Let's play catch up.

This is dedicated to Marisa, who I think might be my number one fan. This means I expect the rest of you to step it up a notch.

JUST KIDDING.

I appreciate how much positive feedback I am getting from all of you. I am so blessed to have such faithful friends and readers.

So, late Saturday my computer starting being WEIRD.

On Sunday morning I thought it was all better. I even posted a Facebook status about it.

Five minutes later I deleted that post because the whole computer started to rebel. Shortly after is ceased working entirely.

On Sunday I was stuck home all day. The family had two birthday parties to go to and that left me with Baby I until late afternoon. We, you guessed it, went to the pool.

On Sunday night I spent over an hour pleading with my computer to turn on. It never did.

Later Sunday night, I encountered a silverfish.

Since my patience had worn thin by then, I declared war on Monday morning.

I vacuumed and sprayed and sprayed and vacuumed. I killed three LARGE spiders and two LARGE silverfish, as well as countless small things. Since the weather was cooler I turned off the air conditioner and opened some windows to air the house out even though the label of the spray I was using clearly said "Safe Indoors and Outdoors! 100% All-Natural Organic Ingredients!"

After my killing spree -- cleaning! Cleaning, I mean cleaning spree, I took the vacuum out to the driveway to empty it. One LARGE spider and one LARGE silverfish ran out of it still alive. I beat them to death with a baseball bat.

Whatever disturbance I created with my spray, caused every living critter left in the basement to come out from hiding and stare at me on Tuesday night. I killed so many more things. They were relentless.

At three a.m. I caved and went upstairs. The smell of "all-natural, organic flower oils" was causing me to hallucinate. I really believed the bug kingdom was angry at me. So I left.

On Tuesday the odor lingered.

I've taken to throwing my clothes and blankets into the dryer with five to eight strongly scented dryer sheets before using them.

Tuesday afternoon R was asleep when she was brought home from camp. She napped on the playroom bed and then peed on it, which resulted in two hours of crying from her. She went upstairs with T to shower and returned to me in a robe, clinging to me and saying, "My mom keeps screaming at me."

T did not scream at all. She didn't even scold. 'Twas funny.

But the whole ordeal kind of did away with any plans I had to sleep in the playroom again that night. I was forced to return to my bedroom.

It all went well until around five a.m. when I got a little chilly and pulled my big comforter over me. The pungent, safe and natural flower oils stung my nostrils. I should have just stuck with my RAID Home & Garden; at least it smells good.

I opted to stay cold.

I slept until ten this morning!

I had errands to run this morning, most importantly, getting my poor, disabled computer to the doctor. I called goodbye to T, who is hanging out with the baby today, and headed down into town.

I thought about catching the bus but since I don't really know where it picks up in this direction I just wandered around in the general vicinity of a bus stop for a bit and then walked.

The diagnosis for Poor Baby Computer is not good.

I went to the library to book plane tickets for August. Snobby Nanny is going south!

And then I went to cash my last hotel check.

This morning as I rushed to leave my Scented Den of Death, I thought, I should bring my camera. It's a nice day, perfect for pictures, and then I can share my little corner of Great Neck with everyone, assuming I have a computer again some time in the near future. Directly after that thought, I had this one: I should also take my last hotel check and cash it.

Which sent me on a search for a second form of ID.

I looked inside my computer bag, where I usually keep it and didn't see it anywhere. I packed up my computer for its ride to town and then searched my file drawer. No social security card. I checked all my other drawers. Nothing.

I searched through my underwear, my dresses, my bags. I did all this twice. Nothing.

After 45 minutes I sat down on my odorized bed in despair. I was no longer concerned about my check (or taking along my camera), I was however, very concerned about the fact that I keep my social security card, my passport, my birth certificate and my voter's registration card (all very important documents) together and now I could not find any of them. I had no idea where else they might be.

I decided to just get it together and get out of there before the natural oils made me naturally vomit, so I shifted some things around in my computer bag.

And found my social security card and all its companions.

Exactly where I thought they should be in the first place.

Cut back to cashing the check. I'm standing there making small talk with the clerk. I'm signing my check, I'm taking out my social security card. My actual ID is in my other wallet at home.

So, I am waiting and waiting at the library while the computer guy rescues all my files from obliteration. I was walking around outside but the calming breeze keeps picking up the scent of organic bug-killing flower oils that has permeated everything I own and blowing it back into my face.

I'll wait here until it's time to pick up my defenseless little computer and beat it to death with a baseball bat.

What if...

...while sitting in the middle of the Harbor Hills community pool I started singing "Shine, Jesus, Shine" REALLY loudly?
Would the non-Jewish lifeguards come to my aid? I'm not looking to be offensive. I really have an urge to do this. Like when you're told not push the red button.

...I don't stop going in the pool every day even though my left ear is nearly deaf and now my nostrils are raining pool water?
My hair is starting to look like straw and today I know there was more chlorine in the pool than usual because I could smell it after we got home. If I persist, and I probably will, there's a good chance my skin is going to retaliate sooner or later.

...I let go of the baby in the pool?
Well, that one I can tell you. Baby Monkey will not only hold his breath when going under water, but he can also hold onto the side of the pool and move along it like the big kids. Today he floated on his back for a few seconds as well. BABY GENIUS? I THINK SO.

...there really are wonderful people in New Jersey?
As a Pennsylvanian I've always been taught that New Jersey is full of, well...New Jersians. But today I received the most wonderful package from BFF Brenny (shout out!) and it totally made my day. It was even better than the guacamole and salsa we made with our fresh garden tomatoes, cucumbers and cilantro. EVEN BETTER. Friends like her are proof that God wants us to do well. I took this job to get out of debt, and as part of my plan I am not paying New York prices for ANYTHING. It's being shipped in from New Jersey and I'M SO IN LOVE WITH MY FRIENDS.

...all my techniques are working and I really am the only one who can get J to eat?
Does this now mean I am the only one who can feed him? I suppose so. When E tries to make him eat there are masses of tears and snot and no food actually goes in. When T tries, it's significantly quieter but he doesn't eat a whole lot. And then there's that she'll-make-eight-different-things-to-appease-him issue. I've decided to keep doing it my way and GUESS WHAT? He eats best for me. Even though I make one thing, and he has to sit down, I'm getting food inside him. I believe it's time for me to write my child-rearing book to rival anything the British nannies have written. And yes, I'm tooting my own horn. Pretty loudly too.

...I stop tooting my own horn?
I could. I should. Ok, I will. Here's how tonight went after E and T left for a dinner date:
"Stop it!" "No, you can't have chocolate." "Ok, fine, just take the chocolate. I don't care which one, they're all the same. Just shhhh. I'm trying to Skype." "Skype is a video phone call." "Yes, you can be on the phone call." "Why is the baby's whole outfit wet?" "Stop touching Willie's privates!" "No one's answering their Skype. Don't cry! We're going to bed!" "EVERYBODY GO TO BED!"

I never did find out why Baby I was literally drenched from chest to diaper. I am completely addicted to Skype. I put the two kids in bed and then took the baby to his room. When I returned J was already asleep. THANK GOD. He's usually the one that keeps the two of them up long after bedtime. R went to sleep quickly after that.

And since then my voice has returned to a more suitable pitch and decibel level. My patience wore VERY thin tonight. The worst part of it is that while I'm yelling at them because they are annoying me while I'm doing something I shouldn't be trying to do right at bedtime, I know how mean it is to do that to toddlers. And it is. It's not right to have kids up late and then blame them for their behavior. It's what makes me want to slap half the people in Walmart after nine pm. And tonight I did it.

Poor kiddies.

I shall be better tomorrow. Serenity now.

Wait, I didn't know the degrees went up that high.

Ok, I did. But I like to keep myself in denial about the whole "Northeast America is like a boiling swamp in the summer time" thing.

Seriously, a boiling swamp.

The second floor of this house is intolerable. No one goes up there.

It was too hot today to even think about walking to the pool because the second you step out the door, sweat starts rolling down your face in trails so thick it looks like you're in the shower.

That's not classy at all.

Speaking of classy, I told T some horror stories about life in Stroudsburg after the ghetto moved in. Actually, it wasn't all that classy before that anyway...but I didn't mention that.

When she got home from work and picking up J this afternoon we high-tailed it to the pool in the air conditioned Mercedes.

Earlier in the afternoon some poor saps had to deliver lumber here for the upcoming renovation. Two young (not hot, one had spiky purple-ish hair) Latino men had to unload the van in the driveway and carry armful after armful of bundled lumber down to the basement.

I offered them water but they barely spoke English, so I think they were just confused by my hand gestures and drinking motions. I got two glasses of water anyway and they each politely drank half, exactly half.

When they finished I insisted that they go back in and finish they're water. I was sweating just from having the door propped open for them to work. And I don't know if you know this, but full Latinos sweat gallons more than us half-breeds. And us half breeds sweat gallons more than you white people. So if you're white, go ahead and be grossed out, but this is real life and it's a serious dehydration risk.

