Required preread: We Thought We Found the Perfect Nanny

Whence last we spoke, I was in a puddle of tears due to the no-show-nanny on day one of my new job.   The exhaustive nanny hunt followed by the nanny trauma drama had me shook, but as we women do, I put one high-heeled foot in front of the other and marched onward.

By day I was leaning in, learning the ropes at my new company and proving to them that I was the right man for the job.  Each workday also offered the logistical challenge of onboarding a patchwork of pinch-sitters in efforts to keep things rolling along as smoothly as possible for my three little girls. 

By night I was interviewing, reference checking, and mining the fields for a new crop of potentially permanent nannies.

But by late night, was conducting a Keith Morrison style investigation into who exactly this woman was that betrayed my trust and evaporated into thin air with our house key and our car seats.  Hindsight, fact finding via the online Yellow Pages, and Monday morning quarterbacking have led me to these grim conclusions:

Red Flag #1: She gave me a printed copy of her “background check.” Even more concerning: she did not accept my request through Sittercity to conduct an official background check or driving record check of my own.  What was she hiding?

Red Flag #2: Turns out she has three different names according to the internet. Anyone who has seen one episode of Dateline knows this is code for creepy.   

Red Flag #3: In the words of my four-year-old who spent time with her during her orientation, ”She was nice but her car smelled bad and I didn’t like her music.” Car smells are a BIG DEAL to kids. I can still recall the stench of a certain wood paneled station wagon from the carpool of my youth.  I am convinced that my acute adult motion sickness originated while sitting in the backety-back of our neighbor’s smelly Buick as a kid while Kenny G blared from the tape deck.  To this day, any time I hear this saxophone sonata, I am immediately nauseous.  Simply put, Hallie did not care for that stanky stank or the soundtrack.  These. Things. Matter.   

I see some of you out in the wild and I always get asked “Did you ever get your car seats back?”  That brings me to the next red flag.

Red Flag #4: After a STRONG dose of legalese from my husband via text and voicemail, the car seats finally appeared on our back porch in the dark of night a few weeks after it all went down.  But. Instead of unclipping them like a normal human, she cut them out. That means she used some sort of industrial strength pruning shears to cut the seatbelt material attached to the latch clip that attaches the car seat to the car.  Car seats are useless if they can’t be secured to the car. What conclusions can we draw from this seat snipping situation?

• A) This lady has ZERO childcare experience because anyone who has been around kids would know rudimentary car seat mechanics. This would therefore mean that she faked her references. Something that makes sense considering those phone calls were, well, odd.

• B) This was an act of malicious aggression. 

• C) All of the above.  

I am currently using my # 2 pencil to fill in “C” on my scantron.  Keep your eyes on your own paper.

In conducting this postmortem, I can see it all so clearly now.  We dodged a serious bullet by not having this duplicitous wackadoo take care our most precious precocious possessions.  I really think Someone was looking out for us, and I am honesty relieved that this woman did not spend another moment in my home with my children.

Thankfully, this suburban legend has a happy ending. We found the perfect nanny who has now been with our family for over a year.  I love her, my children love her, and she does all the things necessary to keep the all spinning plates in the air on the home front.  I would literally give her my kidney if she needed it.  She can certainly have my gallbladder and I would most likely give her one of my more vital organs if the need arises.

Her car even smells good.

For Christmas this year, I’m asking for the perfect Nanny for my three children.  In January, I am starting a new job at a new company that I am super excited about. BUT! We have less than three weeks to find our very own Mary Poppins. Let me give you a breakdown of the nanny hunt thus far. 

Step 1: Emailed all my friends asking if anyone knew anyone who knew someone who knew someone. A direct referral would be ideal. (net: one candidate)

Step 2: Put an ad on SitterCity, AKA Nanny Tinder.  (I got dozens of responses. some scary. some qualified. pretty hard to tell what’s what. )

Step 3: Put a post up on the local moms’ Facebook groups. (two leads)

Steps 4-8: Conducted phone interviews, face-to-face interviews, working interviews, contacted references, stalked Instagrams, and ran background checks. Thus, filling every nook and cranny in the already CRAZY month of December with nanny chatter.

Step 9: Lost excessive amounts of sleep wondering which one is the RIGHT one.  (Still not sure.)

Step 10: Drafted an annotated version of the letter written by Jane and Michael Banks that manifested into Mary Poppins. The bold words below are my personal requirements and wishes. I’m hopeful that by writing this down and putting it on the internet, our magical dream nanny will appear.

Before we begin, here is the video of the Banks children singing their nanny song to freshen your memory.

Wanted a nanny for two  three adorable, spunky, smart, kind, creative, clever children

If you want this choice position—so far I have held this position unpaid so perhaps a paid gig is choice? These are the most important people in the world to me and you will be spending a lot of time with them. So this job is a huge deal and we are taking choosing the person for this choice position quite seriously.

Have a cheery disposition.  Yes. I want my children to want to be with you.  I want you to blend naturally with our happy family.

Rosy cheeks, no warts!  Appearance isn’t everything but it does count for something. Being put together shows you care. One of many data points.

Play games, all sort.   We love games.  Play games with them but DO NOT let them win (or cheat).  One day we will release them into the Real World and they need to know how to win fairly and lose gracefully. 

