Tonight, was date night, which is when Mom and Dad go out to dinner, and Tea hangs with the kids through dinner and bedtime. It is my favorite night of the work week. It is Mom and Dad's favorite night of the week. We often cook together, and instead of being interrupted by my end time, can progress more naturally though the evening. I love being able to put them to bed, and in the summer we tend to hang a little longer, a little looser. It's just fun. In theory.
Four and six. Number 2 is in his first year of preschool, the other in full time kindergarten. Needless to say, they are wiped, and often cranky by 4 or 5 PM. I'm being generous, here. Five o clock meltdowns, seemingly out of nowhere, are common and often seemingly rootless. Number 1 would put the average 12 year old girl in the throws of hormonal earthquakes to shame. Sometimes it's just weepy, often it's psychotically bitchy. Again, with no incitement of any note. The other one; well. As you know, he is on the ultimate quest to figure a way around all authority and responsibility. Lets just say he gets real mouthy. And intractable. And a little physical, when he gets desperate. Nothing serious- just a desperate half swing, which he often stops half way, when he realises he's screwing himself irrevocably with THAT move. But still. So much for my idyllic evening with the boys.
Not to mention the interaction of the two. Number 2 one loves to goad his big brother when he sees him on the edge. Number 1 one forgets to step back and let the grownups handle this, and gets physical on #2- now he's in trouble, and howling at the injustice, and the tween girl, for whose care I did not sign a contract, has returned.
So, Mom and Dad, fresh from their showers, descend the staircase and kiss their wailing boys- situated in time out on their respective staircases (Thank God there are 2)- goodnight, and leave, silencing the protests with 'do your time out, and listen to Tea. I swear I've seen them skipping. I don't blame them. I have seen them laughing their asses off at me as they pull out, and I start making dinner amidst the sniffling. That's an average night. They sometimes have to kiss a boy on his bed in PJ's, hoping for the reprieve that will allow him dinner, even if he's missing his half hour of TV. Talks with them inform me that I have a better track record than they on that one- maybe I am getting soft in my old age.
We do have tons of fun on these nights. The extra time is a must- especially now that they're both in school, and I am often relegated to chauffeur and taskmaster duties. Not to mention that these big boys would rather play with each other or the other kids on the playground than with Tea. Sure, they make me Darth Sidious (I hate being Darth Sidious), but then they largely forget I'm there. They check in, yell to me to watch them, get pissed when I call them on misdeeds, but they don't NEED me to play. You know the drill, folks, we've all been there. I'm proud and sad. Be careful what you wish for, little Nanny....
The difference is, I have to go there repeatedly every few years, as a new family grows. But I digress. I have a story from tonight.
The evening had been truly uneventful. Sweetpea got up from quiet time, made his own bed and put away his books and animals without my presence, in a timely manner. Score! We picked up his brother, they snacked while I made lunches, and retired to #1's room to play. I finished up downstairs, ear to the stairwell, and decided to hang back. However, I wanted to really know what was happening when (Oh how I hope for the advent of an or if) I had to intervene. They played so well- as they often do- for the whole afternoon. I sat out of sight around the corner (it's a really big house). Only opened my mouth twice, and they must have thought I was just passing, because the other times they disagreed, they solved it themselves, often with a drop in volume in case I could hear the threats they were lodging at one another:
I'll yell, and Tea will come up
You know Tea will say that you should.....
I'll tell Tea that you said.....(which he hadn't) and you know that's unacceptable.
Tea will just take it away from both of us if I yell.. (true, but still trying to get his way, not to compromise)
Hitler status aside (soo over being upset by that), I was really proud of them for working it out every time without coming to blows. I ignored all but the worst 2 incidences of meanness/ blackmail/ name calling. They do have to learn how to be people, and if invoking me (or the rents) is the biggest threat they can come up with, I figure the grownups are still winning the battle, even if it often seems we're not. They are wonderful boys.
However, I was pretty jealous of the glass of wine a lovely, relaxed, still clean smelling Mommy was sporting when I finally descended the stairs, pant legs soggy up 6" (showers tonight instead of baths), socks in my hands, hair bedraggled (and soggy), with my commute still ahead. It was a good night, and I have my glass, now.