I had to water those boys.

Anyway, we got to the pool at three and just stayed there. My face was starting to shrivel from the sun reflecting off the water, but even that was preferable to being out in the heat.

T looked bored, but she seemed to be having the same inner battle that I was. Get out and instantly sweat off every last drop of moisture in my body or stay in the pool?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..............

When it was time to meet R's bus she just ran up the street, got her, came back and jumped into the pool. We weren't messing around.

And we had some good conversations.

We talk mostly of the kids or kids in general, but today there was that little bit about the ghetto that is my hometown. So proud.

And then T met another mother and they chatted for a bit while I was swimming and afterward T told me, "When you find nice people in this neighborhood you have to hold on to them." The hoighty-toighty cliques in this community turn her off. She's much to down to earth to play keeping up with Joneses too hard core.

I think in order to live here, you have to at least participate a little and I think T does in the venues that she really cares about. She wants to have a nice yard for her kids to play in, however, she had several large, showy garden patches removed from the front yard when she moved in so that 1) there would be more grass to play in and 2) she wouldn't have to keep them up.

And if you walk through this neighborhood and see the rose buses and the lilac bushes and the strips and pathways of large, expensive trees and flowers you know that that sort of thing is just not done.

I can never get over the relief that I feel when I realize that this family is not like that.

I could have gotten myself into quite an awkward situation living with a Great Neck family, but I think God found me a really good one.

When we did finally have to get out of the pool we ran home and showered and changed for dinner at T's mother's.

I had (and still have) water stuck in my left ear. When I talk it echoes in my head and when others talk it sounds like I'm under water. All evening long I was going, "I'm sorry?" "What?" "What's that?" or nodding and smiling weirdly when I didn't really care that I couldn't hear. Like when the kids tell me things like "Next the ducky song is on."

I got J to eat enough to take his medicine before he started gagging, his new dramatic way of telling us he's done. I have never seen a child hate food so much. And he does. He hates it. He won't even eat junk food willingly. The other day I made healthy cookies masked in oodles of chocolate and I had to plead with him to eat it.

T worked on the baby who, since it was well past his bedtime by the time we got to the house, wanted nothing to do with any of us.

R got a tummy ache and cried the whole night. She had two glasses of tea and used the bathroom a couple of times.

So the adults had to do all of the eating and I did. T's mom makes the best guacamole I think I've ever had, which is saying something, because I know a lot of Mexicans.

We all faded quickly after dinner. Those of us that had been baking in the sun were all drowsy from it and E had a long day at work and began nodding off on the couch while still eating cookies. It was time to go.

Now I'm off to sleep on my left side so that hopefully the cup of water that is being stored in my ear will drain tonight so I can fill it back up with pool water tomorrow.

It's gonna be a scorcher!

Snobby Thursday: Shepherdess in Harbor Hills

I got up this morning with not a lot on my plate for the day. R was still asleep even though she should have been getting ready for camp. I woke up T to wake up R and then promptly went back to bed. Isn't that how days off are supposed to go?

Last night E & T were out and as I put the kids to bed R asked what we would do tomorrow. I explained that I wouldn't be working and that I didn't know what I was doing but I wasn't sure I would see her until evening or possibly the next morning. She looked worried.

"You're leaving?"

"For the day, yes."

"But you'll come back, right?"

Nothing like a guilt trip from a four year old to make me feel bad about all the other kids I have worked with or lived with and then abandoned. The nanny biz (and living with brothers/sisters) is so cruel.

I spent my day lounging at the pool on the bay. I can't get enough of that view, and I can't get enough of swimming whenever I want to. I look like a tomato.

I got to the pool shortly after opening at 11. I left at closing at 7:30.

The family showed up around 5:30 and I swam with R a bit. The baby even reached for me and called "Mama!"

I'm so in.

All day long I made phone calls until I drained my battery. I watched the lifeguards, who seem to have their own little lifeguard clique. I eyed one lifeguard in particular whose nonchalance and stunning good looks captivated me.

In the morning there's no one at the pool so the guards played in the water.

The early afternoon consists of trophy wives tanning and talking very loudly while I'm trying to sleep and old men doing laps in the lap lanes. There was one younger man who looked about fourteen months pregnant. He had a leisurely cigarette before he did his laps. I wanted to tell him congrats on the baby and that he shouldn't smoke while with child, but instead I just moved into a chair in the shade and read my book.

My large 1,000+ page book.

I pulled it from the shelf of goodies in the playroom. All these books came with the house and since no one else is reading them, I guess I have to. It's a Normal Mailer and the story is very good but the writing is SO graphic that I had a really hard time not cringing while poolside.

Plus, a book that size in hard cover is not the most convenient thing to hold in a chaise.

In the evening the lovely Taryn and Emily joined me for girl time near the diving board. Little R asked me what I was doing and when I told her I was going to be with my friends in the deep end she got excited.

"Can I come?"

"If your mom says you can.--"

"MOM CAN I GO IN THE DEEP END?!"

She was shy at first but she warmed up. Both of my companions work with children and know how to shmooze. Later, E talked R into jumping off the diving board for the first time and that was all she did for the rest of our time there.

At closing time the three of us dined at Chipotle and made great conversation. Not as animated as usual because swimming tends to sap the energy out of people, but still great conversation.

On the way to the restaurant there was a mad-libbing incident. I acquired a new and more accurate job title in the process (see above) and now I have to have all new business cards made.

I'm home and in bed pretty early for me, thanks to all the swimming and sun and laughing with friends. The only downside to extended periods of pool time is the terrible itchiness that soaking in chlorine on and off for eight hours brings me.

When will I learn?

Probably not while I'm living here.

I'm so glad I live in the basement.

I learned this week that there is no air conditioning on the second floor of the house.

Since I don't sleep up there and it hasn't been unbearably hot until this week, I didn't notice how uncomfortable is was upstairs. The kids' room and the bathroom both have working AC ducts, but apparently, that's it.

The heat and humidity have been smothering and the entire second floor is like a sauna. Today I had to break between making beds (it's laundry day for the sheets, I don't actually make beds every day) because it was too hot to stay up there for more than five to ten minutes at a time.

T put the baby down for a nap in a diaper with his fan on and he still woke up in a nice layer of sweat with his hair matted to his face. No wonder his diaper rash won't quit! He's never really dry.

When I come up the stairs in the mornings I turn on the AC for the day. It's always hot and stuffy on the first floor for the first half hour of the day but once the air kicks in, the house is perfectly comfortable as long as you don't need to do anything upstairs.

I was struck for some reason with the urge to sweep out the garage today.

So even though it was in the 90s outside and in the 100s upstairs, I went from making beds in the steam room to sweeping leaves and dead spiders in the...other steam room. I swear I lost five pounds today in sweat alone.

While I cleaned the garage I put the baby in the stroller with some toys. He dropped them all and sat there, resting his chin on his hand and looking bored. When I called to him he straightened up and shrugged at me.

His communication skills are astounding.

He's using sentences quite often and surprisingly correctly.

He ate breakfast while it was still a bit stuffy in the kitchen and I think he just wanted to get out of there so he threw his cup on the floor, called Willie over ("Wiwi!"), threw his breakfast to the dog and then yelled, "I don't want anymore!"

E was in the kitchen and couldn't believe his ears. Only T and I have had the pleasure of hearing Baby say real words.

I let Baby I go into the playroom and ten minutes later when it was considerably cooler in the house, he came back and ate every bite.

I have not had such luck with J.

J is severely underweight and T's solution to the problem is to just let him eat whatever he wants. I think she's in a panic about it, but that is not how I feed kids and I just can't bring myself to do it.

Last night E barbecued at least four different kinds of meat and J wouldn't eat any of it. T made him pasta and a chocolate (Nutella) sandwich. Now, I love Nutella as much as the next girl, but it's not a meal! It's not nutritious and I don't care what the commercials for it say! Adding hazelnut to chocolate does not equal real food. Yet this seems to be what J is living off of.

Tonight I had the kids for dinner (I'm taking off tomorrow in case you're wondering) and I made chicken nuggets, green beans, corn and pasta. The deal was that they had to eat chicken and one veggie and then I would give them the pasta, which they never have a problem eating.

R ate everything. J sat and did nothing for the duration of dinner. My rule is that after everyone else is done eating, he has to sit until he eats. Normally I can get him to eat at least most of his food when T isn't home. If he is left alone for a minute or two he gets bored and agrees to eat.

Not tonight. We left him at the table. He did nothing.

I finally caved and let him eat his pasta first because he's on antibiotics for his ear infections and he has to have something in his belly to take it. Not having dinner is not an option right now (another reason I think T will so easily cave and give him chocolate sandwiches).

When he starts acting up and getting out of his seat I sit him on the counter so he can't leave. He knows this and doesn't really mind it. Again, usually leaving him for a minute will inspire him to eat.

He sat there for twenty minutes telling me he wasn't going to eat.

We talked and he ate two bites of chicken.

Then he killed another twenty minutes.

