I guess I'll quit next week.

I'm over my head in scholarship apps so that I can figure out a way to actually GO to this ridiculously expensive college next year. I had a meeting this morning with my old college guidance counselor (from high school) and I was supposed to bring along all my applications for her to sign/go over.

Yeah. I forgot them at home.

I live 30 minutes away from my old school, so I couldn't just run home and get them. I had to reschedule. Wheeee.

BUT, in reference to the first sentence of this post, she strongly recommended I get my employers to write me a rec. (Scholarship applications can be more complicated than college applications. No joke. It's kind of ridiculous.) Several of my apps require several recs, and according my counselor, "When people entrust you to take care of their kids, it means something about you. GETTHEMTOWRITEYOUAREC."

So today I'm going to ask them to write me a rec.


So this means I won't be quitting anytime soon. (Not that I was planning to, but in the worst of times, I always have that as a consolation--you know, like I'll say to myself, "I can give my two weeks' notice TOMORROW if I need to." It helps.)

An E. story and then I must run--I'm late for work!

E. and I were sitting in the waiting room while A. was in her regular Wednesday appointment. We were reading a book about what you do at various times of the day (What do you do in the morning? Eat breakfast! What do you do in the afternoon? Have playtime! etc.). On a few of the questions, E. would volunteer her own answers.

This was one of them.

Me: "What do you do at night before bed?"
E. (very loudly, and in a very crowded waiting room): "POOP!"
Me: "Oh..but what ELSE do you do before bed?"

Doesn't my job just sound riveting? :-)


Okay, guys, I have a question. And I need you ALL to answer it cause I need as much input as possible. Lurkers, delurk. Regular commenters, keep on commenting. I need to know.

How much time do you get off/take off for Christmas?

Mr. & Mrs. R. fully expected me to work Christmas Eve, take off Christmas day, and start work the day after. Is it unreasonable that I'm not happy with that? I suppose I'm spoiled because I'm fresh out of school, where we get 2.5-3 weeks off for Christmas, but still--one day seems a bit tight.

I don't know what to do.

P.S. I think I'm going private. If you want an invite, e-mail me with your e-mail address. I'll give anybody who e-mails me an invite. theonlinenanny@gmail.com

P.P.S. Per Monica H's request, here's another pic of my little Maxster. Check out how blonde his eyebrows are!


I'm ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ck!

(I know you all are thrilled!)

I had a great weekend. I was out in the country at D's lakehouse and even though it was cold and rainy (emphasis on COLD), we still had fun. We mostly stayed inside bundled up playing games (and boy, did we play a lot of games..and it was stinkin' horrible. I think I lost 75% of them, no matter what we played), but we did brave the cold & rain to fish once. I think we lasted maybe 5 minutes before we ran back inside.


I have class tomorrow (how fun!) but NO work! Mr. R. took the girls out of town for Thanksgiving and they don't get back til tomorrow night. Woohoo!

A few housekeeping-y things and then I'm signing off this post so I can go check all of y'alls blogs.

1) If I went private, would you guys still read? (I'm seriously considering it. I'd hate to close the blog off to the general public, but since my employers are a part of the general public, I hate how censored I have to be. Does that make sense?)

2) Monica H--he's 6 and a miniature wirehair daschund named Max. He's just a tiny little guy but too cute for words! We "rescued" him from a daschund rescue service 4 years ago. Can you believe such a sweet pup used to be abused???

3) I'm fiddling around with a new header for the blog. I like it! Hopefully I'll have it up in a few days.


Have a great day!



This is Max, my pupster, after licking the gravy bowl, the mashed potatoes bowl AND getting turkey scraps. Methinks he's happily about to pop, and then fall asleep.

ANYWAY, I wanted to let y'all know I'm headed out of town for a few days so I may not get back on until Monday. Have a great weekend!



An early HAPPY THANKSGIVING to all you wonderful readers! I've really enjoyed this whole blog thing and I love how I've bonded with total strangers in such an intimate way. This year I have so much to be thankful for, and you readers are definitely one of those things.

So. From this (frazzled but happy) Nanny, many many happy Thanksgivings and I wish you all a great turkey (or tofurkey) day!


Call me a sentimental fool, but I do so love Jane Austen books.

