That was a good party.

As little J, with his brand new hair cut, drifted off to sleep tonight he muttered those words to himself and then quietly recapped the day.

"That was a good party. I got my hair cut like Daddy's. I got some toys. I got some candy. My hair's not long anymore. It's short."

Turning three involves a hair cut and a little ceremony for Jewish boys. And he was SO GOOD. Everyone was afraid that he would be scared of the haircut since he is scared of getting his nose cleaned, he cries when you brush his teeth too long and he shies away from new experiences in general.

But he was excited for it and when he and his parents snuck up to the master bathroom with the haridresser after the ceremony, he was so quiet and sneaky and happy to go that no one knew where they had gone. Just as we had planned.

T ordered the pizza to arrive at exactly the moment that they ran upstairs to hide and cut his hair without the interference of all the hands-on grandparents. And at that very moment, the baby woke up from his early nap and I had to run around and do a hundred things AT THAT MOMENT, so I couldn't even stop to lie to the grandparents about where T was. Which was the goal. Not having to tell them or lie.

The party was wonderful. The kids had a great time. I looked adorable and several people told me so, including hot Dr. M. All the bitties love me and tell me how good I am with the kids and Mom E even redeemed herself.

Near the end of the party when only a handful of people were left we were sitting around in the living room trying to squeeze in a few more calories before we exploded and Mom E came, kissed me on both cheeks like family and gave me a present for being so good to the chidren. She thanked me for taking care of her babies and told me she hoped I always stay. HOW NICE IS THAT?

The sweat suit she gave me is truly awful, but her actions just reenforce what I already know about her and make her much easier to tolerate. She means good in all her nagging. She is not trying to annoy me. She is a very, very sweet woman and very caring. And even though she tries my patience, I need to think nicer thoughts about her.

When the party was over the three of us who live here started tackling the mess. My first goal was t get every scrap and remnant of food out of the basement so as to not attract any critters. When that was over, we tackled all the food and I started washing things while T got the kids ready for bed.

E came into the kitchen with half a bottle of champagne that was missing a cork. It had my name all over it.

So I tackled the champagne while I washed the crystal and the Tiffany platters and the china. I don't know if T was nervous about that, but I guess not very because she yelled, "drink one for me!" as she ran through the kitchen on their way out the door.

After all this, they had to go to a memorial service tonight. They stayed to help with clean up so long that they were an hour late for it and when they got home and the kitchen was clean and the champagne bottle was empty T started laughing at me.

"Are you drunk?!"

I don't think I am but I'm so tired, who can tell? I can still type pretty quickly and I didn't break any of the highly breakables so I think I'm in pretty good shape. Still, it's a long, hard trek from here to my room, to the shower and to bed.

Maybe I'll just sit here and sleep it all off.

Insomnia causes delusions.

Like thinking nonstop work all day long is a good idea.

Like being absolutely sure that eating five slices of bread for dinner is normal and not at all a betrayal of your nutrition plan.

Like saying the words, "I'll mop the basement tonight" out loud when everyone can hear you and really believing that you can.

My family just left for Shabbat dinner at F's house. F is E's sister and she's very sweet. She has a daughter who is a horrible, snotty teenager and a son who is a hot doctor.

F stopped by this morning after being called in by Ebby's mom, Mom E. T left the house this morning to shop for J's upcoming birthday party, a party 90 people large that is happening here on Sunday. The plans were in place right before T's visit to the ER, so naturally after all that, her family and in-laws took over cooking for the entire thing.

That left shopping for dry and paper goods and fixing up the basement, which we have been working on anyway.

As T left this morning Mom E showed up and I died a little inside.

Mom E was dropping off some baskets for the party, and of course she then had to say hello to the baby. And then of course she had to linger and ask what he ate for breakfast and if he had any fruit yet. And if I gave him milk. She was with him in the kitchen so I went about my business as if she weren't there, because I was trying to will her away as I still haven't forgiven her for DRIVING ME CRAZY.

I heard her talking to me from three rooms away and as I bit my tongue about that I went nearer to her and asked her to repeat herself.

"When you are here along with him and you do your work, what does he do? Who plays with him?"

"The %$#@!#$%! dog!"

Just kidding. That's not what I said.

