Day 3 - Nanny Cara on the job

 Wednesday, December 7th

• 6:30 a.m. – My alarm goes off. I hear nothing but silence. I knew it. Last night, The Kid sneeringly told me she gets up on her own. Please! I've been down this road with my own kids. Thank goodness I set the alarm early. I roll out of bed and...oops. My bad. The Kid is up. She shouts my name. I grunt.

• 7:00 a.m. – I have coffee. The Kid is Ms. Chatty at dawn while she cooks pasta for her lunch. Outside, the neighbors' Christmas lights shine enough for me to see it is rainy and dreary. I forgot how much I hate this hour and northern winters. We chat via SnapChat and text with her mother.

• 7:25 a.m. – We are in the car. I can't remember how to reverse it. This happened in April when I drove this car. The Kid panics and tries to call her mother in the Netherlands. I start laughing. Who calls the Netherlands for automotive instruction? These youngsters today! The Kid keeps shouting my name as if that will magically kick me into gear. Her mother doesn't answer. By accident, I figure it out and back out of the driveway. The Kid forgoes her planned Starbucks run because we "will be late!"

• 7:40 a.m. – We arrived at school way too early. I park, and we sit in the parking lot and talk. 

• 9:30 a.m. – I am back at the house. After dropping off The Kid, I made it to Giant with the GPS and grocery shopped. I want to prepare a somewhat healthy meal. I've also done a load of laundry, cleaned up The Kid's morning cooking mess, and picked up and straightened her bedroom and bathroom. Jeez, look how much one can get done if one rises early. The bedroom wasn't as bad as I pictured it. Mostly it is littered with last night's printing trash and clothes that could either be dirty or clean. I throw them all into the hamper to wash. I also open the window to clear out any sick residue. The bathroom is horrible. She owns too much stuff, including the cosmetic refrigerator she purchased when I was last here. It is unplugged, unused, and takes up too much real estate on the sink. 

• 3:30 p.m. – I got a lot of work done today and am waiting for The Kid to arrive. I could've sworn they told me 3:15. I go on my phone and check her location via the SnapChat app. It shows her driving a car. I'm not sure where she got a convertible, but as I ponder that, she barrels into the front door, shrieking my name. 

• 3:50 p.m. – Like a tornado, The Kid blew through the kitchen, up the stairs, shouted things, and promptly disappeared out the back door. Her stuff is everywhere. I clean her lunchbox, inspect her bedroom enough to see she has managed to get her dirty clothes into the hamper, and I return to work. She is off to the rec center. Initially, the plan was to head to the Nook to watch her volleyball team practice. Before I arrived in PA, she broke her middle finger, and while she can't participate, her mother still makes her go. Since I'm not her parent and understand that she needs to catch up with her admirers, I don't push it. Plus, she's been sick. Going out in the cold to sit for three hours seems silly. We both agree we can do it tomorrow.

• 6:15 p.m. – Dinner is cooking. The kid is back and on the couch. I suggest she study for the tests that her teachers did not make her take today. She quizzes me on religion. "Who has 12 kids?" I answer with, "John." The answer is Jacob. I ask who is Jacob? She responds, "A guy who had 12 kids." I'm not sure she is learning much in religion class at this Catholic school. For fun, I tell her I will now quiz her. I ask, "Who said, Give me liberty, or give me death." Her answer? "Jesus." I rest my case. Thankfully, she is returning next year to public school. She does not want me to help her study. We also had to ask Alexa who said the liberty quote because I couldn't remember. Hearing the answer was no help either. Obviously, public education didn't benefit me.

• 8:00 p.m. – We have eaten. The kitchen is clean. The Kid is on the phone with her admirers. She started out on the couch outside the kitchen. From there, she went to her room. She is loud. Every time she passes me, she yells my name. Tomorrow I'm going to count how often she does this. 

• 10:00 p.m. – Holy Moly, but I am ready for bed. Exhausted! The Kid is still on the phone. I suggest homework. "Cara!" she shouts. I tell her to shower. She gets ready for bed but doesn't shower, telling me she will in the morning. The Kid is very good at shutting me down with answers to my demands or questions. I have no recourse. I see now why her mother first considered a double nanny team. A lot of time is spent in the bathroom on a facial mask. She can't go to bed until it is dry.

• 11:00 p.m. – I asserted my authority and used my big girl voice. I'm over the "in ten minutes" response. The Kid recognizes my thinning patience and hangs up the phone. Who are these parents letting these kids stay up this late? My children had to leave their phones in the kitchen at night. Of course, that was the age of flip phones without the Internet. Before I get too caught up in patting myself on the back for my exceptional parenting, I picture my two girls. Both are now chained to their phones. I remove my hand from my back just as The Kid runs into my room and jumps on my bed! It makes a horrible creaking/cracking noise, causing me to yell. She sheepishly runs out of the room, but I'm recording the incident in case the bed falls apart. My excessive weight will not be blamed!

• 11:15 p.m. – I am in bed. The Kid is doing her nightly run up and down the stairs. I'm sure she is up to no good, but I'm exhausted. I hate that Santa can not be used to tame her. Instead, I yell her name. She responds with my name. Ugh. I take a deep breath and count to ten. The Kid senses she needs to stop, disappears into her room, and closes the door. I am asleep in minutes (I know this because she tells me in the morning, making sure I understand that I SNORE.)