Day 6 of Nanny Cara on the job

 Saturday, December 10th

• 9:00 a.m. – The Kid is up and downstairs by the television when I slink down the stairs. She tells me the game starts at ten and not nine o'clock. I whine about this and then discover the coffee pot won't turn on. What the hell? We used it yesterday with no issues. What happened? Did fairies appear in the night and break it? The Kid grouses because she wants hot chocolate. I bitch because I want to stay in my pajamas longer. I suck it up, dress, and head to Starbucks. The Kid says she will cook our breakfast. I'm telling you, if she could clean up after herself, she would be in hot demand! 

• 9:30 a.m. – Why is no one preparing for the World Cup at home? Jeez, everyone is out and about! There is no parking near Starbucks, so I have to walk miles. That's an exaggeration, but I did park in the Market parking lot and hike. Starbucks is not busy, and I'm annoyed I must wait for my online order. I eventually sit down at a table to wait, drumming my fingers. I did instruct The Kid not to burn down the house when I left, but that doesn't mean she won't. They have a gas stovetop. I know nothing about gas except it is dangerous and causes fires. I worry I'll accidentally catch my sleeve in the flame every time I use it. I have a thing about fire. I'm a water sign. We don't mix. If I didn't need the coffee so much or had to hear The Kid whine about not getting her hot chocolate, I'd hightail it home immediately to make sure the house is still standing.

• 10:00 a.m. – We are in front of the tv with breakfast bowls cooked by The Kid. God knows what mess she has left. I ignored it while I put together my bowl. My coffee is gone. I sucked it down in two minutes and am contemplating returning to Starbucks. Instead, I Google the mysteriously broken coffee pot. Interesting. There are a lot of message boards about this brand and its inept circuit board. My husband would've kept the box this pot came in on the off chance he'd have to take it back. Knowing Steph, that box is long recycled, so I give up on taking it back and getting another one. Visions of no coffee every morning have me thinking about calling customer service and bitching. The Kid tells me to pay attention to the game. I make myself some tea instead.

• 1:00 p.m. – Portugal lost. The Kid is in despair. 

• 1:10 p.m. - We talked to Steph, which uplifted The Kid some. Then her day of ice skating got pushed to tomorrow. I hope a day of watching soccer will be enough for her.

• 1:15 p.m. - The Kid asks me if she can go to a hockey game with Friend CD. Her mom will take them. I look at her as if she's turned green and sprung antennas. She has made me into a soccer fan by forcing me to watch every World Cup game, and she wants to leave and go to a hockey game??? She shrugs and says she'll watch the action on her phone. I am disappointed. I was excited to spend the day with her watching soccer. I sigh.

• 3:45 p.m. – The Kid calls to tell me she is watching a basketball game at school. Seriously? I can't keep up with these kids' rotations. I have no idea how she got from a hockey game to her school. I know where the school is located, and The Kid showed me where the hockey arena was, so??? No way they hoofed it. If I had Friend AB's father's number, I would call and discuss this with him. The Kid keeps shouting my name as I say all this to her. She wants me to drive her to E town, like I know what that is, to watch the Christmas parade. I remind her I am watching the World Cup. She promises to give me updates via her phone. Uh? I tell her I will be at the school when I finish eating my snack.

• 3:50 p.m. - I looked up the Christmas parade online just in case these 13-year-olds are trying to pull a fast one. I'm not sure what would entice them in E Town, but I am a responsible Nanny. There is a parade from 4-6. Now, would this be something her mother would allow? I have no idea. The Kid texts and asks if I can bring her Converse sneakers and a jacket. Dear god, did I let her leave the house without a coat?? I find the shoes, but not the jacket. I text her back. She has no idea where it could be. I search high and low, getting in lots of cardio up and down the stairs. Finally, I head out and check her locker (each member has a locker for stuff in the mud room) on the off chance she put it away. I laugh at my joke, but it turns out it is on me because the damn jacket is in the locker. At least, I think it is hers. It could be her mother's. I take it with me anyway and head to the school. 