By this time R and the baby had already eaten dessert and watched a DVD. They were playing and R wanted J to join them. She came into the kitchen to try to talk to him. Most often that works well. He loves his big sister and will do what she asks just so he can appease her.

He told her no and repeated his mantra for the evening: "I'm not eating!"

We left him again.

In the end he ate one bite of corn in addition to the two bites of chicken and the bowl of pasta.

I've never been defeated quite so substantially by a not-even-three-year-old. He's awakened the beast though. If he thinks this is going to happen again, he is severely mistaken.

When the whole episode was over, I took the kids up to the sauna for a bath. The baby actually laid right down in his crib and went to sleep with no argument. It's too hot to cry upstairs.

And so even though last night I killed a centipede and the night before that a silverfish ran out of my CLEAN laundry when I dumped it onto the bed to fold it, I am excited to go downstairs to bed tonight, where it's a decent temperature and the humidity has been sucked out of the air.

I believe my basement quarters are one of the two reasons my hair isn't as frizzy this summer as usual.

The other reason would be that Jessica, the sitter before me, was a very, very Spanish girl (she actually hardly spoke English and I think that was a key factor in the problems between her and T) and she left behind some very, very magical 'fro conditioner.

I've been using it after the pool and my hair looks and smells UHmazing.

Snobby Thursday tomorrow!

Vetty, vetty hot.

My brain is literally fried from too much heat and sun today.

I've been to the pool twice. And every time I have to run outside to take the dog out or put trash out or whatever the reason, I have to give myself a good pep talk and promise myself it will all be over soon.

And this is my excuse for posting pics tonight instead of trying to form intelligent sentences. Enjoy!



The house. You can see R and J in the window there...or at least, the paper versions of them.



Our first peak of the bay as we crest the hill on our walk.



Baby feet!



The bay.



Our pier, or the bridge as J calls it. It's normally COVERED in seagulls (or baygulls) and always covered in oodles of pooh. There's often a dead, meatless crab or two as well. Today, of course, the day I have my camera, the gate was locked and I couldn't get out on it for good pictures of crab carcasses. Maybe next time...

The Fresh Beat Band is growing on me.

In my extensive child care past I have encountered many children's shows. Some I hate, some I loves, some I make the kids watch even though they hate them because it's fun for me (Penguins of Madagascar...) and some are just filler.

These kids don't watch a lot of TV, even though it feels like the TV in the playroom is on ALL the time. Baby I has mastered turning it on but not off. He's also really good at changing the channel so instead of Fios, we're watching snow. Loud, loud snow.

R is notorious for looking at the TV and no matter what's on going, "I haaaaaaaaate that show."

J will watch for about five seconds before he's off doing something. He likes music though, and will stop whenever a song comes on. The only thing I've seen him watch with any sort of undivided attention is the Fresh Beat Band.

They've never hit my radar because I've never had a kid like them before.

I forbid the Wiggles to be watched in my presence. Other's on my ban list are Sid the Stupid Science Kid, Diego and Barney. I have my reasons, and I assure you they're mostly selfish.

I think the Backyardigans are soooooooo cute and I've recently paid attention to an episode of Mrs. Spider's something or other and that was pretty cute too, and actually had a pretty deep story line for kids programming nowadays. That made me happy.

Tonight E and T are out and so I gave the kids their bath before dinner so that we could relax and while I was dressing J he started singing "Skinamarinky dinky dink" which made me glow with joy.

Sharon, Lois and Bram were my FAVE when I was a kid. I don't know where he picked this song up but I love hearing him sing it.

---WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG FOR AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT---

J JUST TOLD ME HE HAD TO GO PEE AND ACTUALLY HELD IT WHILE WE RAN UP THE STAIRS TO THE POTTY AND DID PEEPEE ON THE POTTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

---Now back to our scheduled blogging---

Baby I seems to be some sort of strange prodigy child. I call him Monkey and he answers to it more than his actual name. He climbs everything and he's gets onto furniture faster than J does. He can walk up the stairs without ever resting both feet on one step like most kids his age. Holding someone's hand of course. He's not THAT advanced...

Today at the pool he observed a bunch of teenage boys who were having a really hard time watching their language in front of the baby and me, though they really did try and without me ever asking. He started pointing at them and the ball in turn and asking "Was dat?"

Psssshhh. Like I know.

But it was fun to hear him forming a question! It's like he's known how to talk all along and was just saving it up to put on a show.

Lately, any song I sing he picks up the tune right away and even the sounds of some of the lyrics. Any new song he's introduced to he sings back to you later with a sly little smile. And they're always recognizable.

T says musical talent runs in the family; her sister is an accomplished pianist.

At bed time, R was unbelievably agreeable. The baby on the other hand, was not. He usually is so easy to put down but whatever was bothering him tonight, be it his cursed teeth or the fact that the AC doesn't work on the second floor and it's a million degrees upstairs, was upsetting him greatly. For an hour he cried, "I don't want to!" until he FINALLY fell asleep on my lap.

That's another new phrase.

His greatest achievements this week have been "I don't want to", "mine", and my personal favorite, "I want it!"

1, 2, 3.

First of all, I love my new friends. And I am loving being able to get out of the house and do things without having to ask some poor, unwilling soul for a ride. I may hate the bus, but it is very convenient. Except after 7:15 on Sunday evenings. THANKS TARYN! :-)

Second of all, I came home and was sitting in the playroom watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail and then all of sudden I could hear it echoing from the other room. Could it be true? Yes! It is true! My employers are laughing at the Monty!!!!!

OH HAPPY DAY!!!

Third of all, I love my new church. This probably should have been first of all.

I really, really wish that I could be at every service, every week, but until that period of my life comes, I am so happy to know that I am in a wonderful congregation that has reached out to me already. I have no worries about falling off their radar.

I loved the church I grew up in. (SHOUT OUT TO MY HACK FAMILY!!!)

And I love my (short) time at my brother's church.

I've never not felt at home in the OPC.

And now I have a new home in it and I hope I don't leave it for a good while. Not the fifteen years T is hoping for, but maybe...two. That seems like a terribly long time to live in one place.

Unless of course, it's Africa.

I told R about Africa and about the kids I've worked with there. She loves looking at my pictures and this afternoon E and T showed her a TV special about needy kids in Africa and explained to her that they don't even have clean water to drink. R is a thinker and you can see the little wheels in her head working to process all these things.

Underneath her wild, four-year-old princess exterior, she is a very sweet little girl.

After our discussion about Africa and the kids that don't have food, water or baby dollies, she asked if we could go there sometime and take them some stuff. She especially likes to eat hearts of palm and thought they would probably like some.

J is my next project, who I am learning in spite of his sweet manners, likes to cause trouble, spits a lot and thinks it's funny and is incredibly WHINY. He's been sick lately, so I don't know if that's why he's wearing my patience thin.

But I can tell you that if this week is anything like last week, I might be out of a job after I blow up at him.

What am I doing again?

I promised the kids we'd make blueberry pancakes this morning, because that's what the kids in a book we've been reading eat. I also told R NOT to wake me up.

She came to my room at 6:40.

I looked at the time, laid back down and told her to scram.

At 8 we made breakfast.

At 9 we cleaned up.

At 10 we dressed them all.

At 11 they left with E and T to see the Winnie the Pooh movie.

I took Baby I to the park, couldn't find anyone to talk to and/or hit on. I took him home. Put him to bed. And went back to sleep.

I got up, cleaned up what was left in the dining room from Shabbat and went back to sleep.

I got up, made myself lunch and went back to sleep.

I got up, checked on the baby, read my book and went back to sleep.

None of these naps were long. None of them were very good. But my goodness, my eyes wouldn't stay open.

The kids came home sleeping and E and T went upstairs to sneak out to their smoking lounge. It cracks me up because T tries to cover the smell with sprays and perfumes and yet they forgot to take into consideration the fact that the alarm panel in the kitchen chimes every time a door opens. If all three kids are asleep and I'm on the first floor and no doors are opening down here...

I mean, you don't have to be a detective. That's all I'm saying.

Baby I woke up and I fed him lunch and then T took him upstairs and I went back to sleep.

It was 5 before anyone did anything, and then all we did was heat up leftovers and put the kids to bed. But that took four hours.

You can see that I haven't been all that interesting today.

But at the tail end of dinner E came home from a tennis game and while T was putting the baby to bed and we were waiting around for J to eat his dinner, E and I started talking about kids.

He asked me about being from a big family and if I planned to have one. He laughed when I told him NO WAY. Unless, of course, all thirty of them are adopted.

So I guess I do want a big family. I just don't want to HAVE it.

Anyway, we chatted for a bit and I changed my opinion of him a little. I didn't dislike him before, but I didn't think he was all that personable. But now I suppose he is and he also has a good sense of humor.

I've been thinking a lot about my role here and how exactly I'm supposed to be a witness in a household that denies Christ as the Messiah. And at various points of interaction throughout the last weeks and days I've wondered about this. If I'm openly challenged about my faith, I have no problem offending the challenger with my steadfast defense of the Gospel. But when I'm not confronted, I tend to side step the issue.

