I Believe You Have My Stapler

I'm coming up on my nine year anniversary as a nanny. There are some days I wish I could be behind my desk, wrapped up in a tiny cubicle, and have actual co-workers who try and scam the company pennies at a time or throw office parties where someone always gets left out on the cake. But then there are other days, like today, where I realize I have a pretty kick ass job.

Today, our outing was the Erie Zoo. It wasn't much to behold a few years ago, but now they have this amazing children's area that we could spend at least two hours in every visit. One of the greatest attractions is the "Wings of Wonder" cage where you walk through and birds fly over and sometimes fly ON you. If you are at all freaked out by the movie Birds or have an aversion to being shit on, don't visit. But I thought I'd take a chance. I'm pretty used to being saturated in fluids by now.

These are the 5 girls I nanny...Bottom from left: Jane (6), Catherine (5), Julia (5). Top from left: Tam, Brit, Emily (8), Payton (8). The polar bears are in the background giving each other pleasure again.









In the Wings of Wonder, Julia was a bird magnet. It was like Snow White in the woods. The damn things came right over to her and started pecking at her leopard print spots, then one shit--er hopped on her head...And stayed there.




I wish I could have taken a picture of the fear on Julia's face when she realized these things weren't coming off without a fight. "How do I get these things off!?!," she said in her little munchkin voice to the bird chick. She had to jump more than a few times and finally they moved on to some branch.


This is Lauren, a friend of the girls. I just wanted to put another extremely photogenic child on my blog. And as you can see with her sister Morgan in the background, it runs in the family. I'm pretty sure these children were bought on the black market. Although Julia and Emily might be animatronic.

Super ???

What is her superhero name and what are her powers? This picture doesn't do her justice. Her body is translucent.

A Letter To Britain

There are so many things I want to tell you. Sometimes I see right into the future and can picture you and I having a fierce conversation about guys, how most of them are not worth even sharing your gum with, let alone your body. And with all the cancer, heart disease and tooth decay in our family, an apple a day really DOES keep the doctor away. Try everything once, but don't keep drinking coffee. You'll never stop. While we're on the subject, stay away from cigarettes. Everyone I know who smokes either wishes they could quit or wishes they hadn't started in the first place. If you drink alcohol, make sure it's socially and not to destroy yourself. Also, it's true what they say: who your friends are say a lot about who YOU are. Stay in touch with the ones you make in high school. And one best friend is so much better than a bunch of acquaintances. Make mud pies but pick up all your toys. Although you won't use it all, no matter what they try and tell you, pay attention in class. Homework isn't just the evil doing of a sadistic teacher. But IQ tests and SAT scores aren't what measure how truly talented you are. If you fuck up, apologize. Don't stay bitter or your heart will turn black. Read a book from start to finish and always have one with you. TV really DOES rot your brain; get your ass outside. Take lots of pictures. Not only sing in the shower, but dance in the suds. Forgive Dad and I for our mistakes. In turn, we promise to forgive you and let you make them. If you have something to say, speak up but realize there ARE stupid questions. White lies are ok but be truthful in everything else. Keep a journal and hide it where no one will find it. Otherwise, you'll never write down how you REALLY feel. Break a law. And no matter what Dad tells you, sex can be the most beautiful thing you will ever experience. Enjoy it. Explore it. And don't be afraid to tell him/her what you want. Travel, whether it be a road trip or a planned vacation, itinerary included. Don't BE unique; you already are. The most important person in your life is never more important than you. And if you ever find someone that treats you the way your father treats me, keep close contact. Leave your mark. Watch a sunrise. Make sure you have a goal leading you to happiness, not necessarily to success. You'll only ever really know yourself...Let someone in on some secrets too. Play a sport and a musical instrument. Read the paper for more than the comics. TP someone's house. Know that your first love probably won't be your last love, but will be the one you'll remember most vividly. Save your yearbooks. A carrot's so much better than a candy bar. Crying to get your way is for weak females with no imagination. Let me hug you, even if you don't always hug back. And last but not least, fitting in means you'll never stand out. Normal is boring.

