nannyhood

Tomorrow is my last full day of nanny life. Its been one summer. What a summer. Summers whip by faster than you can keep a tan, at least for me. Mid-July my tan was fine, but then it go so dang hot, and then we finally got some August rain. Now I'm only a  slightly browner and freckly color than I usually am, which isn't saying much, since I am a pale red-headed gal. In theory, though, nannying should give you a fab tan -- particularly this gig, in which almost every day was a ten hour outdoor excursion of Lincoln Park.

Lincoln Park Zoo, Petting Zoo, Farmers Market, Nature Museum, Millennium Park, Playdates, Horsey Park, Cummings Park, Toy Store, Pool, Paw Paw Lake, Lil Sluggers, Camp. What a life, huh? Hours and hours and hours spent walking the streets, my boy wildly scootering-running-biking- or meandering slowly (my very own pokey little puppy) depending on the day, the moment, the mood, the event.  This kid is four, and he does like the question Why? Does he ever. If I never hear the question Why out of a small child's mouth it'll be too soon. Today I said:

You can't ask me Why anymore. Ya just can't.

How horrible is that? Not as horrible as you might think, if you were me. I give answers, I do, but I have come to find that the answer doesn't stop the question Why. It doesn't even stop the same question I just answered. Well answering a question five times in a row just isn't going to fly, buddy. Dear buddy.

Momming is harder than nannying. I get to say Siyonara at the end of every evening, moms do not. The hardest part of being a nanny might be just this very thing though. Sometimes mom comes home and gives the kid exactly what you've been keeping on the counter, out of his site, cause he hit you just one too many times today. Or his dad hands you a twenty and says "get him a treat", how about I treat myself, instead? This kiddo hardly deserves a special treat for walking out the door late again because we fought for an hour about getting dressed and brushing teeth.

Getting dressed and brushing teeth. THAT was the bane of my existence and his this summer. If we didn't have to get dressed and brush our teeth, I think we would have been just about the best of friends. PJs and bad breath? Sure, kid, we don't need to leave the house today. Sit there in your footies and play with trains, what do I care?

Nannies have agendas. Schedules. We gotta get these kids out of the house and to their assigned location of the moment, and that location isn't sitting in their room in their jams playing Thomas. Poor little guy. Sympathy is actually stirring in me. Not much, and it won't last through more than two "I don't like you's" tomorrow, but I am feeling just a little stirring.

Tomorrow we say goodbye to our summer days, it flew by, buddy boy.  I learned from you, and love you, too. Even though I'd like you a whole lot more if you napped. A whole bunch more.