The Nanny Diaries

For the last two weeks we hired Jackie, a wonderful nanny/housekeeper/helper/chef who helped keep our little family from falling apart while we were getting ready for our impending move.  You know what is no fun? Trying to export a car with a child hanging on you, wanting to play Chuggington. 

You'll recall that our move, at least the packing part, was derailed because of visa issues.* We are now back on track, maybe, and hopefully moving along.  The time with Jackie was well spent, however, as evidenced by the 25 bags of trash on our front lawn below.  Each one was labeled with the appropriate City of Toronto** sticker (at about $3/bag from Canadian Tire) but still much cheaper than a junk service.  Someone picked my trash the day before and took most of the other stuff away, which included Josh's extra set of golf clubs, some toys, rubbermaid bins, etc. I'm sure the neighbors are loving the weekly scenic view. 

We hired Jackie as we knew her from another family on our street. She had a back injury from a prior accident and needed to work with older kids, but had some availability before her next job began, which was perfect for our family.  Jackie had previously babysat for the kids so she knew them, the kids and the other families.  She was able to take Ellie to the bus and Sam to school, and she drove them to swimming as well.  

I don't think I've told you about the nanny culture in our neighborhood. I've hesitated, because it is sensitive and interesting and intimate, and before the last two weeks, I have not had personal experience with a nanny.  Most of the nannies in our neighborhood are Filipina, and have left their families behind in the Philippines, including their children, while they have come to Canada to work.  They send a lot of money back home.  The legal immigration requirement is that they live with a sponsoring family for approximately 2 years until they receive their legal residency and working papers, and then they can work for a different family.  The sponsoring family can pay them less because they are giving them room and board.  It is a situation that some unscrupulous families can take advantage of, and I've heard some terrible stories while I've been here.  These women often work long hours, in varying conditions, and live in crowded apartments. Many can't drive.  The norm seems to be a 4-6 week trip home sometime during the winter once/year if the woman can afford to go and the employer is amenable.    

There are obviously a whole host of issues to discuss here, and one blog or even several couldn't do them justice.  There are racial issues between the nannies, because not all of them are Filipina, and it may affect how playdates are organized.  There are cultural and class issues between nanny and parent. There is the fact that it is a job and employment for the nanny, and not always a labor of love for them as a parent. I think that is often a cause of tension in the employee/employer relationship, because as the employer you want the nanny to act as you would act.  I am one of the only moms in the neighborhood who is at home and so I interact with most of the nannies.  They are a lovely bunch of women who are really good with the children they look after.  I can also say, as an employer, that I was somewhat surprised by the decisions Jackie made.  After thinking about them, I thought they were reasonable (for example, having lunch with other nannies on her last day - it is a normal, work-like thing to do, no?), but was not in my mindset of what a nanny should or would be doing. I could tell she felt strange about it when she returned to the house, but I had figured out what had happened and decided it was fine with me.  

If I was to have a nanny full-time, I would need to set up guidelines for myself about what I would expect. This two-week introduction with a nanny who was really excellent in every regard - great with the kids, she made us amazing food, took care of the house, etc. - also allowed me to reflect on what is important, and what is less important.  It is a job for this person, and so I would have certain expectations about what I would want them to do. At the same time, I would not want to begrudge them some down time or social time in what I know can be an isolating and thankless job.  My friend describes having a nanny as "a business relationship in your pajamas" and as the employer, you have to have the confidence to be in the pajamas to make it work.  

Ribs by Jackie

Personally, it was awesome having Jackie. It was like having a wife. This woman was unloading my dishwasher while I was in my PJs eating breakfast with my kids and drinking coffee.***  She was the one to argue with the kids about TV and breakfast choices as I drifted off towards my next project. She cajoled them into eating and clothes and the bathroom and I... checked my email and threw out their toys.  Sheer joy. 

At the same time, she mentioned that a nanny relationship only works if both parties give themselves to the relationship. I can see that. I like the privacy of my house, though, and I was happy to close the door on Friday and flop on the couch with my kids by myself.  Ultimately, I think that is why it would be tough for me to go with a nanny permanently, at least in this environment.  Even though I really liked Jackie and appreciated her work. 

