Nanny Mania

Did you ever notice that the only people who have a “perfect nanny” are those people helping their nanny to find a new job? Don’t take my word for it; read the postings on DC Urban Moms. “We love our nanny — please take her and assuage my guilt for letting her go because she plucked my last nerve and I finally put my child in daycare.”

I have 3 children. In the 6 years since the oldest was born, I have had 10 nannies. My life has been such a revolving door of nannies that I contemplated adding the role “Director, Childcare Drama and Nanny Mania” to my resume. It is admittedly how I have spent the majority of my mental energy for nearly 7 years.

So today I came to a liberating conclusion: I am over the nanny thing.

Why is the nanny relationship so complex? So bitter-sweet? So weird and icky? Well, the truth be told, it’s because it is the only employment relationship in which the employee has all the leverage. And they know it.

The nanny relationship is the ultimate love hate relationship. We want to do what’s best for our children, but there are physical limitations to meeting endless needs. So we hire extra hands to care for our children while we provide for them. As our children grow to love those hands, we grow to resent them. And yet because our children have grown to love them, our reliance on them is that much deeper.

In our hearts, we love them for keeping our children safe and well-cared for. We love them for every dirty diaper, every washed, sewn and folded piece of clothes, every poopy diaper that we don’t have to touch. We love them for completing our profile as the ideal woman. “I have a nanny. I have arrived.”

We convince ourselves that they love and care for our children as their own, that they love them too much to tell them “no” or to discipline them well. They love them too much to tell them to eat with a spoon and not with their hands. They love them so much they let them throw potting soil all over the house, sit on top of the dining room table to eat and slap their siblings mercilessly. They love them so much that our kids never cry in their presence. They love them so much that they give them whatever they want, whenever they want because they want it. And then they punch out at 5 o’clock (or 6 or 7), and leave us to deal with the aftermath – forcing boundaries that create a torrent of toddler outrage. I’m over it.

We hate them for the $25,000 – $50,000 of our after tax earnings that they demand. And we hate ourselves for paying it. “How can you put a price on making sure our children are safe and well cared for?” we rationalize. And we are right. But how sad is is that we have to pay someone to love and care for our children? The truth is that we hate ourselves for not wanting to — or being in a position to — care for them ourselves.

We hate their snide remarks about the way we care for our kids, the food we feed them, the disorder in our home. And we hate ourselves because we know that they’re right. So we notice and nitpick on little things...like the crumbs on the kitchen counter…or the toys not properly organized…or the baby’s clothes not matching. (Must my son leave the house everyday looking like a color blind Gianni Versace??)

Deep in our hearts we know that we are being petty — and we love it! We tell ourselves that we could do better, that we would do things perfectly, that we’re smarter and better and more capable, but we just don’t have the time to raise our own kids. So we hire strangers, encourage our kids to love them, and then hate them both when they do. I wonder what Freud would say?

We tell ourselves that no one is perfect…then we demand perfection and complain about the lack thereof. We tell ourselves that they are doing their best…yet we constantly remind them and ourselves that their best is not good enough. We tell ourselves that what counts the most is that our children are happy, safe and well-adjusted…and yet we complain that they don’t know their ABC’s or their colors or how to eat soup properly with a spoon.

We love them and we hate them and we resent them and we need them. We love their imperfection for it allows us to gloat…and taunt our own “better-ness”, even it is often only bitterness. We love them and yet we hate them for we feel like we can never let them go.

But we can. And I have. At last, I am a Daycare Mom!