And I was more than thrilled to find this:

I am Elinor Dashwood!

Take the Quiz here!

Question: Is there anybody out there who could make a fun header thing for my blog? I'm trying to spice it up a little. (Though I suppose i could do it in all my spare time...)
E. and I in the car on Friday:

E.: "Nanny!"
Me: "Yes?"
E. (out of nowhere): "I GOT THE BOOGER OUT!"
Me: "Oh, wow...okay, please don't wipe it on my seats...here's a Klee.nex."
E.: "IT ALL STICKY! EW!" *wipes it on my seats*
Me: *bangs head on steering wheel repeatedly*
E.: "Nanny!"
Me: "Yes, E.?"
E.: "I bweeding!"
Me: (silently) Oh, crap.

I look back and there's blood gushing out of her nose. My hears skips a few beats--it's not everyday you look in the rearview mirror and see your 3-year-old nannygirl covered in blood. I think she just shoved her finger wayyyy to far up there and hit/irritated something. And that something is now all over my (freshly cleaned) seats.

I pull into a gas station and run to get some of those blue paper towel things that they put by the gas pumps. I soon realize that's not going to cut it, so I grab E. and go inside.

Me: "PLEASE can I have an ice pack and some more paper towels? My little one has a bad nosebleed!"
Little-English speaking older man: "You hit dat girl?"
Me: "What? NO! She was picking her nose!"
Man: "Peeking?"
Me: "No, PICKING. You know, like picking her nose?" (I jab my finger in the vague direction of my nose, hoping he'll get it. E., meanwhile, is sitting there looking pathetic in my arms, not crying, but with blood coming out of her nose STILL.)
Man: "Hold on, hold on, I call manager."

Thank goodness. The manager knows how to speak English. He retrieves several ice packs for E., gets us both glasses of water, and several rolls of paper towels. He also lets us sit in his back office until her nose has stopped bleeding, which was nice--the gawking customers in the gas station store were making things a bit awkward. As we're walking out, he lets E. pick out a piece of candy.

We're a little late picking up A. from school, but what else could we have done? Fortunately, she's in a great mood, and the girls chatter away happily as we make the long trek home.

That just leaves me and my blood-stained car.

When I got back there to clean it up, there wasn't as much blood as I thought there was. I was able to scrub most of it out with a damp towel.

Let's just hope I don't get pulled over anytime soon...the car still smells of blood. That wouldn't be suspicious AT ALL.


UPDATE: I deleted the last post. I was too worried about it, in case Mr. or Mrs. R. came across the blog. It was just too specific. If you haven't read it and are curious, you can e-mail me (address is to the left) and I'll explain what it said. I want to keep this blog open to the public to read, but unfortunately, my employers are part of the public...and I don't want them to read this. So I've deleted any specifics. Also, I want to make on thing clear: A. & E. are not the girls' initials, R. is not the beginning of their last name, their cat's name is not Bob, etc.--I've changed everything.

I'm SO sorry about that last post. I posted this morning before work, and I'm pretty sure Aunt Flo is on her way...soooo it made for a Very Disgruntled and Hormonal Nanny. I debated deleting it because I hate being a wet blanket and all, but I loved how Carole & Monica H. came to my defense in the comments section, so I'll keep it for now :-)

I have two things to share and then I'm off to bed. (Well, after I stay up for another 5 hours, blog-surfing...)

I overheard this remark on my way to class this morning from an attractive Latina woman: "GOD, my friend is the most Mexican EVER cause she speaks French, Spanish AND English!"

Can anyone explain??? I'm very confused. (Okay, I must confess--I decided to try writing "I'm very confused" in French, Spanish and English as a joke, but...things didn't work out so well. Fr.ee Trans.lations dot com wasn't any help with THAT little booger.)

And an E. story (I swear I never make these things up. Crazy things just come out of that kid's mouth. All I can do is run for paper to write it down before I forget).

So we were at the playground yesterday with a couple other kids E.'s age. We were all running around (me included. Hey--I love playgrounds!) and being crazy. All of a sudden E. just stops running, comes over to me with this tragic expression on her face, and holds her arms up to be picked up.

I pick her up and whisper, "E., what's wrong?"

She looks at me, sighs, and in a pathetically sad voice, says, "Nanny, I having too much fun."

