Friday.

Well, again I have abandoned my blog and failed to follow through on writing every day. But with the weeks I have been having lately, I say it's a great week if I write 5 out of 7 days. So that's my new goal. And with the week I had THIS past week, I'd say 5 out of 7 is a pretty damn good number.

In a nutshell, this week was just as challenging as last week, just in a different way. I think I blogged on Tuesday about happiness and lots of other positive things, and all of that is still very true for me and I am extremely grateful. However, that didn't seem to be able to take the sting away from the reality I faced this week. And yes, things could have been way worse, but man oh man - I am ready for a good week!!

Tuesday evening I started coming down with some sort of "lady parts" issue which warranted a call to my doctor and a quick little prescription pick up. Took it and hoped for the best. Really, really, really hoped for the best. Then, in the middle of the night Tuesday, I woke up to find that I had been bitten by a spider (or some other bug) pretty bad on my left index finger. In fact, pretty bad to the extent that it woke me up out of a sound sleep because the pain was throbbing and my finger swelled so big so fast that the pressure of it was more than my sleeping body could deal with. I thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. I figured I had other (more important) infections to think about. Anyway, by Wednesday afternoon, it was clear that the best I had hoped for wasn't happening, as I woke up sick - as in chills, feeling generally awful, and not being able to eat. In addition, my finger had swelled to three times the normal size and was beet red, bordering on purple. Little fang marks perfectly in tact. Damn you, spider! And the amount of pain I was in indicated something was really up. So I waddled around getting the kids ready for camp, doing my absolute best to avoid sitting, walking, and or using my left hand at all. Yup, the one handed, waddling nanny who can still do it all. Just kidding. I'd like to keep both my arms, please. I then somehow actually drove them to camp, though I can't say I remember how - simply because I was in THAT much pain. I made plans for a family member to take the kids so I could run to the doctor (no appointment until 5pm) to get myself all fixed up. I spent the day at the movies and generally just slugging myself around willing myself to feel better.

Sidenote. On Wednesday an Thursday, my boss's movie was filmed at the house, which I know, sounds really fun and cool. And the idea is until the reality sets in and 89 people are shoved in your house and take over like they live there and bring in all of their equipment and actors, and they like to start very early in the morning (talking before 6am here!) and end very late at night (think midnight). Now, the girls were both very excited about all this chaos in their house, but it made it nearly impossible to be here with them, as most parts of the house weren't accessible such as their bedrooms and bathrooms and the kitchen. Pretty imperative rooms when you're dealing with a 4 and 5 year old. And normally maybe I would have been up for all the commotion, but with how I was feeling it was taking everything I had not to curl up in a ball and weep from the pain. You get the picture. Lots of people, me not feeling well, kids being difficult, etc.

So I make it through most of the day Wednesday and went to the doctor (big thanks to my boss's mom for taking the kids for an hour!) and after one of the most painful situations, I walked out with (this time) the right prescriptions (or so I hoped) and I was sent on my way. So I made my way back the house, prescriptions in hand (and the hope for a pain free day tomorrow) to face the film crew and all the chaos, as they were filming until 10 that night. My boss then let me know that she was going to let me go home for the night because one of us needed to sleep. First though, I had to get the girls down to sleep - up in their bedroom while they filmed a movie directly below. Piece of cake, right? Hardly.

To save time and energy (my finger is still swollen and thus I am typing without my left index finger), I will skip ahead to the highlights. Because my boss was home, Z decided it was time to test some more boundaries and proceeded to throw the world's largest, most dramatic temper tantrum ever thrown by an almost 6-year-old. I am talking, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing herself out of bed, forcing herself to vomit, kicking me, etc. You get the idea. Meanwhile, they are filming a scene downstairs that is relatively quiet and they could all hear everything. So if any of you go to see a movie in about 6 months and you hear the faint sound of a child screaming in the background, thats Z. The famous tantrum girl. She'll love it! Anyway, all of this resulted in me going back to the basics of "sleep training" and walked her back to bed 16, 675 times in 45 minutes and then sat outside the bedroom door while she cried herself to sleep. Awesome - Nanny of the Year Award over here. Luckily it only lasted a few minutes and she passed out. Poor Monkey was so tired she well asleep right away and slept through everything. Probably for the better because had she been awake Z would have worked her up too and it would have been tantrum squared, which isn't un. Anyway, home I went.

So I woke up Thursday really hoping that things would start to pick up for me. My "lady parts" issue was on the mend (thank you God, and Glaxosmithkline) but my finger had reached an all new level of swollen. After waddling the kids off to camp for the third day in a row, I went to the doctor (for the third day in a row) and had them take a look. One glance with a lot more poking and prodding than I would have preferred, and they diagnosed me with a spider bite. Yes people, I know, hence why I am here. They decided it was infected and prescribed antibiotics. They then decided it was a great time to take blood for an annual blood test, which led to more poking and prodding. By this time, I'd had enough. I picked up yet another prescription (the pharmacist commented on seeing my 3 days in a row) and headed home to my house to sleep (film crew still at my work house) and dose myself full of medicine in hopes of falling into a drug-induced slumber and waking up to find that my body had healed itself in 75 minutes, or at least before 2pm camp pick-up.

So fast forward to today, Friday. I will say I am feeling much better, though not awesome because the side effects of all of the things I am taking combined is pretty bad. But honestly, I am thankful for eastern medicine at times like this because I woud have done just about anything to feel better again. I can now walk without so much waddling and my finger, though still swollen, is throbbing less. So aside from a bunch of nasty side effects, I am thankful to be feeling better. And it's Friday which means one more day and the weekend is mine! The upside is aside from the exorcism tantrum the other night, the girls have sensed me not feeling well and have been really sweet and loving. Tonight we all climbed in bed to watch a movie before bed and THEY were the ones that reminded me it was 7pm. Yes folks, that's when you know the nanny is tired - when the kids remind her it's time to go to bed. Thank God it's Friday. Tomorrow can't come soon enough!

I will write something with wit and substance just as soon as I sleep a little and feel a little more human. In the meantime, it's bedtime.

Happiness Somehow Made It's Way In

Ok, I lied. A little. I said I would be back up and blogging by yesterday, but yesterday resulted in me sleeping a lot and doing a lot of laundry, though not in that order. But here I am, back to it and only a day late. Monday is technically one of my days off anyway, so my "weekend off" didn't really start until Sunday, thus making sense that it would begin again on Tuesday. Anyway, with that out of the way... onto business!

So work is work. My boss and I have had some amazing communication the past few days and have ironed out a few large details pertaining to my job. It's pretty amazing what some clear, efficient, and productive communication can do! And considering it was all via email (the two of us getting together to talk is close to impossible due to our schedules) is pretty impressive if you ask me! Or maybe that's just me tooting my own horn. Anyway - so things are moving forward in a pretty awesome way in that area, and so it feels like things are going to work out, and hopefully for the long run. We are about 10 days into the 35 day craziness with filming and all (and me being a mom) but at some point it will end and things will move into something a little less crazy, schedulewise. I may even get to see my boyfriend (gasp!) during the week. What a concept.

