Again the Magic

More Stella shots, just to warm your heart. Sorry if the cherry eye grosses you out, but imagine how she must feel.

Must Love Dogs

This post doesn't have much to do with nannying or kids, but I wanted to add it anyway so you could really connect with me on an emotional level (which, let's face it, is the real reason you read this ca ca, isn't it?) I want to introduce you to someone I find pretty freaking cute.

I have never been what you would call a 'dog person'. In fact, until fairly recently you might have called me a 'dog hater'. Not all dogs, just the dumb ones. Unfortunately, dogs aren't the brightest of God's creatures (they sniff each others butts, lick themselves in public, dry hump pretty much anything available when they're in the mood) so I have never had a deep affection for canines. But all of that changed when I met Stella.

Stella Blue Simon.

My dad and my siblings and I chipped in to buy my mom a puggle for Christmas about a year and a half ago and I think it was the best decision we have ever made (definitely better than the costumed concrete goose). Stella has brought much joy and excitement into all of our lives and she is so freaking cute I can barely stand to look at this picture. But check out that face! And her teddy bear! That's right, Stella has a teddy bear. She tore out his stuffing and ate off his face, but I think that's just the way she shows affection, so we overlook it.

Stella loves to greet people at the door, shaking her butt and/or the entire lower half of her squat body, carrying her bear companion in her mouth whilst squealing with delight in the back of her throat. It's the greatest feeling in the world, knowing there is something in this world that loves you that much (until she jumps up on you when you're wearing a skirt and scratches the crap out of your fleshy inner thigh with her demon claws.) She is irresistible and I challenge you to come meet this bitch and not fall in love with her.

It should be added that Stella developed something called 'cherry eyes' a few weeks after she came to live with my mom. They tried to fix that, but the doctor who preformed her 'no puppies for you' operation somehow managed to muck that up so she has one cloudy glaucoma eye and one nasty cherry eye. But she does just fine for herself with 1/3 of her original vision still in tact. She sleeps in my parents king sized bed, receives a new toy or outfit every week and eats at least half of everything my mom eats so don't pity this one-eyed puggle. She don't need your sympathy. Oh, and she has the world's cutest Halloween outfit. It's a monkey suit and it's completely bananas! Don't worry, I'll post pictures later.

That's about all I've got for right now. I need to stop blogging after 10pm, because I always end up staying awake way later than I had originally intended. It's a good thing my job has a 2 hour block reserved for rest everyday. I like to refer to it as 'shut the hell up' time, but most of you probably just call it a 'nap'.

the pursuit of happiness

Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful.

Albert Schweitzer

For the past 6 months or so, I've been helping plan my 10 year high school reunion. At first, I wanted nothing to do with it. I'll even admit that avoiding reunion planning was the driving force in my Chicago/New York/London job search. This seems ridiculous in hindsight, but after careful examination I've discovered why I was so afraid of this damn reunion, and it can be summed up in one little word.

Failure.

There was a voice inside my head that taunted me on a daily basis. It screamed, "You've accomplished nothing so far and the future doesn't look so bright either, my friend." For a long time, I believed I was wasting my life, serving little purpose and living in defeat. It seemed that all my friends were following a clear path in life while I was unable even to locate my starting point. They were getting jobs, getting married, getting pregnant and all I was getting was overworked (by my 3 part-time jobs) and overweight (by ice cream and carry-out Chinese). There were brief moments of aspiration in there, including a stink in grad school, plans to work for my church, and even dreams of an extended European sojourn. But none of these things panned out and typically left me drifting and convinced I had tried and failed, yet again.

But the one constant for me has been this position as a nanny. I don't know how and I don't know why, but it seems to have stuck. And while I am not delusional enough to believe that I will be a nanny forever (unless Brad and Angelina find me and ask me to join their globe trotting crew), I know that this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing right now. Maybe not tomorrow, but definitely today. I LOVE these girls. They are the children of my heart (sorry, did you just throw up a little in your mouth, cause i did).

Nonetheless, I feel like it's a privilege to play a part in their upbringing. No, this was not my ideal career path, but oddly enough, it has become a bit of a dream job. I don't wear a business suit (more often it's my standard black pajamas), I like the people I work with (minus the occasional temper tantrum), I can watch all the television I want (mostly PBS kids, but I'm not a hater) and on a bad day I can go to my mom's house and she'll make me lunch (grilled cheese or PB&J, but I'm not finicky).

Yes, I would love to make more money and sometimes I wish my job looked better on a resume ('mad diaper changing skills' doesn't speak to everyone). But I have discovered that the only thing really holding me back from my happiness was me. I thought that money, status and a smoking hot body would grant me some kind of security, but obviously that is not true (case in point, Lindsey Lohan). And I would like to thank you, Albert Schweitzer, for the above quote which so eloquently expresses that which my life has taught me so far.

Oh, and I plan to hold my head high at that damn reunion. And

'Failure', you can kiss my ass.

P.S. Might I stress that the 'voice inside my head' is not literal. I am not schizophrenic (or so my counselor assures me), just prone to maudlin sentiment and self-pity.