Cold And Rainy Days Included

Before I write this, I'd just like to say how happy I am right now. There has NEVER been a better time of my life. In fact, I didn't even know true happiness until Matt. I couldn't even comprehend what it felt like to love and be loved. And for the first time, I love myself. That being typed, I'm not sure if you'd call it the romantic or the pessimist in me, but I always wondered what it would be like if Matt and I split up, but got back together a year or two later. I haven't had this thought in a really long time (not since before I was pregnant) but its popped up recently. Contrary to what most would think, I don't WANT to break it off with him. The same could be said about a one night stand: I would never want to have one, but I'm in awe of people who have and I wonder what its like to wake up next to someone and not know what their favorite breakfast cereal is. I guess I'm just a little jealous of those couples that are always breaking up and getting back together. I want to know what that feels like to pine for someone, need that person again, realize what you had and how you really fucked it up. And the makeup sex must be amazing. I once had this dream (pre-Brit) that Matt and I were both on separate dates at the same restaurant. When he and I saw each other, it was so intense. You know how in dreams, you just know the facts? Well it had been a few years since we had even laid eyes on each other after an icy break up. I don't know what our dates looked like. I don't know which restaurant we were at. I just remember we sat down, the other people magically disappeared, and we were staring at each other from across a table. When the waiter came over, Matt took my hand and told me, "we are ordering everything off the menu until we figure this out". It sounded cool in the dream...Maybe a little hokey in real life. I've just always secretly wanted to know that torturous feeling of being without him, cold and rainy days included. Then suddenly seeing him again and talking all night over coffee...having him back in my life, making everything complete.

Hey! I've Raised Enough Of Them!

So Matt and I might stop at one. Its not that its excruciatingly difficult raising Britain. Its not even that we wouldn't want her growing up with another brother or sister. We just feel like 3 (1, plus us) is a great number. On top of that, I'm a little tired of diapers and tantrums and washing nipples that aren't mine. I think I'd be much happier if I knew "this is the last time I'll ever have to do this". I have ENOUGH stretch marks. And I know I'll be punished in my labor next time around for having such an easy labor the first time. Not to mention (although I AM mentioning...I never understood that phrase) there is schooling and clothing and therapy sessions and bookbags and singing lessons and peanut butter (ok, that's for me). That shit costs money...that I don't have as it is. So yes, we are seriously thinking of stopping while we're ahead.

And 3 is a great number! Its worked for us. Here's a little background: (Warning: This could get a little sappy). Matt and I both are each others third. We met in 2003. There were just 3 dates before I fell in love with him. Our house was the third house we put a bid on when we were house hunting. Its a little strange when it keeps popping up, so why ruin a great thing? My luck: I type this and three months from now, I'll find out I'm pregnant. Then one of us will have to die.







This has nothing to do with my post. I just wanted to say Happy 10th Anniversary to Kristen and Ray. He's her Puppy Daddy. As you can tell, they were made for each other. Or at least, they haven't found anyone else worth leaving the other for.

"Can You Mimic This Asphyxiated Blue Hue For The Living Room Walls?"

Payton, Jane and Catherine: my source of income.


Today is my first day back to work. Although, its not as similar to some mothers who have to do their hair, put on their makeup, button up their business suits and LEAVE their children. I just rolled out of bed, left her with Matt, put on some shorts and a tank top, packed up the car, got her while she was still in her pjs, buckled her in and we were off. The girls were really surprised to see us because Mary (my boss) and I kept it a secret from them that I'd be there two days this week. Originally I was to start back next week. They were so excited and for the first time in a long time, I think they truly appreciate my Junkfood Nazi-like ways.



Britain: my source of late night entertainment.


Being a nanny for 9 years has given me much experience, but Brit still surprises me everyday with new challenges. Britain is known for her choking episodes. My sister, Theresa, is constantly calling or emailing me and jokingly asks "Is she breathing?". It still freaks me out every time it happens. Last night, I was feeding her (12:30 am) and she was in between burps. All of the sudden, she spit up and it became caught in her throat. She got all wide eyed and started gasping. I turned her over, hit her on her back...still nothing. She was turning an alarming red. I tried pushing on her diaphram, which usually works...nothing. Then I started to panic, thinking I only had a few minutes until brain damage. I started screaming for Matt who had gone to bed already. I'm not sure if he didn't hear me or if he was just too asleep but I think I screamed three times. This must of scared the shit out of him considering I broke the news that we were pregnant in just a whisper 9 months earlier. He flew down the stairs, panic in his eyes. She was still trying to gasp, and by this time her red coloring started turning purple and her lips were starting to turn a sickening blue hue. He just kept telling me everything would be fine, but I was trying it all and nothing seemed to work. In fact, it seemed like it was making it worse. Her eyes started rolling in the back of her head. All this shit flashed before me...the rush to the hospital, her funeral, the empty crib. I just kept screaming her name and beating on her back while she was upside down. Finally she burped, almost throwing up and slowly gained her color back. Although her breathing was shallow, it was steady. I would stare at her then hold her up to my ear making sure she was still breathing then stare at her again. She gave me this half asleep, drunk on formula look just like she always does after she eats and I just started nervously laughing...not only because I felt such relief but because I felt like a dumbass waking Matt up like that for something that I probably just should have waited out. Its not as if it hadn't happened before. Matt and I both looked at her bottle, which she had an ounce left that we would normally make her finish. Matt just gave me a look and said "we're done with that thing tonight." Although I'd had only 7 hours of sleep in the past four days, it still took me an hour to fall asleep.

