I'm not the best nanny for your kids anymore. I used to be. I showed up happy and ready to spend time with your kids. I taught them to read, do multiplication tables, and not eat like wild animals. We did activities, went on adventures, and built entire mini towns in the playroom. I still teach them things. I still love them. But 12 hours is a long day. I get your groceries, do your laundry and dishes, and clean your kitchen. I wake your kids, dress them, and make lunch and breakfast for them before you've showered. Your kitchen is clean and stocked before you arrive at work. Your laundry is done before you eat lunch. I pick up your kids and we talk about their day. We fend off bullies, bake treats, and reach new milestones before your commute home. They've had a dinner and a bath before you arrive home. Your children are fed, clean and sufficiently snuggled before you arrive, which is great because they'll be putting themselves to bed, alone, whenever they feel like it. Because you need downtime. That's cool. I'm just going to do my grocery shopping, laundry, and dishes in the 2.5 hours I have before I have to go to bed because I have to be back before dawn. Your kids love me.
MB, I follow all of your rules for them, which is especially great when I tell them no, and then you say yes 2 seconds later. I really love it when you ask me, the world's dumbest and most unreasonable Nanny, why I did not let your undernourished child have a lollipop in the middle of dinner. Silly stupid Nanny. So mean! Let's pause here to remember that I didn't evacuate during a hurricane to take care of your kids because you wanted to work from home. In the middle of a storm. And when the power went out (shocker!) you read a book behind a closed door while I entertained the kids without benefit of TV and lights. Sorry we built a fort in the playroom you never go in. I realize that was far messier than you're comfortable with, even if it was cleaned up spotless in an hour.
DB, I've never called in sick because I'm afraid the kids would starve because you can hardly work the faucet in the kitchen, let alone the toaster. You can't even change them out of PJs. And are those sick days paid? Who knows? But I totally see your point, that I'm a failure as a Nanny because your 4 year old doesn't know his 12 times tables.
So this is me, totally burnt out. I worked 60 and 70 hour weeks. I've done all you've asked, and I've endured MB's fascination with my diet ("You're eating that? What is it? You like that? I don't know, should I be concerned my Nanny is eating that?" Let's solve the mystery. It's chicken nuggets, and if you were swamped with chores and caring for children, you might eat dinosaur shaped meat, too. And if you're concerned about the hazard of my eating them, you watch the kiddies while I whip up a salad, savvy? Or better yet, just tell me what to eat. Because I cant even go to the bathroom without someone looking for me).
I've been there for your kids and my fridge is covered in drawings. But I'm moving on. Your kids are fantastic, you should get to know them sometime. Pencil in a chocolate bunny dinner. I'm out!
Hearts and stars,
Dear Nannies of the Internet,
I'm out of this house and this profession, because I don't know how you saints put up with it. I'm a mortal who finds the task of being upbeat and creative for 12 hours a day 5 days a week impossible. I look up to you, digital friends.