Nanny Tales: The Bad Family

I’ve only ever been fired from one job. And it wasn’t my fault. Really. I’ve had nearly 15 jobs since I started working when I was 14. Of course, I’ve thrived in some more then others, but I’d never even come close to getting fired. Until I started working for the…what should I call them, is Devil Family too strong?

Moms have a reputation of being blind to their kids’ mistakes. This mom made other moms look like private investigators; she took “blind” to a whole new level. She was also notorious for leaving extremely long messages on my voice mail. Since I tried very hard to be a good nanny, I always listened to her whole message. I should have hung up after 15 seconds.

One such message was delivered after her 5-year-old reported to Mom that, “Karissa told me to stop ignoring her.”

This is true. I did have this conversation with my sweet, curly blond haired, blue eyed, strong-willed wonder. She was, after all, ignoring me.

I would stand at the bottom of the stairs and call for her. She was in the room directly at the top of the stairs, out of eyesight but not out of earshot. Assuming I wanted her to stop playing and do something, Jezebel (is this name over-the-top mean?) would not answer me.

I finally walked upstairs and said to her in a normal tone, “Jezebel, I’ve been calling you. Did you hear me?” She answered honestly that she had. “Jezebel, when you hear me but you don’t answer, that’s ignoring me. You may not ignore me. You need to always acknowledge that you’ve heard me.” I went on to explain here and in several other conversations, the importance of communication. “When you don’t answer me, I get frustrated because I don’t know if you heard me, and you get frustrated because you feel like I’m nagging you by repeating myself.”

I thought it was getting better. Anytime I said something to her she would say, “ok!” and I would respond, “Oh good answer!” to which she would say, “yes, ma’am” and I would say, “that’s even better.” No joke. We exchanged this little banter several times a day.

I have this theory that to keep from getting in trouble, Jezebel would save valuable dirt on other people to disclose to her mother at opportune moments. I know, what 5-year-old knows to do this? But really, what freakin mother falls for it? (“Oh, now I can’t punish you because you just told me the nanny accused you of ignoring her”…?)

About a week after Jezebel and I had a “communication conversation,” I received the following message from mom:

“Jezebel told me last night that you tell her she’s ignoring you. This really is just unacceptable. You see her after she’s had a long day at school and you need to do things on her time schedule. She’s tired when she comes home. I know it can be difficult, kids aren’t always ready to do things when we want them to. But it’s important to be patient. She’s really tired at the end of the day. We need to do things on their time schedule. And you know, she’s tired. She’s had a long day at school. She needs to just relax when she gets home. Don’t worry if she doesn’t respond quickly. She’s had a long day at school. And she’s tired. We can’t expect kids to operate on our time schedule. We need to just be patient with Jezebel. We need to do things on her time schedule. She’s had a long day at school. It’s really important to be patient. I know this can be hard. But we need to do things on her time schedule. Tell her she’s ignoring you isn’t helpful. She’s tired. She had a long day at school."

I’m not kidding. Or exaggerating. I should have called her back and quit right then and there. But I’m stupid. And I really needed the money. And it was the middle of the semester and a bad time to find a new job. Regardless, I stuck with it determined to work things out with this mom. I called back and was very sweet (I didn’t even point out that she had taken the 5-year-old’s perspective without even asking what the adult version was…).

My time with them lasted for a little bit longer and several more phone messages. In the end, I had decided to secure another nanny job and give this mom my notice. But alas, she beat me to the punch. That, however, is another story.

I Have SUCH a Hard Life!

My residents laugh at me when I tell them I'm going to my room to work on homework because they know I'll come back downstairs three hours later for an ice cream break and report that I've gotten nothing done. Just tonight, I showed one resident that I finally had an outline for my paper. She replied, "that's it? You've had THREE weeks to write this paper. It's due tomorrow and you have an outline?"

Have you ever watched About a Boy where Hugh Grant lives his life in "units of time" doing nothing that is not purposeless? This is my dream life. Never mind that Grant learns his lesson and has selfless, meaningful relationships by the end of the movie--this is not the lesson I learn from his example. I like to pace my room aimlessly listening to music and thinking about nothing. I can spend whole hours sitting in my oversized chair and looking at a book cover.

I mistakingly thought grad school would cure my contempt for paper-writing and reading. I was wrong. Unlike my undergrad and all those horrific gen ed classes we all must suffer through, my current assignments are not stupid. In fact, I even enjoy most of my work. I am finally focussing on things I like; plus, I picked a program that caters to my academic strengths (well, I'm really not academic, so it's not very accurate to say "academic strengths" but this program includes little of the things that are definitely not my strengths). And yet, simply because it's homework, I don't want to do it.

But that statement isn't exactly true. I don't want to do my assignments because they were assigned to me, yes. But I also don't want to do them because it's productive and I'm not generally fond of productivity.

Unfortunately, my professors have informed me that distaste for productivity and deadlines is not an acceptable excuse for late work. They also said that picking assignments is their prerogative and I don't get to skip the one's I don't like. I tried proposing a multiple choice approach to homework but they said no to this too. Bummer.

I wonder if future employers will operate the same way as my professors. What will I do then?