This Vicarious Life

Perhaps the best part of life as a nanny is that I can, and often do, indulge my secret love for all things preteen. Through subtle suggestion and manipulation, Erin will become convinced that she loves the Disney Channel movie Camp Rock. Therefore, I will be forced to watch Camp Rock a minimum for 5 times a week for a period of about a month. I will complain about it to my friends and family, but secretly, I have an odd, twisted yet non-sexual crush on Joe Jonas (who plays the lead male character, Shane Gray). Erin has their sheets on her bed, but I pointed them out to her in an online Target advertisment. And since Erin loves the Jo Bros now, I guess I'll just have to buy her their newest CD for Christmas and we simply must listen to it in the car every day after school.
Thankfully, these phases burn bright and pass quickly. Eventually, one of us (me) will get tired of this particular brand of synthetic pop music and attempt to distract the girls with some other inane mass marketed teenage group or fad. It's a vicarious cycle, but someone's got to do it.

P.S. This Sunday my sister Eileen and I are 'taking the girls' to see High School Musical 3 : Senior Year in the theaters. Will Troy and Gabriella relationship survive into college? Can the East High Wildcats win the championship game? And whatever will Ms. Darbus do when Sharpay and Ryan graduate? These are all questions I will soon be able to answer. And then, my shame will overtake me and I will lie to you about how 'lame' it was and how I only went because I promised the girls I would.

But the truth is...

We've been planning this for months.

I already know what I'm going to wear.

The soundtrack is playing on my iPhone as I type.

It will be epic.

I am a tool.

Meet the Peeps

Now that you have a bit of a feel for me and my neurosis, here's the rundown on the kids for whom I am sometimes responsible.

On a weekly basis I spend about 30 hours with Claire Elizabeth, 21 months. She is the baby of the family (for now anyway) and is right smack in the middle of my favorite stage of childhood. She's a curious, cuddly, opinionated and simply darling girl. She spends a lot of time 'reading', shoving little toys into her purses, draping herself in costume jewelry, speaking gibberish, asking for Mama and Dada, begging for snacks and snuggling with me while we watch Elmo. She loves 'auggies' (aka doggies) but gets terrified if you put curlers in your hair (and I'm not kidding, that kid can scream like no other.) I think Claire might end up becoming a vegetarian which could seriously complicate menu planning for Kathy (their mom) in the future considering the fact that her husband doesn't eat dairy. So....edemame for everyone!

Molly Katherine is the middle child and the definite spitfire of the family. At 4 1/2, she is very petite and has doll-like features. HUGE brown eyes, a cheeky grin, sweet round cheeks and a little blond bob. Molly tends to attract the most attention from strangers and acquaintances alike. She is so freaking cute and when you mix that with her coy personality and mischievous grin, she can be quite the entertainment. The girl LOVES candy, things that are 'sparkly gold and sparkly pink', wearing dresses and aggravating her sister Erin to no end. She HATES the colors black, brown and gray and is still learning how to pronounce the letter R. You know how riding a roller coaster is about the most fun you can have, but it can also give you an enormous headache. That's Molly.

Erin Bridget is the oldest and the wisest (at least she thinks so). She asks infinite questions, adores school and learning more than any kid I've ever known, is reserved around people but adventurous in play, kind of a know-it-all, dedicated to justice and equality (especially if it appears Molly might receive more treats or less punishment than herself), and loves to write and draw. Erin is a very deep kid who thinks about God and Heaven a lot and sometimes asks questions like, "Annie, does Jesus love us more than he loves cheeseburgers?" Erin is a lot like Hermione Granger, minus the whole 'being a witch who lives in a magical castle with her best friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter' thing. But her mom does work in the dental profession. Eerie, I know.

More to come. Did I mention that Kathy is pregnant with a fourth?!

Deep Thoughts at Nap Time

I fear that I am profoundly unsatisfied because constantly I struggle with the dignity and the depravity of life. I can be completely content and utterly restless for 'more' simultaneously. More passion, less shame. Less burden, more love. More food, less fat. Less numbness, more truth. While I take pride in my work, I am still a touch embarrassed to tell people what I 'do' for a living. There are times when this is enough, but on occasion I despair to think that I live a artificial life. I am a mother, sort of. A grown up, maybe. A traveler, infrequently. A dreamer, emphatically. A maverick....nah, I'm not going there :-)

However, I am frequently struck bythe thought that, to an outsider looking in, my life may seem like a game of make-believe with no clear end in sight.

Someone told me once that I am an expert at killing hope. She said that I 'retreat to my cave of fatalistic ambivalence' in order to avoid disappointment and failure, both in myself and in those I love. I am still working through that, digesting it if you will. Because, quite frankly, to me that mindset sounds dangerous. Like a solid defense against pain, but also against joy. Deep, nourishing, abiding joy. And if I am to be honest, truly honest, it is not suffering I am wary of, but felicity.

So, what do you do?

My name is Annie and I am a nanny. I am in the business of childcare. My profession exists to facilitate yours. *You* go to work every day in order to provide for your family, and you need me (or people like me) to help you do just that. I will watch your child, feed your child, protect your child and love your child in your absence.

However, I am not a parent. I have no children of my own. It is my greatest hope, and the one thing I am certain I was designed to do well. But for now, I will struggle to be content with loving your children, and loving them well.

I love my job. Waking up and going to work seems to be a chore for some people, but not so for me. I look forward to Monday mornings. I don't mind dirty diapers. I anticipate playgroup. I enjoy Sesame Street. I adore nap time! I heap praises on your children when they do well and I uphold discipline when they misbehave. And at the end of the day, I get to go home and sleep uninterrupted!

I reap most of the benefits of parenthood, without the cost. Most. Because, don't forget, these are not my children. I am not their mother. And while I love your family, it is not my own. I'm still waiting to discover if a husband and children are at the heart of my story. But thank you for inviting me to play a part, however insignificant, in your own.


*please note 'You' is being used in universal terms*