Showing posts with label unusual career paths. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unusual career paths. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Inappropriate Affection
OK, so there's such a thing, but that's not what I'm talking about. The other day, Number 2 (4year old) went to hug Daddy goodbye. (Number 2 currently comes to about crotch level on Daddy, so Dad is constantly in peril from his always-at-warp speed son.) On this day, however, that was not the issue. He proceeded to hug daddy tightly, kissing him repeatedly- on his crotch- and kneading his hugging hands into Daddy's bum. He wasn't going to stop anytime soon. I suppressed a smirk as I walked by them headed for the laundry room, Daddy looked pained, and Mommy laughed aloud. This happens to us all, all the time, when the children are young.
There are several issues here. First of all, we don't ever want to crush the unbridled affection of which our kids are capable. Second, we have to figure out how to convey that whole concept of self, family, friends, etc. when it comes to bodies and touching so they can function in society. Third, most unfortunately, there are bad people out there, so we have to deal with that whole bullshit deal, with an eye to (oh, how we hope not!) the fact that the very people in whom we've told them to place their trust could turn out to be the bad guys. That one I'll leave alone for now.
My problems in this area are complicated by the fact that I'm not their mother. As a family, and at home, we are readily able to deal with this.
If I had a dollar for every time I've told #2 to 'stop licking me' in the past month, I could buy myself that flat screen. (If I had the same problem at home, I'd be a very happy woman).
I have no problem with the daily conversations- with both Numbers 1 & 2- revolving around their penises, and the amazing things they have to show and tell me about them and what they can do.
I unthinkingly remove stray hands from my breasts when they start to distractedly knead at story or bed time.
I can't count the number of times I have to say- quite matter-of-factly, that some part of me or them is a private area- and it's not polite to touch anyone but yourself there, and yourself only in private.
And then we go out in public. Over the years, the hands of small children have strayed up my shorts or skirt leg just a bit too far on innumerable occasions. No problem- except now we're not home. Other people can see. People who hear them call me Tea, or know us, and might let themselves think that something's not right. Never mind the logistics of toting two boys around- I have to pee with them, and although I'm very good at keeping me private, (it's a skill born of a lifetime spent in mostly male environs, where facilities are rare), Oh! how I love the conversations in public restroom stalls that start with: "Tea, you sit down to tinkle because you don't have a penis, right?" Every mother of a boy has had these lovely talks, but picture yourself in the stall next to us. What is a Tea? Why does this woman have little boys- not her children- in the stall with her. Hell! I'm not even Aunt Tea. I've been on the receiving end of some pretty pointed stares over the years.
People unfamiliar with the closeness of a nanny/child relationship could easily let themselves wonder, and part of me knows they mean well. So, here's a heads up: I care for these kids, often from babyhood, in every aspect a parent would. They don't differentiate physicality with me from physicality with their parents. It's that simple. As the boys- and the girls for that matter- for whom I care age, my 'hands-on' involvement, except in an emergency, drops off. Dad assumes responsibility for reported 'penis problems' and their ilk. Mom deals with itchy vaginae and their familiars. However, boys and girls alike still report these problems to me, because, as they see it, as they have always known it, it's my job to handle whatever is wrong with them when Mom and Dad aren't there. The kids remain only as concerned for their privacy around me as they are with their parents. If I suddenly shied away, they would think something was wrong. Now you know.
There are several issues here. First of all, we don't ever want to crush the unbridled affection of which our kids are capable. Second, we have to figure out how to convey that whole concept of self, family, friends, etc. when it comes to bodies and touching so they can function in society. Third, most unfortunately, there are bad people out there, so we have to deal with that whole bullshit deal, with an eye to (oh, how we hope not!) the fact that the very people in whom we've told them to place their trust could turn out to be the bad guys. That one I'll leave alone for now.
My problems in this area are complicated by the fact that I'm not their mother. As a family, and at home, we are readily able to deal with this.
If I had a dollar for every time I've told #2 to 'stop licking me' in the past month, I could buy myself that flat screen. (If I had the same problem at home, I'd be a very happy woman).