Also, I'd like to not get fired.

And while this uncertainty has been with me since I got here, it just dawned on me the other day how many hymns (especially ones about Jesus) have been stuck in my head lately, even though I haven't been to church regularly. And how conversations keep opening up where I can talk about my family and our faith and how it's real and part of our lives and not just an affiliation with a church that means nothing in the day-to-day grind.

And so I realized in the course of the last few evenings and then again after my time with E tonight, that I am here to live Christ, not necessarily speak Christ.

I just have to learn to be ok with that even when I want to teach the kids Jesus songs. Which is quite often.

Tonight while hanging out in the kitchen over dinner, Baby I started singing ABCs and then he laughed and ran to me with open arms. R gathered all fifty of her hair clips and bands and went into the playroom to get her shoes.

Mind you, she just turned four.

She was talking the whole way into the room, with her arms full of hair decorations and baby dolls. She finished whatever it is she was rambling about, stood in the middle of the play room, looked around and then came into the hallway to look at me in confusion.

"What am I doing again?"

I laughed at her quite openly and told her she was getting her shoes.

And I thought I was getting old before my time...

Snobby strolling.

I can never decide who I am going to be when I go out walking with the baby.

When I was younger and I had all my kiddies out at the park or on walks, I absolutely loved when people thought they were mine. I was between the ages of thirteen and eighteen and I would have three or four kids of all different ages and races and people would kind of screw up their faces in confusion and ask me subtle questions.

On more than one occasion I played right into it and let them think I was a fourteen year old with multiple toddlers.

From time to time I would tell the truth.

There was one special outing with my little sister and my nephew, who are about the same age and exactly the same color, where the Wendy's clerk thought they were twins. I had to be about seventeen, which would put them in the eight to nine range. I nodded along to her guesses. Yes, I was their mother and they were twins, not aunt and nephew. It just made my life easier.

And funnier.

My favorite time was with my Liam, when a Chinese lady asked me in broken, but shocked English if he was mine. I wasn't young anymore and (including skin color) Liam looks nothing like me. Our features couldn't be more different, but I guess when you see a girl running around with a baby at a park you're not really studying features.

I did tell the poor woman that I was his sitter, so that her eyes would stop bulging. I'm not sure why it was so astonishing to her. They have foreigners in China now, right?

Since I've been here with Baby I all the time, I like to take him out around the neighborhood. In the beginning, I was so distracted with my search for the elusive pool, but since its location has been revealed to me, I am able to better concentrate on looking like a rich mom when I'm out.

Since I like to wear dresses in the summertime anyway, my wardrobe is working to my benefit. I like to put on big sunglasses and sometimes my floppy hat and walk around the neighborhood eying sickeningly extravagant houses.

Today I forgot my hat and my sunglasses.

Usually I take the double stroller, which has room for my phone, the baby's cup and whatever else I think we might need. For some reason, I thought taking the single today would be a nice change of pace.

I had to stash my phone in the top of my dress and the baby had to hold his cup. Only he didn't. He threw it. Repeatedly.

Instead of looking like a Desperate Housewife, I ended up looking like a sweaty, frustrated crazy person. I chased that stupid cup down sooooo many hills.

It wasn't all bad though.

We just so happened to be out when all the landscapers were working.

I love to say hello to them, because they never expect it. When they see me coming they kind of shuffle out of the way and avoid eye contact. So then I try my darnedest to make eye contact and smile and say hi.

And today I said hi to the most handsome Mexican in all the world.

And he smiled back.

While I was all sweaty and the baby was singing "Where is Thumpkin?" and the stroller was squeaking and trying to slip away from me on the downhill.

We stopped at the park and I let Baby off to play. I encountered the only black person I've seen in the community, ever. She is also a nanny and her little blondie was playing on the swings. Baby I developed an instant crush and wanted to swing beside her, so I chatted with the other nanny for a bit.

Baby I's little girlfriend is six. He's one. Baby likes the cougars.

Not fifteen minutes in I smelled pooh, so we had to say goodbye and head home. I had intelligently not packed a diaper bag.

I did a better job of looking like I thought I was important on the way home. The baby didn't drop his cup at all, just dumped its contents onto his lap.

I texted and walked a bit before I flashed back to almost getting hit by that MD, and that was when I wasn't even texting. Rich people aren't very good drivers and when you add in the fact that this group is New Yorkers, it's pretty clear that I shouldn't gamble with our lives by trying to multitask on the street.

I put my phone away and practiced looking mildly annoyed with a hint of sophistication.

It didn't last long before I passed a house that I pass very often. There are two little boys who live there and their Chinese nanny is often outside with them. We say hi a lot so I did today and waved. The baby waved and the two boys waved back and it was all good and friendly.

Domestics in this neighborhood can smell each other out.

I think we're what make it a friendly place.

And I'm positive that we're the sole reason this place can claim any sort of diversity at all.

Mimi!

Long, long ago in another lifetime, I lived with my sweet, fat baby Quinn. Baby Quinn is the sweetest, fattest, cutest thing to ever walk the face of the earth, just like my other nieces and nephews. You may think your kids or nieces/nephews, brothers/sisters or cousins are the cutest, but you're wrong.

Very wrong.

Quinny Joe was at that special age where you can tell him to say things and he will attempt to say them, if he feels like it.

And while most often he referred to me as "mama" or "daddy" there were a few rare, blessed occasions where he tried to say Kimmy.

It came out more like Mimi.

And I loved him all the more for it.

Most mornings after breakfast I toss Baby I one of his beloved rice cakes and put him behind the gate in the playroom so I can clean. He has J for company for about an hour and then J leaves for camp.

After that I have to wrap it up because Baby I is abusive toward the dog, who still insists on being in the playroom.

But today Willie was treated with Frontline and so he's not allowed in the playroom. He has to dry. Poor pup. And poor Baby I.

It turns out that is the only form of entertainment that holds I's attention. After ten minutes of trying to reach through the gate to yank on the dog's tail he started calling me.

"Mommy!"

At first I pretended I couldn't hear him. He went back into the playroom, turned on the TV, pressed sixteen other buttons until the TV was so messed up I don't know if we'll ever get it back, and then returned to the gate.

"Mommy!"

This time I yelled back.

"Hold on!"

He padded through the playroom, located the remnants of his rice cake, had a drink.

"Mommy!"

"I'm coming, I! I'm coming in just a minute!"

He emptied the contents of a drawer (pronounced 'draw' in this state, like that last syllable doesn't exist) of toys onto the floor.

"Mommy!" His screeching was getting louder, and I was nearly done mopping and just wanted him to calm down until I got there. In my frustration I called,

"I'M NOT MOMMY!"

He stopped yelling. He thought for a minute. Then he looked for me to see if I was looking at him and when I was he smiled real big.

"Mimi!" He yelled.

"I AM MIMI!" I squealed in a voice so high pitched only Willie could hear it.

"Mimi!"

While I was super excited about being recognized as Mimi, it didn't change the fact that I was SO CLOSE to being done mopping. I maintained cheering him on from the other room.

After we read stories and played for a bit we went upstairs to dust. Well, I went to dust. Baby I went to do whatever it is he does besides drool in his playpen. He played happily while I dusted the room the playpen is in but when I left the room to get better cell reception he froze and watched me go.

"Mimi!"

I was so happy.

What do you tell people about us?

Well.

Where shall I start?

Just kidding.

T asked me this just over an hour ago while she and E were herding the screaming children off to bed.

We, and by 'we' I mean 'they,' let them stay up waaaay to late again, and by 'again' I mean 'as usual.' E actually got so fed up with them he threatened spankings, which doesn't happen a lot in this house. T swooped in and had everybody asleep in no time, and I just ignored it all and kept playing online, because I am off duty. (I didn't take my day off today because of the weekend.)

The drama started around dinner time, when T made her father's fresh catch of the day and I tried to feed it to the kids. Not one of them liked it, not even the baby, who I can usually force feed just about anything.

R ate her rice and veggies and was very cooperative about tasting the fish. She tasted, spit it out, proclaimed it "Ewwy!" and was excused from dinner.

J ate his rice with some coaxing and only let the fish touch his lips once. He turned down veggies as well, which I let slide tonight because the antibiotics he's on for his ears are making his poohs something awful.

But his ears are improving and hopefully in a few more days, T will dare to wash his hair again.

Tonight was day three without washing his hair. We've been bathing the kids every night because it's summer, and well, they stink.

Baby I ate one bite of fish, one bite of veggies and then started screaming. Really screaming. I thought maybe his diaper rash had returned, but no. He just wanted to get down. I've been working on getting these kids to sit for meals, something T encourages but rarely participates in. Baby I has been the easiest to tame since he's the youngest, but tonight he was having none of it.

I sincerely believe it is because he spent the entire afternoon with T and was expecting her to feed him dinner.

