I find myself really making use of this two word combo lately. If I were 60 years older I could tack on an "all" at the end or really go nuts and sub "you" for "it!"
All these emotions (that are related to a career hault and result in outdated cursing phrases) have me girling out as well. Try not to judge me when I share that the following came out of my mouth this morning...
"Don't you wish we had time to just cuddle for another half hour? I hate nannying (pause thirty seconds) Damn it."
I'm upset with life for a few reasons: 1) I'm so NOT stoked on my job that i've become the woman that wants to lie in bed all day and 2) while I'm making that "under the table" cash, I'm going completely insane in the process.
Damn it's come out when finally a long walk turns into both children sleeping and then loud neighbor slams her trunk or let's her dogs bark incesently.
Damn it's fly when I realize it's 5:00 and the only job related task I've accomplished for the day is giving bubble baths and making vegan sandwiches (I'll refrain from discussing the drive down Rosecrans in mom's van that displays an Obama sticker)
All that to say...until I'm back in a profession with a salary and benefits that include more than the diaper bag's first aid kit, I'll continue to mumble...
Friday, July 16, 2010
and by "the man" I mean the mom.
Guess who tried to start a revolution at the park today?
That would be me.
Being a socialite (not rich by any means, but devoted to have a life of socializing) makes the crowded park days a TREAT for this nanny. I could not have been more excited when I saw Nina and later, Marie roll up with their double strollers today. Why wouldn't I want to chat it up with my Austrian and Mexican colleagues on this gorgeous July afternoon?! With my toddler fast asleep and only one child to monitor...life doesn't get much better these days.
Of course the three of us discussed our particular "situations. " Don't underestimate the power of commonalities crossing language barriers. As a wanna-be-Mexican myself, practicing the 'ol Espanol was not something I was not willing to pass up...my German could use some work though. Nina has become more like a NANA to her two children and Marie is here on a visa, attempting to live the dream. I personally maintain my bitter to be babysitting persona for as long as possible. With common "jefes, " we inevitably get on the topic of pay. I mentioned the fact that I was having a renegotiation talk today with my mom (didn't happen...procrastination of confrontation is not a new habit unfortunately) there is a need for $5 more an hour...I'm a certified teacher for crying out loud. Little did I know (being so presumptuous) these two broads are making a fraction of my measly 10 an hour, under the table. Apparently, San Diego moms believe that the further from the US you reign, the less they pay. Isn't that nice.
This is where I began to paint signs that read "Love your child, Pay your foreign nanny," and run around the playground with a blow horn.
Although slightly more subtle, I did let Marie in on the fact that she's being totally screwed by her American family that not only pays her $4 an hour for three kids (I quickly did some math) but has a curfew of 10:00 established nightly! How is this European supposed to soak up all that PB has to offer (oh so much) by leaving in a cab at 9:45? Really?
Nina was already on board as she told her madre that ocho an hour is insufficient for the work she does...preach it sister.
Stay tuned for next week when I get all the over worked and under paid nineras to lie down in front of their employers' Chrysler mini vans and demand the respect and pay they deserve. I plan to revolutionize the world of childcare AND get my $15 an hour, under the table. While I almost reconsidered upping my free at the end of today, the passive aggressive reprimand for lack of putting the laundry away brought me full circle back to the idea.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Here's the thing...
Babysitting is clearly a glorious position to hold, everybody knows that...need I mention "under the table" again?
The problem is that not all children are cute and cuddly, although I plan to bear some of my own someday (like in 7 months, I'm kidding) that will possess both said qualities. Some children that you babysit, "you" meaning me, are actually not that cute and sometimes smell as well.
My set childcare gig, twenty-five hours a week thank you very much (bragging), includes two adorable little babes...thank God. The random "shifts" I'm picking up from time to time thanks to my Alma mater's "Job Board," do not. While my total obsessive compulsiveness (mostly in regards to clean surroundings) makes me want to burst into various adjectives on the topic, I will refrain, and stick with one: Stinky.
Okay two: Stinky and Dirty.