I told her that he usually just plays in the play room or follows me and "heps" as he puts it. She didn't seem satisfied with that and told me I should only do my work while he's sleeping. Rather than explain that I can't mop the wood floor in his room while he's sleeping and that he only naps for less than an hour before the other two start getting home and that HE IS JUST FINE PLAYING ON HIS OWN FOR AN HOUR IN THE MORNINGS THANK YOU VERY MUCH I just smiled and told her I had a lot to do today in getting ready for this party, which is true.

I thought rather than split up my share of the work between today and tomorrow I would do as much as possible today so that I can nap tomorrow. Saturday naps are very important to me and since no one is cooking in this house, T and I are really looking forward to our pre-party down time.

I offered to stuff the goody bags along with some of my regular housework and some irregular housework created by the needs of the party. Those sorts of things include washing the crystal that the woman who lived and died in this house before us left behind, making sure the curtain that is hiding the cess pool trap is hung and figuring out why in tarnation the dehumidifier chose NOW to stop running properly.

I was quite busy.

But I've been in child care for half my life now and I have tackled way harder chores with several more children present. I thought this one baby whose routine I know like the back of my hand and who is quite capable and more than willing to entertain himself free of his oppressive older siblings for a short, precious while would be ok in my care while I did a few things.

But Mom E didn't think so, and she told me as much.

She then called F and asked her to come over since she herself had to run.

F never misses a chance to show up and visit the baby, as evidenced in her bedtime visit the night T was in the hospital.

But when she arrived she too had been bested by Mom E.

She had been told Mom E was there and that they were visiting. She had no intention of hanging out there all day to do half of my job while I did the other half of my job. She played for a bit, chatted with me while I tied goody bags, snuck a Kit-Kat and then thanked me for my time and left.

I finished everything I had intended today, except for the basement floors, which I offered to clean because I don't like how the cleaning lady does it (I'm getting territorial, I know, but she leaves whole sections unmopped!) and in a moment of excessive lack of sleep induced delirium I actually volunteered my night of freedom to mop down there.

The words were out before I knew what was happening.

In the course of the evening both T and I forgot that the baby needs to eat dinner (so maybe he's not ok in our care) and got lost in our party planning. We were setting up tables for food in the basement, dining room and living room and deciding how best to strategically place the scented candles that would mask the cess pool trap (this sounds a lot grosser than it really is -- they had it pumped Wednesday night and it's empty now) when it dawned on us that since the rest of the family was going to F's for Shabbat, the two of us staying home would probably get hungry.

I whipped up some soup and fed the baby while simultaneously reading Curious George Rides a Bike to J. I walked R through choosing an outfit for the evening without setting her off, a process which requires an hour of time, three glasses of water for the parched throat you get using your "calm voice" and expert level skills at dodging land mines, because that is how carefully you have to tiptoe around her potential tantrums. I have perfected the mixture of firm, order-giving tones and understanding, patient murmurs. She got dressed pretty quickly and I just pretended not to see the small hole in the back of her tights, as did T.

After they left I put the baby to bed and then thought, "If I go sit down and blog I am going to lose steam and I'll never get the basement mopped." And then that's exactly what I did. I sat down. I wrote this. And now I am so severely low on steam that I might not make it to the shower.

Wait.

I know what can fix this.

Chocolate.

Home sweet health.

T is home.

On Friday afternoon as we were getting ready for Shabbat dinner at her mother's house she was plagued but a headache, one of several in the last few weeks. By the time we got to her mother's house she was also nauseous and having terrible stomach pains.

Let me just tell you that in the presence of your Persian Jewish mother and your Persian Jewish mother-in-law is not the best place to get sick. T knows this, but I don't think she could have hidden it. As it was, she tried to play it down, simply resting in the den where I hide with the kids.

It didn't stop the sporadic fits of worry that struck the mothers, but we muscled through the evening and went home early.

Somewhere around 3 am T came to wake me to let me know she was going to the emergency room. I retrieved the baby monitor and went back to sleep. I think.

Somewhere around 4 am Baby I's diaper exploded in a fit of rage and drenched his entire crib in pee.

I cleaned him up, threw all the peed on pajamas into the peed on crib, wiped his entire body with baby wipes and set up camp with him on the playroom bed. He fell asleep rather quickly and snuggled right up in my arm and it was SO CUTE.

