A Little Less Conversation and Zero Action

I've experimented with the possibility of becoming a nanny this past summer. I've learned a lot about myself during this experiment, but primarily I've learned that while I continue to adore "my boys" (the four-year-old twin boys whom I've known since birth, who will be known in future posts as the Diva and the Daredevil), while I would care for them, fight for them, defend them, possibly even die for them, there's no way I could be their full-time nanny. This is because Bill Cosby was right when he said that you can't simply give a child a request and expect to get results. You have to send a barrage of words after them before you can get them to do anything.

Don't get me wrong - I love these children dearly and always will, but if I have to say any of the following things one more time, I may have to end my own life:

"Don't hit your brother. Stop hitting your brother. STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER. I SAID, STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER! STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!"

"Sit down. No, over here. Here. I said here. Over here. Not over there, over here. No, HERE."

"Put that down. No, put it down. Put it down. Put it down where you found it, not on the floor. Put it DOWN. No, DOWN. PUT IT DOWN NOW. I said NOW. PUT IT DOWN...."

"If you do that one more time, you're getting a time out. I mean it."

"Catch up to us, honey. Catch up to us. CATCH UP. Stop lagging back there and catch up. I want you next to me, not behind me. CATCH UP CATCH UP CATCH UP... What part of 'next to me' is so hard??? I said CATCH UP."

This is how I spend part of my time. The rest of the time, I'm pushing a stroller with approximately 50 items hanging from it, including, but not limited to:

- The scooter that the Diva insisted he would use and love and care for until time stood still and the world ended (not his actual words), and then after five minutes of riding it announced that he was too tired to go on;

- The little beach chair that the Daredevil found at the corner drugstore on sale for two dollars and begged me to buy, and which he then immediately proceeded to use as a potentially lethal weapon on anyone who came near him;

- Various edible items, some of which are intended for me, but of which I will probably only get to eat one third before the other two thirds are claimed, others of which will be partially eaten and then abandoned;

- Whatever book I am currently reading, of which I will get to read one page before someone requests something to eat, falls down and requires minor medical attention (Disney-themed Band Aids, kisses, reassurance that the injured body part in question is, in fact, fine), announces that they have to go to the bathroom immediately, or requests that I be "It" in a game of freeze tag;

- Several DVDs from the local library, featuring characters such as "Elmo" and "Dora," "Bob," etc., all of which are destined to be replaced with similar items almost as soon as they're returned. There could be 3 DVDs in that bag, there could be 30. I'm usually too tired to count them, and;

- Wet wipes. There are not enough wet wipes in this world. There never will be.

I've realized that I will be ready very soon to go back to working with other adults, although part of the reason I was willing to try nannying was that I felt like I'd spent so much of my working life babysitting adults that nannying couldn't be much different. In some ways it isn't, although I have to admit that at no time did my former boss ask me to wipe his nose for him (I wouldn't have put it past him, though). And there is something about getting a detailed project or task done on short notice and getting it done well that can be very gratifying.

On the other hand, there are going to be many moments I'll miss after this summer. No adult boss could ever make me feel the way the Daredevil did one night after he'd given me hell about going to bed. He'd run, fought, climbed, yelled, kicked, shrieked, and giggled until we were both exhausted. Finally I sat down on the couch with him, got out my iPod nano, and let him cuddle up with me while we listened to all the most relaxing music I could find.

We listened to Sinatra, Sara Bareilles, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Sarah McLachlan, and Tracy Chapman. But it wasn't until we listened to Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini" that he asked, "What was that?"

I told him, and then I asked, "Did you like it?"

He looked up at me, snuggled into my lap a little further, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, "Yes - it's beautiful." Then he popped the thumb back in and asked to hear it again.

He fell asleep shortly after that and I tucked him into bed, the Diva having fallen asleep about an half an hour before.

I made sure they were both safe and secure, and I thought the same thing I've thought since I first held them when they were babies, the first time they fell asleep in my arms, the first time I saw them light up when they recognized me - the thought that no boss and no office will ever merit -

I will love you forever, wherever you go.

That, I'll miss.

The stroller, not so much.

Changes, Changes

Before I blog about anything humorous, lighthearted, or in other words, all things completely foreign to my nature, I think it's appropriate to share a short recap of the recent upheavals in my life, namely:

Losing My Old Grey Lady

My Old Grey Lady died two months ago, at the ripe old (for a feline) age of 17 years. I only owned her for 5 of those years, but we had a good run. If she'd been human, she'd have been a tiny old lady in white gloves, a pillbox hat, a cigar and a martini, but she'd still have been a lady.
Rest in peace, old girl. I miss you.

Adopting Mingus the Ninja Kitten

Mingus the Ninja Kitten showed up shortly before the the Old Lady passed away. He deserves at least one introductory blog post all on his own, so more to come. In the meantime, his current favorite hobby is climbing my back, regardless of what I'm wearing (or not wearing).

Being "Let Go"

For the first time in my life, I was let go from a job. Granted, I haven't had that many jobs - leaving out catsitting, babysitting, plantsitting, etc., I've had 4 office jobs total in my entire 33 years - but this was a brand new experience. This is going to figure largely in future posts, I'm sure.

