The Third Parent

Received Wednesday, November 18, 2009
My feet hurt, so badly. I've worked somewhere around 60 hours this week, with 94 hours last week, and 80-something hours coming up this week.

I can't take it.

I took this job because I was in a bad situation and needed it. I was stupid, but it can't be all me. The mother sugarcoated what she expected, and then when I got there, BAM, second day on "trial" and I've worked from 10am to 4am.

My second day, after being told that I'd hit bed by 9-ish, latest.

It's a 24/7 job, but she won't really admit that. She actually thinks that because she wakes her own kids up in the morning and takes care of them during the 1am-7am hours, I am being ungrateful. She actually told me she expects her next nanny to "take them" when she needs to sleep.

What am I?

I am not a nanny. I am a third parent in a two parent home that only actually has one of them. The husband is always at work, and though she'll tell you that he'll help when he's around, what she means is "my poor baby, we can't actually ask him to wash dishes or try to put his children to bed or help with anything! He works all day!"

What the hell, lady, do you think I do, when I am cleaning the kitchen you ruined all by myself (which you advertised as "assisting with cleaning"), your living room, taking care of three children who are lovely but who you damn near REFUSE to put on a real schedule that therefore keeps all of us up until unreasonable hours (for which you get me so I can help you put them back to sleep at midnight, then expect me to wake up at 7am or earlier and actually get angry when I tell you that I need more than 5 hours of sleep a night, and perhaps sometimes I'd like a minute to myself!)? The best part? She goes on and on about how she gets no sleep, and in the same breath

After I clean the kitchen at night, usually by 10pm after you ruin it with your haphazard cooking, I sometimes actually like to take a minute to write and enjoy my hobbies without being badgered. Just because my light is on doesn't mean you can just bust in my room at 11:30pm when I'm trying to wind down and do fucking LAUNDRY.

And oh yes. The laundry is in my room, of course, which I have to hear all night, and then I get shit about "how come you don't sleep well what's up with thaaaaaaat you sleep more than EVERYONE and you should stop staying up so late!"

Sorry if I sometimes want to talk to my friends or look for that new job you told me to get. Sorry if I am doing something I enjoy for an hour a day, so exhausted that I can't even get up to make my own bed because I'm so worried about getting out to you ASAP at 7am to send your child to school cause you are unable to take ONE six year old to school on time while the other children sleep

I understand your life is hard. But have just an ounce of respect for me. Yelling at me because I wanted to take a nap after getting 6 hours and less of sleep 5 days in a row? Telling me "I sleep so much more than you" and "you do so much more work than me"? Seriously, I wanted to knock your teeth in. Forcing me to eat your old, cold, crusty and stale chicken cause I was hungry four hours ago while I was feeding your kids, and instead of giving me a moment to scarf it down before it got that way, told me to never deny your kid a drink of water for five seconds because OMG HE IS CRYING BECAUSE HE IS THIRSTY FEED HIM/WATER HIM ALREADY! I just do not know how you can yell at me to eat chicken that's been out for hours when you are constantly telling me never to leave any bit of food out for more than five seconds. Why the HELL would you tell me to eat food you wouldn't eat yourself, or give to your husband?

Your husband? I like the guy. But for one, he doesn't know crap about what goes on in this house while he's at work, and when he's telling me to do things the exact opposite way you've told me to do them, and you insist that I should do it his way just to appease him, or more fun, of course, stay up an extra two hours cooking for him and then RE-CLEANING THE KITCHEN at midnight

Putting dirty, smelly rags in my shower stall? Leaving dirty laundry in my room overnight? Complaining at me when I don't get up at 2am (because you have an insane laundry machine that takes several hours to wash instead of the regular one hour) that I should've taken the laundry out instead of sleeping the few hours I do get so you don't have to burst in my room and do it because you can't bear to leave laundry in there for a couple of hours? Having the nerve to even joke "lol how come you don't clean your room that says something about you"? Well, lady, I don't have time to clean it because I'm taking care of your kids nearly EVERY WAKING HOUR, SEVEN DAYS A WEEK.

Now, if I was Lisa Marie Presley's nanny and making $650 a day, I'd have no complaints at all. I don't even make $650 a week, for which my employer often mentions docking from in case she has to hire someone else sometimes so I don't work another 94 hour week. So I can sleep and be well to take care of her children. I make less than minimum wage working from waking until sleeping.

Lady? Fuck you. Fuck you so goddamn hard.
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