So on the homefront, things are even better. My boyfriend and I are also communicating on an amazing level of efficiency and productivity, and it feels really great. We don't get to see each other a whole lot these days and are trying new, fun, and creative ways to see each other more. I really could not ask for a more supportive partner right now. I know I am strong enough on my own, but there is something about having someone to share all of this crazy life stuff with that helps. For the past year I was pretty intent on being "that single girl" who just "isn't into relationships" and "being tied down" but to be honest, this is better than I coud have asked for. The beauty of it being that we are creating what we want for our relationship instead of trying to stuff it all into a box (I know, I know, That's what she said...). We are creating what we want and it seems to be the way to go. And I can really grow with this guy, move forward, and be my independent and lovely self - and be a partner too.

So on another note, my school career is also moving forward quite nicely. In October 2009 I began a MA program in Spiritual Psychology and completed the first year of a 2 year program. Adam and I entered this program together and it is actually where we brought our previous relationship to completion. It was the most amazing and loving year of my life, as well as empowering, life-changing, and just all-around fantastic. With growing pains too, of course. In fact, lots of them. Anyway, as anyone who reads this knows, I took a year off in between two two years and am happy to announce that I will be attending Second Year this coming October! Part of the negotiating with my boss was around the prospect of me finishing, and it meant first having my boss's support on my side because it involves altering my typical work week one weekend a month. Not only was she into it, but she even said she was thrilled that I was moving forward with other areas of my life, in addition to working and keeping my job commitment. I am so excited! I am nervous and a little scared of what lies ahead, only because I know it is going to be a truly amazing year. So, back to school I go. October feels like a lifetime away!

So my point in going over all of this (and yes there is one) is that yesterday, while I was hanging out doing laundry in my little furniture-less apartment over the hill, waiting for Adam to come home, I began to feel an unfamiliar sting. It stuck with me through laundry and through my nap. As well as through the movie I watched in bed in the middle of the afternoon (a truly amazing experience!) and then through Adam coming home and us having dinner. It dawned on me that I felt happy. Not the sort of happy where I need to run down the street parading it around, but the quiet kind of happy. The sort of happy where I don't feel compelled to worry about anything huge right now. Now, this is not to be confused with feeling content, comfortable, or secure. In fact, I probably feel the least content, comfortable, or secure that I have ever felt oddly enough. But amidst all of that - amidst my long-ass work hours, my sleep deprivation, and my two children that I neither birthed nor witnessed the first few years of their life, things feel good. I feel like I somehow ideal scened'd (USM friends - you know what I mean!) myself into my current life situation and I honestly feel proud of myself, and grateful for all that the universe has provided me and all that I have co-created in my life. I can remember just a few short months ago, staying in hotels on the weekends and feeling like I would never feel happy again - and even months before that, staying in NJ at my childhood house and feeling like my life was going to end. And you know what? It didn't. And here I am. Alive and kicking a year later. Gratitude all around.

So at the end of the day, happiness (that sneaky little thing) somehow managed to make it's way into my life and I couldn't be happier. I know that there are bumps in the road and that there are going to be days where I don't fully agree with this post, but I know I can handle it. And though I may not feel this way forever, in this moment, this day, right now as I sit on the back patio and write this, the summer sun beating down on me and the kids playing in front of me on the swings, it's ok to just enjoy how I feel. Enjoy summer and the kids, my time off, and my boyfriend, my family, my health, my friends, and all the opportunities I have available to me at this time. Maybe, just maybe, all those ideal scenes paid off and abundance has been created. Maybe this is what the beginning of all that feels like. But whatever it is, I like it, and I'd like for it to stick around.

Thank you, universe. You rock.

Weekend Hiatus

A small renegotiation in my 35 days of blogging. After a really rough week, I feel I have earned a hiatus from my blog.

To be resumed on Monday.

Happy sleeping!

Hitting a Wall

So, after what seemed like the most challenging day yet (yesterday), this one wasn't much different. Started with Monkey waking me up at 4:37 this morning and then Z waking up, and then all of us starting our day before 5am. No bueno. Second night in a row of only three or so hours of sleep. We were so tired of each other by 7am that I took them out to breakfast before dropping them at camp (their last day) and then somehow shuffling through the rest of the day. I realized that in order to work a full day tomorrow (Saturday), I would need an actual night of sleep. When it gets to the point where all the illuminating lotion and under eye concealer in the world isn't going to begin to help the deep black circles under my eyes, it's time to ask for help. So I asked my boss's cousin (who lives with us about half the time) to cover me for the night, and after checking in with my boss, I had the go ahead to go home for 12 hours to get some rest. In fact, I am so tired that I am reaching new insights in my sleep deprivation and have no idea how I am still up and writing this right now. So anyway, after somehow driving home and eating some amazing chicken tacos (Thank you Adam), I am in my own bed. Soon enough 7am tomorrow will come and I will be back at work wiping faces and issuing time outs, but right now I plan on just enjoying the break and not having to worry that a small person will wake me up during the night or some ungodly early morning hour. Yes, it's times like these where I realize these aren't my kids, this job is a choice, and I can leave any time I want to (sort of). Definitely not ready to have my own kids yet, and for being so clear about that, I am thankful.

Signing off as a nanny and on as a tired 28-year-old missing being a 28-year-old.

Survival of the Fittest

Ok. So, once again, I have heard so many parents say things like "I wasn't sure I would survive the day" or "I danced down the stairs after I put the kids down for the night" or even better "I need a drink after a day with these kids!" and never quite got it. I never quite got what all the "looks" and eye rolling and giggling were about when parents all related to something. As a child, I just thought parents were lunatics, but as an adult, I was always so curious. Well, does anyone know what happened to the cat who was curious? My point exactly.

So, today, I experienced one of my first "those days" with Monkey and Z. Not the kind of day where I am sleep-deprived and short-patienced (that was indeed part of my day today) or the kind of day where I can't seem to get a thing done. Those days are a walk in the park. The kind of day I had today was the "run from the house screaming like a madwoman cursing myself for ever wanting to work with kids while the neighbors look out their windows and wonder who the crazy person is running through the streets pulling her hair out" sort of day. It was the sort of day where, around 3pm when I realized we were going to be late for Monkey's speech therapist appointment (you will find out why if you keep reading), I broke out into a fit of laughter. And yes, I call it a fit, because it went on and on and I even had tears in my eyes. I love these kids, I really do, and they provide endless entertainment, value, lessons, love, forgiveness, and so much more. But man oh man, today sucked.

It all started at 2am this morning. Z had a fever the past 48 hours and so I dosed her with Motrin last night and she was sound asleep in bed by 6:15. True sign that she was feeling off. Around ten, I checked on her before I went to bed, and when I found her drenched in sweat, I took her temperature (thank god for those ear things so you can do it without waking them up!!) and it was normal. Her fever broke and I was thrilled. Guess who was going to actually get to sleep tonight? (Just a side note - NEVER ask yourself this question if you have kids or work with kids. Karma is listening and it will bite you square in the ass and make sure you will be up all night for one reason or another!)