Sometimes I just don't get that kid.


My goodness, you readers are comment-finicky. I never know what's going to get comments from you guys! Some posts...15 comments. Other posts...0 comments. What gives??? :-)

I've got a cute E. story from today and that's about it. I got off semi-early today, so I'm going to go read! What an amazing privilege! (For those of you wondering, I'm re-reading The Time Traveler's Wife for about the gazillionth time.)

So today E. and I were hanging out, reading books, and E. was in the bathtub (on special occasions, I'll let her have a long bath, and play with and read to her while she's in it). We were reading some Dr. Su.ess book. I can't remember which one.

(Preface to this story: as those of you who know me personally know, I'm a bit short. Well, really short. Like I get mistaken for a kid all the time. It's SO much fun when I'm somewhere with the kids and we get stopped and asked where our parents are. JUST so much fun. Then I have to pull out my driver's license, explain that i'm actually of (and over) legal age, etc.)


E. and I were reading Dr. Su.ess, and we were at a part that goes something like, "Ball, wall, TALL TALL TALL! Hall, mall, SMALL SMALL SMALL" and has accompanying pictures. On a whim, I ask E. which one she thinks she is, tall or small.

She considers the question, and responds, "I small but I GWOWING."

Then I ask her, "Which one am I, E.? Tall or small?"

Again, she thinks about it. I'm expecting her to say TALL, cause I'm figuring she's a short little 3-year-old, I'll seem tall to her.


Her response?

"You medium."

Heck, it beats small. I'll take it.


I. Am. Exhausted.

Not a great way to start off the new week, eh? But it was an amazing weekend, so I'll get through it somehow!

Friday night D. and I saw a play at my old high school. (Great job, Tru!) Unfortunately, I got sick in the middle of it...some weird stomach crampy no fun mess...so we left as soon as it was over and headed back to D.'s place. And I had to pee. SO BADLY.

We got to D.'s house and were locked out.

Locked out.

With NO spare key.

And I'm about to wet my pants.

We fly up to the nearest place we can think of to pee--Star.bucks--and OH my god sweet relief. We then head back to D.'s and spend 1.5 hours sitting on her front porch playing cards (I told you guys we're card fiends. I carry 2 decks in my purse at all times.) until someone came home to let us in.

Saturday we spent doing absolutely nothing and it was glorious. We watched TV and played games and had a great time. But come nighttime, we WORKED, man. D. has this enormous school project due Monday and I was helping her because I am a Goddess Divine. We worked until like 3 a.m. and fell, exhausted, into bed.

Today we spent working more (though I wasn't so much helping as...trying to not make it apparent that I was reading for pleasure and she was literally buried under mounds of paper) and tonight I babysat for a new family. J. is two and C. is three months--both boys. WHEW. They were WORK!

They were both ridiculously cute, though, so it made up for it. J. and I built block towers for two solid hours (he kept saying "Bid it a-deen, Nanny!" in such a cute way that I couldn't resist) and C. sat and watched us, ocasionally crying to be picked up, but that was about it.

Unnnnntil later.

I got J. to bed, but then Mr. C. decided he was NOT a happy camper. He screamed for 45 minutes straight until Mom and Dad got home. It was just colick, but boy, it was no fun! I'm used to crying babies but it just makes me so sad when nothing I do can make it better. We rocked, bounced on a bouncy ball, walked around, went for a stroll in the stroller, laid on a play mat, and I EVEN let him pull the dog's hair--but nothing was making this cutie happy! Even Mom and Dad didn't do the trick. Apparently he's like this every night. WOW--I have a newfound respect for those parents!

Anyway, I'm home now and about to head to bed. I have a HUGE exam tomorrow morning in class so I've gotta get some sleep!

P.S. I made it through not one, not two, but THREE diaper changes tonight without getting peed on! Woohoo!!!


Well, I totally jinxed myself with yesterday's post...both girls were quite a challenge today :-( A. didn't have school, and that totally throws off the day's routine, because she keeps E. up from her nap, demands attention, etc. Today we had a 2.5 hour meltdown in which she destroyed her room, colored on the walls, ripped apart library books, and got a fairly nasty scrape on her knee. Because E. didn't nap, she was just a dream, too. The day ended well, but certainly started on a sour note!

