Apparently We’re Hiring

I panicked when I saw this post on our Nanny’s Facebook page: “I just made a big decision and I’m so excited about it…Career change in the making.”

Ever the optimist, I was hopeful her “career change” was one of the following:

• A. PHD in child psychology (night classes)

• B. Marie Kondo certification (weekends)

• C. Diplome de Cuisene from Le Cordon Bleu (virtually)

Well, the two of us have since had a conversation about her next move, and she informed me that it is option D.

• D. Something that doesn’t advance elements of her skillset that serve our family and doesn’t fit within the time and location constraints of our current working arrangement.

The cold hard truth is this: She does not aspire to be our nanny until my children leave for college.

I knew this day would come, but the reality is that it’s coming sooner than I’d hoped. She is the reason I can do work I love, not feel like I am drowning at home, and have peace knowing that my children are in great hands. That infection of working mom guilt so many suffer from?  I remain largely asymptomatic because she has things so lovingly locked down on the home front.  So when I’m not working, I am able to enjoy my children and make it count.

She packs bookbags, lunches and sleepaway camp trunks. She does grocery trips, target runs, meal prep, and laundry.  She does doctor’s appointments, trips to the vet, carpools, and gift wrapping. She reads, plays games, sings beautifully, tells stories and builds magna-tiles.  She knows who wears what sizes and does the seasonal closet reorgs (the. worst.).  She takes on the most ambitious, complex, messy art projects and leaves no trace. You see this tiny house? She patiently built one of those with each child. The instruction manual is the size of a college textbook and it has working electricity.

But best of all, she truly delights in my children.  She sees them and knows them and appreciates the uniqueness of each of my girls. She adores them and we adore her. She has become a true friend.

After I saw that alarming post of Facebook, the two of us had a conversation wherein she laid out her vision for her career shift. 

Honestly? My first instinct was to try to talk her out of it.  I did my best to convince her that her current job is, in fact, her dream job.

The work I do at my day job, the job that necessitates the need for a nanny in the first place, is leadership development.  It is my life’s work to help people find passion and purpose as they leverage their strengths to do work they love.  After my darker angel selfishly spoke her peace, my more altruistic instincts kicked in.  I can’t help myself but to champion her growth and do everything I can to help her find her dream job…the one that doesn’t involve cutting the crusts of PBJs and incentivizing a three-year-old to utilize indoor plumbing.  

I ordered her this book and I’m going to coach her through the assessment results. I have connected her with people doing the work she wants to do in the future. We are talking through finances and the logistics so that she can plan accordingly. I will help her write a business plan.  

I am also trying to get her to stick with me until January.

Ideally May.

Ideally May 2036. I’m only human.

She is truly irreplaceable. 

But. When the time comes to hire her replacement, there will be NASA level scrutiny to ensure we don’t end up in this situation again. For the select few who make it to the final stage of the interview process, there’ll be a working interview with one very specific challenge:

You will be locked in a room with three hungry children, a cat, a hot glue gun, and this DIY dollhouse craft kit. You must emerge with a fully assembled and illuminated miniature room, everyone uninjured and on speaking terms.

After that, if you still want the job, it’s yours.