"Burrito! Burrito!"

What started several years back as a "friendship email" has become what today's culture calls a "blog."
In looking back over all of my blog posts, I am able to see which ones had the most, and least, views. I find it pretty interesting that it's not one from my tales at the trailer park, nor is it one of the adventures of Sweet Pea and The Cousin that has received the most views.  There's one, and only one, with hundreds of views and it's the interview I did with Ellen regarding the F-word. You people crack me up!!! Now, I 'effin understand y'all.
So, I'll begin this morning's ditty by attaching the link of that popular blog written back in May of 2012.
http://trailerparkgirl-vfern.blogspot.com/2012/05/one-girls-journey-to-find-answer.html
It has absolutely nothing to do with today's blog!

My readership asks me all the time, "Do you embellish your blogs about nanny life?"  
And the answer is rather simple, "HELL NO!"
I can't make this shit up and why would I want to? I'm like an umpire behind home plate; I call it like I see it. It's easier that way. Embellishment requires actually thinking. It requires tedious work and concentration.  Formulating interesting scenarios, that do not exist, would require my energy, time and also lead one to believe that I have nothing better to do in my life than to exaggerate.
Embellishment happens on CNN, FOX, ABC, NBC, The Simpsons.
We can all get our "stretched-like-salt-water-taffy truths" there.
But here y'all, is the real f!@king deal.

"I the burrito."

"Burrito! Burrito!"

"Cheese please."

I had a significant lapse in judgement yesterday. I taught them the "burrito game" using the curtains as the tortilla.  Basically, The Cousin wraps Sweet Pea up as if she were the carne-filling and then we'd all yell, "Burrito! Burrito!" The laughter filled the apartment. Instantly, the three of us turned crazy.
Sometimes, I'm a child. During these occasional "breaks" I lose all sense of who's in charge, who know's best, who's the individual that's being paid to keep the kids safe.

This week, I'm double duty; two days of such exhausting nonsense because the grandmother is taking a day off. She deserves it. This grandma is incredible. Unsure if the parentals truly appreciate this woman, but she not only watches these girls for free, GRATIS!, but she does laundry for them as well.
Lottery!!!!
Double duty equates to 18 hours. If I'm still standing by 5:00 p.m. on Friday, it will be an act of God.

Trying to calm them down after Burrito Burrito is not easy. And who's f@!king fault is that?
Anyway, I decide on books and The Cousin insists on reading to me.

"...and then the doggie, and the mommy, and the house and the blue twisting, twisting..."

When The Cousin reads to me, it's as if it's 1967, the psychedelics are rampid and Inagodadavida is playing in the background. I find myself really needing to concentrate on the plot.
Then, half way through the book, that all too familiar smell permeates my nostrils.
It's strong. It's potent. And the last thing the storyteller wants to do is have her diaper changed.
After a minor struggle, she gives in and up on the changing table she goes.

I recall my mom saying to me, "There's always a first time for everything."  
And what was about to take place was just that: a first.

The diaper is full and it's smeared all over her bottom.  I'm attempting to hold her legs up with one hand, keep the shit off the table and clean her with the other.  To make matters more complex, Sweet Pea has climbed up on the not-so-sturdy playroom table...

"Look at me, Baa Bee!"

Wishing I were an octopus, I attempt the impossible of trying to keep the changing table "poop free" and save Sweet Pea from getting yet another bruise. That "first" that my mom talked about years ago, happened:

Yep. That's on the laminate. 

Of course, that 4-letter word that y'all like so much, blared through my head.

Yet, I showed to indication of my stress. "Let's get cleaned up and go outside, ladies!" There's always an underlying motive to going to the park or for a walk. Yes, you want them to learn about their surroundings. Yes, the birdies and the flowers and the cars that go "beep!beep!" These discussions are rich and they aid in their language development. The park certainly helps with their motor skills, not to mention, their social skills. 

But the underlying reason for these types of activities is to wear their asses out! 

The Cousin is in a new phase in her life where she has to take Nomi, her fake baby sister, everywhere. Of course, she tires of carrying Nomi in the first 2 minutes of the walk and guess who gets her.

"You hold Nomi, Wallery."

3:00 p.m. 

Time for a cookie. I think that was the first word Sweet Pea learned and I do believe grandma taught her it.

3:00 p.m. 

Cinderella. (Not my choice for building strong, independent women.)

3:30 p.m.

Project time.

"Can I eat it?"

"Blue circles!"

4:10 p.m.

Things are returning to silly.  I can't help myself.  My response to their "duo-picking" is

"Pick a winner!"  So childish.

