Last day of Nanny Cara on the job

Monday, December 12th 

• 7:00 a.m. – We are doing our routine, although I'm having tea instead of coffee. The Kid and I often try to turn on the coffee pot. We have not succeeded. Thus, I am now a tea drinker in the morning. I have found Bengal Spice tea in Kip's stash, and I'm obsessed. It's a black tea with cinnamon, roasted chicory and carob, vanilla, cardamom, ginger, cloves, black pepper, and nutmeg. I prefer two tea bags to one, and it bites! The name puts me off some, but I keep telling myself it doesn't have anything to do with football.

• 7:10 a.m. - I am subdued. I had my first night of tossing and turning and trouble falling asleep. I'm thinking ahead to what awaits me at home. Also, I'm sad about leaving. I'm sorry I won't be here to hear about Steph's adventures. It's always better to listen to that directly. The Kid is receptive to my mood. She asks me what is wrong. I'm going to miss the little heifer.

• 7:35 a.m. – I find a parking spot at Starbucks. It is eerily quiet. The Kid announces her drink isn't ready yet because she forgot to order it. I look at the clock and try not to panic. I tell her to go inside and stand there. She asks why. I say it will scare them into making her order. She laughs. "Oh, right, Cara, like they're going to be scared of a little girl wearing a Catholic uniform!" I can't stop laughing. When my youngest met The Kid, she said she loved her because she was so much like her at that age. Oh, yeah! So true! Never more than that statement.

• 7:45 a.m. - The Kid announces she did not take her medicine. I shrug, but she insists we have to take it. Oh, NOW you're insistent about the medication! I have no idea how I can turn around on the road we travel, but she calmly directs me like my oldest would. I feel kind of silly. Then again, The Kid knows me as a competent Nanny Cara, not Crazy, Out of Control, Spazy Mommy Cara. She runs upstairs and gets the medication. When The Kid returns, I tell her to get in the car. We are on a time crunch. She yells my name and says we are not. After the third time of saying it, she tells me she doesn't have to be at school until 8:08 a.m. What??? No one mentioned this before now??? It does calm me, although to bug her, I keep saying we are on a time crunch. 

• 8:03 a.m. - We make it with time to spare. In fact, more than half the school is just now arriving. These PA parents are way more relaxed than Florida parents.

• 11:00 a.m. - I stripped The Kid's bed and my bed. I washed and remade both of them. Then, I cleaned The Kid's room and vacuumed. I also cleaned her bathroom. It needed it more than the bedroom. I got down on my knees and scrubbed her shower. What is she doing in here? There are fifty empty bottles (like my eldest daughter's shower), make-up wands, goop on the tub walls, and small circular empty creams. I should take a picture to prove these rooms are spotless since it will not be like that when her mother returns tomorrow night. 

• 12:00 p.m. - The vacuum upstairs is sweet. The one downstairs vacuum is powerful and heavy. That thing practically moves on its own. It's like walking a dog. I march about the kitchen, pretending I'm walking it. Or maybe it is walking me. The rug was vacuumed. Both sinks and all the counters have been disinfected and scrubbed. I washed all of the kitchen rags and towels. I straightened the couch cushions and cleaned the table. I did all the laundry. I hate coming home to a dirty house. I hope this friend taking my place for twenty-four hours keeps it clean.

• 3:15 p.m. – I packed and lugged the suitcase downstairs. I did some writing today. Now, I wait the return of The Kid.

• 3:30 p.m. – She texted she is going to Friend CD's house. I respond with, "Can I go to Friend CD's house," which references Friend AB's father. That first night when he picked his daughter up at the rec center, Friend AB said, "We are taking The Kid home." He responded with, "Can we take The Kid home." See? I'm funny. The Kid does not make mention of my humor. She tells me she will be home by 4:00 p.m.

• 4:15 p.m. – The Kid is here, shouting my name. I'm going to miss that. I really am. Who knew? I never counted how many times she said it in a day. The one time I counted, she stopped as if she knew what I was doing. I'm telling you, The Kid is special. Magical. I ask about homework. She yells my name again. She doesn't have any. The Kid did it at school. 

• 4:30 p.m. – We are both on the couch. I am exhausted. I can't keep my eyes open. The Kid tells me to take a nap. I agree. I tell her to wake me if I snore.

• 4:40 p.m. – "CARA!" I was snoring.

• 4:50 p.m. – "CARA!" I was snoring.

• 5:03 p.m. – "CARA!" I tell her she could be nicer when waking me. Jeez, every time I went into a dream state, she yelled. I tell her she is lucky I didn't have a heart attack. She shouts my name again. I look at the clock and realize I did catch some z's. I go to make dinner. We are both starving.