Such Is Mango

Its a little scary how many times I've been to Wal Mart in the last month. And its always for something stupid that I either forgot or convinced myself I needed. I went in today to pick up baby bottle liners (forgot them last night) and convinced myself I needed fruit because we NEVER have fruit in the house, unless you count Twizzlers. So I picked up honeydew, cantaloupe, bananas, and mangos. Matt LOVES mangos (perhaps more than his fiance') and they were a mere .33 cents a piece, while normally they run around 1.30 A MANGO! So I bought 5 (which is about the price of one, to help you out with the math). When I get up to the register, I noticed the cashier (while draped in the latest fashion of a stained pooh shirt and plastic hoop earrings) rang them up as .50 cents each. Everyone always yells at me when I don't tell someone that they are screwing me over or just aren't giving me what I want. (I specifically say NO GRAVY, please. The dish comes back with not only gravy, but gravy on the side and I spend most of my dinner scraping off the layer of lard instead of just reminding the damn waitress that "I didn't want to clog my arteries this evening".) So I debate, and debate, and she's getting down to almost the last item on the conveyer belt. I'm already mapping out my way to customer service to fix the problem with them and not make her feel shittier than she might already (I mean, her partner couldn't have sprung for even those wire hoops that come in 5 pair for a dollar at Claire's?) but alas, I speak up before she's subtotaled.

Tam: (sheepishly) "Um, I believe those mangos were .33 cents, not .50."
Plastic Hoops: "Wha?" (Stares at the receipt, as if the answer lies within.)
Tam: (defenseless tone) "I think they even said it over the loudspeaker."
Plastic Hoops (huffing) "Hold on......" (Calls the imaginary manager who seems to never be working when I'm there. We both wait a few minutes for no one to show up. Finally Ms. Hoops just changes the price herself.)
Tam: (apologetic) "I really appreciate it. I know its just a dollar, but-"
Plastic Hoops: (interrupting me in a "I need another cigarette" tone) "Have a nice day." (meaning have an unbelievably shitty day where you fall down a few flights of stairs and your kid catches Rubella.) Then she THROWS my perfect fruit in the cart, crushing my bottle liners.

And I'll probably be back tomorrow.

Hair For Thought

Why is it that I prefer people to remove their shoes when they come in the door to my house, but there is cat hair on my kitchen floor from almost a year ago?

I'd Blow The Sandman For A Little Rest

"Who needs sleep? Well you're never gonna get it.
Who needs sleep? Tell me what's that for?
Who needs sleep? Be happy with what you're getting.
There's a guy who's been awake since the 2nd World War."

I am so tired. I remember our first night home. I woke up every time Britain squeaked in fear she was drowning in her own vomit or that her face was pressed up against the side of the bassinet. I'd shoot up off the bed, peer over the side of her's and see that she was just dreaming, or pooping, or breathing. And then I became every typical first time mother. I don't remember the last time I had more than 5 hours sleep at a time. I could pack for a summer trip in Montreal with the bags under my eyes. What's really going to be fun is starting back to work and having to be out of the house, Brit in tow, by 7:30. You see, I was being sarcastic there.

One great thing for you: Me having a newborn means short and sweet posts most of the time because there's always something she needs or wants.

A Thousand Pictures Are Worth Some Words

Happy Family
From left: Tam, Britain, Matt. I love this picture because Britain is the only one showing her true emotions.
Britain up way too early.
Matt and Brit meeting for the first time. The look on Matts face is priceless: "What the hell did we get ourselves into?".
Nah, he's not stoned here.
Kristen, Amy and Tam. I love how Im sitting closer to Amy than Kristen. This was at the very end of the evening and it shows only on the faces of Kris and I. Look at Amy like she just woke up.