Fall Musings: Dying Well

I love fall. Experiencing its beauty was one of the better parts of moving back to Philadelphia. Virginia is beautiful, but we had the ocean there, not deciduous trees. In my new home in PA, I can look out my third-floor bedroom window and admire a smorgasbord of colors. There has not been a day this fall that I have not stared out my window and been thankful for those trees. In addition to the vibrant colors, fall brings some of my other favorites as well. I spend most of the year being hot and sweaty. Fall weather hints toward a break from this. I still break a sweat if I walk outside (I know, I’m like a man) and I still walk around in flip-flops but I can appreciate the crisp air and 50 degree days. Fall also brings some of my favorite food and drink. From December 1 through August 31, I look forward to pumpkin pie, fall beer, and pumpkin spice coffee. I think it is these things, not Christmas treats that make me put on my holiday pounds.

Fall makes me happy. It is my favorite season and I love everything about it. But I can’t help but think that my love for this season ignores one very important part of it. Fall is all about death. The gorgeous leaves on my beloved trees are dying. With Fall comes short days and little sunlight. Fall brings winter. And Winter is cold and harsh.

So in my love for Fall, am I just romanticizing the season and ignoring its reality? I don’t think so. I think I can love the season for all of its good things (and there are many!) while embracing (not ignoring) the reality of death and winter.

Fall does death well. Winter does come and that does make me sad. But Fall does not allow the reality of Winter to detract from its beauty. Fall doesn’t skulk off when Winter comes knocking. Instead, Fall stands valiantly and fights back. It leaves a legacy that none can forget and many anticipate.

And while Winter does come, death does not win. We know Spring will arrive in just a few months bringing with it fresh new life and breathtaking beauty.

More to come…

Nanny Tales: A Family Prayer

Annabella’s family always prayed over their family dinners before they began eating. In an effort to teach their children to pray, Mom and Dad always welcomed prayer volunteers. Annabella loved to pray. She coerced the people sitting next to her to join hands and she would squeeze her eyes shut and thank God for everything…literally, except, inevitably, the food. This was a nightly occurrence. Mom and Dad were stumped as to how to encourage this reflection of faith and still get to eating in a timely manner. One such night, I was invited over for dinner. No surprise to anyone, Annabella volunteered to pray. She started in, “thank you for school, and the trees, and the grocery store three hours away, and the car tires.” At this point, she squinted her eyes to see the other people in the room and thanked God for them in the order in which we were sitting around the table, “thank you for mommy, and daddy, and brother, and sissy, but not Krissa. Thank you for the dog, and the cat, and the fish and the mouse. But not Krissa. Amen.” Of course after the first mention of my name (did I just get cursed by a 3-year-old?) the table erupted into laughter. After the not-so-solemn “Amen,” Dad assured me that “I shouldn’t take it personally.” I wonder sometimes what makes me love her so much? Love must be blind and deaf.

Proceed with Caution: this is a "Jesus" post

The following is an excerpt from a paper I wrote recently for one of my classes. I hesitate to post it because of its controversial nature. I don't want my blog to turn into place for angry debate. However, homosexuality has been a topic dear to me for a long time. Avoiding it because of potential conflict is arguably more destructive than risking hot tempers. And so, without further ado:

Before discussing anything controversial, one thing must be clarified, namely that the church, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is guilty of mistreating homosexuals. Assume for a minute, that homosexuality is wrong. Think murdering families wrong. This still does not give the church the right to discriminate against, shun or persecute the community. Jesus’ ministry is riddled with examples of loving the unlovable or showing kindness to the merciless. He stayed with Zacchaeus (Luke 19); He talked with a promiscuous Samaritan (John 4); He saved a prostitute from being stoned (John 8); even on the cross, Jesus prayed for His murderers to be forgiven (Luke 23:34). No one claiming to follow this same Jesus can justify treating another individual with hate or contempt. This means that Christians as individuals as churches as whole communities have sinned against the homosexual community through every unloving word spoken or violent act committed in the name (or not in the name) of Jesus. As Christians, we cannot say that we stand for loving our enemy (Luke 6:27) and our neighbor as ourselves (Matt 19:19) but build a list of those who doesn’t deserve to be loved. This is simply ungodly. Regardless of whether homosexuality is right or wrong, the church has wronged homosexuals. As a Christian, I am grieved by this reality, and I am ashamed of what my fellow brothers and sisters have done in the name of our Lord.

Nanny Tales: The World of Vaginas

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.

Oh Philly, How I Love Thee

Let me count the ways:

1. ...ummm

2. ahhh

3. well...

okay, okay, so we're having a hard time becoming reacquainted with each other. But let me tell you one thing: Philly's food has the south beat. No steamed veggies or fancy tofu for us northerners. Up in Philly, it's cheesesteaks, hoagies and soft pretzels all the way! And after three years of not having these things on every street corner, I'm making sure to have more than my fill of all three. Of course, this could also explain why everyone in Philadelphia is so fat and why I know that my pants are getting tighter even though I'm going to the gym more frequently (when eating grease, cheese and carbs at every meal, there's only so much a treadmill can do). While I can't say I'm necessarily ok with this, if my options are to fit in my pants again or keep eating cheesesteaks, I think I'll just buy bigger pants. I'll want veggies again one day...maybe.