After a few minutes of screaming I had to cave and let him out. I refused to chase him with bites of rice, so I got him sitting on the little child-sized chairs in the playroom and he ate the whole bowl there. Then he ate veggies. Then he picked up the giant rubber ball that is bigger than he is, threw it, fell and spewed food across the room.

Willie cleaned it up.

On the nights that T cooks, she serves E dinner when he gets home. Literally serves. I'm not against this practice, it's just been a while since I've seen it in action. He just sits down and the kids run around yelling and T cuts his food for him and does everything but actually put it into his mouth. Ok, maybe I'm a little bit against it.

That one time I made tacos I swear he thought I was going to do the same, but I just waved him toward the fixings and left the kitchen.

Anyway, tonight he came in right as J was finishing up. Everyone else was done. They baby started talking and J started running around. R immediately got grumpy, something she's been doing every night when he gets home for the last two weeks. T served him dinner and then sat to eat with him. I ignored everyone and Willie sat beside me.

And two hours passed this way.

So what do I tell people about them?

Probably too much.

But I try not to be mean. I want to be fair. I tell people what I do because this way of life is one that not many of us know. I don't tell people who they are, but I do tell people how they are.

And I don't know how she'd feel about this, but from the traffic stats on this blog, they are entertaining.

So I tell people the entertaining stuff. And when people ask me what they're actually like I tell them what I told her.

They are the Jewish version of my brother's family, loud and funny.

And she replied, "Good answer." And ushered her noisy troop up the stairs.

Snippits.

Conversation #1.

7:29 am.

"Kim!"

"Whaaaaaaaat R?"

"Is breakfast ready?"

"Noooooooo. My alarm hasn't even gone off yet. I have one minute. Breakfast will be in 11 minutes."

"Ok. Will you put me on the bus?" As she climbed into bed with me.

I had to smile a little. That's normally Daddy's job.

Conversation #2.

8:15 am.

"J, eat your breakfast."

"I don't want to."

"You need to eat or you can't go to camp."

"I don't want to."

Enter E.

"J, listen to Kimmy. You have to eat your breakfast." Proceeds to put bite on fork and put into J's mouth.

Vomit.

Conversation #3.

10:30 am.

"Kim, can we go for a walk?"

"Yes, J, go get your shoes."

"Ok." Plays with ball. Does not get shoes. "Kim, when could we go for a walk?"

"As soon as you get your shoes."

"And then we'll go for a walk?"

"Yes. Go get your shoes."

"No."

"Ok, then we won't go for a walk."

"I want to go for a walk!"

"Then go get your shoes."

"And then we could go for a walk?"

"YES!"

"Ok." Continues playing with ball.

Kim's head explodes.

T got up this morning, brought the baby down, took the dog upstairs for a bath, sent him back down and then slept until noon.

J ate his lunch for me, without vomitting or much complaint. It's so nice when the parents just go away and let me discipline their children effectively.

Another example of this...

All three kids were in bed and asleep at 8:30. I had to physically return J to his bed once. Once. R didn't get out of her bed at all.

And I didn't even have to yell.

Which brings me to the last interesting happening of the day.

T's mom dropped in right around dinner time. While she's infinitely less annoying than E's mom, she still brings a number of suggestions with her. Today's focus was mainly baby I's hair hanging all over his eyes.

Now, I don't know what the meaning is behind it, but it's Persian or Jewish or both tradition to not cut the children's hair until they are three years old. As a result, I's hair is several inches long and always in his face. The other kids have incredibly curly hair, so they have been spared this annoyance. But poor baby.

We used to clip it back but with severe teething has come the desire to chew on everything. Namely, hair clips.

So T's mom told me repeatedly how bad this was.

She first asked why his hair was down. I told her. She then asked what different kinds of clips we had tried. I told her. She played with the kids. Then she suggested a clip that I have already tried.

She even suggested I use elastics and just let him eat them.

How is that better than brushing his hair off his face?!?!

Or, HERE'S an idea...CUT HIS HAIR!

What?

This morning no one knew if R had camp today or not. She got dressed and ate breakfast and we all waited around the kitchen to see if her bus was coming. The boys fought breakfast tooth and nail and so while we waited, most of the attention was off of R.

She must have felt the abandonment because she moved to the center of the room to say,

"Where is the f***ing bus?"

I was busy trying to forcefeed the baby who, at that point, no one knew what was wrong with. I stifled a laugh and saw T doing the same. E looked ANGRY.

T is the potty mouth in this house, so there was no question where she had acquired her new sparkling vocabulary.

She repeated herself and we continued to ignore her. It ended there.

And thankfully, her bus showed up, because I honestly don't think I would have made it through this day had she been home.

I did nine loads of weekend laundry. Nine.

Baby I's hiney butt has turned bright pink again. It's raw and he wouldn't sit down for two hours this morning after breakfast.

J came home with twin ear infections and a green runny nose. But we still sent him to camp.

This afternoon T put the baby down for his nap and then she fell asleep and then I fell asleep.

T woke up in time to pick J up early and whisk him off to a doctor's appointment. I got the baby after his nap and while I was feeding him lunch he graced me with the revelation of some new tricks.

He sang his ABCs. Not clearly, but completely in tune with a nice tempo and most of the letter sounds were correct. A little while later he also told me no, very clearly and with a head shake to accompany it.

I finished my oodles of laundry late in the afternoon.

And then I took another nap while the baby poked me in the face with his drooly fingers.

T made dinner while R and I did Shrinky Dinks. Well, I did most of it. R just asked me to make two necklaces and two bracelets and then disappeared.

So I made Shrinky Dinks. And it was lovely.

R sat down and ate every bite of her dinner without argument, because she wanted to show me what she would be like when she's five. While I was impressed, at one point I was feeding the baby and she reminded me that her effing bus was coming in the morning.

I had to ignore her again, but inside I was hysterical. We can only hope she's not using this same tactic to get attention at camp.

After dinner there was a joint effort to bathe three kids without getting one's ears wet. With everybody pj'ed we went into the playroom and relaxed for a bit. E and R were playing the keyboard and the baby was dancing and T and I were just sitting around enjoying ourselves when suddenly someone thought to check the clock.

"It's nine?!"

Relaxation over.

There was a mad dash to the kids' rooms and we stuffed them all into bed faster than ever before.

When it was finally quiet E returned to the kitchen, where I was having a drink. He shook his head and looked genuinely worried as he said,

"Tomorrow is going to be a problem."

Uh-greed.

I'll never trust a boy in green tights again.

I believe I touched on what Friday's trip was like.

Today was a million times worse.

T couldn't commit to telling me what time the family would get home today, so we agreed to talk this morning. She texted me around 9 to tell me they would be home around 2. This didn't leave me much time to work with. I had asked her to let me know REALLY early. I'm not positive about this, but I don't think 9 is all that early.

I got out of bed and went to book my bus ticket. I got the earliest bus I could make it to, whispered like a creep in Ashley's doorway until she woke up and we hit the road pretty quickly.

We stopped for breakfast and gas and met up with her mom, who would accompany us on our trip.

Ashley was driving me into Hartford, CT, since the distance to there was about the same as to Boston and my ticket cost half as much.

We arrived right on time and chatted before saying goodbyes.

I went over to the only waiting Peter Pan bus, which is who I had booked with. I've learned this weekend that Trailways, Greyhound and Peter Pan are all essentially the same line. I also learned to book reserved seating.

I reached the platform and on a bench sat a young black gentlemen and his father, who stared me down, leapt to his feet and went,

"Girl, are those your real eyes?"

Confusion was my first reaction, with hysterical laughter close behind. I bit back the laughter and simply said yes. The elder man told me that was amazing and introduced me to his son, who he promised would make an excellent husband. He left us to converse.

I decided to go inside the station and hunt for an ATM, which I needed to do anyway.

When I ran out of ways to kill time and finally went back outside, Joseph, as I learned my betrothed was named, waited on the bench.

He was not particularly bad looking, but he was not particularly nice looking either. He was hard to understand, mostly because he spoke quickly and I was trying to pretend I was deaf.

My biggest problem with Joseph was that his father had taken the initiative to force me into an unwanted engagement with a complete stranger at a bus station in Hartford.

Normally in that situation I would say something rude and walk away but today I was feeling exceptionally indifferent due to serious lack of sleep, so I let Joseph talk. He asked me the obligatory lame flirtation questions.

"Where are you from?"

"What's your sign?"

"Do you have any children?"

For the duration of our conversation I tried to call everyone in my contact list and left several voicemails. While I couldn't say, "Help! Call me back! I'm having an awkward conversation with a very forward man at a bus station!" I did leave a few messages I had been planning on leaving anyway, one of them included a quick hello to my mother. In my message I mentioned how I knew she was probably at church and then I signed off.

When I turned back to Joseph he said,

"I go to church. And I don't have no kids. No baby mama drama. You don't see that a lot anymore."

No. You don't. I nodded and smiled and answered him but only in my head. You know what else you don't see a lot of? Men assuming that we are in a relationship because I am standing a few feet away from them waiting for a bus to open its doors.