Somewhere around 6 am J came down to the playroom and I nearly shot and killed him. But I don't own a gun. I roared something about it being too early, turned on PBS and went back to sleep. R joined us a bit later and I tried to snooze through them babbling and climbing all over me. Baby I woke up shortly after her arrival and then even feigning sleep was over. All over.

I got up, made breakfast and set about entertaining the munchkins until further notice. First, T's mom called to see how T was feeling. I told her the couple was out. She seemed unhappy with my answer, but she let me go. She called back an hour later and asked what they were wearing when they went out. I stuttered a little bit and then thought of something truthful to say about the situation without giving away T's location.

"I don't know. They woke me up early to say they were leaving and I wasn't really paying attention to what they were wearing."

Still unhappy with me and my lack of knowledge, she hung up. I texted E to let him know I was having a hard time fending off T's mom, which could only mean that when his mom grilled me the beans would be spilt.

He called a few minutes later to say they would call the family. T had been admitted for tests which had all come back negative. No kidney, appendix or gallbladder problems. She was about to undergo an MRI.

I spent the day trying to talk the kids into going to the library but they were too happy to be home all day so we stayed put. I turned a diaper box into a house which they finger painted. We made soft pretzels which no one but the baby and I would eat. We were having a good old time when the mothers showed up.

Sometime in the afternoon they decided that if they weren't going to be allowed in the hospital they would just set up camp under my feet and drive me closer to the edge of sanity than I have ever been.

The curses dripping out of my mouth that day were unfathomable.

E's mom kept telling me to feed the baby more fruit even after insisted that he had had enough. The next day he had some fierce bowel movements. T's mom kept telling me to follow him around the house even after I explained that he is quite a large baby now and can move freely about without dying. I decided not to mention the fact that he can go up and down stairs alone, but just started repeating myself.

"He can play in the living room. It's ok. He knows what he can touch."

"It's dangerous!"

"No, no, he plays in there all the time. He's ok."

As I was making dinner they both came into the kitchen to tell me how dangerous the table was. In their defense, Baby I has run face first into the table's edge before, but it's been a while. In my defense, it's not their house, it's not their table, it's not their job to watch the kids, it's not going to kill the baby to figure out that he can't walk directly into the table anymore and it's not going to kill the other two kids to not run in the kitchen, which they are not allowed to do anyway and if it takes running smack into the table for them to figure out why, then I think that is a lesson they need to learn.

The two mothers turned the table and pushed it up against the wall, telling me how much better it was and insisting that I help them in their quest by telling E and T it was better this way.

I pretended to have fallen deaf and finished making dinner.

As the lasagna cooled down, E's mom verbalized something I hadn't realized she understood.

"If I stay, the children will not eat."

"Yes, they sit and eat much better when there's no one else here." I agreed, exchanging a look with T's mom to let her know I didn't mean her. For some odd reason the kids will listen to her, but not E's mom. When the latter is here they are monsters at the dinner table.

"I'll go then, I'll go." E's mom said, putting on her coat and proceeding to stand directly behind the kids at the table. I waited a moment and then looked right at her.

"They really do much better when no one is here."

"Yes, they sit and eat when I go." And she stood there. She said goodbye to the baby, which makes him cry, and then held him to make him stop and set him in his chair and did it again.

Instead of tearing my hair out, or hers as I would have really enjoyed at that moment, I took a deep breath.

"Ok, thanks for coming. I can't serve them until you go, so...bye."

She took the hint and hurried out of the room.

T's mom sat down and I served the kids and they ate. Every bite.

E stopped by that evening and I got the kids all ready for bed pretty easily with T's mom helping and whichever child I was not handling at the moment following E around.

And then, JUST as I was going into the baby's room with him in arm, tired and cranky, more of E's family showed up. These people are very nice and very, VERY sweet. BUT DO THEY EVER THINK????

His sister and her teenage daughter came upstairs and right into the baby's room and took him and kissed him and tried to get him to talk to them. And he was moody. He wanted to go to bed. He started crying and reaching for me and they still kept at it. Finally E came in, took the baby and said, "He's going to bed now." And they got the message and left the room.

UGH.

Sunday morning E called to say T was being released later that morning.