Fat chance. 2am and I am sound asleep for about an hour and I wake up to Z standing next to my bed. She had a nightmare. Not the end of the world. I bring her back upstairs, tuck her in without any complaining, somehow make it back down to my room, and pass out again. Next thing I remember, Z is at my bed again. I look for my phone. 2:31. Awesome. Up the stairs we go, again. Back down, fell asleep. This little song and dance continued until 5:45 this morning. I think, total, I got about 2 hours of sleep. I may have fallen asleep on the stairs at one point, though I can't be sure. I'm not sure what was up with Z last night but I realize it would have just been easier to have her climb in bed with me. I am REALLY reluctant to start that habit, because in no time, Monkey (who currently sleeps a solid 7pm to 7am for the most part) will think she is missing out and she will be in my bed too. Sisters talk. No secrets here. And I don't need two small people in my full-size bed with me every night. So I am desperately trying to avoid it, but another night like that one and I say screw it. Hop in. Come one, come all, let's just get some f-ing sleep! Anyway, I finally got her back down at 5:45 and made it back to my bed one more time with hope that I can get one more hour so I can actually function, just in time to hear Monkey wake up for the day with an encore of "Baby, you're a firework!" Damn you Katy Perry.

So up I get, at 6am this morning, having slept a whopping 2 hours. Now normally, no big deal. This sort of thing has happened before (college, drinking, you get the idea) and I could easily just drop the kiddos off at camp and then make it home to nap for a few hours and feel human again. Oh but no, not so fast. Today was the "day before the last day of camp culmination celebration" for both kids. At separate times. Normally I would be thankful for such thoughtful staggering, but the idea of 4 hours of "culmination festivities" looming ahead of me, on no sleep and looking like something out of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas," was enough to make me want to cry and throw myself on the floor. But if I did that I would have to forego by chocolate chip muffin (gotta stick to the rules about tantrums - they watch everything!), and that certainly wasn't going to happen! So, instead of dropping them and coming home, I would drop them, stay at Monkey's breakfast thing from 8:30-10 and then hit Z's "open house" from 10:15-12. Ok, I could do this. I have done harder and I will do worse. How hard could this be? I attempted to hide the dark circles under my eyes, threw on my workout clothes feeling hopeful that I would squeeze in a jog in between open houses (riiiiiight) and got everyone in the car and on the road only 13 minutes late. Not bad.

So I made it through the first leg of the journey with minimal yawning, lots of "oooh and ahhhh" as the pre-schoolers sang all their cute little songs and showed off their adorable artwork, and even tolerated the gossiping and snickering from the parents (I am the HIRED HELP, afterall, at a CAMP FUNCTION). You'd think they'd never seen a nanny before. Jeez. Anyway, after a short lived tantrum (bribed with a cookie - oh yes I did) from Monkey about me leaving, I headed over to Z's room to do a craft and hang with her.

Second leg of the trip was a little harder. I started yawning, feeling fuzzy, and generally wanting to just go back to the house and sleep. But I trekked on. I realized at this point, that running was out of the question for today. Anyway, after an hour and a half of more singing, gossiping, and "ooohing and ahhhing," it was time for me to say my goodbyes and get at least an hour of time to myself before 2:15 pick up. But Z was not having ANY of this. And I partly blamed the out-of-character crankiness on the mysterious fever that came and went and that she was not fully over, as tantrums and hard goodbyes are usually Monkey's thing. But oh she protested and kicked and screamed and clung to me like glue. I tried reasoning with her because, at almost 6, she is usually quite reasonable. But this didn't work. She begged and cried for me to take her home and seriously, had it been ANY other day, I would have just collected her things and taken her with me, but I had to get in some sort of nap. So I kissed her, told her I would come back early (which I did) and asked the teacher to help pull her off me. Let's just say that by the time I got back to the car I was fighting back tears and pangs of guilt, which I blame on the sleeplessness. Either way, not a pretty sight. Next time (like the bed), I will just give in. I am learning that sometimes it really isn't worth the fight, no matter how much I feel like I need something. Sounds like something a parent would say. Interesting.

I won't bore you with all the details of the rest of the day, but I will say the nap never happened. One errand turned into six, turned into laundry, turned into finally getting a shower, turned into eating something that could have possibly passed for lunch, which very quickly turned into 1:50 and I had to leave for camp pick up. So I somehow made it over to the camp, though by this time I wasn't sure how I was going to make it for the rest of the day. I normally do 3pm carpool pick up, however, today both the girls had appointments right at 3pm so I had to pick them up early, which meant going to their extended day classrooms. And when I got there, I was horrified (and relieved because they looked so happy despite the dramatics earlier in the day) to see that they were covered head to toe in nasty, brown water. Yup, soaked through sneakers and everything. Great day to send them to camp in white capri leggings. Yet another lesson learned. Note to self: camp is not the place for white leggings. Ever.

Fast forward to us driving home. Both girls whining about being dirty and wanting to change. Both girls whining that one is looking at the other and vice versa. Both girls crying and throwing tantrum about having to go to appointments. Z throwing even bigger fit when she realizes the full-time assistant is going to be bringing her to her appointment while I take Monkey to speech therapy. Hey, even the best nannies (and moms!) can't physically be in two places at once. She tells me I am the worst nanny. I take it with a grain of salt and tune out the shrieking.

Arrive home and send Z off to appointment and realize I have 30 minutes until Monkey and I leave so I decide to give her a bath. And since it is just her and I, I take the time to clean under her nails with the nail brush, extra wash and condition her hair, etc. I realize how nice and easy it is to just take care of one kid. Insane how two feels more like four. Anyway, afterwards, we go downstairs so I can handle some laundry and I hear Monkey go into the downstairs bathroom. I think nothing of it and continue folding. Within 30 seconds I hear high pitched wailing and my heart skips a beat as I bolt the 20 steps to the bathroom, terrified of what I might find. And let me tell you - this is the part where my "tired" day turned into the "over the top are you kidding me" day.

I fling the door open and find Monkey, cute as a button, standing next to the toilet with poop EVERYWHERE. On the seat, on the floor, on her clothes, under her nails, on her hair. Wherever I can look, poop exists. And she is freaking out and I am trying to figure out what happened in the 90 seconds I was down the hall, and trying to remember where the wipes are (of course it wouldn't make sense to keep them in the bathroom) so I can get started on the mess so we have some sort of chance on making it to speech therapy. And this was not one of those "once over with a wipe" sort of deals. This was the "I hope we have another box of wipes in the garage" type situation. So I get started cleaning her up, while at the same time asking God why in the world this couldn't have happened BEFORE the extra thorough bath that I gave her just 15 minutes prior. And Monkey keeps screaming and crying and I am so tired at this point I just start laughing. In fact, now I am on the bathroom floor, wipes in hand, toilet clogged, filthy child, laughing like a loon. Because what else can you do when you are dealing with this type of situation. What did I do? I thanked my lucky stars it wasn't vomit and cleaned the poor girl up, reassuring her I wasn't angry.