FINALLY a boarding call came for the express to New York. Still, the Peter Pan's doors did not open. I missed some of Joseph's qualifications because I was genuinely distracted. It was after my departure time, the bus was still quiet and down the platform an arriving Greyhound was idling after a pile of New Yorkers had spilled out of it.

Another wave of New Yorkers materialized on the platform and rushed the bus.

I heard the PA system again.

"If you do not make it onto this New York bound bus there will be another one in one hour."

Oh no. I had reserved seating. It had been accidental on the way here, but I suspected that the New Yorkers would be fifty times as eager to get home as they had been to leave their city. I was booked on this bus and this bus alone.

I broke it off with Joseph quick like a Band-Aid and pushed my way as politely as possible through the crowd. I got to the front of the line as the driver was proclaiming he had no more empty seats. Another girl made it right behind me and we both waved our special reserved seating tickets.

The driver looked like he was going to cry.

He was a white-haired man who looked very nervous. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that today was his first day.

He had to go onto the bus and remove some patrons to make room for the two snobby reserved-seaters who had paid seven extra dollars to guarantee we didn't have to wait for the next bus.

I got into my seat near the front of the bus and realized I shouldn't have had that last coffee with breakfast.

My bladder was full and we were nearly an hour late leaving the station. I was trapped in a window seat so close the front of the bus that I could watch as the driver nearly rear-ended five cars in the course of the trip.

I had no desire to walk to the back of the bus to use the tiny little bathroom while en route. I don't know if you've ever tried to use one of those things, but it's a lot like trying to balance on one foot in a moonbounce. Only messier.

I decided to hold it.

I talked on the phone as quietly as possible. Then I slept. And slept. And slept.

Between naps I checked the time.

As the time of our planned arrival came and went I wondered what T was up to. I texted her and got no reply. If they had left and headed home on time, I had no idea. All I knew was that I was not going to be there.

Another hour passed. We still weren't there.

I reconsidered my stubborn refusal to use bus bathrooms.

My bladder physially ached. The heavy bags I held on my lap made everything that much worse. They were adding extra pressure, but in order to reach the restroom I would have to wake the lady beside me, rearrange my packages and go ALL THE WAY to the back of the bus.

We couldn't be that far from New York, I reasoned.

I stayed seated.

Our two hour trip ended three and half hours after it began. It had taken me just as long to travel the other direction on Friday, with dozens of stops and a transfer.

I'm almost positive those seated in the very front seats had whiplash, or at the very least, anxiety attacks from the number of times we had nearly been in accidents.

I gathered my bags and sprinted carefully off the bus, trying hard not to soil my skirt. I walked through Port Authority searching desperately for a bathroom. I wasn't at all sure I was going to make it.

When I saw that familiar little stick figure on a sign I almost peed with joy.

I reached the door way and stood in line, trying hard not to think about tapping the fifteen ladies ahead of me on the shoulder and explaining to them why they should let me cut them. I bounced and danced and swayed while I waited. It was my only hope.

Once I was able to breathe again I made the trip from Port Authority to Penn Station to catch my train. I had missed the first and second trains that I should have been able to make with the bus schedule I had purchased in the morning.

But there was nothing to be done about it now.

I bought a ticket and a slice of pizza and burnt every corner of my mouth.

I boarded my train, got off at my station, got a cab and went home.

I started the seven loads of laundry that we all brought home with us and said hi to everyone. I cleaned up the kitchen that they had already messed up and then snuck down to my room.

There's a poem that sums up my weekend. Some of you might know it, some not. For those who do, you might notice that I have tweaked it a bit. Just a bit.

Trot, trot to the Boston area
to see Ashley and buy two new tops, two pairs of shoes, sunglasses and a wrap.
Home, home, home again
and thankfully single
after six hours of unnecessary travel
the old horse will never use Trailways or any of its affiliates again.

It doesn't rhyme like the original, but I think it's pretty good.

Snobby Saturday: Loose in Massachusetts.

There was homemade American African food.

And shopping, much shopping.

Swimming and party food and more TRANSFORMERS.

I'm so tired I can't think to elaborate, but being a snob on vacay has so many perks.

Some pics to come.

Tomorrow I go home, and nannying will resume.

Thanks for reading!

Delays.

Being a snobby nanny is all about waiting for rich people to feel like doing things.

I messed up my own travel plans several ways. Most especially when I told E and T that I didn't need to leave until noon today. False.

I needed to leave around 7am to catch the actual bus that I wanted to catch.

Since that wasn't going to happen after my blunder, I settled for next best. A bus leaving NY at 1:15pm. This meant that I needed to leave the house in time to catch the 11:20 train.

E's sister had agreed to pick up little Willie at ten this morning.

I could hardly sleep last night in my nervousness about today.

I finally drifted off somewhere around 3 am and I was up at 8 to put the garbage out, pack Willie's overnight bag and make sure everything in the house was off.

At ten on the nose I started watching the door.

The landscapers showed up. I had watered the garden that morning and the automatic sprinklers in the yard had just barely finished their job, but the landscapers were not to be thrown off schedule. They unloaded lawn mowers and hedge clippers and went to work.

Still no sister.

At ten after I called E's mother, since I was not given the sister's number.

She was very friendly when she reminded me to turn off everything in the house and lock the doors. She also suggested that I empty the fridge of anything that can go bad and advised that I not leave any food out.

Brilliant.

I asked where the sister was and she said, "Oh, Yeah. What time do you need to her to come?"

Hadn't this all been settled the night before?

"TEN!" I said.

Ok, no I didn't.

With my biggest phone smile I told her that my train was leaving soon (there is a 10:20 I wanted to catch -- I'm telling you I was nervous!) and that I thought she would have been there already.

She said she'd send her and then asked me Willie's schedule.

Oi.

I explained that he likes to watch Good Morning America before he breakfasts and that he's used to having his bath in the evenings while the sun is still warm. HE'S A DOG! He pees in the yard and he eats from a bowl. What schedule?!

I answered politely because I knew that being annoyed wouldn't get me anywhere.

Ten minutes later her daughter showed up for Willie.

She reminded me to turn everything off and set the alarm. She suggested that I should have cleaned out the fridge. She asked me what Willie's schedule was. She even wrote it down when I told her he just needs to be let out three or four times a day.

Her redeeming factor was her consideration of me when she offered to drive me to the train so I wouldn't have to call a cab.

She was actually very nice.

I waited for my train and then ran all over the city looking for my bus. It was late departing from the station, and to my surprise all the connecting buses were asked to wait for us.

I reached my connection with no problems and then my bus waited for another late incoming bus. I was traveling with Peter Pan/Trailways for anyone wondering. We made good time in spite of all our late departures. And isn't it nice to know that when they are late they won't just leave you stranded wherever they ditch you?

I thought so too.

The only problem I have with this bus is that there are no outlets (there were on the first one) and my battery is low, so I suppose I'm done for today.

And tonight,

TRANSFORMERS.

PARTY THURSDAY!

Actually, as they left, E jokingly (and seriously) said, "Don't have any wild parties while we're gone."

But I don't plan to.

I've only ever partied behind someone's back once and it was my mom's house, the year I quit college. I was doing a lot of intelligent things that year.

And after an all night beer fest a friend of a friend passed out and threw up on my mom's couch cover. I had to clean the entire house and we had to call someone to physically remove our unconscious acquaintance.

I know I'm probably sharing too much, but I'm trying to make it clear how not interested in partying I am.

It took everything I had to not snap at the kids this morning. They were so excited to go and of course, they were ready two hours before their parents. To avoid a major blowout on either of our parts, I started cleaning.

I stacked all the things T and I had packed in the dining room for E to load up, and while he pittered around, not packing the car, I started on the list of things I want done today. When we all get home on Sunday, I want this place spotless.

E brought in some old junk from the car and put it all over my kitchen. I had to pause cleaning to find places for all of it and while I was doing that a spider ran out from something he'd brought in and disappeared into the kitchen. Initially, I was pretty sure the spider was hiding behind the Foreman grill but after tearing apart everything on that side of the kitchen, Spidey was discovered running across the ceiling.

I shrieked a little.

And then I killed him with my magic spray.

They got out the door at 10.

I cleaned the kitchen and did laundry and cleaned the rest of the house. All at the same time.

And I succeeded in causing myself to have an allergic reaction to...well everything. I go into cleaning with full knowledge of my low tolerance for bleach and bleach containing cleaners, yet still, when given free rein and when standing before a closet full of both all natural and chemically based cleaning products, I grab the most potent allergens and nearly kill myself.

The good news is, the germs and bugs are all dead. And I am still alive.

It wouldn't be so bad if I would actually wear gloves while working, but that always comes as an afterthought.

As I dumped the mop bucket off the side porch I finally figured out where T is throwing her secret cigerette butts. I've smelled the smoke on her ever-so-faintly a few times and I have twice come across her pack in her room or bag. I know she doesn't smoke regularly but I also knew she was smoking somewhere and I could not figure out how she was doing it.

