Day 4 - Nanny Cara on the job

 Thursday, December 8th

• 7:00 a.m. – I am downstairs before The Kid, but she is up. She appears two minutes later and starts cooking her lunch. I make and drink my coffee. She announces we are going to Starbucks for breakfast and orders her meal. I tell her to take her medication. She yells my name. I make a mental notation for my list.

• 7:15 a.m. – I didn't clean the thermos she used yesterday well enough. I lecture her on cleaning for herself. She attempts it, gives up after half a minute, and fills her backup thermos. 

• 7:25 a.m. – The Kid can't find her pink binder. This is, according to her, my fault. She knows I took it. I try not to laugh. Already this morning, I was accused of doing something with her lunchbox. That was true. Yesterday, I washed it. But I did not put it where she thought I should put it on the counter. That was found. Not so the pink binder. I never saw it yesterday. She runs around looking for it, shrieking my name. I'm up to ten times on her usage of my name. I suggest she look in her room. She tells me it is never in her room. I ask where she saw it last since she never opened it to do homework... That shuts her up. When she returns from her room, she is subdued. I'm not sure what that means, but she is ready to leave, so I go with the flow. I notice she is shoeless as we leave the house and enter the garage. I am told this is on purpose as her shoes are in the car. Today is PE, so she is wearing sweats, and having failed yesterday in attempting to get her to wear a coat, I don't even broach the topic. Probably that will count against me and my nanny grade, but she's on an antibiotic!

• 7:35 a.m. – The Kid has her Starbucks, gets into the car, and promptly drops it. Globs of hot chocolate splatter everywhere -- the dash, the floor, her backpack, her shoes. The Kid says, "It's fine. I'll clean it later." I laugh hilariously. then, I immediately sober as she tells me we have to return home because she forgot to take her meds. Grr...I told her to do this before we left.

• 7:40 a.m. - We are back at the house for her to get her medication. She always has an answer when I tell her to take it. Today's excuse was "I can't because I haven't eaten yet!" When she returns and downs it, I barely lecture. My kids would be shocked! Had this been Mommy Cara, I would've ranted and raved all the way back to the house and all the way to school, and the veins in my forehead would've been engorged. Nanny Cara is all, "Oh, for heaven's sake." I do give a small lecture on responsibility. Who am I? 

• 7:45 a.m. – The Kid forgot to tell me where to turn, so I bypassed it and now we have to turn around. She is nonplussed. I am silently panicking that we will be late.

• 7:52 a.m. – We made it! Off she goes. I remind her to search for the pink binder. "Goodbye, Cara," she shouts. Number eleven.

• 3:15 p.m. – I filled my day with some work after cleaning up after The Kid. How can one little thing make such a mess? I should nickname her The Tornado. 

• 3:30 p.m.- The front door opens, and The Kid shouts my name. (Twelve) "Guess what? I found my pink binder!" She apologizes for accusing me after I prod for that. It was on the bus. Which means she didn't have it all day in class. I shake my head and inquire how she did on the religion test. She tells me not to ask. I am not surprised. I shake my head again. My girls would be horrified to know I am letting this roll off my back. Mommy Cara would've reined down hell and damnation for these horrors. I like being Nanny Cara...way less stressful.

• 4:00 p.m. – The Kid rejects watching volleyball again and heads downtown with her Friend AB (fake name to protect the innocent) for important social things. I have a moment of wondering if I should force the matter. What to do? Hmm…what role do I play? Good cop? Bad cop? I go with fun-loving, who cares, Nanny Cara. Mainly because she is gone before I can decide.

• 4:30 p.m. – Someone is at the door. Ha! He can't get in because I keep this house locked tighter than Fort Knox. I peek through the crazy mish-mash door glass and recognize The Kid's uncle. I invite him in, where we stand in the foyer and chat. He is checking how things are going. I can't produce evidence the kid is alive because she is downtown. Actually, I stalked her location, and she is now at Chipotle. Uncle and I talk Steelers football. I ask if he wants to sit. He says no and leaves. I'm sure I was judged. I did feel nervous that I couldn't produce The Kid. Oh, well.

• 6:30 p.m. – I decide it is time for The Kid to be home. I stalk her. She is now back at the rec center. Before I can text her to return home, there is another knock at the door. Suddenly this is Grand Central Station! I peer through the mish-mash glass door but do not recognize the man on the walkway. I hesitate a second since opening the door will put us face to face without a storm door between us. I reminded myself this isn't Florida or anywhere else USA because Steph has uttered this time and time again. She finds my horror at unlocked doors silly. I open the door. The man does not offer a hello or an introduction. He is here to get Friend AB. I assume he is a relation, although really, shouldn't I have asked for ID? Oops. I tell him she isn't here and that the girls are at the rec center. This is unwelcome news to him. He scoffs, raises his voice, and tells me AB told him she was here. As if I'm holding AB hostage upstairs. Since I'm not about to let him inside, I repeat that he can find AB at the rec center. This is obviously too much for him, and he explodes, grunting loudly as she does so. "She told me to pick her up here. Now you're telling me she's at the rec center? Earlier they were downtown. Are you -- he immediately corrects that to -- are we just letting them run amok now? They're 13!" He stares at me again to see if I'm understanding. I stare back. I know how old The Kid is, but I'm unsure how he wants me to respond. I consider letting him know I'm just the nanny, but since I haven't asked for the aforementioned ID, I stay quiet. I do think about how my children would find this nonchalant behavior. Never in a million years would I have allowed them to jaunt off to the rec center down the street! Hmm...does this make me a helicopter parent? As I contemplate this, the man asks me how I know they are at the rec center. Ah, now he is questioning my skills. I consider how to answer this without saying I stalked The Kid and realize I am over this man's behavior and attitude. I tell him The Kid keeps in touch, hoping this makes her sound responsible and grown-up. I am suddenly defensive and protective of my little charge. I can't help it he has zero control over his kid! If this is even her father. He hasn't said he is. I'm assuming. Hmm…maybe I should make a comment about that! He says, "How? With a chip in her neck?" That does it. He has succeeded in pushing my buttons. I tell him The Kid is chipped in multiple areas, from her head to her toes. He senses I've reached the limit because he mutters a thank you and turns away. I lock the door, so he can hear it. Then, I text The Kid and tell her I believe I just met AB's dad, that he is not happy, and he is currently on his way to the rec center. I tell her to get her butt home, and when she returns, I am told yes, that was AB's father.

• 8:00 p.m. – We have eaten leftovers, and The Kid is allowing me to quiz her for her test in Social Studies. We spend a reasonable amount of time on this before she heads to the shower. She has not shouted my name again. Of course not. The list will close at eleven Cara's.

• 9:30 p.m. – We silently read on the couch when The Kid closes her phone and announces she is tired and going to bed. I worry for a split second, then I have great fun teasing her. I even videotape her saying this to send to her mother. But then I realize I'm ready too. I resist. She goes to bed. I follow an hour later.