Today I went to work like any other day. After about 10 minutes of being there, I was blindsided by a combination of words which sent my thoughts swirling around in my head for the rest of the day. "we are thinking about daycare for Henry starting in September."
I have always loved children. I've been working in childcare since the day I graduated high school. There is something about their pure honesty, humor, curiosity and complete unbridled love for life that has captured my interest in working with them. I seem to be able to connect with children better than the vast majority of adults. Maybe I am just a 26 year old child who never grew into a normal adult. Who knows. If that's the case, I'm totally okay with it.
Leaving a family is never easy. I mean when the fuck is leaving anything easy? Unless it's a shit hell of a relationship or a person you truly can't wait to see get as far out of your life as physically possible (which I'm sure we can all say have had one of those divine experiences) for the most part goodbyes are never easy. Whether it be the families, coworkers and children I grew close to the three years I worked at the daycare, the 1 year old twins I spent a year and over 65 hours every week with, and was worried what would happen to them when I was gone and their alcoholic absent parents who knew nothing about their own children, suddenly had to take responsibility for them. Or the wonderful family I was blessed to be a part of, and got to watch an infant grow to be an amazing two year old little boy, and the funniest little girl I've ever met. It was freakin' refreshing to have a nice family like that after the hell I went through with the crazies before them. In any sense, leaving a family and their children is a lot harder than it seems.
Back in December I was working with dogs at a "doggie daycare" cluster fuck of spoiled dogs confined in ridiculously small spaces and realized I needed to stick to working with children. I had made one of those profiles on care.com hoping to GOD that a decent family would respond to one of the 7 million applications I had sent out. I had gotten a few replies and done some phone interviews, but didn't have that good gut feeling that I usually get about things that I know are right. I finally got a response from the "very busy 15 month old" ad that I had applied for. I thought "aren't all 15 month old children busy? How fucking busy could he really possibly be." They wanted to meet me. I was ecstatic. I had a good feeling about this one. Call it woman's intuition or whatever it is that I am very in tune with, but I just really felt right about this. I went and met them and of course was 80 hours late because that night decided to be the night of the worst traffic ever to exist. The moment I saw that little chubby face, the ridiculous bowl cut, and genuine little smile, I knew I needed to have this kid in my life. I also met his 4 year old brother who was quite the gem for a four year old boy. As they interviewed me I suddenly understood "busy 15 month old" and everything they meant by it. The kid was climbing every surface and slamming into everything physically possible but seemed completely unfazed by it. "Busy" was just a nice way of putting it. He was fucking reckless. And I loved it. Before our interview was finished another girl came in waiting to be interviewed. I then realized they were interested in other people. As I left they told me they would let me know by the end of the week when they were "done interviewing everyone" about their decision. So of course every day I'm sitting there thinking "what are they looking for? Maybe they want an older person who clearly has their shit a little more together and seems mature and actually responsible. Or maybe they're looking for someone younger who has the energy to keep up with their "busy" reckless child. the brother goes to school all day so it was just this one little wrecking ball I was applying for. The day I got the message that they wanted me as their new nanny I immediately quit dog hell and started the following day. And there he was. A little walking disaster. Henry.
When you first start getting to know a child, it's really like getting to know an adult. Only it takes much less time and effort because they don't lie and they're pretty much excited to make new friends. I had to get used to his routine, learn his mannerisms and how he communicates seeing as he can't talk yet, which isn't the worst thing. It didn't take long to start a bond with this little busy boy. He's got a great spirit and so much enthusiasm for everything. The parents were very trusting and left me a car seat and told me I could take him pretty much anywhere. That's a crazy amount of trust to just give some girl you know nothing about with your own child. So of course I wanted to be careful and not ruin their trust just like I wouldn't ruin anyone's trust because that's a big thing to me. So I took him to museums and stores and suddenly he became this little person who practically did everything with me. Whether it be visiting my friends for coffee and bagels or meeting my boyfriend for breakfast. He was always with me and everyone loved him, and he loved everyone. There are days where I truly want to stick my head in a vat of acid and chug a bottle of wine and possibly experiment with drugs while screaming "GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP." But most days consist of little soul touching things like the way he hugs me at random times out of pure genuine love, or grabbing my face pulling it in to his for a little cheek kiss, or the way he smiles and laughs out of genuine happiness to be spending his days having fun with me.
I guess it was when the mom had just mentioned the idea of bringing him to daycare that it really hit me. This kid spends at least 9 hours a day every day with me. This kid goes everywhere with me. I realized this little busy reckless being was more than a job. He was more than something to take care of to earn money. He had become a part of my life and I honestly can't even picture my days without him in the back seat of my car dancing to my absurdly loud music with a giant smile while on our way to our daily adventures.
Being a nanny is more than just a job. It is a collection of lives that end up intertwined with ours and we somehow have to eventually learn how to let them go. Just like that. And move on to the next one. But if you're a nanny, and any family has ever completely left your heart, then you are just not doing it right.
