The Nanny Diaries

It has been nearly a month since my last update, but honestly, planning a birthday party for an immediate family birthday party is no easy chore. Don't feel bad that you weren't invited, no one was. We have decided that until Lyla is older, we are not going to torment everyone we know with an invite to our small house, with an even smaller backyard where none of your kids can do anything but cry until we have to. So, if you were invited, get ready to be annoyed.

Anyway, onto the subject at hand, our nanny search. We had to let our nanny go, and I won't go into the details in this blog, but it left us needing someone much faster than we anticipated. Luckily, a family friend Erin has saved us, and taken care of Lyla for the last two weeks. She is only available through this Wednesday, and therefore we had to kick the search into high gear.

Now, many of you know that we have has the WORST luck finding babysitters. Twice, two separate babysitters committed to a date, and never showed up, and didn't return any of my desperate calls at the time they were supposed to be at our house. The night of my birthday, we were frantically calling to get someone else, then, more recently, we had a birthday dinner (Leslie Wagner for those of you in the know) miss due to another no show. The girl was supposed to come over for a meet and greet (since she was from Craig's List I wanted to check her out first), and she didn't show up. I called her that night, and the next day, and when we spoke, she apologized profusely for the mistake, and said she had forgotten but was still on for the weekend. I told her to come 1.5 hours early to again, get to know Lyla. Well, she never showed. I called and called, and nothing. So, there we were dressed to the nines on a Saturday night, with no sitter. We were so embarrassed, and just pissed. We never heard from her again.

Fast forward to the nanny search. We used the same agency we used last time, and how it works is: they send you a bunch of candidates that they pre-screen (sort of), and then you take it from there.

The first batch had two candidates who didn't like dogs. The question reads: Do you like pets? One answered, "No, but I'll deal with it...and I'm allergic" Now, if you were a dog owner, would you even call this person? Filo barks 10 hours a day, so if you don't like dogs, and can't deal with the most over-protective dog on earth, then "dealing with it" probably isn't going to cut it sister soldier.

Most of the applicants said they couldn't swim, which seemed odd at first, but I had to get over some stuff. Lyla floats in 4 feet of water, so swimming isn't necessarily required, but could be critical in saving her life. So, that was a tough call.

Then, there are the nannies who either didn't get a reference from their last job (red flag), or believe it or not, the reference was given, but the family said they wouldn't hire her again. One woman said she was great with the kids, and they loved her, but she didn't think the nanny liked her personally, so she wouldn't hire her again? WTF?
One found the nanny looking for another job on their computer. I mean really? If you are looking for a new job, are you using your employer's computer to do this?

So, down to it. We had two in-person interviews, and a few phone interviews. Jean and June came in person. We really liked both of them, but June divulged that she doesn't drive on any highways, and that her car ('89 Volvo) isn't equipped or insured for a child. Hmm. So, my child, who you are caring for every day, that may have to go to the hospital cannot ride in your car? Odd. Then she told me that after taxes, and expenses, she would only have $7.00 left for the month, and she wasn't sure if she could manage it. I was feeling uneasy for leaving myself only $1,000 to spend at will on shoes, (my attempt to put all my money into Trent's account is still experimental) and this woman is trying to spread $7.00? Why even show up for the interview if that's the case though. If she wanted more money, and we weren't offering it, just stay home and save me the two hours of time I could have been watching back episodes of Flipping Out or Tori and Dean. Sheesh.

Then there was Jean. Oh Jean Jeanny. She lives in the country, has sleepovers with her family's kids at her house, and offered to make us dinner. Now, when I mentioned Lyla was on an all organic diet, she looked at me with the clear misunderstanding of what that even was. She absolutely could not believe I made all her food. I figured a country gal such as herself would have been growing her own Gilligan's Island style veggies, drinking her own cow's milk, and roasting pigs on a spit in the back, all without the harm of preservatives and pesticides but that is not the case. Anyway, she was great with Lyla, and during her working interview even better. We were just hesitant to hire the only one that seemed normal.