In an interesting aside, I asked Ellie and Sam which they liked better, being with a nanny at home or being at RCC, their super fabulous child care center in Virginia, and both answered RCC. I thought that was interesting feedback, and as I thought about it more, it made sense, especially for the ages they are at, almost 4 and 6.  They learned to be strong and independent people there, with lots of people who love them, and they learn to love books, and there is no TV, and lots of outside and get messy time, and  tons of friends all of the time, and lots of practical learning like how to sleep on your own and eat (even foods you don't like, like sloppy joes) and clean up and hang up your coat and so much good juicy learning.  Child care can be harder on the parent, because you have to get them up and out, but for my kids, we were able to find a place that still is impacting them, even 18 months after they've left it, which I think is quite an accomplishment.****

Every week, the nannies on our street make the kids banana muffins. Sometimes they put chocolate chips in, sometimes not. They have a lighter mouthfeel than most muffin recipes because of the baking soda but the kids on our street are crazy for them. They always bring them to the park or share them at playdates.  This is Jackie's version. I stood there while she was making them and took notes. 

Jackie's Banana Muffins

3 ripe bananas

1/2 c yogurt (any flavor is fine - she used greek blueberry at my house, because it is what we had)

1 tsp. baking soda *key ingredient

another bowl:

3/4 c brown sugar

1/4 c vegetable oil

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 c flour

1 tsp. baking powder 

salt

chocolate chips or nuts (optional)

Mash the bananas lightly with a wooden spoon or potato masher. Mix in yogurt and baking soda. Let sit. Mix in another bowl the brown sugar, oil, egg and vanilla.  Mix the flour, baking powder and salt into the first bowl.  Then gently add the contents of the second, brown sugar bowl and stir.  Add additions if desired. Bake at 350 until springy and light brown on top. (Jackie does this by feel.) 

*Our first portion of our visa fun has concluded and we are off to the second portion of visa adventuring, which requires Josh to relinquish his passport. This is like asking him to give up a part of his body right now, and so required careful scheduling and many international emails. It is also requiring us to miss a beloved friend's wedding.  Damn legal requirements. 

**This is only trash, and not recycling. Josh's law school books are going out tomorrow. As are my teaching files, and other assorted paper waste.  Toronto is so super fun with trash collection, I get to wait two weeks to put out my huge piles of trash or recycling. 

***I should say this happened like 2 times, because I started getting up and showering earlier. When a virtual stranger arrives at your door and starts working, you feel like a huge slacker when you don't work too.  One time I was on the phone with Josh working on visa stuff, so I had an excuse. Once. 

****Weirdly, we seem to be lacking good child care in our area, which I think leads to the nannies. Or the long hours lead to the nannies? I'm not sure.  Not a lot of options in any case. 

Ellie's Fairy Party

Here are my long-promised pics from E's birthday party. It was a fairy party. I have birthdays on my mind today because Sam's party is coming up and he wants a frog and butterfly party. Maybe with turtles too. And he picked out a dollhouse that he wants for himself as a present.  Along with trains and other more gender (Meghan, what is the word I want here? typical, no, normal, no, stereotypical, yes) toys.  Planning has begun. (And when does a family in transition fit in a 4th birthday party that is pinterest* worthy?)

(My friend Neeta took the above pic and sewed the crepe paper together to make it ruffly. Apparently you can do that. Yeah Neeta!)

 Fairies eat well. We had magical crisps and fairy fruit wands.  

 We had marsh twigs and fairy dust sandwiches.

 Cake, of course. 

 I actually never took pictures of the best room ever, the fairy room, so Hil will have to send them to me and I will have to post them. But this gives you a glimpse. There were tulle and lights on the ceiling and walls, and it was a pretty awesome room. We made fairy wands, fairy homes in little boxes, and took home fairy dust. All in all, Ellie was happy with the party, I threw it together in about a week with a ton of help from the BEST AUNTIE EVER, and it was fun. That's all that matters.

*Pinterest can be totally stressful. Do you *see* what some of those kid parties look like?  People also have super cute ideas, though, so I also love it.

If You Are An Idiot, Press 1.

I am on hold with the Customs and Border Protection Agency of my great home country.

The menu is hilarious.  I can only imagine how many people call them with ridiculous questions, and I have little hope that my more complicated question will be able to be answered from this help line, but now I have to stay on just to see. There are 17 people in front of me.

I am calling, just so you know, to find out what documents I need to reimport my car at the suggestion of my relocation company agent.  She can't help me unless they ship the car themselves, and we are planning to drive the cars over the border and sell them ourselves before we leave.*  I went on the website she suggested, and looked, but while the Environmental Protection Agency offers a 66 page booklet on how to import a vehicle (the abridged version is 22 pages), there is no quick, easy and clear way to find out what I need.  Oh, Canada, I miss your Service Canada centers already.

