In addition to recounting excerpts from my own life (but really, who wants to hear about that?), I would like to retell stories from my experience as a nanny and as a psudo-mother to my younger brother (if for no other reason than they are the memories that make me laugh at 3AM and prevent me from falling asleep). The latter, I’ll call Stephen Stories, but I’ll go into that later.
I was a nanny for all of the three years I spent living in Virginia. I worked with nearly 15 kids in four different homes. It was…the best of times and the worst of times. I treasure my memories of these kids and I love them all dearly. But I will not ever nanny again. Instead, I’ll write about our adventures.
I met Annabella when she was three years old. My first night as a nanny felt more like a spot babysitting job. I came in for a few hours on Saturday night so Mom and Dad could go out to dinner. Being three, Annabella was mostly potty trained but still required special bathroom attention. Before her parents left, Mom came over to the dining room table where we were eating to ask Bella if she needed to “use the potty” (a phrase I will NEVER use once I have my own kids). Annabella lifted up her dress and looked down at her otherwise naked body and said, “NO!” I looked at mom and said, “She doesn’t wear underwear?” Mom chuckled and said to me, “Welcome to the world of vaginas.” And thus was my introduction to nannying. I should have backed out then when it was still safe.
3 comments:
I said the exact same thing about "use the potty". I was wrong.
Why doesn't that child wear underwear? I don't understand.
Never say never, Karissa! :) I once said, "My child will never hit me." I remembered saying that as I was walking down the sidewalk with Owen in one arm and a tricycle in the other - and he was punching me in the face. Ah, good times. Aimee
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