Around 11 she came home and then had to go for an acupuncture treatment to alleviate some pregnancy related digestion issues that were believed to be the cause of all her pain.

Sunday evening the mothers decided it was their job to cook a huge meal and invite everyone in the family for dinner at our house, you know, to help T relax and recover.

E barbecued and T's sister's kids trashed the playroom and the new basement playroom. T's dad cleaned up the dinner dishes and put most of the food away and I will love that man forever for doing so.

Monday was back to normal.

In the afternoons after school we have been working on getting the basement put together for J's birthday party coming up on Sunday.

My other ongoing project, is keeping the baby's newly developed love for a security blanket in check. He has several of those tiny soft square blankets with a stuffed animal head attached. They're all blue and they are all the same or similar material but there are two that he favors. He never used to care about them but suddenly in the last two weeks he wants them all the time.

I am all for a security object but I hate when kids get too attached, mainly because I don't want to be the poor soul standing in the library while the baby screams bloody murder for a stupid blanket that I left at home.

So I am trying to keep them in his bed and we give them to him only for sleeping. He calls them "da-das" while the rest of the family calls them "na-nas".

Because of the timing of his naps and when R returns from school she us usually the only one home when he wakes up. She likes to go up to his room when he's awake and get into his crib with him until I come for him.

On Monday afternoon I was listening to them on the monitor and when it sounded like he had had enough crib time I started up the stairs. As I reached the top I could see R facing I in the crib and pointing a serious finger at him.

"Drop. Your. Na-na." She ordered. He did.

Smoothest transition ever.

Well that'll screw them up.

Today the kids had no school for election day.

WHY DON'T WE DO THIS IN PENNSYLVANIA?!?!?!

I grew up getting off for the first day of deer hunting season, but not election day. How does that make sense? I guess a redneck is as a redneck does...

Since they had no school, T let them stay up last night. I'm not sure what the logic is behind this. Parents, you've all uttered the phrase, "Well they don't have to get up so..." Please, explain this to me.

I know they don't HAVE to get up, but we both know they will. And we also know that without a proper night's sleep they are going to be absolute monsters. Do you like to torture yourself? Do you value your child's teachers' sanity more than your own? Please, I just want to understand. I don't care if it's Friday or a holiday or a snow day or the summer. Your kids won't know there is a "stay up late" option if you don't plague the your household and the rest of the world with it.

Anyway, she let them stay up. And don't you judge her because you know you've done it too.

And this morning they were up at six.

And I wasn't.

So, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA T. Haha.

When I did get up around school time the house was already full of tantrums and whining and the dog hadn't been let out and if he could cross his legs he would have.

I let Willie out and promptly forgot about him, as T, who was supposed to be suffering all day at home with me, came down the stairs with bad news.

"I have bad news." She said. "I have to go in to work for training."

I don't ask a lot of questions about what she does or trains for. She's in real estate and that's as much as I care to know. But she had to go, so that was that.

I would have all three beasts -- I mean, kids. All day.

"Go somewhere. Go to the library." She told me sympathetically as she ran out the door to childless bliss.

Ok. I collected the emergency fund from the "draw" in the kitchen and called a cab.

The kids love riding in a cab and they have a special song that they sing to our drivers whenever we go out in one. Today they sang and our utterly personality-less cabby grunted from up front.

We got to the library a little before ten and spent as much time there as the kids could handle. There are computers the big two can play on and a Lego table so the baby can feel like he is destroying something without actually doing so. Of course, we read books and there's also a nice little yard in the back with giant animal statues the kids can climb on and a nice stone seat overlooking the creek that runs behind the building.

The baby took his nap in his stroller after throwing a tantrum about...something. I don't even try to find out anymore. I just put him to sleep. He's such a grump lately.

While he was asleep I went to sit on a couch just outside the play area and still well within the confines of the children's room. I was lost in the depths of Zimbabwe when I heard R calling to me. I cursed the gods of Murphy's Law (if you want to get a child's attention, sit down and look comfortable) and looked up. She was running over to me with a look of panic on her face.

When she reached me she looked as if she was unsure as to whether or not she should deliver her news. She likes a good opportunity to tattle but I think she realized that what she was about to tell me might change the course of the afternoon, nay, our very lives.

"J hit somebody!" She finally spilled the beans.