I called the number at the bottom of the screen.  I urge you to call it, if only for fun.  877-CBP-5511.  The menu is something like: If you think are wondering if you need a passport to go anywhere outside of the United States, call the State Department. If you are wondering if you can take Aunt Sally's special meatloaf to Canada, call 411 to get the number of Canada's embassy. No, we don't have that number. Please don't waste our time with asking that question.  We don't know that country's regulations. (They actually say this.)  Then they put on a Santana version of slow jazz and update you with the number of people ahead of you. (7 now.)

It isn't enough to make me a libertarian or a tea partier, but it is enough to make me question my fellow citizenry.  Then again, I answered phones for a Member of Congress. I regularly had crazy people call, and it could be pretty entertaining, so in some ways I feel bad that I am bringing a regular problem to the good people of the CBP help line.

I have 2 people in front of me now, so I will have to go.

************

Fortunately, the Southern woman I spoke with was nice and helpful, and I was able to get the information I needed. It involves 3+ forms and likely a call/email to the port** as well.  Car importation is a full time job, I tell you. Fun!

Hooray for the US Government!




*This is part of a complicated scheme where you can temporarily bring in your car from your own country, but you can't sell it there and you have to leave with it.  Which would be fine if we were either a. going back to our home country or b. bringing our cars with us. But we aren't doing either, hence the need to reimport them to the US and then sell them there.  Jolly good fun, don't you know.

**Otherwise known as the Lewiston Bridge.

You Make Plans, God Laughs

God is really enjoying himself right now. Peeing in his metaphorical pants, even.

Something I am sure you all know about me: I'm a planner. I don't know if I was always like this, or it came with teaching/kids/moves, but I think I was bossy when I was little and I have to plan things out. Limbo is hard for me.

There was a call this morning at 5 a.m. my time that I should have just participated in because I was up until 1 a.m. thinking about it/reading/surfing the web out of nervousness and then I woke up at 7 a.m. with the thought "check my e-mail." And all visa hell had broken loose. (Not really.)

We are in a delay because the UK Border Agency has a backlog. It sounds like America, so I am sure we will be very happy there.  The people giving us the information from the vendor company were not very specific with details, and, as mentioned before, I need details, so I called the UKBA employer help line this morning to see when things would get going again.  Dan, with his heavy British accent, was very helpful in telling me the backlog may be resolved by May 5. Or not.*

I may have mentioned in previous blogs that we were going to have our house packed up on Monday? Oh, not so much. And that whole "moving out by May 31?" We are hoping they will let us stay a little longer.  Otherwise, we will be homeless, and our stuff will be who knows where, and I will feel some sort of kinship to the guy who lived in the airport all those years, with no home country.

Of course, I have also come up with contingency plans and plans for those contingency plans should they fall through. One of them involved going to India and practicing family yoga. Or having our "temporary housing" be a cottage in the woods in Canada. I am not entirely joking about either of those. Friends and family, we're coming, and we may be staying longer than you thought.

While this delay sort of shot my whole schedule to hell, it also isn't the end of the world. I can't say that I am even cautiously optimistic it will work out, because right now even though Ellie and Sam are enrolled in a school beginning in August we may not have a visa to live there and for them to begin attending this school at that point. But. Some perspective is warranted and this is all part of the adventure, albeit one that I would rather not experience. I would rather experience the kayaking in the fjords of Canada part.

Do they make backpacker backpacks in kid sizes? We may just be hosteling around Europe this summer. You can see it, right? College kids coming back from the bars, Sam with his paci and blanket. We could totally rock that.


*This is just part 1 of the visa process. Then we get to go have our biometric stuff done (I don't know what that is, but they also take our fingerprints and is all high tech and probably because of terrorism), and then we have to send off our passports to the British Consulate in NYC for an unspecified amount of time. Josh travels almost constantly, so finding that window was fun the first time, and I am sure will be a jolly right-o** good time the next.

**British slang is pretty fun. I don't understand Cockney rhyming slang really, but I do like phrases like "Bloody hell" and "Bob's your uncle" and I have been trying to teach Ellie and Sam that, while they don't actually have an uncle named Bob, it is a useful phrase.

The Emptiness of a Still Full House

This week has been a week of getting rid of things. I have thrown away more this week than I think I ever have in my entire life, including the last few weeks of school and teacher work week. I have also found tons of interesting things in weird places.

I have over 15 bags of trash in my garage, waiting to go out next week* (you remember Toronto's excellent and dictatorial trash rules, right?), and I haven't even touched our bedroom, the kids' room, or finished the basement yet.