So, we decided to interview a few others, just to know that Jean was the one. This led to babysitter nightmare part deux. Two out of the three new candidates didn't even return my calls. Mind you, this is after they tell the agency that they are interested in the position, and agree to the requirements we set forth ahead of time. I was holding out for Faith this woman who had great experience, and stunning references. The family said they were crying when they said goodbye, best nanny in the world, the whole deal. She never returned any of my three calls. I would say it was me, but all I say is that I got their name from the network, and if they can call me back, etc. I'm not even being my normal, obnoxious, semi-offensive or foot in my mouth self.

Finally, the third chick Frances calls me back. Something about her I wasn't sure about. Then we chatted, and even though her voice was creepy, I agreed to interview her in person. She asked all about the hours, and I made sure I told her we lived near Towson, since she was at the state line, and this could have been of issue. No, no she said, hours are fine, location is fine. Well, 8:30 this morning comes and goes, and she never shows up. Yes, I said it. I call her at 9:30 and leave a message for her. She calls me back at noon saying she thought about it, and leaving at 6:30 p.m. and driving all the way home is just not going to work. So, I have wasted my time doing a phone interview with her, re-arranged our morning schedule to meet with her, and waited around, and she calls at noon to say it's not going to work. Thanks Frankie, for your timely response. I wanted to call her back to tell her to shove it up her arse, but part of me was glad since she sounded like she lived in a cave anyway.

So, we offered the job to Jean. We didn't settle cuz we really liked her, but we couldn't wait and compare even if we wanted to. She was also the only professional one of the bunch. Showed up on time, followed up, loved Lyla. She was happy to accept, and she starts in two days. I just need to ask her to discontinue the application of her perfume which made me physically ill at her first interview. For those of you who don't know, I have a terrible aversion to fragranced lotions, perfume, deodorant, shampoo, etc.

Onward and upward I say.

Anyone have a babysitter?

Lyla Talking and Eating Phone

Hey folks. Just a quickie before I take off, and we pack our entire house into the Volvo and take off for OC for the 4th.

I am drinking a vente, the Starbuck's lame equivalent of large coffee (don't even say your smack about Starbucks, I agree, but it wasn't my choice, my co-workers brought it back for me, so I'm forced to drink it), which I just found out is NOT decaf. For those of you who don't know caffeine's effect on me...let me enlighten you. Unless I'm drinking fabulous cold brewed coffee from a Toddy or Atwater's Market, then I will be plagued with horrible stomach aches and pains for hours to come. It is also likely that I will be parked on the toilet indefinitely. Both of these issues won't help me in the second half of my four hour meeting today where I am on video conference with clients and co-workers on the west coast. The other thing about caffeine is it truly does keep me up. I was addicted to chai teas for a while, but it took several months for me to put it together that they were keeping me up all night, and that there was a reason for my desire to do aerobics at 10:00 p.m. I don't know what kind of crazy pill they're crushing and putting into the teas at Common Ground in Hampden, but I'm like a sleepwalking binge eater on Ambien when I have them. Restless, hungry, agitated.

Anyway, I thought I'd post a video of the Lyla Bean. It's been a while, and even though there is nothing too crazy in this video, it is a perfect example of Lyla doing her thing. She just makes me laugh while she entertains herself, barely paying any attention to me. Although if you filmed as much as me, you'd ignore me too. She isn't walking yet, but she is managing to stand on her own pretty well. Normally, I'd let her figure it out, but she was dangerously close to hitting her head on the corner of our table, so I assisted. No, I don't gasp every time she falls. In fact, I need to start paying attention more. We were at a friend's house a few weeks ago for happy hour, and Lyla was riding on this Dora-mobile. I looked away for two seconds to grab my wine (forget that), and she was rolling off of it head first. Luckily, she rolled with it, and I was caught only by Trent.

She isn't too interested in taking steps (except massive ones when forced to play our walking games), but she does enjoy standing, staring, and playing.

She's all growsed up.

My Manolos

So, I'm in love with Sarah Jessica Parker. I know guys think she's a horse face, and she's so little in every way, which usually creeps me out, but since I've never seen her in person, I go on thinking she's my height. Even back in 1985 when Girls Just Wanna Have Fun came out, I idolized her. Square Pegs--well, not so much. Anyway, I, of course was a huge Sex and the City fan, and wanted to own every outfit she wore on the show. In my world, I also assume I will look the same as she does in it. I had a secret fixation with getting a tutu to wear it much like the opening scene of the show, but at least had the sense to know in reality I would not be able to pull this off.