• 4:00 p.m. – As I pull into the school parking lot, I wonder about the odd beeping noise on the radio. The parking lot has a lot of cars in it. Some dad is out with his kid on the playground. He looks at me strangely, and I suddenly wonder if that noise is me. I turn down the radio and still hear the beeping. I pull into a spot, shut off the radio, and desperately search for the root cause. The beeping is loud and my head begins throbbing. It sounds like an alarm. I roll down the window. Holy crap, is that my car alarm? The Kid and Friend CD arrive at the car. Both are laughing! "Cara!" Somehow I hit the panic on the keys in my pocket. We get a big kick out of this hilarity and spend a few minutes laughing and yucking it up. I like this wild, carefree side of me. We head out.

• 4:15 p.m. – Tingles about allowing these two to attend this parade are prickling my skin the further I get to E town. I make Friend CD call her mom as the pickup person, unsure of me finding my way back to get them. Mom doesn't answer. Friend CD tries her father, who also ignores her call. What is the deal with these parents? These kids are 13 and running amok! Ha Ha. I can't stop quoting Father of Friend AB. I wonder if these parents are having a midafternoon romp in the hay. That's the romance writer in me. I mean, alone on a Saturday without their kid? Hello! I don't say this aloud because reality hits. Yeah, married folks? That isn't happening.

• 4:23 p.m. - Friend CD's mom has called back. I knew the sex thing was a no-go. Mom is so loud I hear the entire conversation, which assures me all is well in letting these two run amok at a parade. Mom of Friend CD asked the same questions I asked. Who were they meeting? Some boy, the boyfriend of Friend EF, who I haven't met. Who was going? The Kid and Friend CD. Mom told her daughter to send a pin so she could know their location to pick them up. Okay, so since I was given no instruction on these parents, I'm assuming this one is good. I mean, wouldn't Steph have mentioned if she wasn't?

• 4:35 p.m. - I have dropped the girls in some strange sketchy E town alley. The streets were blocked off. Hello! Parade. I said this would be the case, but the girls poo-pooed me until the boy called to tell them just that. Sigh. The police directed me down an alley, and the girls said this was good, and out they hopped, thanking me. Good lord! My kids' shouts were in my head all the way home, and I got apprehensive about what I'd done. This whole experience could be shaving off several years, and I don't even know it! I need a cocktail. No! I should wait to do that until The Kid is back safely. I channel her mother's nonchalance-ness in locking doors and allowing her kid to run amok. Funny how that wouldn't have worked with my own kids. I would have said no immediately and locked them in their rooms. Ha! That last part is an exaggeration. They would have gone to their rooms in disgruntled irritation, muttering how I never let them do anything fun.

• 6:30 p.m. – The Kid is back and appears healthy. Whew. I'm exhausted. The parade was "good." Somewhere food was consumed. She takes her position on the couch, and I go back to watching that same program on Amazon.

• 12:00 p.m. – The Kid is on her phone in the basement, headphones covering her ears. I got bored with television, took a shower, and climbed into bed at 10:30 to read. At about 11:15, I spilled water while trying to drink from my water bottle. It went all over the bed and me. I had to get up, strip the bed, and dry the sheets and my pajamas. I sat by the Christmas tree and read while the stuff dried. Downstairs, The Kid is loud, but I pay no attention. At some point, I notice she has lowered her voice, and my mother-spidey-senses kick in. I tiptoe into the laundry room as she races up the stairs. "Cara!" she shouts at finding me. Now I know she doesn't want me listening to her conversation. Darn it! I should've eavesdropped for entertainment or for good blackmailing material! But that meant I would've had to creep down the stairs for the intel, and again, I just don't care. But I play along as if I'm ignorant and tell her my water story because maybe this will be fun when she returns downstairs. She falls for my act but ends her conversation and heads to bed. Boo. Whatever. I'm tired. Tomorrow we have church and brunch with Steph's friends.