There is a porch off her bedroom which I've suspected of being the smoking lounge, but there's no ashtray there.

But the downstairs porch is directly underneath the upstairs porch. And when I dumped the bucket, I spotted all the butts in the bushes. And laughed.

I'm not judging her; goodness knows I've done my share of stinky cigarette smoking (I might be revealing too much about myself in this particular entry) but I just think it's funny.

Also, I'm not picking those up. Ever.

That's all her.

My afternoon was all about fun, fun, fu-un with my new favorite conversationalist. Taryn and I went to the pool and had to convince the gentleman in charge that I do, in fact, live here and that she would swear to it in a court of law.

We went out to eat (Chipotle!) and did anything but rush through coffees at my favoritest little coffee house. We stayed out until 9:30, when we were both yawning, despite the caffiene intake.

How's that for wild?

But of course, once home and alone, all the sleepiness left me. It's kind of a good thing, considering my to-do list for tonight.

I wasted quite a bit of time browsing bus tickets for tomorrow and finally purchased one that I am just PRAYING I can actually make it to. All of this depends on what I accomplish tonight, for example, packing my bag and going to bed. And even if I get done all that I need to, there's tomorrow's to-do list.

I need to set the alarm when I leave without setting it off. And I need to be out of here in time to catch a train to the city.

Here's hoping Willie's weekend caregiver picks him up on time...

The happiest day.

Tomorrow my family leaves for three days away and I will be making plans to head to Boston.

Today I packed the kids' bags and then hung out with R while T packed. I baked by request this afternoon.

And during my down time I hung out with R and discovered that Jewish preschool doesn't include letter recognition or even the very beginning stages of phonics. The child could recognize R because it's for her name, but couldn't even tell me what sound it makes.

Sigh.

This evening I fried flounder fillets and gagged the whole time. I fed it to the kids and promptly bathed them to get the stench out. I'm still working on the odor in the kitchen.

While I was eating my wonderful smelling vegetarian dinner, J resumed beating his sister with random objects. After I started confiscating them he got more and more upset. Over the wails, I asked him if he was tired. He nodded. I asked him if he wanted to go to bed. He nodded. I sent him up and finished my dinner.

I found him ten minutes later, asleep on the floor at the foot of his parents' bed.

It was so cute. Also, sad.

Now, I hate to cut this short, but I still don't have bus tickets for my weekend of freedom!

Bored and itchy.

Oof.

It's so late again.

Today was pretty uneventful.

The baby is talking more and more. And now he only eats for me as well.

I'm so special.

I made two batches of granola today and I cleaned all the hardwood in this house. And I have to say, that I hate hardwood floors. I don't know why people like it. I don't mind cleaning it, but every time I do I can't help but think, how is this easier than carpet? It's not. You can't convince me that it is, because I don't believe you.

The granola is for the trip that is planned for Thursay. SNOBBY NANNY VACAY!!!!!!

The family is leaving as early as possible on Thursday morning and I am, Lordwilling, heading to Boston for the weekend.

I hung out with R a while this afternoon and took her and the baby to the pool.

We found all the regular people who live in the community. I guess the ones who have jobs don't get down there until after 5, so today we got to meet some white people and a Muslim family. Even the late afternoon lifeguards are more relaxed.

The kids interacted with each other, not like the early crews that ignore each other completely.

And tonight I am just too tired to convey any other thoughts I might have had today.

I need to change out of my bathing suit, which I have gotten into the habit of wearing for the rest of the day after the pool, and as a result my chlorine/bleach allergy is slowly returning...

It's been safe for me to swim in the pool for a few years now, but I have a feeling my taking advantage of it is going to ruin it for me. I better run!

Persians unleashed.

Tonight T's parents had a 4th of July barbecue.

I wasn't aware until ten minutes before it was time to leave that I was invited.

T's sister was there with her horrible husband and her three naughty children and her nanny, K. I met K the night I arrived here and haven't seen her since. She's in her thirties and has been nannying for ten years. She's been with T's sister's family for almost a year now.

Honestly, I don't know how she puts up with them.

T's sister drives me bonkers. I am SO grateful that I worked for the sister I do.

When we arrived there were old Persian men playing Backgammon in the corner and Persian old men holding a window fan over the grill in the backyard and Persian women sitting around making Persian food.

The only kids around were mine and K's charges so we took the lot of them to the pathetic swing set surrounded in poison oak and talked for a while.

More people began to arrive and a few more kids came with them.

I crossed paths with T in the kitchen, trying to avoid the old ladies seated in a circle in the formal living room. She was rolling her eyes and when I laughed she said,

"I hate these things. They're so boring. I'm ready to go home."

I love her.

The bitties took Baby I for a while and I wandered around checking on my kids and nibbling on dried fruit, which is always an appetizer at that house.

There was a water table for the kids to play with which Baby I really loved but a few of the bitties and E were FREAKING out about the kids being wet on this 90 degree day and someone dumped out the water.

But not before Baby I drenched himself and won the freedom of running around in a diaper for a few hours.

T's sister's husband went into a mood and came into the play room to take over the TV. He has the most miserable looking face I have ever seen, but I didn't hear any arguing this time around.

After dinner, dessert was put out on the formal dining room table and people nibbled and the kids ran around. The kids had been made to come inside when the mosquitoes came out, but the old men were still at Backgammon and now there was a group of young Persian men sitting around the garden swing speaking Farsi and drinking beers.

T's sister bathed her kids and put them all in pjs before they headed out. I stopped into the bathroom to round my two who had followed her into the bathroom and she asked me if I had their pajamas. When I told her no, that T had packed their bag and that she didn't like bringing all that stuff she waved away my words and said,

"Just pack it. Every time you go out, just bring it and do it."

Does she know that I don't work for her?

I guess not.

When it was FINALLY time to leave we piled into the car and T told E to back straight down the driveway. He got stuck on the curb. He pulled up and tried again, all while she kept going,

"Straight! Straight, you need to go straight!"

They then engaged in a light-hearted argument about whether or not the driveway was straight. He lined the car up with the curb and alligned the steering wheel and hit the curb. He did it again and again until his mother, who had pulled out just before us, rolled down her window and called something to him. He ignored her and kept explaining in the calmest and most condescending voice ever, how he was right and T just laughed and laughed and insisted that he was still wrong. He needed to go straight and he wasn't.

E eventually gave up trying to prove his point and got onto the road. As we drove up the street E asked me if I could believe what had just happened and I got to use my favorite line ever.

"If a man says something and there's no one around to hear him, is he still wrong?"

To which T replied,

"YES!"

Gross.

It's early yet, but that's what today has been.

Gross.

Incredibly so.

J's nose is running something fierce and it's green and he licks it as toddlers so often do...my gag reflex has been tried several times this morning.

Someone gave the baby their empty squeeze yogurt and when I caught him, it was upside down and dripping all over the floor, mixing with his drool. Of course Willie the dog was trailing him and licking it all up and that made Baby I laugh so he started doing it on purpose and hitting the dog and then the dog would lick the yogurt and then lick the baby and it just got stickier from there.

The leftover mess in the kitchen from last night had something unbelievable OILY in it and after loading the dishwasher and scrubbing a few pans I still had no idea what it was they cooked and fed the kids last night. I know it probably raised each child's cholesteral a few points and that it took quite a few squirts of Palmolive to get it off the frying pan.

When I finally had that mess cleaned up T came down the stairs with her bedsheets in tow. It seems that R went into their room early this morning and had an accident which the family then continued to sleep in until about nine o'clock.

It took forever, but they finally got out the door to go to the pool and leave me happily alone with the sleeping baby.

The kitchen floor needed some attention, desperately.

The kids' play date yesterday had been rough on it and I haven't done anything to help it all weekend. I mopped and scrubbed away a few stains and then sat down in the play room to relax a bit.

The musical sounds of dog dry heaving interrupted my peace.

I almost yelled for him to get outside, but then he'd have to pass through my clean kitchen and I haven't yet mopped the playroom, so I'd rather he stay put. I stifled my reaction and waited.

He puked.

Yellow.

And chicken bones.

When it was over I thought for sure that I was going to be a copycat puker but after a few deep breaths in another room I recovered. I cleaned up the play room using half a roll of papertowels, plastic bags and my magical Green Works spray. Those people should be paying me for my support of their product.

And when I looked up at Willie after I finished with the floor he still had strings of drool and nastiness all over his face. I wiped him with a wad of papertowels bigger than the one I had used on the floor.

I AM NOT A DOG PERSON.

I let Willie out the side door, where a dead bird is waiting on the porch for E to bury it. I was just lucky enough to be the one to let the dog out this morning and discover the dead bird.

I told E and later T saw it as well.

Over lunch E said, "So are we drawing straws to see who's going to take care of the dead bird?"

His response was a few dirty looks from both T and me.

We will stop using the side porch before we handle the dead bird problem. Green snot, dog barf, baby diarhea, potting training J who likes to pee on the floor, scummy kitchen sinks and under-the-welcome-mat mildew are where I draw the line.