And why children eat it, even after they've had a wholesome snack, is beyond me.

But then again, I'm just the nanny.  I'm the nanny who loves when I see the big hand on the 12 and the little hand on the 5.

6:35 p.m.

~tpg

The Rabbi

Rabbi with The Cousin and me

This is what I look like by noon. You can only imagine what I look like by 5:00 pm.

I've had f*!@#ing Hava Nagila stuck in my head for the last 48 hours. 

So, The Cousin got a new toy. By the time Sweet Pea's mom came home at lunch to offer up a little "boob action" for Sweet Pea, I had listened to, danced to and sang Hava Nagila so many times, I thought any slight trace of Jewish heritage I might have, would jump out of my skin and slap me up the side of my head... hard. 

"More, Rabbi, peez"  was what The Cousin requested OVER AND OVER AGAIN. So I'd squeeze the Rabbi's left foot and the Hebrew folk song would begin again.  Even when I hid Rabbi behind a pile of dirty clothes, The Cousin would find him. It's not that I hate Hava Nagila. It's alright. 

But I'm sure you'd agree; when you hear even your favorite melody 100 times in a day, it sucks. 

Sweet Pea isn't at all interested in Rabbi.  She does her own thing and her own thing is fine by her. I dig that about her. I honestly do.  Our struggles are lessening actually.  The only real one we have, and it's a "doosey", is on the changing table. She still fights me like a caged bull and I still hold her two little ankles up in the air like a plucked chicken.  I'm all about not getting the poop all over the table.  She's all about winning the battle. She and The Cousin are such polar opposites in so many ways.  And though it's The Cousin who's being prepped for the toilet, it's Sweet Pea that thinks she's ready...

"I can do anything and my age has nothing to do with it."

Th Cousin not so much...

"Rabbi, pleez."

The Cousin is very cooperative about diaper changing. She remains still and lets me get the job done quickly and efficiently. She loves a clean diaper and has happily accepted the nickname I've given to her: "Clean Machine".

"Clean Machine" and I have bonded and, as y'all know, it happens during Sweet Pea's naps. This week we made pink play-dough. Totally took me back to my teaching days when play-dough was actually used regularly in Kindergarten and even 1st grade classrooms, not just for fun, but for the healthy development of fine motor skills in young children. Kneading the dough, cutting it with plastic knives, rolling balls of it into worms, etc is proven to help young kids in their abilities to hold pencils, use scissors, connect blocks and manipulatives.  And there's the whole brain connection with other areas such as language arts and math. But hey! Now our public education system has nixed the play-dough (and other "play" experiences) in favor of scores. We go straight to the test, and of course, the bubbling in of Scantron sheets beginning at age 5.
It's all about the data I've been told by my teacher pals.

But The Cousin and I, we know better. She poured in all the ingredients, including the strawberry JELL-O for color.

We just had to spend a little time working on not eating it.  Once that concept sunk in, it was smooth sailing and lotsa fun!
And, it kept her mind off Rabbi for a good 45 minutes!
~tpg

It's a Jungle Out There

I hit the 'hard stuff' on Wednesday nights.

I'm not ashamed about it.
A cup of Earl Grey or a glass of Cab might suffice 6 nights of the week, but never on a Wednesday.
Women who have more than 2 kids, only a single year apart, must be drinking by noon.
Either that or they take high doses of Valium while recording soap operas on their DVRs.
Then I imagine, they lock their children in cribs and playpens for hours while they lay (catatonic) on their couches.

The Cousin keeps me moving. Here she is so thrilled because she found Elmo on her Ipad.
HER IPAD! In a pretty pink case no less.
Would you believe I didn't know how to locate the app she wanted? No shit.
So, she took it from me, after my ridiculous fumblings, and in one gentle swoop of her tiny,     19-month old index finger, she found the Elmo app!

This is cause enough for a "stiff one".
The idea that a 19-monther can use technology quicker and more efficiently than me,
is nothing short of humiliation.
Young moms got that down.  Technology.