I have made good progress. Ellie, Sam and I, however, are starting to get itchy. Prickly. My friend commented that our house "feels like a house in transition." Our rugs are being washed at the cleaners, so there is an echo.  We have less stuff, and I've taken some things off the walls, so there is more room for sound to bounce around.  There is more room to play, to run around, to have even more people over. I could have a raging party and fit everyone, which would be awesome.  It wouldn't feel like our house, at least, as it once did.  There are hot pink labels on everything not to be moved, so that we have something to camp out with for the next month.

I used to think that the hardest part of moving was the limbo before everything was solidified, and we knew where and when we were going. I still think that's right - that is the hardest part, because you don't know what to expect next. This part is tricky in a different way.  We're still living in this community we have grown to love, and with people we have connections with, and we have to make our preparations to leave them.  It is starting to hit home for us and for them as our move becomes more of a reality.

The interesting and cool part of this is how our family comes together during this time. We spend more time physically closer together. The kids need me more, not just emotionally but to touch and hug me as well. I need them as well, the reassurance that we are a team and that we will get through this intact, and that we are a family wherever we go.  Josh joins us by facetime or phone daily, or by video or pictures he sends back home when he is gone.

I know now that we will stay drawn together for the first part of our time in our new place, until we are more settled in with friends and in the community.  It is easier here, since we have friends and a community to rely on. It is more difficult in the new place, where we can get on each other's nerves, where our emotions can be magnified and there are different things to accomplish.  On the other hand, there is the thrill of the newness, adventure and discovery around every corner. Ellie and Sam are the perfect age to explore places with, and they are great at noticing new and fun things that we would never notice.

I wish I could relax into the prickly-ness and know that this in-between time won't last forever. It is a special time, the time when you get to say goodbye. I thought I was better prepared for it.


*I will have to post pictures. This is sure to be an amazing sight, my lawn with a moving truck, packers, full of trash with stickers, and neat piles of "extras" all according to the rules and regulations of the City of Toronto. I can't wait!

The Relaxing Life of a SAHM, or, my Nanny Jackie

This week, I am employing a Nanny. Her name is Jackie. She is fabulous.*

Why, you ask?

Well, my packers are arriving on Monday (yes, this coming Monday) and my wonderful, hardworking husband is off eating glorious food/working hard/hopefully not getting sick in Southeast Asia, and I am preparing our home by myself. He will come home to oral surgery and an empty house. This was my scheduling choice, which enables our goods to get to the UK when Josh is actually there to receive them (hopefully) assuming we have done right with the gods of visas and shipping.

Or it could all fall apart. The outlook is still not certain. Anyway, goods will arrive in London at some point  and so will we.  I have been working hard to get rid of teaching materials, things we will never need in the UK, things that will never fit in our house, and basically trying to consolidate our life.

******

It was funny this morning when I read this article about the Ann Romney/Hillary Rosen debate over motherhood, which led me to this article by Amy Wilson.  The first time I went to the UK to look for schools, I had to put my occupation. I left it blank. The customs officer asked what I did and after I stumbled over an answer, he helpfully filled in "housewife."

'But that isn't what I am at all!' I wanted to tell him.  I organize international moves for our family! I organize small children for neighborhood Easter egg hunts! I volunteer once a week in my daughter's school!  Like a friend once had for her email signature, I manage chaos and try to have Shalom Bayit (peace in our home).  Do you think the immigration officer would look kindly on me if I wrote "Chaos Engineer on my next form?" I try to cook dinner and create a social life and friends for our family-on-the-move. I don't think all of that can be distilled in "housewife" or "SAHM."  Or maybe those words are just tainted for me with a 1950s, Mad Men type of mentality that does not align with my previously feminist philosophies.  That being said, I do value both my mom and Josh's mom, who were two very different types of moms but both rocked it in their own ways and for their own reasons.  Courage, bravery, strength and love are found with all kinds of mothers, no matter how you work.

********
This week I was going through my teaching materials. I am giving away the remainder of my classroom library, and weeding through my professional materials.  It is surprisingly harder than I thought it would be. I was hoping to just have a box or two to take to London. Instead, I was able to get all of our holiday materials into one box, and my teaching materials will probably take up five.  (I just can't give up Fountas & Pinnell.)  I don't know what my professional future holds and I know that Ellie and Sam are especially dependent on me right now. They did not like that there was someone else to pick them up or drop them off, even though they knew Jackie already, she is temporary, and she is amazing.  I miss my students. I miss the interaction with them, planning lessons, teaming with colleagues. I don't miss the work crap, like PLCs or paperwork for the sake of paperwork.  I miss grading parties and happy hours and teacher talk and new babies and the dedication of my colleagues to always getting the best out of their students.