I may be making that mistake again, but I have ordered the very blue Manolo Blahniks featured in the movie. I'm still not sure where I'll wear these yet, since I can't just throw them on with a pair of boy shorts like SJP does with every shoe. In fact, on anyone but her these shoes may look like Dyeables, the very gross and very uncomfortable shoes you get forced to wear to match someone's hideous bridesmaid dress or your electric blue prom dress. Yes, ladies and gentleman, my maids had to dye, but let me say, this is before you could just wear gold or silver shoes with stuff. I don't even think they were available then. So, shut it. If I were getting married again, which I very much want to do since I ended up hating my botched dress, that I would wear these shoes!

You may think I'm crazy, but really I'm buying a piece of history. Lyla will some day get these shoes. Maybe she'll wear them to her wedding. I loved my Moms shoes and dress. Of course, I could never fit my fat ass into her size 2 dress, but that is another matter. I've recently started saving nicer pieces of clothing and shoes for my little fashionista. I know it's all so Lauren Hutton of me, but some things just shouldn't be cast off. A few things have memories, and credit card bills associated with them, so I have to save them. One day, when I have a huge walk-in closet where I drink martinis in my underwear and smoke long cigarettes to the sound of Judy Garland's drunken/drug-induced melodies, I will look upon the treasures I have saved, and maybe even wear them again.

Until then, I will instead shove them into my ridiculously small bar I call a closet, with no rhyme or reason. My wedding dress is squashed between a pair of tuxedo pants from about '98 and a pair of fancy jeans with a promise note that I will fit into them again some day again, and to just be patient. Sometimes things go in there, and come out with tags still on six months later.

So, please free to send your photos and suggestions as to what I can wear my life savings with. I will post your suggestions right here on this blog. Maybe we'll even vote. This blog is starting to get really sophisticated.

Comings and Goings

I am back from my recent trip to NJ to meet my new niece Piper Grey Berkowitz. She was nine pounds, 12 ounces. A little bruiser just like my own. Here is a shot of her in the nursery getting the business done by one of the nurses. She's a real cutey, and holding her brings me back folks, it really does.

Lyla didn't get to meet her because they only allow siblings in. So, we tag teamed in and out to entertain the wee bean while we tended to the wee-er bean. She had a grand old time in the hospital waiting room. As you can see by the picture, she was laughin' it up with the expecting grandparents. This is all a good thing, because the week before Miss Lyla decided to give up bottles completely. She refused any bottle, at any time. We've been weening for a while now, but she quit cold turkey on us. She would wail at the site of it. So, we were just feeding her, and giving her YoBaby to supplement for the ba. Doc said she'd be fine, and that after a week she'd probably take the bottle back. We felt better, but it had been so hot, and Lyla also wanted nothing to do with any sippy cup. I think I'd bought every one on the market. Finally, we gave her a straw cup (thank you Leslie Wagner), and she gulped it down like Bear Grylls in the Serengeti. For a week, she was hogging food, just stuffing it in. Then, suddenly, she cried with the food instead, wanting the damn bottle. Just like that the tables turned back, and now she's all about the bottle again. A little too much now. Can't win. I also think she's either teething, or a little under the weather this week, because upon our return from NJ she's been a bit fussy most of the day, which is totally unlike her. She usually fights through anything, but she's been a real baby the last few days. Meal times are a crap shoot. She's either smiling and giggling, or in hysterics. Last night, our painter came, and at the site of him she went nuts. I don't know what it is about him that sends her off the deep end, but it's something. Then she screamed through the feeding of bananas and rasberries (usually her fave dessert). There were rasberries all over her, me, Filo, and the wall. I was feeling a bit fluish anyway, so hauling her in and out of the high chair was quite an undertaking last night. I'm hoping it's the teeth, or a passing virus, and not the start of a trend. We've been blessed with this unbelievably happy, good kid, I don't want her to go Chuckie on me now. Especially since we're trying to get a new babysitter. Which reminds me that last night, the second babysitter in a row flaked. The first one, never called or showed up the night of my birthday when she was supposed to sit. This new one was supposed to come last night to meet Lyla before babysitting tomorrow, and she never came. I left her a vmail last night, and an email today, and I haven't heard anything. What the H? What's wrong with these people?