So we make it out the door to speech therapy a little later than usual, make it home, meet up with Z again, and things seem to be going ok as I prepare dinner, make lunches, clean up, and let the girls watch two shows before we head up for bed. I think the worst is for sure behind me and I can relax. I even think I may celebrate and order take out. I am giddy with excitement when I realize the day is almost over.

We head upstairs so I can get Z in the shower, Monkey into her jammies, and put everyone to bed. The last leg of the journey. Here we go, I have been waiting for this all day. Now - we have a rule about bath and shower time. While I am helping one girl in the bath or shower, the other is in the adjoining bedroom, reading. Not running and jumping on furniture or making a gigantic mess. They read/look at books and it isn't ever an issue. So in the 10 or so minutes that I am helping Z shower, Monkey manages to:

1.) Climb up the rocking chair by standing on one arm and fall, smacking her head on the bunkbeds as she lands. First crying trip in to see me. When asked why she did it, she said: "I wanted to see what would happen." Ok, understandable.

2.) Cover her entire body and face in lotion. Second crying trip in to see me when lotion got in her eyes and she started screaming. Again, she wanted to see what would happen.

3.) Rip all covers off about half the books in the room. Third crying trip in to see me because she ripped her favorite book. And why you may wonder? You got it. She wanted to see what would happen. I get smart and after this I keep her in the bathroom with me.

And then while in the bathroom she decides it is an awesome idea to take a big mouthful of kid mouthwash and spit it all over the mirror. That one got her sent right to bed. Too late for time outs, and completely unacceptable. At least she learned what would happen.

And in the final moments before bed, after Z got out of the shower (while I was putting Monkey "right in bed this minute!"), soaking wet and hair still covered with soap or conditioner and into the bedroom to see the commotion. Soaking wet bathroom floor which used two towels to clean up. And then of course, more screaming, whining, crying that no one is tired, they hate bedtime, they hate camp and are never going back. And after a book, a kiss, a hug, they are both already asleep, smiles on their faces because tomorrow is indeed the last day of (this) camp.

And so there it is. Yes, it could have been worse, and now that I am in my own bed, about to watch a movie and drift off to sleep, it maybe wasn't SO bad. But it was. And I hope tomorrow is better. I give so much credit to all you moms out there, because this is tough work! And it really is survival of the fittest in this whole kid game, and truthfully, I think they're just being nice and letting me win.

Out of the Mouth of a Nanny

I know parents always get to a point where they say "Did I actually just say that?" but I assumed that being a nanny, it didn't apply to me. The following statements did actually come out of my mouth today!

1.) "Monkey, please remove your hands from your sister's mouth. We do not put our hands in anyone's mouth. That is yucky."

2.) "We spit our mouthwash in the sink, not at the mirror and all over the counter."

3.) "This is what's for dinner tonight. If you do not want to eat it, breakfast will be tomorrow morning." (Now I think I am turning into my mother. Without having kids!)

4.) "Monkey, our underpants go UNDER our leggings."

5.) "No, you may not marry Justin Beiber this weekend. He is 14 years older than you."

6.) "Why is there paint on your tushie?"

7.) "If everyone doesn't start listening right now, no one is going to camp today!" (Do you know what they did to this? They cheered! Good one, Robin.)

8.) "Please take your hands off your sister's neck. We do not choke people." (Z explained that she was demonstrating on Monkey what would happen to her during a shark attack. Thank you, Ocean Explorers Camp, for all the helpful info this summer!)

A Day in the Life - Tuesday

In lieu of not feeling super creative tonight, and instead feeling very tired, I have decided to document my day. Nothing out of the ordinary or super exciting.

6:15am - My alarm goes off. I am asleep in my apartment in Sherman Oaks, unbelievably comfortable in my warm bed, and so I press snooze.

6:20am - My alarm goes off again and this time I actually get up. I get dressed, gather all of the things I will need for the next 5 days, put everything in my laundry basket, and grab my keys.

6:30am - Drive to work. I listen to Weezer on some alternative station and wake up as I drive over the Sepulveda pass and head into Brentwood where I will spend the next 5 days.

6:45am - Arrive at work and let myself in, knowing fully well that the girls are already up. My boss's cousin (who stays with us) greets me and let's me know the kids are playing on the computer (a no-no in the morning at this house) and have been since 5:30 (gasp!) when they got up (too early!). He spent the night with them last night. This is day 1 of 35 that my boss will be filming her movie and thus, not around.

6:50am - Taking full advantage of the fact that I am not technically "on" until 7am, I take a few minutes to put my workout clothes on, unpack my laundry basket, and take a second to check emails.

7:00am - I head upstairs to get the girls, but find them no where to be found. Then I remember the computer and realize they are in the kitchen. Not only do they not greet me, but they do not even look up from the computer screen! Zombies! I tell them no more computer and attempt to get them motivated to get dressed.

7:10am - Cut up slices of banana bread, fruit, and pour juice for Monkey and Z's breakfast. While they eat I run upstairs (grabbing their clean laundry from the laundry room that the full-time assistant has so thoughtfully done for me) to get their clothes. They normally get dressed before coming down, but clearly this morning is already off to an "atypical" start.

7:15am - Hear Monkey crying and walking upstairs to find me. She finds me in her room and I scoop her up and give her hugs and kisses, which seems to make the tears stop, and get her dressed. More tears because she wants to wear a black leather jacket (why she has one is beyond me) and it is 90 degrees out. We compromise that she can wear it around the house until we leave.

7:25am - Usher Monkey back downstairs to finish eating as Z is walking up the stairs to get her own leather jacket. I make the same agreement with her but she throws a fit, which I ignore. I bring her to her room to get her dressed. The girls then put on a "dance video show" for me and I laugh even though I am eyeing the clock and realizing we are running late.

7:35am - I finish putting clean laundry away as girls brush their teeth and then I brush their hair. Minimal screaming which is a good sign.

7:45am - Bring girls downstairs. I have 15 minutes to make lunches and get out the door. No one has socks or shoes on yet. I realize this and run back upstairs for socks. I then realize I have stash of socks in downstairs closet, something I was brilliant enough to think of last week.

7:50am - Go into hall closet downstairs to get shoes and socks and find Monkey sitting in there, crying. She doesn't want to go to camp. Awesome. Meanwhile Z is jumping on the furniture. I give warnings. She doesn't listen. Time out for one. I make lunches.

7:55am - End of time out for Z. I finish lunches, put shoes and socks on both kids, shovel some sort of breakfast into my mouth, and get ready to walk out the door.

8:00am - Get the girls out the door and into the car. Everyone is moving slow this morning and whining. Suddenly no one remembers how to buckle their carseat. Every Tuesday we go through this. They must forget what rules are in the 48 hours I am away every weekend.

8:11am - Pull out of the driveway only 11 minutes late. Pray that traffic on Sunset isn't atrocious quite yet.

8:15am - Traffic is moving nicely and we blast Justin Beiber.

8:25am - Pull into camp and score an awesome parking spot. Turn around to tell girls to unbuckle and find that Monkey is fast asleep. Uh oh. Sick? Tired? Too much computer? I unbuckle her and she wakes up but makes me carry her (and both lunch boxes) all the way inside and up the stairs.