I witnessed it at the park this afternoon and it, amongst other things, appalled me.
Yes, appalled me.  So many young mommies on their IPhones; texting, talking and god knows what else while their toddlers ran wild; screaming and carrying on between the swings and the big, yellow climbing train.  And the small group of women that weren't on their phones?
Oh! They were huddled in a circle laughing, gossiping, flirting with the one and only dad; devouring every minute of "grown-up" time they could possibly squeeze in.
Call me "old-school" but I gotta ask it, "Was one damn mom interacting with their child? Was one parent playing hide-n-seek or going down the slide or building a sand tunnel with their child?"  NO!
This led to me becoming a stressed out, judgmental wreck.
Some 4-year old stole The Cousin's favorite pink ball; took it all the way across the grass and wouldn't give it back to me. Then, I ran to help a kid who appeared to be a mere 16 months, as she went head-first down the slide and ate a mouth full of sand at the bottom.
Next, I helped a little girl out of a swing because she had been crying for her mama for a good
5 minutes.
All the while, I've got Sweet Pea on my chest in her baby Bjorn.  I feel like a mother kangaroo wearing that thing, but it does aid me in multi-tasking, especially when I've got to manage the entire jungle!

I ask you, What's the world's coming to? Kids on their own to fend for themselves like baby jaguars in a jungle?  How does a child play hide-n-go-seek by himself? How does a toddler get in and out of a swing by herself? And here comes the teacher in me:  How do children obtain the much needed language upon entering kindergarten, if no-body's talking with them!?

The park was packed. It was nuts.
Screaming, crying, lots of "kid issues" needing solving and grown-ups in their own damn worlds, completely oblivious. Here comes the soapbox...
Children are growing up without language skills and without socialization skills.
What I witnessed today was so disheartening; a microcosm of perhaps the condition of the world itself.

Maybe we need a serious conversation about this.

Yea, I get that there's no stopping technology. But what about eliminating the human touch factor?
That interaction that fills parents and kids, brothers and sisters, friends and pals with a personal sense of attention, understanding and love?
I'm talking about other things too like texts messages replacing phone calls.
Like a Facebook birthday wish replacing a hand-written birthday card that arrives in your mailbox.  Like an actual hug instead of a "xoxoxoxoxo" .
Are we complacent now? Have we just accepted that such ways of interacting with fellow humans is a "thing of the past"?
And back to the park moms...Are we so stressed-out and so self-absorbed, that we think our kids are fine playing 24/7 while we are on our phones, computers, Ipads or watching tv?
Do we think they'll be just fine if we sit them in front of a video game?

Now that I've become a seasoned nanny and an expert on so many subjects,  I must sound
arrogant and insanely pompous to y'all!
But The Cousin's parentals monitor her. Limit her with her Ipad. And they talk with her. Patiently. They answer her never-ending questions, while still giving her the encouragement she needs to explore, think for herself, discover. But they're involved and she's numero uno.
I like that about them. They also interact with her more than they interact with each other!
And she's smart as a whip!

"Let's make rain, Ball La Lee" she said to me.

Making Rain

Reading to Kitty

Hours past her nap time, The Cousin strangling Kitty

I have a lot in common with The Cousin. I, too, need my naps.  And so does this little beauty.

Sweet Pea is one determined little shit. Even a Radio Flyer trike can't stop her.  Here she's headed straight for The Cousin's book; you know the one we don't want her to have.
I gotta hand it to Sweet Pea.  If I had even an ounce of her fortitude, I could move Mt Shasta.

She was great at the park.  What I mean by "great" is that she didn't eat any dirt or leaves.
Last time, I had to do a finger sweep in her left cheek to remove the debris.
Of course, this time I didn't let her loose in the wild; kept her strapped to my chest in one of these handy-dandy devices.

This is a nanny's savior.  This gives a whole new spin on "multi-tasking".
I feel like some super heroine with Sweet Pea in this; like I could leap small building in a single
bound kinda thing.

Equivalent to Sweet Pea's determination is her curiosity. She continually wants to get into the dirty diaper pail. I'm thinking about just opening it up and giving her what she wants.
It might bring about the same outcome as rubbing a puppy's nose in the droppings that he
just left on the living floor.
Perhaps that will deter her from the pail.
She's a sweetie-pie though.  Her hair's getting pretty untamed. I like to spike it up whenever I get the chance. She and I have the "bed head look" going all day long!

"What's up?!"

I know it's so goddamn easy for me to write this, but today's circus at the park tells me it's time for parents to put the needs of their kids first.  I'm not talking about whether we buy them an Ipad or not. I'm talking about giving them consistent interaction, engaging in play with them (especially at a damn park), answering their endless amount of questions, teaching them to say, "thank-you" and all that jazz.

Space 7 had a bumper sticker on his pick-up that read:
"If You Can't Feed 'Em, Don't Breed 'Em".
Now, that's a good start.
I understand that it's a selfless job. And that even when parents are miserable themselves, they must somehow find an inexhaustible spring of emotional energy that is somewhere deep inside of them,  reserved only for their children. They must keep it flowing unabated.
It is there.
~tpg