• 5:30 p.m. – My dinner is ready, and it is beautiful. Colorful. The Kid looks at it and says it looks good. We eat. She compliments me on the meal. I mean, my kids rarely do that now. Is it because she isn't mine that I revere The Kid? I'm sad about leaving her. I cheer myself up, knowing I'm going home to warmer weather.

• 6:45 p.m. – The Kid is upstairs getting ready for the trip to the airport. Isn't it nice she wants to look her best in sending me off? I am scrolling through social media. On Instagram, I watch a reel of an author preparing cookies for her neighbors. Why don't my neighbors do that? I love cookies. 

• 7:05 p.m. - The doorbell rings. I assume it is Steph's friend taking me to the airport. Silly me. The Kid did tell me she is always late. I open the UNLOCKED door, muttering, as I do, about the Kid not locking it behind her from school. Yeah, I don't know this woman on the step. It is not my airport driver. However, she does look familiar to me, although the blue hair does not. Guess what? SHE HAS A PLATE OF HOMEMADE COOKIES WRAPPED IN CELLOPHANE WITH A RED RIBBON! I blink. Then, I search for cameras. I must've moaned and whined aloud about the cookie thing and Alexa has sent this woman to me! Although, as she tells me she can't come in and wishes me a happy holiday, I am thinking about how I will not get any of these cookies! I feel weird. I apologize and tell her Steph isn't here and The Kid is upstairs doing god knows what. The Cookie Lady says she knows me. "Aren't you the friend from out of town?" UH Ha! Look at that! Someone who isn't perplexed by my friendship with Steph! I tell her Florida, give her Steph's itinerary, and then, finding nothing name related on the cookies, ask her name. "Laura" That is not helpful. It does not ring a bell with me. But, my goodness, she is sweet, as I'm sure these cookies I won't get to sample are. We chat and chat for what seems like hours. She sure is talkative for someone who doesn't want to come inside. I tell her oh, sure, bring cookies now that I'm leaving. She suggests I break into the package and have at it. I contemplate that after she leaves. The Kid shouts my name from upstairs. "Who was that?" I tell her Laura. She asks, "Laura, who?" Good lord! How many Lauras can there be? The blue hair does it. Laura is the SIL to Kip's BIL.

• 7:35 p.m. – My driver texts she is on the way. I make The Kid take her medicine. Tomorrow is her last dose. She does not argue.

• 7:45 p.m. – We are on the way to the airport. Steph's friend is adorable. Is this woman for real? She's like a fairy with a sparkling wand. I've never met someone so full of happiness and cheer. I wonder if she is like this behind closed doors. I suspect she is. I feel bad for making fun of her at Sunday brunch for her perfect Christmas trees. In my defense, her husband jumped on that too. Now, I wonder how horrified she'll be at Steph's tree. It is too small, and just before we left, I noticed a strand of lights that weren't working. I attempted to correct that but gave up. Oh, boy. I vaguely wonder if there is a blown fuse that has affected not only that strand but the coffee pot. I discount that. I already moved the coffee pot and tried other outlets. Besides, the tree is FAR from the coffee pot. My mind jumps to whether my husband has gotten our tree or not. I hope so. One last thing for me to worry about.

• 8:10 p.m. – I am through security. I did not cry. The Kid hugged me over and over. She insisted we have our picture taken. That made me feel good. I have wondered whether she enjoyed the week or tolerated it as best as possible. It's hard when your parent is gone. A week doesn't seem long, but it can be. 

• 8:12 p.m. - OMG, I know Laura!! It suddenly came to me as I sat here thinking back through the week. I text The Kid and ask if Laura is the woman who did the gardening with her when I was here in April. I am right. I hope someone lets Laura know it took me an hour, but I did remember who she was!!! Steph has such happy fairy friends. Why don't I have that? It has to be this town. I should rethink my summer home in Vermont and come here instead. I could live in Steph's basement. Who needs a whole house? I could do summer nanny work! Just think of the running amok these 13- year-olds do in the summer!

• 9:30 p.m. – I was in the last wave to board. My oldest made fun of me for saving money by only paying the dollar for a middle seat instead of the twelve dollars for an aisle. Okay, she was right. The guy next to me is LARGE. If he were sexy and like a SEAL or something, I wouldn't care. But he isn't, and he doesn't care that he is half in my lap and literally attached to me from shoulder to ankle like a sucker fish. And he isn't wearing a mask. It will be a LONG flight. 

Bye, PA. Nanny Cara out!