8:30am - We drop off Z first and she has a fit because she wants to be dropped off second. A quick kiss and hug and I fly out the door. By the time I turn around to see how she is, she is smiling and singing at circle time as if nothing happened.

8:32am - Monkey starts freaking out as we get closer to her classroom and clings to me like a koala bear. I tell her she will have fun and I will see her later.

8:35am - Sign her in with her teacher, give her one last hug and kiss, and leave as she wails and cries. I feel a twinge of guilt for a second and think maybe she is sick, but I leave anyway. If she is sick, they'll call.

8:45am- Arrive back at house and set out for my walk/run.

9:30am - Return from my walk/run, get water, and head to Trader Joe's to stock up for the week. This turns into Whole Foods, Ralph's, and another small market.

11:00am - Return to the house to find cleaning people have arrived (yay for clean floors!) and I unpack all the groceries and throw out anything moldy.

12:00pm - I meet up with a friend for lunch. I keep my phone on me in case Monkey's teacher calls. She never does.

1:15pm - Return to house, have brief meeting with the assistant, and jump in the shower.

2:00pm - Check emails, facebook, and text my boyfriend.

2:30pm - Head to camp to pick up the girls. Sit in carpool and talk to my friend.

3:00pm - Girls get in car and we head over to the set to say hello to their mom. Both kids get carsick on the way. I make a note to keep organic lollipops in the car as they seem to help with the carsick thing.

3:45pm - Arrive on set and hang out with their mom for a bit. They get bored after about 30 minutes so we leave to go get dinner.

5:00pm - Head to one of our fave mexican food places for dinner. All is quiet while everyone eats!

5:45pm - Finish dinner and the girls say they want ice cream so we head across the street and get some.

6:05pm - Head home, stop for gas on the way. Monkey falls asleep again on the 5 minute car ride. I contemplate just putting her to bed, dirty and all, but decide against it.

6:15pm - Arrive home, get everyone (including a crying Monkey) out of car and up into bathtub. I bathe Monkey first and then put her in bed. She is sound asleep by 6:28. Definitely sick or just really tired. The morning will tell.

6:30pm - Help Z shower herself and get jammies on. Tuck her in and she is asleep before I leave the room. It's 6:47.

6:50pm - Collect dirty clothes and towels, lay out clothes for the kids for tomorrow, and bring laundry down.

7:00pm - Throw laundry in laundry room and make note to deal with it tomorrow. Make the girls' lunches and remember Z has a field trip tomorrow. Brown bag for her with lots of labels, stickers, and a note.

7:30pm - Make last preparations for the morning (we have to be at camp 30 minutes earlier than usual due to field trip) and make my way to my room to shower and watch a movie. This nanny is exhausted!

9:00pm - Check on girls, set alarm, close blinds, remember I still need to blog.

9:15pm - Throw in a load of my personal laundry, hop in bed, write blog, hoping to be asleep no later than 11, as I know the kiddos will be up bright and early just so we can do this whole song and dance again!

Tree of Light

I found this tree today, while meeting Adam for lunch at a park in Beverly Hills. It reminded me of all the long summer nights I experienced as a child. I'm not sure why, but it brought so much happiness to me that I felt an overwhelming sense of security and comfort. Somehow, my memory of being a child, climbing trees on one of the (what felt like) many endless summer nights, comforted me. I can still smell the scent of the fresh mowed New Jersey lawns, the faint smell of barbeque as people finished their late night meals, and the feeling of childhood - where anything felt possible and like my whole life sat before me, just waiting. Under this tree, twenty years after I have been eight years old, and nearly 3000 miles away from where I grew up, I felt like I was home. And in that same thought, I felt the world get just a tiny bit smaller, suddenly connecting all of the floating dots to form one picture that could tell the story of my life.

It felt too beautiful to keep to myself.

Happy Monday.

5 Things That Can and Will Happen

Being a nanny is a always a challenge and definitely keeps me on my toes. Based on last week's events, I can prove that there truly never is a dull moment. So, in no particular order, I present 5 Things That Can and Will Happen.

1. The entire container of tiny fish food pellets can and will fall out of the hands of a 4-year-old onto the floor, under the fridge, across the room and under the table. The smell will be horrible and the clean up even worse. Then the kids will want to help clean up which leads to an even bigger mess.

2. In the middle of cleaning up said mess, the vacuum can and will break, thus leaving no other option except the broom and dustpan. The tiny fish food pellets, of course, are too small to clean up with said cleaning instrument, and thus are still sitting on the floor in the kitchen.

3. The 5 and 3/4 year old can and will complain of a tummy ache just as we are arriving to gymnastics class. The nanny can and will ignore the complaints of said tummy ache and thus encourage child to "stop complaining because we came all this way and if you sit out your sister is going to want to sit out as well and we aren't going to pay and come here just to sit and watch" and join the class anyway. The child then can and will proceed to projectile vomit all over the carpet in gymnastics class during jumping jacks. The nanny then can and will feel like an insensitive idiot for not listening to child in the first place, even though child complains of said tummy ache all the time and does not vomit. The gymnastics teacher then can and will shoot nanny a dirty look as nanny gathers both kids and leaves, not even asking for permission for a make-up class.

4. The $11 Amy's Organic frozen pizza can and will burn in the same amount of time that it takes the nanny to walk upstairs to grab dirty laundry and back downstairs again. The children then can and will throw a fit that their pizza is black and tastes yucky. The burned pizza then can and will be the last one when the nanny goes to garage freezer to look for a backup. The kids then can and will eat pancakes for dinner instead.

5. The security alarm can and will randomly go off at 3am, thus scaring the crap out of the nanny and waking the kids. The kids then can and will interpret 3am as 6am and refuse to go back to sleep. The day then can and will start at 3am, leaving everyone exhausted by camp drop-off time. The kids then can and will only go to camp for a half day because they are too tired to stay the full day.

Let's hope for a different set of circumstances for next week. Perhaps a week without burned, over-priced pizza, faulty security alarms, broken vacuums, fish food spills, and puke incidents. One can hope and dream anyway!

Just One Wish

Today at 12am, the 405 freeway here in Los Angeles was closed for a 50-something hour construction project, and thus began the traffic pandemic of doom, or aka, "Carmageddon 2011." However, what has ended up happening (so far anyway) is that most people have either gone out of town for the weekend (making sense of the horrid Wednesday/Thursday traffic this week) or have decided to stay home, thus resulting in a huge decline in normal LA traffic. I made it from Brentwood to Sherman Oaks today in 11 minutes - a drive that normally takes me anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes. Long story short - really great weekend to be in LA because the "ghost town-like" atmosphere makes it really fun and easy to get around. And this is certainly not typical!

Anyway, today I am cruising around with Monkey and Z, on the way home from gymnastics, and Z notices how quickly we are driving and the decrease of cars on the road. "Wow," she says really quietly, "this is sort of the best day ever." I look back at her and ask her why. She ignores me and continues to stare out the window in awe. Monkey, who is usually a chatterbox, joins in and the two of them cannot believe their eyes. They are growing up in West LA, so traffic is just part of their life.

