I knew somehow the moment we lay eyes on each other.
There had been others: one too timid, another so assertive I felt myself retreat. One tried too hard; I caught a whiff of desperation. A cruel business, this. Another was too familiar, too soon. I felt smothered. They came and went, one after another, and there was always something not quite right. Often it came down to a simple inability to communicate. And then. The door opened. I looked up. I knew.
After 5 minutes, I had made my decision. After 10, I had started to make plans. After all, this--this relationship--meant the de facto start of the rest of my life. Suddenly, shockingly, I was my old self again, but better. Filled with a sense of possibility.
For a woman who works, who cares passionately about both her work and children, a nanny becomes in many ways the most important figure in her life. And in many ways, choosing a nanny--and being chosen by one, for it is always a two-way street, overtly or not--is like falling in love. It is about the impossible to define entity we call chemistry, which persists in the face of all other factors and finally forces us to, well, settle down. This time, for the second time: as the most conflicted person on earth.
early days: tiptoeing around each other, super polite, accommodating to the extreme, trying to impress, best foot forward
honeymoon period: comfort, familiarity, understanding, everything like clockwork, finishing each other's sentences, anticipating each other's needs
reality sets in: little quirks become irritating, white lies, eyeing the competition, eye-rolling, bickering, boredom
marriage: ups and downs, settled in, routine down to a science, occasional flares
midlife crisis: confrontation, recovery
the ending: warning signs, timing, necessity, regret, fortunes inextricably linked
But the major difference is this: The finite nature is unspoken, sure, but implicit in every moment. Nobody's nanny is forever; everybody's children grow up. Thus the illusion, the temporary lie: You are helping me raise my children; you are helping me survive. But someday, when I no longer need you, you will go. I will spend every minute when we are together pretending this is not so, but we both know it. It is the essence of the job.
Anyway, I said "bones." I begin...
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7 comments:
r you writing this for someone?
Yes; why?
Different anonymous. I've hired a few nannies over the years, but I can't really identify with your experience here. I would agree that the relationship between a nanny and her employer is really different than other employer/employee relationships, but I never felt the drama during the interview process. Still, I like the piece so far -- even though it's not been my experience, I can believe that it reflects your experience. I will add that I don't love the part about "cares passionately about work and children". It just seems beside the point. Lots of people hire nannies or babysitters who don't have passionate connections to their work. Some people just work for money.
Don't know nannies from a hole in the wall since I don't have kids. But I was enjoying the analogy. The only thing that threw me about this post was the odd verb choice in the opening line. You mix past and present tense.
But otherwise, I like it.
And another anonymous altogether. There is an air of "universal experience" to this that I find unnerving. Not everyone can afford a nanny. I know you know this, and I don't even know you. But, just the same, I felt it. Maybe it is the timeline-of-a-relationship structure that gives it that quality? Maybe it is the same thing that anonymous 2 saw? I do, however, as usual, find the writing compelling and lovely. And I definitely think the relationship between parent and nanny is interesting, engaging as a topic. Maybe I'd feel more comfortable if the piece stayed as personalized as it is in the first three paragraphs.
This article has tremendous possibilities. Hiring a nanny or a day care provider is clearly entering into a relationship, and what makes all relationships work is the compatibility of the participants. The elements of trust and confidence are critical. How do you get to those, as well as, in my case (and I daresay many others) get over the petty jealousies and real frustrations to focus on the big picture of the quality of care that is being provided to your children?
You made me think about the people who cared for our daughter while I worked. There was a day care director, who assured me that she would never share if our infant daughter had a “first” moment while at the center so we could experience it on our own. Four short months later this same woman yanked me into the infant room at pick up time one night to proudly point out my daughter’s first tooth.
She had another care giver who didn’t believe me when I told her that our daughter had been given a clean bill of health, thereby forcing me to crawl back to the doctor to beg for a medical release stating that our girl had “chronic rhinitis” (runny nose). Later, there was an adult after school sitter who apparently tailgated the cars ahead of her, making my skin crawl when our daughter stated, “Mom, you are such a better driver.”
Truth be told, I entered each of these relationships feeling like you: that this was the one. But then routine set in, and as in a marriage when the toothpaste tube gets squeezed in the wrong place, little nuances started to build into big frustrations. How does one develop the patience to “live” with a nanny or caregiver if these little irritations bubble up to overwhelming? Thankfully, (I think) the answer to that is your last paragraph: “The finite nature is unspoken, sure, but implicit in every moment. Nobody's nanny is forever; everybody's children grow up.”
Amy, where have you been for the last three days?
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