If they want me to clean up dead bird, I'm going to need a serious raise.

And some Tums.

Speak like you mean it.

I accidentally told R she could come find me this morning to make French toast.

She was in her parents' room at 6am announcing that I had given her express permission to wake me up. They held her off until 7:30 when she arrived in my quarters (pronounced kwah-turs here) to remind me of my promise.

I was able to hold her off until 7:45 when she climbed onto my back.

We made our French toast and while we did, we watched the rain that ruined any plans we had for going to the pool. We also watched the bright red cardinal who lives in the back yard. I'm not much for bird watching, but he is BRIGHT and he's been around for a few days now. I plan to stalk him a little bit with my Nikon.

In other news, I fixed my bracelet, the one my sister made me that spontaneously combusted while I was walking into town last week. I'm happy to have it back because my pool time and my long walks with the baby have already left me tan lines and my pasty white wrist was beginning to freak me out.

I snuck away this afternoon. I missed church because of E and T's late night that didn't get them home until 2am. And then, because there was no evening worship tonight, I accepted an invitation to Taryn's house for a barbecue.

And my goodness, I'm glad I did. For several reasons.

As I was preparing to leave, some friends of the kids' showed up for a play date with their unbelievably creepy father. After the third time that he smiled at me I started hiding in the dining room instead of watching the kids play. When Taryn showed up I all but ran out of the house with a yell about being back later, probably around 8 or 9.

I got back at 11.

I haven't laughed that hard since I moved.

I was introduced to all the siblings, most, if not all, of whom I'd met at church already. And friends were coming and going throughout the evening as well, most importantly, Emily, a friend of Taryn's who completed our trio and helped our laughter exceed an acceptable decible level.

There was good food, good wine, good conversation...all the things that make a night out perfect.

I honestly forgot about E and T and the fact that I live in NY and just enjoyed myself for a while.

When I did think of it, I texted T to make sure they didn't care that it was after 9 and I still wasn't on my way home. They didn't, although E was a little jealous when I left that I was running away from the house full of five kids while he was trapped inside it.

But he had a beer and a creepy friend to keep him company, so I don't feel too bad.

I slipped back into the house and retired to my bug-free-for-now room.

My perimeter is working. Last night I squashed a silverfish on the other side of the barrier. Even though he was outside my boundaries, he made his presence known and so he had to die. He's still there, between the rug and the wall, serving as a warning to other silverfish and as a snack for any spiders that might still be creeping around.

But I've spoken this warning aloud for all the bugs and critters to hear: I take no prisoners and I don't have patience for creatures that don't contribute to the household. Now, Spidey in the bathroom died an accidental death when I got a little crazy with the vacuum.

But the others, those weren't accidents.

And they weren't isolated incidents either.

I have Green Works surface cleaning spray and I'm not afraid to use it.

Let's go brush our hands and wash our teeth.

I can still hear little feet running around upstairs, even though after their bedtime routine, I specifically said to stay in bed.

Today, this glorious one-month marker day, I was living the nanny life.

While the family ran in and out of the house all day, I played online, rearranged some China in order to fit more China in the cabinet, played online, and did I mention that I was playing online?

I am looking for a new banana nut muffin recipe, preferably one with less sugar and more healthy nutty goodness. Any suggestions would be wonderful. I am also looking for a sealant for the stupid grout that we have figured out is what is making all of our feet jet black every day.

I have been mopping the floor two or three times a week and Swiffering EVERY day and still, after fifteen minutes without shoes, my feet turn black. My socks turn black. I wore my socks around the house in Africa and didn't have this many stains. It's unbelievable.

And it's the grout, which after some research about houses and tile floors in the era this house was built, we discovered may not have even been black originally. Chances are it was white, and now it is black. And so is everything it touches.

And so my floor will be sealed in the near future. And my new dishwasher is coming. And I am loving making the call on all these things and not having to pay for it.

Although, the other day we were discussing the garden hose that needs repairing or tweaking or replacing and T was insisting that we needed to do these things and E looked from her to me to her and said, "Alright, we can do that but then Kim isn't getting paid that week." So she backed down.

They are a funny pair.

I took the baby, who has yet another tooth breaking gums this week, to the pool and he yelled at me the whole time. He was moody and I was cold, so it lasted all of twenty minutes before I gave up and got us home.

I spent the evening feeding children and ripping CDs to my iTunes account. Having a computer is really growing on me, and of course, as it gets more and more comfortable, I am having more and more problems with the computer.

I let the kids play games on it from time to time, which has ended quite abruptly, because after the last time they played, it took me three tries to get it restarted. I don't know what they did or pressed to anger my poor baby, but that was the end of PBSkids.org, which is a wonderful place for kids to play. I'll shamelessly plug it, I don't care.

Also, www.wegivebooks.org. Everyone read! That site donates books for each book you read. I don't know if I've plugged them before, but I really love it and so do the kids.

That one is still allowed, because they don't touch anything and my computer should be relatively safe.

I say relatively, because I am not much nicer to it than the kids. Last night whilst typing the comma button popped off.

I got it back on with some coaxing and petting and promises to be more gentle. But I'm scared.

It sounds like the horseplay above me has faded out, which means it's time for Nanny Kim to go put the sleeping kids back into their beds for the night.

And for the record, none of them call me Nanny Kim. Everyone calls me Kimmy except R, who insists that my name is Kim. She also got a Couture bag which she calls her "weekend" bag and she carries it around the house on her arm looking much like her mother. She is more sophisticated than the rest of us and so I can't blame her for not stooping to our level and calling me something so silly as "Kimmy."

And of course the baby, who calls me Mama and this morning when he was crying and both T and I went to see him, stood before us looking from one to the other like a lost dog seeking his true owner.

It took him a good 30 seconds to makes his decision, but he made the right decision in the end.

He went to his mother.

I almost forgot to post tonight!

...because technically I came downstairs to go to bed somewhere around 7:30. I got sleep last night! Good sleep, and lots of it.

But you know what they say about sleep. The more you get, the more you want.

So after an incredibly nice day, around 7 all I could think about was going to bed.

I did my usual today, including a long, extended lunch break during which I watched Uptown Girls, one of the cutest movies in the entire world. Also, that's kind of the nanny job I'm looking for at some point in my life.

Tomorrow marks one month that I have been here and so here are a few highlights for you all and a few things about myself that have really been brought to my attention since the start of this job.

~All three kids have started giving me random kisses throughout the day. I honestly never thought these kids would grow on me, but they really have. The beginning of this job was rocky, but I must say, I love these little brats.

~There are a few really good-looking lifeguards at the pool. Before the summer ends, I intend to get free dinner out of one of them.

~I really like running an entire household. I love being the one who decides where everything goes and what gets done and when. I absolutely LOVE my kitchen, in spite of the ants (whose numbers are dwindling!!!!) and mostly, I love feeling so at home here. And I do.

~One of the high points of my days is when I wrap up the vacuum cleaner cord and I know exactly how many loops it's going to make and can pinpoint the spot where it will clip on. Something about the consistency just pleases me to no end.

~I really, really hate wire hangers (much like Mommy Dearest) and the closests here are absolutely brimming with them. Today I came across pink ones. I didn't even know that much thought went into the junky things.

~I encountered another snobby nanny in the neighborhood and must now befriend her. She was at the park with her little ones and we kept eyeing each other from across the playground equipment. I can't wait until we have playdates!

~I love watering the garden.

~The baby will sing on demand. When I arrived a month ago he would neither talk or sing. Today he echoed me in "The Wheels on the Bus" and "The Frog Song." He also repeats everything I say and in one week has developed an attention span for sitting and reading books. He'll be writing in no time.

~I am running this house as efficiently as I've ever done any job and like always, in spite of all the cleaning and organization I can do for everyone else, my room looks like three tornadoes hit it right after a clothing store exploded. The only difference is that this room is now inside a three foot perimeter of all-natural and insanely odorless yet powerful bug spray.

I have thoughts throughout the day of things I definitely want to remember to share here, and then when I get here, I have no thoughts at all. But I do want to say that life as New York nanny is going well. In some ways it's exactly as I expected and in others it's new and surprising, but overall, I like it.

I've been reading some blogs from other nannies and from other families that have hired nannies, and after browsing several horror stories, I am pleased to know that I am not one of them.

Tonight, after swimming with the boys and feeding the baby, as the family prepared for Shabbat dinner I asked T if she would be offended if I skipped dinner. She sweetly told me no, to go rest and they would save me food.

When I had napped for ten minutes and played on the internet for fifty, I went upstairs to help with clean up and visit with T's parents a bit. While we worked in the kitchen together T made sure I was just tired and that nothing was wrong. She's very open and considerate; I think that's what confuses me about her. It just doesn't make sense that a person in this neck of the woods is really as genuine as she is.

I assured her that my only problem was that her boys had completely worn me out and I needed 8-12 hours to recover.

They start now.