A few minutes later, Z perks up. "Do you know what my birthday wish is?" she asks, huge grin on her face. A pony? The pinkest tutu ever made? A house made out of glitter and Kosher cookie dough? Isn't that every 6-year-old's dream? And then, as serious as she knows how to be, she says "I wish for there to be no traffic on my birthday, just like today. No traffic on my birthday would make me the happiest birthday girl ever."

So there you have it folks, no traffic will make this almost 6-year-old the happiest one in history. Maybe I can do a "clear roads" dance or something. Or maybe have a little chat with the traffic gods and see what we can do about that one. If she can just make it to her princess tea party (costumes and real china and all!) and back without one second of traffic - she will literally be blown away. But really - how sad is that? Is that what children in West LA dream of? I grew up dreaming of the ice cream man asking my mother if he could permanently park it in our driveway and here she is hoping and praying we will make it across town without needing to use the horn and slam on our breaks.

Reason #162 why I will never raise my (future) children in LA. Kids deserve to have a childhood and not worry about all the crap adults have to worry about. They get maybe ten years these days to be a kid and see the world from an innocent and stress-free perspective. But this topic is an entirely separate post and will have to wait until another time. It's the end of my work week and I am over the hill, at home, cozy in bed and excited to wake up without Monkey's uber loud version of "Baby you're a firework!" in my ear at 5:45am. Yup. Childless for 55 hours and intent on enjoying every single minute of it! Starting off of course, with some much needed sleep.

Memory Kickoff

What I am realizing about my blog (or admitting anyway) is that I do have a hidden agenda. For the last 20 years of my life (yup, since the ripe old age of 8), I have been determined to write a memoir. I never wanted to write fiction. What I wanted was to write a memoir of my life, creating a literary snapshot of me and my life, for anyone and everyone who wanted to read it. I saw my life as somewhat poetic, strange, not like other people's, and I wanted to share what went on in my little childhood head. And so I started and stopped, started and stopped, and years went by without much progress. Fast forward to a year ago, and my determination began to develop into a burning desire. So I started this blog, though without much gusto. And fast forward again to now, and the burning desire has turned into a passion. And it is in that passion (for writing, sharing, explaining, exploring, uncovering) that I have started to see the very beginning steps of my memoir writing - and that this very blog may very well turn into material for my memoir in the not so distant future. So there it is, my big secret. I'm writing a book. Not tomorrow or next week, not in a month or when I turn 30. Now.

And so in all of this blogging about my job, and the kids, and families, a lot of my own childhood memories have started spontaneously popping up all over the place. Suddenly my "loss of material" is turning into ideas and stories spilling out of my head and it's just a matter of me making it to the laptop to let it all out and then go back and make some sense of it. And I have to say, I am overjoyed. Not only because I love writing, but all of these memories feel sweet to remember and have more humor to them than I remember at the time. Some of them are funny and some very serious, some full of love and others covered in darkness. But somehow, it all makes up my past and the various things that I have experienced in my life. And though these experiences don't necessarily shape me or "make me who I am," they have played some part in the past and now, presently. So without further ado, this was one of my memories from today.

My brother, Christopher, is 4 years older than I am. Well technically, 3 years and 10 months, but who really counts anymore (and if you ask him, it's irrelevant information). Let's just say that when I was born he was just about to turn 4. Personally, I think my brother thinks that I was born just to cause him misery, which I am pretty certain I did for the first 15 years of his (and my) life, though I may still be continuing to do so. Of course, in that loving sibling rivalry sort of way where he is one of my favorite people in the world and he pretends I don't exist.

Anyway - Christopher and I didn't have the easiest time growing up but we made the best of it and for the most part we acted like a normal brother/sister team and fought, kicked each other, yelled (well, mostly I did that while he remained calm which just pissed me off even more), pulled hair (again, mostly me) and just generally got on each other's nerves as often as possible. Now the flipside of our relationship was at 2am, after a night of watching horror movies and convincing him I was old enough and wouldn't get scared, when I would patter down the hall to his room and wake him up just so he could remind me that Jaws was not going to come up through the middle of my mattress and eat me. "We live in New Jersey," he would mumble half asleep, "there are no sharks in New Jersey." But still, in my 5-year-old mind, anything was possible, especially at 2am in the dark, where only bad things happened, or so I was convinced. So I would whine and start to cry until he finally let me sleep at the foot of his bed with the promise on my end that I would return to my bed in a few minutes. The next day however, we would act as if nothing of the sort had happened and continue on with a wet willy or something equally disgusting. So the jist of how it was with us was that we didn't really get along much until it became important - and then in those times we were best friends, as if we would suddenly feel the biological need to unite - and the best person to use this united front with was of course, our very own mother.

Now, our mother was not a woman who put up with much of our bullshit. She was loving and I never doubted how much she loved me and she was affectionate and I was always well taken care of, but she did not, under any circumstances, put up with our crap. I wouldn't say we were afraid of her exactly, but more like - we just really didn't like to make her angry. And though she would put up with our bickering here and there, she had strict rules about name calling, hitting, spitting, lying, and arguing in the car.

Christopher and I were notorious for arguing in the car. And looking back, we spent a TON of time in the car during our school aged years because our babysitter lived a few towns away and we spent a lot of time with her, though that is an entirely separate memory! Anyway, my mother thought that by separating us so that I was in the back seat and he was in the front would work. She quickly realized that I instigated (ok, I admit it!) most of the time, so she moved me up to the front seat (1989 - so no carseat laws) so she could supervise me and put my brother in the back. This worked for maybe one car trip until my mother got fed up with both of us and stuck is both in the backseat again. This sort of thing went on for months and she warned and threatened, hollered and threatened some more - and we flat out ignored her. And then one particular day, we were about a mile from home (in a super safe, suburban NJ neighborhood) and we were just going at it. I slapped him and then he slapped me and then I punched him and there was yelling and all sorts of fun, when my mother yelled one more time that we better stop. "Or Else!!" is what she said. And I distinctly remember, being the smartass that I am, shouting to her "Or else what??!" This did not go over well. "If you do not knock it off THIS instant, I will pull the car over and make both of you WALK home!" I knew she couldn't possibly be serious. No one would do that to their own children! But I did notice she had slowed down a bit with her driving. But then Christopher poked me in the ribs so I hauled off and slapped him so hard it made a "Thwack!" sound and he yelled so loud the man on the moon (yet another memory) could hear him! And my response to this? I howled with laughter, which made my brother yell even louder. And just as fast as I could think, the tires screeched to a halt, and my mother put the car in park. Immediately we stopped. My mother, now bright red in the face, had pulled the car over on the side of the road! She turned around in her chair and bellowed: "GET OUT OF THE CAR NOW!" Christopher's jaw dropped all the way open and to this day, I wish I had a photograph. I just stared at her and then at him, and then back to her. My brother, who suddenly had become my savior, saw the horror on my face and said: "She isn't serious, she wouldn't ever make us do that," he turned to my mom, "right, Mom?" And her response to this? "GET OUT AND I WILL SEE YOU AT HOME!" We sat there staring at her like she was speaking Spanish (not exactly a priority language subject to teach in Suburban NJ elementary school - in 1989 anyway). "DO YOU NEED ME TO REMOVE YOU FROM THE CAR OR ARE YOU GOING TO DO WHAT I SAY?". She was not backing down. So of course I immediately started to cry and Christopher and I started squawking and balking and whining: "We'll stopppp mommmmm. Sorrrrry. Seeee?? We stopped!" Suddenly we were sobbing our eyes out and pretending to be best friends, but my mother was intent on making her point and wasn't backing down on this one. She unbuckled her seatbelt and started to open her car door. Her eyes did all the talking. I didn't want to see what might happen next. So I unbuckled my seat belt in disbelief and slid myself to the door, opened it, and got out on the side of the road, with Christopher right behind me. We closed the door, half thinking she would tell us to get back in, but also knowing she seemed pretty serious. "You know the way." she said, this time a bit calmer, "I will see you in about 15 minutes." And just like that, she drove off, the two of us standing there, 6 and 10 years old respectively, our jaws hanging wide open. And so we looked at each other, looked at the mile ahead of us, and started our long walk home, eyes red and puffy from crying - and also a new found respect for our mother.

