellllllmoooo!!!”

I had an idea. I switched on the light, scooped him up, and proceeded down to his crib where I knew a stuffed-Elmo would be waiting. Well wouldn’t you know it—immediately the crying stopped. I guess stuffed Elmo is just as good as the animated one? A few seconds later he ditched Elmo in favor of Monkey, and all was well in baby-land. Me, James, and Monkey clopped back upstairs, turned off the lights, and had some lie down time.

I understand the comfort of a favorite stuffed animal. After all, when James tried to pull Tug away from me, I yanked him back.

The bliss that is a resting toddler lasted for about 15 minutes. Now, as usual, James is going through all my things and scattering them across the floor. No object is immune to baby’s crusade—even the ones I just organized yesterday.

Remind me to tell you of the first time I noticed James had an erection.

Good morning, baby

I first fell asleep around 7 last night. The radio from downstairs woke me up around 8; I went down, turned it off, and headed back up to bed. Not too long after that, I fell blissfully asleep again. “Work tomorrow at 630,” I thought. “Wouldn’t it be great to get 9 hours of sleep!”

Wishful thinking.

At 230, I woke up with an intense headache at the base of my skull. “Notttt again.” After fighting it for a little bit, I decided to pop a tylenol. The headache went away soon after, but I was- of course- unable to fall back asleep. Admittedly, this is partly due to my late night internet addiction. Around 6 o’clock I began to realize that even if I fell asleep, Id have to wake up soon anyway.

My alarm went off at 6:32. I heard some gurgling noises through the monitor, but ignored them, praying that baby was just tossing around and would stay asleep.

Wishful thinking.

Around 6:38, James stood up in his crib, forlornly babbling toward god knows what. I went down to scoop him up. He cried, because I was obviously not the person he wanted to see. He knew mommy was there somewhere (in the shower), and he only woke up in hopes she’d come get him. I changed his swollen diaper, grabbed his stuffed animal, and marched him up to my room.  He never falls back asleep anymore, but hey, a girl’s gotta try.

Twenty minutes later, I heard snores through my earplugs. James had fallen asleep! Hallelujah, alert the press!! He has previously been tossing around, though rather quietly, and I had no idea if he would pass out or begin babbling. Once he starts talking to himself, once he stands up, once he tries to get off the bed, it’s hopeless.

There is little in this world that is more special than a baby sleeping beside you. At one point, James laid his hand on top of mine. I don’t normally like people touching me, but this was truly awesome. I stayed as still as possible, fighting my body’s desire to change positions. Then I, too, fell asleep.

For an hour, there we lie; he holding Monkey and I with Tug. I felt like a kid and a caretaker at the same time. These are the moments I treasure as a nanny: Those times when you feel both needy and needed; it is the kind of paradox we feel only within relationships. It is the kind of paradox that gives us reason to continue living.

I always think of the best stories at night

or right when I wake up, when I’m way too lazy to write them down. The stories are never as good hours or days after, but I’ll try.

Sorry, blog, for ignoring you.

Love,

The Nanny

After working what I think was everyday since the 27th of December, it is nice to finally have a full freaking 24 hours off. James has been extra whiny lately. I s’pose he’s getting closer to those terrible twos. His father, of course, thinks James is the easiest, happiest, sweetest little thing to grace this earth. I find it amusing how parents always believe their kids to somehow be exceptional, while knowing full-well that all [read: other] parents believe their kids to be expectional.

I’ve been thinking a good deal about the nannies and au pairs I grew up with; how it must have been borderline unbearable to have my mother as a boss. My mom cringes whenever she sees James put things in his mouth or spit all over or eat off the floor. She cringes at the “mess,” at the supposed lack of childproofing in the house, at the fact that at 6 months old, James had already touched a snake.

No wonder I’m scared of the outdoors and stuff. We never went there.