I have no problem with the daily conversations- with both Numbers 1 & 2- revolving around their penises, and the amazing things they have to show and tell me about them and what they can do.
I unthinkingly remove stray hands from my breasts when they start to distractedly knead at story or bed time.
I can't count the number of times I have to say- quite matter-of-factly, that some part of me or them is a private area- and it's not polite to touch anyone but yourself there, and yourself only in private.
And then we go out in public. Over the years, the hands of small children have strayed up my shorts or skirt leg just a bit too far on innumerable occasions. No problem- except now we're not home. Other people can see. People who hear them call me Tea, or know us, and might let themselves think that something's not right. Never mind the logistics of toting two boys around- I have to pee with them, and although I'm very good at keeping me private, (it's a skill born of a lifetime spent in mostly male environs, where facilities are rare), Oh! how I love the conversations in public restroom stalls that start with: "Tea, you sit down to tinkle because you don't have a penis, right?" Every mother of a boy has had these lovely talks, but picture yourself in the stall next to us. What is a Tea? Why does this woman have little boys- not her children- in the stall with her. Hell! I'm not even Aunt Tea. I've been on the receiving end of some pretty pointed stares over the years.
People unfamiliar with the closeness of a nanny/child relationship could easily let themselves wonder, and part of me knows they mean well. So, here's a heads up: I care for these kids, often from babyhood, in every aspect a parent would. They don't differentiate physicality with me from physicality with their parents. It's that simple. As the boys- and the girls for that matter- for whom I care age, my 'hands-on' involvement, except in an emergency, drops off. Dad assumes responsibility for reported 'penis problems' and their ilk. Mom deals with itchy vaginae and their familiars. However, boys and girls alike still report these problems to me, because, as they see it, as they have always known it, it's my job to handle whatever is wrong with them when Mom and Dad aren't there. The kids remain only as concerned for their privacy around me as they are with their parents. If I suddenly shied away, they would think something was wrong. Now you know.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Unlikely Nanny
This is my first post on this blog, so a little introduction is in order. Having been summarily fired (for the first time in my life and from what I had thought would be my dream job and lead to a steady career path- it did, but only through the firing incident) three weeks before Christmas, I hit the Globe to peruse the want ads. (Not before my truck died on the way home from being fired, and I walked- OK, stomped off enraged and crying - to the garden center having - luckily- coasted to my godfather's repair shop to secure a temporary source of income). When I (finally) picked up the Globe I saw ads for nannies- at a (then) whopping $400-600/wk. I could live on that.... I love kids...I might not be able to have my own..... Something clicked, and I decided this was what I was meant to do.
That was nearly twelve years ago. I love being a nanny, and have been blessed to work with some truly wonderful families- and a couple of others. Not many understood why someone with 'a hundred thousand dollar education' (1992 prices, and their emphasis, not mine) would choose this. But I did it anyways. My current employer graduated Notre Dame the same year I graduated Colby. My last college reunion afforded me the opportunity to meet no less than three of my classmate's nannies (Only they were confused by this- Colby grads are used to the many personal and professional eccentricities of our cohorts.) I am one of the happiest people I know professionally. No matter what kind of day I have with the kids, I want to go back the next. And, as anyone with kids, or in the industry knows, this life is rife with good material for humorous and touching anecdotes. So, I'll share- often as therapy, always with wonder at how much the kids and their families enrich my life.
-Tea
That was nearly twelve years ago. I love being a nanny, and have been blessed to work with some truly wonderful families- and a couple of others. Not many understood why someone with 'a hundred thousand dollar education' (1992 prices, and their emphasis, not mine) would choose this. But I did it anyways. My current employer graduated Notre Dame the same year I graduated Colby. My last college reunion afforded me the opportunity to meet no less than three of my classmate's nannies (Only they were confused by this- Colby grads are used to the many personal and professional eccentricities of our cohorts.) I am one of the happiest people I know professionally. No matter what kind of day I have with the kids, I want to go back the next. And, as anyone with kids, or in the industry knows, this life is rife with good material for humorous and touching anecdotes. So, I'll share- often as therapy, always with wonder at how much the kids and their families enrich my life.
-Tea
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