nanny mcfree

this cold has stayed mainly in my throat and has done so much damage, it literally pains me to talk to anyone.  this is traumatic, considering my favorite thing of all is gabbing to any and all who will listen/are within ear shot and without escape routes.  therefore, expect many blog entries until this thing clears up, as i couldn't possibly keep all of this contained.

on monday night, i filled in as a last minute babysitter for a family i used to nanny for, way back in 2009.  i left the job in june of that year to start working at the preschool and hadn't seen the kids since (which is pretty reprehensible, because we all live in the same city and i absolutely loved them).  being a nanny is an interesting gig, because while working with children is by far one of the most rewarding things i've ever done, working with children in their homes on a regular basis tends to get a little out of my comfort zone.  eventually, the job becomes less about picking the kids up from school and entertaining them with my boundless enthusiasm and more about picking up dry cleaning and doing emergency grocery shopping.  there is no judgement in that statement, only regret, as i have learned both times i've nanny'd that managing my own life is difficult enough - i can't handle the responsibility of managing someone else's (especially when that someone else has two children and a massive house and a crazy schedule).  it becomes too much for me, until after a week of being too busy to buy groceries for my own house, i find myself at a restaurant supply store with a housekeeper who speaks only spanish, desperately trying to pantomime all the things on someone else's shopping list (do you have any idea how difficult it is to try to act out clorox bleach?).  those are the times i ask myself, "what is my life?"  i've been a nanny for two different families, and had two distinctly different experiences, and left those positions both times knowing it wasn't for me (at least not while in school/working a second job).

babysitting, though, is something else entirely.  i love babysitting.  i was blessed with a built-in charge when i was nine, in the form of my youngest brother, who i began watching by myself when i was about 11 or 12.  then, i ran my own very successful babysitters club all through high school (which is why i didn't get a legitimate paycheck cut in my name until i was almost 19 and already in college).  i've found that babysitting has become more fun as i've gotten older, perhaps because i'm more completely my own person and get to feel like the funky, weird older sibling/aunt.  also, kids have by the far the best senses of humor, and being as hilarious as i am, i enjoy that very much.

so, anyway, back to monday.  the son in this family is around eight (being just about six the last time i saw him, which was so long ago, i still can't believe it) and i spent most of the afternoon watching him as he attempted to do four underwater front flips in a row in the backyard pool ("sarah, i need bigger lungs," was his conclusion, when he absolutely could not break three in a row).  it was during this pool time that he told me all about the ghosts that he sees around the house.  he told really detailed stories about when they show up and what they look like and how no one in his family believes that he actually sees them.  then, he started to tell me about a magical pair of dice he has, dice that always roll the number he needs, as long as he wishes for it.  he said they were his grandpa's dice, and thinking that with all the talk of ghosts and magic and the unexplained, he might enjoy a little whimsy, i said, "well, maybe it's your grandpa rolling the dice, to help you out."

to which he replied, "sarah, i don't think so.  my grandpa's dead."

amazing.