Back to Lyla

Since this blog is supposed to center around Lyla, I will pull away from my recent rant regarding robbery.

Lyla is moving quickly into kidhood. She is truly no longer a baby. She crawls, and picks herself up to a standing position, and even side-steps. Yesterday, she was tackling stair climbing. She's like a boy, fearless. I have a feeling dainty dolls and tea parties aren't in her future. If she takes after her mother she'll be playing bricks in the dirt or racing bikes with the boys down the street. Fortunately, she doesn't have an older brother like mine who ran over me on his bike at the trails down the street from our house when I was assigned to find him for dinner. Sometimes, the regular routine of screaming down the block for your kid didn't always work, and the young sibling was sent to fetch the others.

I always try to catch her doing her funny stuff on camera, but she goes WB on me every time. I have included a few of her recent doings, but you have to wait it out until the end before she gets to it.

Oh, the humanity.

No, I'm not talking about the Hindenburg burning, but my street going to pot. Last Monday my car got robbed. I say robbed, not broken into because it wasn't locked. Normally, this would be another thing I forgot to do being me, but actually Trent went to grab the Chick Fil'A that I bought out of the car, and didn't lock the doors. I can't blame him. One whiff of that chicken sandwich would send anyone into a daze.

My stuff was all over the car, and I could see they went through the glove box and consoles. They only got an old iPod, our Garmin, some CDs, and some wires and change. I know these must have been punk kids, because anyone with any sense of what had value and saw the Bugaboo in the back, would have gone straight for that! That's what I would have taken. I also had a purse with the receipt in it in the back, but I'm guessing they didn't want to go through the trouble of returning it, and
potentially getting caught. As a sidebar, when I returned it the next night, I showed her the receipt and she said, "Don't worry I trust it's you." So, robber, if you are reading this, you could have taken and returned it to South Moon Under in Towson, no problemo.

All in all, I felt pretty good nothing big was taken, and that they didn't have to break my windows to get to my precious Baby Einstein's Driving Songs CD (which they took).

However, the very next night we were awoken around 12:45 a.m. by what sounded like a car with a dragging muffler and a back firing problem. Trent jumped out of bed, and looked out the window. Turns out, they were smashing back windshields and mirrors up the entire street. All of our neighbors were outside trying to exchange siting stories, what happened to their cars, and report it all to the police. I think they got about 10 cars on our street alone. They also hit two other surrounding neighborhoods that night, and it sounds like they were doing more car and basement robberies in the houses. It was pretty shocking, considering we all leave our doors open all the time, and rarely lock-up even on walks. Well, let's just say the place has been like Fort Knox since last week.

The whole neighborhood is trying to solve the case, and I'm sure someone will be planning a Take Back the Night rally within days. This may end up initiating my first appearance at our community association's meeting(s). They probably staged the whole thing just to get people to show up to talk about lawn ornaments. Apparently, their threatening newsletters weren't enough.

Why are Women Such A-Holes?

Lyla completed her fourth week of "swimming lessons" today, and honestly, I don't know if I can bring myself to go back (two more weeks left). Today was a bit different than other hectic days going to class...Lyla woke up, and while a bit groggy at first, was pretty smiley and happy. I fed her a bottle, but I had extra time today, so I was feeling better about the digestion period. Lyla talked and smiled the whole way to class, happily got changed, etc. so I thought it was going to be a great day like our first class. Uh, no.

As we step into the pool, Lyla immediately clutches me as if I'm going to throw her from the high dive. Now, they were saying the pool was much cooler than normal because the heater wasn't working properly, but I'm unsure this had anything to do with it. She wasn't crying, but whining a bit. It's hard to understand honestly. If you saw this kid the first class, you'd think she was born in a birthing center somewhere in the Valley in SoCal right in a tub. She absolutely loved it. Since then, not lovin' it. The other thing is, Lyla rarely cries or clutches to me. She's just not like that. So, when she hold on to me for dear life, I'm wondering, what the heck changed?
I still think it has a lot to do with it occurring right after her nap/bottle, but she does everything else after the bottle (like thrust up and down repeatedly for 30 minutes, swing upside down, crawl) with no issue.