Anyway, something rather pathetic happened to me, and of COURSE I came right home to share it with you guys!

Okay. So. The girls and I sing all the time. Like all the time. Now, my voice is...um...interesting? But the girls don't seem to mind, and hey, I love to sing loudly, so it works out excellently.

There's this song we've been singing lately, and in it is a man named the "Bee-bop-butzaman" (that's extremely phonetical spelling there. It comes from a German folktale so I'm sure it's spelled differently).

We were driving along today, singing at the top of our lungs...

"Here comes the Bee-bop-butzaman, his knapsack on his back--biddyboon! That frisky Bee-bop-butzamen is always having fun..."

when I heard giggling from the backseat.

"No! No!" they chortled. "Sing it right!"

and I realized...

I hadn't sung "That frisky Bee-bop-butzaman."

I had sung "That frisky Benazir Bhutto."

This plunged me into several minutes' worth of deep thinking.

Is there such a thing as too much NPR?

Am I getting enough sleep?

Did I really just call Benazir Bhutto frisky???


Happy Wednesday, everybody!

Tonight, I'm writing about The Bedtime Ritual.

I love it.

I do.

I know it's great for the girls and all--to have the same things done in the same order, every night--but it just gives me so much comfort too. I love evenings with the girls. (Clarification: I love tantrum-free evenings with the girls. Tantrum-filled evenings are a whole OTHER story. Let's not get into those. It won't end well.)

The ritual for us starts right before dinner. I'll send the girls into the backyard to play (the kitchen overlooks the backyard so I can keep an eye on them) while I make dinner and set the table. We'll eat, I'll clean up quickly, and we'll head upstairs to bathtime. The girls can play for a few minutes in the beginning of the bath while I lay out their pajamas, and then it's wash E.'s hair, wash A.'s hair, wash off E.'s body and wash off A.'s body. E. gets out first, then A., and then I wrap the girls up tightly in their towels (I call them Burito Babies).

Then its into E.'s room and put on her pj's. Then A.'s room for jammies too. After that, I brush the girls' hair, we brush teeth, and A. takes her medicine. Then the girls go pick out stories (depending on their behavior during the day, I let them pick out a certain number of books each. We always read books, cause I think it's a great wind-down activity plus GREAT for them to be read to).

Reading to them is my favorite part. We sit on the big white couch, A. on one side, E. on the other, and me in the middle. They'll start sitting up, but a few minutes into the reading, they'll both be snuggled up next to me. I love that. I love my nannygirls, especially when they're all cuddly. It just makes me forget every meltdown, every mean word said during the day. It just goes away...

ANYWAY. We'll read books, then E. will pick a few to take to bed with her. (She snuggles up with them, it's really cute.) A. will go into her bedroom and lie down and I'll take E. into her room and put her down. Hugs, kisses, turn on the nightlight, E.'s down. I'll go to A.'s room, tuck her in, and tell her a story. She loves hearing about when I was a little girl, and stories about when she was a baby. More hugs, more kisses, turn on the nightlight, A.'s down.

I love that. I love spending that time with the girls and it just makes me so happy. It makes nannying more than worth it. (Plus, it's just so much satisfaction to get everything done without a meltdown!)

Tonight was one of those nights. As I blog tonight, I'm drunk on nannylove.


Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for the insightful comment you left on my last post. Unfortunately, I had to delete it, because, dammit, I don't like bad language on my blog. I'm sorry you feel so strongly that "nannys are the scum of the universe" (actually, the correct spelling would be nannies) and that we don't know how to raise children. I disagree, but of course I am a bit biased.

Anyway, I would have contacted you privately, but of course you didn't leave any personal information. But I would like to say thank you for the comment, I appreciate your opinion, but please don't come here again.



Happy Saturday, everybody!

It's been an insane day. I'm in the middle of an overnight babysitting job for a 15-year-old girl and a 7-year-old boy. Coordinating both their schedules has been tough, to say the least!