"Oh reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally?" I said in a voice only dogs could hear.

I'm not normally one to freak out about kids fighting other kids, but here in Great Neck where kids are all "children" and women can be a little uppity I tend to be a bit stricter with my minions. And J has been hitting nonstop for three days now. He had been thoroughly warned before we left the house this morning.

And usually punishment when we are out is getting strapped into the stroller for a timeout, but Baby I was sound asleep in the single stroller I brought along. Of course. Because I normally have a double with me but it doesn't fit in the cab.

I tried to find the precious child my runt had struck but the play area was jam packed with moms and nannies alike trying to fill up the day off from school. In the chaos of the zoo, R couldn't point him out. I took J back to my little couch haven and gave him his timeout there.

He didn't seem all that concerned.

Later, when we had gone outside and then run back in for a potty break and then gone back out and then gone back in again, we were cleaning up the part of the mess we were responsible for and getting ready to head back outside for good. R was right there helping me but I lost track of J for a moment or two and when he registered again on my radar he was having a yelling match with a little boy who had climbed onto a book shelf. The baboon child was standing halfway up a shelf and hurling insults back down at my little J.

Now, J is very sweet tempered and usually very patient. For instance, one day T was smothering him with love on the couch. When the same is done to R she screams, "GET OFF ME! YOU'RE KILLING ME!" But when done to J he simply said, "I love you Mommy, but you're squishing me."

His recent hitting habit is usually reserved for his little brother, who has been increasingly annoying lately. J rarely fights with R unless she starts it.

So I was curious as to how this boy-war had gotten started.

From up on the book shelf the demon child yelled again.

"Well, I'm stronger than you!"

"No, I'm stronger than you!" J said defiantly. He was several inches shorter than his opponent, had they been on even ground, and he probably weighed half as much. But he was angry and unintimidated.

I tried to distract him and get him to follow me, as we were leaving, but he had to finish what was started.

"I'm stronger and I'm bigger!" And then I grabbed him and hauled him out of the children's room before the little punkface hoodlum could retaliate, thereby giving my little punkface the last word.

They didn't sing on the ride home.

Once home, around 2pm, I started some spaghetti sauce for dinner and changed the baby's third poop of the day. A while later T called with exactly 40 minutes to spare before she had to leave for the city. She picked us up and we met up with her sister at a playground.

By the time we got home from there all three kids were EXHAUSTED, bratty and covered in sand. I threw them into the tub and explained how the rest of the night would go. There was going to be no more tantrums (Baby I), no more hitting (J!) and no more whining (R -- before my head explodes). Everyone was going to eat their dinners, all of it. Every bite. Without any problems. And then, they were all going to sit like angels and watch Finding Nemo. That was the deal.

R asked if we could modify it and eat in the playroom with the movie, which I normally object to, but I didn't expect them to last long enough to do one thing after the other, so to appease them and keep my head, I consented.

We set up dinner at the playroom table and I put on the movie, which they were already mostly through.

They started off golden.

Halfway through, J lost steam and I had to start feeding him. A little bit after that, the baby just started to be a jerk and I had to force feed him while he laughed spaghetti back into my face. He thinks he's SOOOOO funny.

J finally stopped eating altogether and I told him fine, but he wasn't getting another chance or dessert. He agreed and I cleaned up and everyone pretended to watch the movie for a few more minutes.

Then.

It started.

The baby crying about goodness knows what, R started a fight and J started doing every naughty and annoying thing he could think of, from hitting me with a giant plastic crayon to jumping all over the furniture.

They were tired.

I was tired.

I gave J his warning, one more naughty and he was going to bed. It was 6:15.

Ten seconds later he was jumping all over things again and I told him it was bedtime for him. R started in on one of her favorite ways to get in trouble: telling J to keep doing whatever it is he's getting in trouble for.

She's been doing it off and on since I got here, but the last few days it has been constant. She grins while whispering at him to keep being bad, keep spitting, keep ignoring Kimmy. I gave her a warning.

Five seconds later she did it again. I promised her bed as soon as J was asleep, and we both knew he would be asleep in minutes.

She stood in the playroom crying at the top of her lungs until I had J washed and brushed and in bed.