Anyway, for the first five minutes of class she was a bit loud, and while I was hoping she'd be laughing and enjoying swimming rather than almost crying, I rolled with it. What am I gonna do? I pulled myself out of the circle so people could focus on the teacher, and so we wouldn't cause a real distraction (even though she was barely even making a fuss). As I do this, a few of the Mom's follow me with their eyes (not with friendly, I've been there smiles either), turn around to watch me float away, and are giving me looks as if I we were disrupting the wedding of Charles and Camilla. I whispered a few, "sorry, she usually loves the water" at a few, but that only led to more looks of disbelief that this child could actually like the water.

Now, this lasted maybe five minutes total, and then Miss Lyla, ever resilient came around and was eventually laughing and flitsing about with the others. However, she was still a bit on edge when it came for splashing and dunking. The first incident occurred when a lady said, ,"I better stay out of her way," which I sheepishly brushed off hoping she was joking.

Then, this jackass mother, who I haven't liked from the start, sees me, and stands directly in front of me, and starts whisking her kid back and forth in front of Lyla. Her kid is kicking and splashing water in her face, and she starts to lose it again. I'm looking at this woman like, you have to be kidding me right?

I try to remain nice, move away from her and say, "Whoops, we're getting splashed, let's glide over here." She proceeds to make bigger dips in the water with him, as if she's somehow (believe it or not) showing off that her kid is just going in and out of the water without issue. Now, this kid is also a lot older than Lyla (Lyla is the youngest in the class--there's one other baby, a nine month old), so I would expect he can do a lot more too. At this point, I'm pissed, and I really just dart her a look, and leave it.

Needless to say, Lyla was fine, and happily ended class with a goldfish in hand and a smile on her face depite the comments of others (who all hang with each other).

After class this woman says to me, "You should try another class, maybe the 9." I had previously mentioned to her that this class is not at an ideal time, but her tone was not appreciated, especially after the pool bit. I don't know why I end up explaining that her nap is 9-10:30 or longer, and with travel it's always a rush, but I know she loves the water, but the 9:00 wouldn't work either, blah, blah, but I do say this, and she just says, "Maybe you should practice in the bath tub." and walks away.

First I'm thinking, you're a total bitch, and who the H do you think you are telling me what to do and when to bring her to class. I mean, it's not like she had a complete meltdown in class. The child cried for a few minutes, and most of it was quiet. Then, I'm thinking, how is the bath tub going to help this situation? She loves the tub, always has. Is she going to practice getting kicked and splashed in the face repeatedly at home in our tub? Probably not. Finally, I thought about how nothing this woman says makes sense, she's just a jerk who thinks she owns the Getting Wet class, which is obviously the most important place for all of us to be on our very best behavior. It's not just her either, the Moms are all cliques who only talk to each other, and treat any new person like she were David Greene from School Ties--the guy who comes to the stobby prep school his senior year who never paid his dues, got hazed, or in his case told his classmates he was Jewish. Did it really matter guys? Well, regardless of religion in this particular instance (I think), I'm the David Greene of Getting Wet.

To go back--two weeks ago another girl in the class, who is also newer (the girl who stalked me in this Blog's swim class video) asked one of the elite group a question about strollers in the locker room, and one of the queen bees told her to ask the teacher, and just kept talking to the other groupies. I overheard, and told her about the stroller policy there, and the queen bee jumped back in and said how she doesn't care and brings the stroller in anyway. I remember at the time thinking, why wouldn't you just answer her question in the first place, especially when you're putting your fat mouth back in it anyway, but I didn't think too much about it. Now, after this, I'm remembering that today's jacko lady was in this group, and I'm probably on the outs with them for helping the other newbie. By the way, the newbie hasn't been back to class since. This may sound like a bunch a bunk, but I'm piecing it all together now, and doin' some figurin' about these ladies. I feel like I'm in the Net, and I'm the only one that knows the truth. Poor newbie. They got rid of her, and now they're trying to get me out. Despite my earlier sentiment...ladies and gentleman I will prevail.