This morning:
* Woke up VERY early w/ the 7-year-old
* We were all fed, dressed and out the door practically before the sun was up
* Drove across town and dropped off the girl at violin lessons
* Ran to Star.bucks with the boy and got a (very large) cup of coffee (black, no room for cream. I don't mess around with my coffee.)
* Ran around with the boy at the park for 30 minutes, willing the caffeine to kick in so I could wake up
* Drove back to get the girl at violin lessons and flew to So.nic to grab lunch
* Flew from So.nic back across town to the boy's soccer game
* Sat on bleachers for an hour watching 7-year-olds "play" soccer (read: get distracted, sit down on the field, pick dandelions, etc.)
* The second the game was over, we flew BACK across town to get the girl to her own soccer practice
* Drove back across town AGAIN to take the boy to his friend's house
* Now I'm at home collapsed on the sofa for 20 minutes before I have to drive, again, BACK across town to pick up the girl.

I'm exhausted. So naturally, I posted a blog rather than catch 15 minutes of much-needed sleep. I love y'all.

I'll share a quick picture of the cutest dog ever--the boy and girl's--and an E. story, and then I've gotta run!

Juliet (she's a mix between a German Shepherd and a Greyhound):

And E.'s story:

The girls and I were at the mall yesterday shopping for their winter coats. E. had to go to the bathroom. Now, the bathroom is a one-person bathroom behind a door on the wall of the store. It's very visible. Anyway, I had the door semi-propped open so I could keep an eye on A., who was playing in between the clothing racks, and E., who was on the toilet.

All of a sudden, E. calls me.

"Yes, E.?" I ask, thinking she needs me to wipe her bottom or something. Nope.
"The poopoo won't come out."
"Oh...um...can you squeeze really hard?"
"I DID."
"Well, maybe you don't have to go right now."
"I DO."
"Well, try again..."
"Can you get the poopoo out for me?"
"No, not easily..."
"Sorry, girl...I don't think I can."

Poor kid. I know she was constipated and that sucks, but it was just so darn funny (and gross at the same time) when she asked if I could get the poopoo out. So naturally I ran for paper and a pencil to write it down to share with you guys!

(P.S. Many apologies to those who were eating while reading this. But you know to enter this blog at your own risk. You never know what you're going to find.)


Yeah, yeah, it's been a few days. HUSH.

First off:

Your Superpower Should Be Mind Reading

You are brilliant, insightful, and intuitive.
You understand people better than they would like to be understood.
Highly sensitive, you are good at putting together seemingly irrelevant details.
You figure out what's going on before anyone knows that anything is going on!

Why you would be a good superhero: You don't care what people think, and you'd do whatever needed to be done

Your biggest problem as a superhero: Feeling even more isolated than you do now

Wheeeee! This was fun. Though...I don't feel especially isolated now...and...I'm not THAT brilliant...and I kind of suck at 'putting together seemingly irrelevant details' (no wonder I was always bad at writing English papers)...and...and...and...I do like my superhero lady's hair. Very cute.

At the risk of making my blog propaganda for my political beliefs (what? what about the George Bush jokes posted previously, you say? Well those are funny. This is serious. SERIOUS, people), I came across this little tidbit and thought I'd post it. Call me extreme, but THIS is why I don't let my nannygirls watch TV.

DID YOU KNOW that children who watch a lot of TV and movies tend to:

~Perform worse in school.

~They spend less time reading.
~They have shorter attention spans.
~Their vocabulary is not as highly developed.
~Be more overweight.

~They snack excessively while watching TV.
~They see food in programs and ads that promote unhealthy eating choices.
~They tend to exercise less.
~Act the way TV characters act.

~Children as young as 1 year old learn behaviors from television.
~Children imitate actions and scripts from TV programs instead of creating their own play ideas.
~See ads that are harmful to them.

~Children under the age of 6 cannot tell the difference between an ad and a show.
~Children are encouraged to nag their parents for things they see on TV.
~Children learn to see violence as an acceptable form of play and way to solve problems.

(From the Teachers Resisting Unhealthy Children's Entertainment group)

What do you guys think? I mean, I know it's extremely helpful to let the Back.yard.igans entertain the kids for just a little while so that I can get something accomplished. Sometimes it's necessary just to plop them in front of the TV in order to make me not go insane. But I try to avoid that at all costs. Okay, my rant is over!

I promise a full update with girls news and all either tomorrow or Saturday. But for now, I've gotta get ready for work!