When she came upstairs we talked about how completely sick I was of her telling J to be bad. She apologized, promised to stop and ten minutes later she was asleep too. The baby was all that was left.

I gave him his milk and put him to bed.

And then I got to watch Jeopardy! for the first time in a very long time with no kids yelling all around me. It was glorious. And the kids were all asleep so early that they very well could get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow but you know what?

I'M OFF TOMORROW!

Snobby nanny is going to meet her sisters in the city!

GOOD LUCK AT HOME T!

GAAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhhh MY EYES!

Tonight was the last of the last of ice breakers in this house.

There were several wardrobe malfunctions on T’s part this summer and the flashing that resulted barely bothered me. Lady parts are something I’d rather not see, but they don’t shock or surprise. Especially those lady parts, used for nursing so often in public places these days.

I could handle that.

And one special afternoon T and I were both upstairs in different rooms having a conversation across the house while she was running around doing something and I was running around doing several things and I innocently went into the hallway and boom.

Headlights.

Again, not traumatizing. But still, not preferred.

As one of seven children I have to deal with my share of half-dressed sisters. I don’t particularly care when it’s my sisters, especially because they all possess the normal amounts of decency that keep people dressed to some extent when in company, but of course, there have been mishaps.

With my brothers.

Who also like to run around half-dressed.

And once. On Easter break. One morning. When I came down the stairs.

My brother.

In the kitchen.

Boxers.

Trying to gauge eyes out for several minutes.

I recovered from the Great Easter Catastrophe of Whatever Year That Was and also survived several roommate incidents, mostly with one roommate (who could very possibly be reading this) who really enjoyed her naked time, but also there were other occasions where I would walk in on someone or they would walk in on me. These things happen when you share small spaces.

And drink too much.

And I knew coming into this live-in nanny thing that boundaries were going to be redrawn. I just had no idea what that would mean.

It means having the kids run into the room yelling, “Daddy guzzied!” (which is Farsi for farted) and walking into T’s bedroom to find J’s slippers and coming across T passed out and snoring through an impromptu afternoon nap. And of course, actively participating in couple’s arguments and home renovation decisions.

But tonight was different.

Today, it took until 4 o’clock to get lunch fed to all the kids. Today, we slept in all except Baby I, who has developed a nasty cold. He was up several times in the night (so I heard, I don’t work overnight) and was up for good quite early this morning. He was watching “Doowah” otherwise known as Dora, around 6 while everyone else slept on and on.

After breakfast I went outside with the kiddies to play and T left to do something. E was still asleep. T came home to pick up I for a doctor’s appointment and I went with E to take the kids for a bike ride.

The afternoon was just as lazy as the morning. Baby I threw the mother of all tantrums and all three adults in the house tried to calm him down before finally he finally fell asleep for a nap and then the kids went to play whatever it is they play in their room that involves moving all their bedding onto the floor and stuffing stuffed animals up their shirts.

E and T went to Home Depot for some more things needed in the basement makeover and then with my blessing and encouragement they also went to lunch and ran some other errands. The kids were eating lunch and when their parents come home in the middle of a meal it all falls apart so I do everything in my power to have these things timed.

When they did come home we all did a lot more nothing. Since lunch was so late dinner was also late, and since no one had given one thought to what we should eat for dinner it was even later. So I used one of my favorite tricks and pureed some zucchini to layer under pizza sauce and made a pizza. I fed the older two kids while Baby I was upstairs with E and T.

They were getting ready to go out, I knew, but after the kids finished their meal they went upstairs and I cleaned up a bit before going to get the baby.

Now, let me draw a picture for you here.

The stairs are wood and they aren’t terrible noisy but they’re not very quiet either. There’s also not a lot on the floors or walls, so everything echoes. The upstairs is mostly open hallway, and the master bedroom is visible from the stairs and every part of the hallway. Normally, when my employers are changing, the door is closed. But they had all three kids with them (or so I thought--it turns out the other two were actually in their room) and the door was open. So I climbed the stairs with the usual noise of footsteps and as I reached the top I said,

“Can I take the baby for dinner?”

T was starting to answer me that I could, but my eyes were already burning out of my skull. E had been in the nude, crossing the room and of course, passing the door just as my poor, poor eyes looked in. He said something and then T started laughing and yelling sorry.

And the baby just sat there on the bed watching TV like no one else was there.