I will say that we never argued in the car again. Not once. And now that I work with kids, I can really appreciate her follow through that day. We learned a serious lesson and though she never did anything quite like that ever again (I think we got it after that one time!), she did make us sit down and talk to her when we got home about what had happened. So now, this is one of our favorite stories to tell, and most people look at us in disbelief, but I wasn't lying when I say the woman didn't take any crap! And to this we day, we all tell this story and laugh until our sides hurt.

The Sitter

I had no idea how much work it is to have a babysitter.

This coming Monday (a day that I usually do not work), my boss has asked me to hire, and leave instructions for a babysitter that is sleeping over with them Sunday night, and then taking them to camp on Monday morning. My boss originally asked me if I wanted the extra hours, but I graciously declined. 120 hours is enough for me this week. It's sweet of her to offer though.

Anyway, this is a babysitter that we have used a few times before (I thought it better to use her than someone completely new - you know, as to not completely freak the kids out), but has never been with the girls for more than 4 hours at a time and is not the most organized, motivated sitter I have met. The bottom line is she isn't a Nanny. And yes, there is a difference. But she is sweet with the kids and they seem to like her enough, so it works out. So tonight, as I am laying here watching "Tangled" with the girls for the 3rd time this week, I decided to get to work on writing the instructions for the babysitter. What I thought might take me 30 minutes at the most, is turning into a 2-day "get ready for the babysitter" preparation. After typing the poor girl a 3-page newsletter about all of the things that we do every morning between 6am and the start of camp (8:30am), in addition to directions to the camp, parking, explicit walking directions to the girl's separate classrooms (yes, I may draw a map), camp attire (no sandals, specific shoes, etc.), and the wonderful explanation of what to do in the event of Monkey having a (probable) meltdown when the sitter tries to say goodbye, thus "abandoning" her at camp. And by meltdown I mean her hanging on my leg and screaming and crying for a good 15 minutes before I can detach her and leave. Anyway after writing all of this I am realizing just how much work it is to hire a sitter! For about 13 hours, mind you! So far it has looked like this:

1. Typing and printing out the novel also known as the "schedule." This girl is going to think that a.) I am crazy! b.) I think she is a total idiot, or c.) I don't believe she has ever babysat children before. (And I am making myself crazy thinking I am forgetting things! I mean, how is she going to know that one of the detangler sprays works amazing and the other one is useless? That's important!)

2. Making plans to pack lunches for Monday, on Saturday before I leave for two days, because they are so specific about what they eat that one mistake could lead to 5 steps backwards with all of the food progress we have made lately. The last thing I want is to find out they had Doritos in their lunch or something! (Jk, kind of). Mixed that in with Z having a serious peanut allergy - better to not take any chances!

3. Packing all necessary items for "Water Day" (which of course happens to fall on Monday) for Monkey, as the teacher sent home a very detailed list of what they need for that day. If they don't have absolutely everything, then they can't participate. Great.

4. Doing the laundry because god forbid that magenta t-shirt is not clean for Monkey on Monday. I would not want the sitter to deal with the wrath of that episode!

5. And lastly, going back and adding things to the schedule (maybe instruction sheet - or Syllabus - is a better word for this now 5-page document) after my boss emails me to tell me that the sitter has never had to get the kids dressed before or given them breakfast, etc. Awesome. There goes my night off.

So my point in sharing all of this is that I never knew how hard it is to leave the kids with someone else! Granted I am not their mom, and when I did start here, I didn't have a tutorial or any instructions - I just had a lot of previous experience, learned the way of things around here pretty fast, and now 9 weeks (and nearly 1000 hours later), I am an old pro. And I guess because I do this every day, I forget just how much work it is. And going through, writing out a schedule, and actually calculating what I do all day is exhausting! In fact, it seems easier to me to just come in on my day off and do it all myself because I feel like it would take less time and energy than all this preparation. Not to mention the worrying that will occur 12 minutes away, in Sherman Oaks, tucked away in my little apartment, on my day OFF. I will be up with the sun wondering if the girls finagled her into letting them have ice cream for breakfast, or let them leave the house with rat's nests the size of Texas, or even worse, remnants of the ice cream on their faces and stuck to their unbrushed teeth...

I guess the worst case scenario here is that they have one day where they go to camp wearing dirty, unmatched clothes, sandals (forbidden at camp and warrants a note home), filled with sugar and crying their heads off when she leaves them there. All in all, I'm glad I won't be here to see it!

That's it - I officially feel like a mom. And it's times like these where I need to pinch myself to remind myself that I'm not.

It's bedtime for this working girl. Yup, it's 7pm. Turns out, those blackout curtains apply to nannies as well.

Funniest/Sweetest/Most Ridiculous Things I Heard In The Past Week

So, for confidentiality purposes, I will not be using real names in these posts. Instead I will refer to the 4-year-old munchkin as Monkey, and the (almost) 6-year-old munchkin as Z. Monkey and Z. If you knew them you would be chuckling with me because it fits them well.

Anyway, I try to write down the funny, ridiculous, and sweet things they say, so I remember them. This is the best of what I heard in the past week or so.

From Z:

1. "I am actually 16 but in a 5 and 3/4 year-olds body. I can also drive. I could get us to camp faster than you can."

2. "This traffic is a nightmare. You should have taken Sunset."

3. "I think you love Monkey more. Do you feel guilty that I am upset?"

4. "You have nine boyfriends. I will tell you their names."

5. "Ice cream is healthy because it has kelp in it. My teacher says so and she is the smartest smarty pants. I want ice cream every day now." (Thank you, btw, teacher, for this wonderful information!)

6. "I want to punch and choke my sister. Will I get a time out for this? If not, can I choose my consequence?"

7. "Justin Beiber will marry me. I can't wait until we are finally the same age."

8. "My inbox is at it's max and my blackberry is full. Send the PDF to my desktop." (I overheard her say this while playing and was cracking up.)

9. "I'm allergic to peanut butter but not peanuts. They're two different things."