Ask any teaching professional I've worked with and they'll tell you I am one that could be described as "child-centered." However, child-taking-over-your-house, I am NOT. I mean really, when you can no longer see your kitchen counters due to bibs and animal crackers, I believe there is a problem. It's no wonder your kid is stinky, so is your house! I of course keep these thoughts to myself...only sharing with you and the world wide web.
In my humble and expert opinion your kid stinks for a few reasons. One: They are used to having total control (A conclusion I've come to since the focal point of your living room is now a Diaper Genie and 3-foot bookcase filled with "Maisy Mouse" books) which means they decide when and where they will wash their hands and take baths. I'm shaking my head as I write for those of you that like visuals. B: They are still in diapers at two and a half because you believe them when they say the potty scares them...for the non-childcare workers; mo' diapers=mo' stank. And Three: You, having succome to your child's every wish and command, don't leave the house often enough to realize your house SMELLS, the poor toddler has no choice but to be followed by the odorous environment.
While I'm not disgusted enough to deny the $40 I'll make while Stinky kid naps, I do find it necessary to rant about these unpar conditions.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
It's very probable that for the next month or so this blog will leave its usual topics (random crap and men?) and transform into one that reflects material similar to that of The Nanny Diaries. Damn my current sitch.
Although I have the blessing of a salary and bene's until the end of the month (isn't that nice) I am currently and technically unemployed. I will refrain from getting into all the reasons I should NOT be in this situation (going off on a former female boss is not fun for anyone, nor the point of "Nanny Diaries") and instead focus on what this means for me currently.
Attempting the whole forward thinking thing (an ongoing journey) has me taking part in the glorious world of childcare. If I make millions in the month of July, August may not be disastrous, obvi. I feel like a young girl again...19 and stoked for an under the table ten bucks an hour. By the way I find the mentioning of the "under the table" part to be very significant. Sort of like when I'm bartending and in the midst a sailing conversation I manage to throw in that I have another full-time career. It's important to me to get the respect I deserve. While I much appreciated my former fellow teachers' young and some just young at heart ages, at this point in my career it's at a whole 'notha level; my current colleagues range from ages one to three.
I've come to a few conclusions in the past week of my career in transition... what else is new? You can always count of this blonde to "figure out" people and situations and then tell you about it ;) The first conclusion is that moms are skinny for a reason...
What a novel idea having a picnic at the big grass field over yonder sounds like. Until you the babysitter, or nanny if we're trying to sound legit, realize the entire walk is uphill and the double stroller (children vertically situated, as opposed to horizontally side by side) is holding your lunch, purse, towel for all to sit on, miniature "Dora the Explorer" shoes, blanket since San Diego thinks July gloom is allowed, multiple sippy cups and water bottle (for when I'm about to pass out on yard 10 of a street called "Hill") with children included totals at approximately 70 pounds. I don't know about you ultimate athletes but personally, when I chose to power walk or even run (obviously occurring on an every other day basis with free weight integration 3-4 times a week, all while eating a hand full of raw almonds for "satisfaction of hunger") I avoid anything steep and pushing extra weight at all costs. Dis be a workout! Good thing I'm not trolling for men in the local area anymore 'cause I am REALLY attractive during these times. Once at the field (walking to an actual park is not an option geographically speaking) we each eat our lunch which consists of 1/2 a peanut butter on double fiber wheat, blue berries and for me the privileged adult, a Peligrino. Did I mention this is why moms are skinny?
Generally on the walk back home with toddler fast asleep and three year old talking nonsensically loud, I'm just about ready to get the EFF outta there...mostly to hear myself think, sanitize and have an early evening glass of Chard. With just one more dreaded childcare task at hand, they've lost me. Patience is gone (although not in an obvious way. I DO have to keep this $10/hr under the table gig for minimum of another month) and I'm counting down the last hour.
Then adorable 3 year old girl, wearing floppy hat and all, innocently asks, "Do you HAVE to leave after our bubble bath Miss Sawa?" And my heart melts. While this just sounds totally precious, and it is, it only makes my crazy wheels spin in one direction. No, not in the direction of being a nanny for longer than a month...but in one that doesn't include working at all and instead being the mom to a little shit of my own! See how terrible this transition is for everyone involved!?!