You must be kind, you must be witty. Yes yes.  A good sense of humor is key.

Very sweet and fairly pretty.  Fairly is the right word.  Pretty but not too pretty.  I have been reading US Weekly way too long to know how that story ends. The hot nanny didn’t do great things for the marriages of Jude Law, Ben Affleck, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Why play with fire? Amiright, ladies?  A 7 out of 10 would be just fine.

Take us on outings, give us treats. Take them on lots of outings (particularly to the places I don’t want to go) like the Aquarium, the Planetarium, and the germ-ridden bouncy house place.

Sing songs, bring sweets.  We love music so play the hits and dance, dance, dance. Sweets and treats are fine, in moderation.

Never be cross or cruel.  But don’t get walked over. They are crafty. Earn their love and their respect.

Never give us castor oil or gruel. But mandate that they eat all their vegetables if they want dessert.  Make them brush their teeth.

Love us as a son and daughter. Yes. Please please please LOVE my children. Get to know each of them individually.  Figure out the ways they feel loved, and celebrate and appreciate and adore them.

And never smell of barley water.  Good hygiene is key. Smokers need not apply.

If you won’t scold and dominate us. They will need scolding from time to time. Let’s try to be on the same team as far as discipline. Because it will be needed.

We will never give you cause to hate us.  Though they might test your patience and push the limits, they really are fantastic.

We won’t hide your spectacles  So you can’t see  (But they might throw minor tantrums when the Elsa dress needs to be forcibly removed.)

Put toads in your bed  Or pepper in your tea.  (But they will squabble over who gets which colored cup, who gets the map placemat, and cut one piece of paper into amillion little pieces that you will find all over the house)

Hurry, Nanny!  LIKE SERIOUSLY. On a deadline.

Many thanks.

Sincerely,

Jane and Michael Banks   Jennifer

Let’s go fly a kite.

For our family, typical beach days are full to the brim with the application and reapplication of sunscreen and extreme lifeguarding as we schlep between the beach and the pool. When it comes to swimming, our children’s confidence far outpaces their actual ability, so my stress and anxiety is on high alert when my little daredevils are near open water. And when we are on the beach, they want to be IN the ocean, not quietly building sandcastles. This means that we, their parents, are in the ocean too, playing man on man defense between them and the crashing waves. Why even bother bringing beach chairs because there is absolutely no sitting during daylight hours. One child demands to be carried across the “dirty” sand, the other complains that her sunscreen stings, and both battle with us over who has to wear a puddle jumper and a swim shirt and who doesn’t. . It’s a week full of memories and glimpses of family fun, but man, it is hard work.

There has to be a better way! My husband and I said to each other after a particularly expensive and exhausting family beach week a few years ago. Well, there is! We just got back from a family beach trip and it was fantastic. I feel rested and refreshed and even more in love with my man and my little ones. YES, it’s possible. Lean in and listen closely as I share the two words that will help you turn your family TRIP into a true VACATION:

Beach Camp.

We are on our second summer vacationing this way and it is just the best.

Last year we went to Hilton Head, South Carolina and I scoured the internet to find a local day camp for our then 2 and 5 year-old daughters to attend. I found a precious Montessori preschool with spots for both girls and signed up. Double bonus that the camp happened to be in biking distance from our beach house. Each morning, we took the tandem to camp drop-off and hugged our chickadees goodbye, then headed off to enjoy 4+ solid hours of actual vacation. My man and I went out for breakfast, took long bike rides, and actually (wait for it) sat in our beach chairs on the beach. It was blissful. Then around 1:00pm, we biked to pick up our campers and enjoyed the rest of the day as a family.

This year we intentionally set out to find a new beach destination that had the option to put the biggest sisters in camp. We found a lovely rental house at Kiawah Island, South Carolina. It was a five minute walk to be beach, a four minute walk to the pool, and a three minute walk to Kamp Kiawah. And as you know, when you spell camp with a “K” it has to be fun. So that is where we spent the first week of June this summer. It was bliss.

In the mornings, we dropped the big girls off at camp and then enjoyed relaxing breakfasts on our porch. What followed would be some combination of golf, tennis, walking, beach sitting, reading, or exploring grounds of this gorgeous hotel. I finished a handful of books and actually got to have meaningful conversations with my husband. Both of those things made possible by the fact that I wasn’t lifeguarding all day long.

Meanwhile, our girls were having big fun at beach camp-I mean Kamp. They LOVED it. We’d pick them up after lunch and have the rest of the day to live it up as a family. Because I had spent the first half of the day recharging the ol’ battery, I easily transitioned in to super-awesome-mom-mode. I raced my oldest daughter down waterslides head first, collected shells, swam in the ocean, and carried the 35 pounder across the “dirty” sand without so much as an eyeroll. At night we swam until the pool closed, explored different beaches on the island, found a radio station that played Delilah, drank margaritas with a view, and played rounds of (naked) Headbandz-still legal in South Carolina. It was an amazing week.

Now that we have seen the light and tasted true rest during a family trip, there is no going back-at least not for a while. One day in the future, when each child has passed the YMCA swim test, can read chapter books, be trusted to apply their own sunscreen, and wipe independently, we will embrace a week of full-on family beachness. Until then… Beach Kamp.