10. "Bedtime means please shut your mouth and eyes." (Said to her sister, of course.)

And from Monkey:

1. "I pee-pee'd in my pants because I really don't like these pants and wanted to change."

2. "I will cry and scream if you bring me to camp today." (She held her word, by the way.)

3. "I watched youtube on the ipad. Z said it was ok. You and Mommy were sleeping." (Ok, parent restrictions, here we come!)

4. "I didn't want my lunch. It was yucky. I threw it out."

5. "I don't like my friends. They all suck their thumbs. They want to be babies." (Mind you, this comes from the same girl who is peeing her pants...)

6. "I will miss you my little noodle pie." (Ok this one made me melt.)

7. "How many days go by until I seeing you again?" (Again with the melting.)

8. "I can swim! I can! But I just can't come up for air."

9. "Today I learned how to wipe my tushie!" (Not so much, but close.)

10. "When you tell me something in the morning, I forget it at camp."

More to come!

10 Nanny Confessions

1. I lie and say it's 7:00 and bedtime when it's really only 6:34. The joys of kids who can't tell time yet.

2. Instituting "Frozen Yogurt Wednesdays" is just as much about me wanting yogurt as it is about them wanting yogurt.

3. Sometimes I hijack the kids ipad and play Scrabble. Ok, by sometimes I mean every day.

4. I listened to Justin Beiber once while I was in the car without the kids. Yes, only once.

5. I find myself using baby wipes to clean my hands even when I am not at work.

6. I eat just as many pancakes as the kids do.

7. I sometimes lie and say I don't have any quarters left when they want to go on the overpriced carousel. For the 4th time in a row.

8. I can't remember the last time I stayed awake past 11pm.

9. Sometimes I would rather be put in time out than have to deal with putting a screaming, flailing, kicking pre-schooler in time out.

10. I love my job. No joke. I love it and I love them.

20 Things I Have Learned While Being a Nanny

1. Kids will eat healthy food if you offer it to them. They eat what you offer. If you don't offer junk, they don't ask for it!

2. Blackout curtains are imperative. Kids will go to bed at 7pm in the summer if their room is dark enough.

3. Justin Beiber's album isn't half bad once you get used to it and/or hear it every single day for 9 weeks straight. Yes I just admitted that.

4. Colgate Watermelon toothpaste is the way to go. Yes it's green and isn't Tom's, but the kids love it and won't fight you about brushing teeth.

5. Bunkbeds are a horrible idea. Enough said.

6. Caillou has possibly the most annoying voice ever heard in the history of annoying voices. And kids love that show. Get earplugs or never introduce the kids to the show!

7. Glitter is fun but can become a horrid mess in a matter of minutes. And by horrid mess I mean still finding it stuck to my feet and in my hair 2 weeks later...

8. Sugar highs do exist. I don't care what "research" shows.

9. High Fructose Corn Syrup is the devil and shall not be given to children (or adults either for that matter!). See above.

10. Putting kids to bed late so they sleep in doesn't work. They wake up at the same time no matter what time they go to bed. Who knew?

11. Hearing "uh oh" from the bathroom is NEVER a good sign.

12. "I accidentally forgot all the rules and punched my sister" is a very common statement from a 4-year-old.

13. Pancakes for dinner never get old.

14. Camp counselors do not actually reapply sunscreen on kids without prior written consent. Wow.

15. Gum in the mouth of a 4-year-old = gum in the hair of the 4-year-old = screaming tantrum while cutting gum out of hair = bald spot on 4-year-old.

16. Avoid giving gum to children under 6.

17. Always carry snacks in bag. Always carry snacks in bag. Always carry snacks in bag.

18. Bringing the ipad in the car always turns into more of a nightmare than it is helpful. Unless you have an ipad for each kid.

19. TV is what helps me have a peaceful shower in the morning.

20. I am definitely NOT having 4 kids. 2 maybe. MAYBE.

Down to Business

For those of you who don't know already - I took a position a few months ago as a full-time nanny for a wonderful family with two girls, ages 4 and almost 6. Well, 5 and 3/4 to be exact, and if she hears you saying otherwise, watch out! Anyway, this is a more than full-time position, live-in for 5 days, and ranges anywhere from 100 - 120 hours/week, including while I sleep. Yup, I signed up for this, willingly, and with a smile on my face. I made a 2+ year commitment to them (and myself) and intend to keep this as true. The mother and father of the girls work full-time and are minimally around, though I hold no judgment. They love their kids and also have careers and I get that. And in my opinion, if they hired someone like me, then they must really have their heads on straight. ;)

Anyway, for the past two or so years, I have suffered from what I felt was a writer's block. Every few months I would get an overwhelming desire to write and out would come the words, but it wasn't a daily thing. And when I took this job, I had a feeling it was for a deeper purpose, though I couldn't put my finger on it. And in the last few days, it has occurred to me that the burning feeling deep inside my stomach is not in fact heartburn, but my body telling me something. And in the middle of the night last night, it hit me. I have to write about this experience. My blog is about my life, and all the adventures that occur. Maybe this isn't the most deeply moving and spiritual thing I am experiencing, but it is damn close. And I find myself wanting to share these things - in confidentiality of course (meaning no names or places will be used) - and give my writing another go; a test drive if you will. And so here we have it. For the next 30 days I will share parts of my life as a "full charge" nanny, f I will record the good, the bad, and the dirty. I know that one day I will read this and the memories will be invaluable. And in the meantime it can make myself laugh a little. Here we go.

My schedule is such that I work early Tuesday mornings to early evening on Saturday. I live-in on these days and then go home to my apartment from Saturdays to Tuesdays, where I fall on my bed and sleep like a dead person for anywhere from 4 to 28 hours. No, not joking. My job is to handle everything - childcare, grocery shopping (I do this one by choice), anything related to the kids, driving, appointments, cooking, packing lunches, wipe butts, cater to a 4 and 6 year old's ever-changing fashion preferences, read princess books, wipe more butts, wipe noses, change socks 40 times a day, try and fail at shoe-tieing lessons, bribe them with dessert so they eat their dinner, give more baths a week than I care to count, and then, at the end of the day, I put them to sleep. Once, then twice, and then again 4,567 times between 7 and 8pm.

So forgive me if these posts make less and less sense every day - but I am running on little to no sleep here. The one thing I do have going for me (aside from a pretty supportive and patient boyfriend) is my sense of humor. Definitely important when dealing with kids!

Time Travel Snapshot

Sometimes I wish I could see a snapshot of myself sometime in the future. In the snapshot, I am happy and healthy, laughing wildly with my head swinging back and my hair blowing in the wind. I am somewhere peaceful - maybe in the middle of the desert or somewhere else where everything feels wide open and free. I am surrounded by love and light and my eyes are as clear and beautiful as the sky above me. I am blissful, free, living, loving, creating, and standing fully in my authenticity, dreams, and desires. If I could just see myself in that one fragment of time, and know that everything will work out, everything will be ok, everything is as it should be - then I could relax into this very moment and hold the truth that I will end up where I need to be, the sky opening up above me and showering me with all the opportunities I ever thought possible.