Teaching is full of celebrations and love. I hope I will be able to connect back to it in the UK.

*I will tell you more about nannies in a different post.

Where is the___? Or keeping a stiff upper lip.

I had some time before our flight today and Josh is working so to make things easier for the kids when we move I decided to go take some pictures of the new 'hood this morning before going downtown to the Tate Modern for the Damien Hirsh exhibit. This may make me sound sophisticated and urban cool but you have the wrong sister for that.

In any case, I got off the tube and was faced with our new local grocery store. What better time, I thought, than to get acquainted? I don't have kids with me, it is a huge store, and I can get a sense of the layout.

It was pretty normal, and I was reassuring myself that I wasnt moving to, I don't know, Thailand or something (see, Avery, brands may be different but everything is pretty similar) when all of a sudden I realized something. There was no cream for coffee. (There is milk in bags, in case you are wondering. And fancier milk jugs.) I had noticed that I had been unable to get cream in my coffee during this trip and I relly detest milk in my coffee unless it is a latte. What was the deal? This is a country that serves cream on scones! It has a whole section of the store dedicated to pot desserts (which are not hallucinogenic, but instead like puddings, I think).

Then I found the whole section dedicated to cream. Creme fraiche. Single cream. Double cream. Already whipped cream. I needn't have worried. I will just have to figure out which is coffee appropriate.

One of my most lovely friends also lives abroad, and told me before we moved to Canada that I would have to be like a Mama Duck, and let worries and concerns roll off of me, because the kids, and Josh, to an extent, would follow my lead. It was while walking around today, after the shopping, that the nerves hit me. The "I don't want to go because it is strange and unfamiliar and it is easier to stay put" feeling. My friend's words came back to me, because if it is weird for me, it is even more strange for my kids, and I have to somehow model that I hate that feeling, the transition, the strangeness, but that the adventure is also super cool and an amazing gift we've been given. Very few people get to see the world in the way we have been able to. It doesn't mean it isn't hard sometimes.

For better or for worse, it rains a lot in London so all of those worries should wash right away.

Avery's Adventures in London

I am typing this on my phone. My computer is in Canada. Forgive any errors.

Let me tell you what I learned looking for a house in London. (This is not London, Ontario, Canadian friends.)

1. I am not sure if Londoners want people to sit down. Family rooms, called reception rooms here, are very small and narrow in most cases. We have large, North American, manifest destiny style furniture. We will be getting rid of some of it.

2. Londoners may not want you to sit and visit, but they do want you to cuddle at night. Very few houses could accommodate our admittedly huge King bed. When all four members of your family end up there most nights, though, it is somewhat of a necessity.

3. We did not see as many bidets as I was hoping we would, and the house we liked best was bidet-free. Not that I would have been able to instruct my children in how to use a bidet, but there is always you tube.

4. Cockfosters, the last stop on the Picadilly line, is the new Regina.

5. I saw someone breaking into a car outside of the Canadian High Comission. With a knife and a wire hanger. This is proof we are not in Toronto. (No, I did not say anything because he had a knife and I figured we were outside of the Canadian High Comission and if they don't have cameras there we aren't safe anywhere.)

6. There was a man asking for money outside a tube stop in a lobster costume.

7. Apparently there are no bugs in London. There are also no screens, so your children are free to fall out the window.

8. We saw a sign that advertised "begin clubbing after 30." it was on the Ramada in Ealing. If I was going to begin clubbing now, it wouldn't be at a somewhat suburban hotel outside London. I have to admit, I am somewhat curious about who does attend.

9. Apparently Colin Firth lives in our new hood. I'm sure we'll be besties.

10. There is a sign in the place we ate dinner (a lovely brasserie) that says no drug use in the bathroom, which makes me wonder what was happening in the loo to warrant the sign.

11. They sell clothes in the grocery store here, like Target. And booze.

12. We decided we might become a one car family. I suggested I get a moped with a sidecar (for the kids - you can totally see them rocking the sidecar, right?). Josh countered that we weren't in a cartoon. Coming home, I found the perfect helmet - green with white daisies. It will match my tattoo. And how many moms can say that?

13. I asked Josh if he would rather have a third baby or get a dog. He said neither. I said if we got a dog we could name him President (because he'd be British-born, and never able to be President, ignoring the fact we are discussing a dog); Josh said we'd name him Governur.

We aren't getting a dog. Or having another child. Hopefully we'll have a place to live in London in the next few days.