I told T I would manage ok and I laughed. I think.

And then of course I had to spend the rest of the evening trying to act like I’m fine and everything is normal and I’m totally cool with everyone being naked all the time.

Just kidding. They both apologized again and I think I really will be ok. The whole event is already becoming hazy. My mind has superior powers of defense and is very good at blurring details until everything looks like a cartoon dream.

So after the kids were asleep I went downstairs to my room, which I cleaned yesterday for the first time in several weeks. I was inspired by my new clothing rack, which is not the one I had picked out originally, but instead a long wardrobe rack like they use for costumes on movie sets. It’s beautiful.

I got a good eyeful of my clothes and then I felt much better.

So I came up here and wrote this and now I feel sick again.

Time to go gaze at my shoe collection.

Slow Snobby Wednesday.

Snobby Wednesdays are becoming increasingly quieter. Not for the first time, I am entertaining myself today but walking back and forth between the coffee shop (Esparks) and the Great Neck Library Station branch.

Where I would normally sit and half pay attention to a book all day, I can now play online on my teeny tiny adorable computer. Isn’t that wonderful?

This morning I slept in and didn’t set any alarms, which was also pretty wonderful. I got up and got dressed and then hated my outfit and got dressed again. And then changed my shoes and had to get dressed again to accommodate that. It was bliss.

Even more blissful, was connecting with my Brenny (SHOUT OUT) who moved EVEN FARTHER away from me recently and who apparently, also lives in a cellular-reception challenged hole. Only hers is on an island on the beach in the Carolinas and mine is, well, here.

So I got to talk her ear off and get an update about her family there before downing my soy hot chocolate and cyber-stalking a few people.

My original to-do list revolved around getting a much needed coat for the winter but a sudden burst of laziness overcame me and I didn’t make it that far. I was ALMOST on the train when I lost interest and returned to the library.

I left the house this morning, as usual, without all of the things I need to accomplish all my set tasks. No matter how many lists I make for myself I can’t seem to get my act together. I have lists of lists. And I still can’t function.

Last night, when I should have been getting things together for today and cleaning my room to match the rest of the spotless basement, I was gabbing with T in the kitchen. We started off talking about my day off today and somehow the conversation morphed into ten other things and then thirty minutes had passed by and we had both lost steam and everyone just went to watch TV and pass out instead of cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for today.

She had gone into J’s school yesterday to participate in something or other that the preschools make the parents participate in and one of the teachers approached her. It seems that the kiddies were discussing family and they were listing family members they loved and J informed the class that he also loved his Kimmy.

Naturally, the teachers were concerned that a child should love his nanny enough to list her as family.

When T heard she laughed politely and said, “Yes, we have a Kimmy. She lives with us and helps raise the children.”

Again, the teacher was astonished. Most NY nannies aren’t there to help raise the children, they are there to cook dinner and clean up after the children.

T explained that she had tried the conventional New York nanny-who-doesn’t-speak-English-and-is-terrified-of-the-boss-lady route. It didn’t take. And so here I am.

I must reiterate how nice it is to have found one of the most down-to-earth families in Great Neck. Especially considering I just found out that T’s sister’s nanny has learned how to cook all the Persian food and now cooks Shabbat dinners. I can promise you I am not going to be doing that any time soon.

Speaking of K, the other nanny, she is currently on Jenny Craig’s weight loss plan and she is losing weight exactly two sizes ahead of me so I am inheriting all her clothes as we go down the line. This is very exciting for me, because I both love new clothes and hate paying for them. I was prepared to own one pair of jeans for each size from now on but thanks to K, I will be able to change my pants from time to time this winter.

How exciting!

Also exciting, as most of my close friends know, I am not a licensed driver. Since my move away from Allentown and juvenile delinquency, I have actually become a non-driver to correlate my non-licensed status.

When I interviewed with T she was highly unconcerned about my inability to drive but as she now finds herself with child she is getting more and more excited about not having to take J to school in the morning and stay home with both babies instead. Since New Baby is not due until Spring, I technically have until then, but as PennDOT would have it, I am eligible once again for licensed driver status.

Coming soon, Snobby Nanny Drives A Mercedes.

I’ll keep you posted, but as of now, it is really time for me to get on the train.