The thing is, I'm not sorry. I'm not saying it wasn't a traumatic experience - because being thanked repeatedly for your hard work for 4 years and then being told one day that you're not right for your job and never have been is not exactly going to make a person feel like a potentially valuable employee for someone else.

But I did learn a lot over the past 4 years, some of which I'll be sharing.

The most important thing I learned?

Never trust a lawyer.

Ah yes, I remember it well...

It's been a very long time since I was here. Sometimes I feel like it's been a very long time since I was anywhere, but that's another post - probably several, actually.

Because of the kindness of (former) strangers, I'm back, blogging, trying to write, after a long absence - a very long dry spell for me. Plus, I'm about to start adapting to a major work-related life change (and that in itself should provide plenty of material for this blog. Some of it humorous, some of it practical, and some of it full of rage).

Here's hoping someone out there comes on the journey with me. But if not, I'm just happy to be here.

Damn Dirty Apes!

.... at least, I think that's what Heston said (or part of it). And in line with that:

- Damn you, Verizon. Your connection sucks, you continue to bill me for random things that don't appear to even apply to me, and you don't send me bills for ages and then send me big fat bills demanding payment for services I don't even use. I hate you.

- Damn you, television pretty boys! I think I'm past the point of the remotest bit of interest ... and then you reach out with your pretty eyes and suck me back in!!! (You'll pay, CW. Maybe not now, maybe not in the near future, but you'll pay.) I'm supposed to be above this stuff. Leave me some dignity!!!

- Damn you, pogo.com! You offer nine zillion versions of solitaire, word games, arcade games, and now you add Monopoly??? Is there a job out there that requires me to play this stuff for a living? Because I would be a millionaire.

- Damn you, Con Edison! I'm turning off lights, leaving off the A/C, sitting in the dark - cut me some slack! Unless my cats are turning everything on while I'm gone, I'm pretty sure you owe me money.

That's it for today. Carry on.

Kids Are a Great Workout

Someday I will stop apologizing for being late, because I will no longer be late. Today is not that time. Tomorrow's not looking good either.

It's a beautiful day in NYC. Weight Watchers has been going well; the past two weeks I've recommitted to being healthy and active. This weekend I voluntarily chased two-year-old twin boys around the local playground in the heat and humidity for the sake of extreme calorie-burning, after it worked so well last weekend (if you want a "different" total body workout, volunteer to give "horseyback rides" to a group of small children, and then convince another adult to do the same and race you while doing it. The kids love it and the next day you'll be sore in all the right places - just make sure you're doing it on a springy surface or your knees will hate you). (Stop looking at me funny. I'm serious.)

Living on my own has been going well, although I still walk into the apartment sometimes or wake up in the morning and feel like none of it is real - I'm either dreaming or just visiting, and at some point the person who actually lives in my apartment is going to come back and it will be time to go home. I wonder when that feeling goes away.

On the plus side, everything is up to me. I pick what comes in and what goes out, from food to furniture to people. I don't have to fight anyone for the bathroom, I have four closets (FOUR!) all to myself, and if the place gets messy I don't have to hear about it, because it's MY place and MY mess.

On the minus side, I don't like cleaning any more than I did when I was living with my parents. Also, personal addictions that may have been a side issue when living in cramped conditions become full-blown under the microscope when you live alone and have time to face them.

That said, the following post will be my usual complaint/confessional...

... they're not centipedes.

They're silverfish. Really big ones. Which means that they're not even doing me the favor of eating roaches - they're just showing up to harrass me.

Other than that, it's a normal Thursday in New York. The weather's been unusually kind, which means I can leave the AC off and hopefully save some money on my next Con Edison bill (speaking of which, guys at Con Ed? Are you listening? I've been turning off lights and using my 2-cent an hour fan and such ... shouldn't my bill be lower, at least by a tad?).

Also, I really hate Verizon. (Although their customer service people have, so far, been the nicest and most helpful CSRs ever. Really. Mean it. Call me.)

Out, Out, Damned Centipede(s)!

Let's see now. Overall, things weren't going too badly. Oh, sure, I'm out one full-size Aerobed (thank you, "Gnat" - turns out he wasn't fully declawed after all. Not that I have a major problem with that, but the Aerobed certainly did), there are herds of cat hair balls, not unlike tumbleweeds, roaming through my apartment and occasionally attempting to escape, and the only working phone jack is in one of the front hall closets. Accessing the internet now requires me to hook up a bunch of wires and run them from the closet into the foyer, which now doubles as an office. But other than that, things were okay.

Until the centipedes.

I don't have roaches. I can take down any mosquito. I'm not saying I'm not grateful for my lack of insect issues. But the centipedes.

The first one was small, and not terribly bright. It was roadkill on my slipper within seconds. The second one was huge, and could have had a college degree for all I know. It took me about 10 minutes to get anywhere near it once I spotted it. I actually considered letting it have the apartment, packing everything up, including the cats, and moving immediately. I also considered calling my coworker and her boyfriend and begging them to come and kill the thing, which, I kid you not, appeared to be sprouting more legs as it sat there on my windowsill.

Reason (of a sort) finally prevailed, and I looked around for something to spray at it. The only options were Febreze and Oust. So I Febrezed the hell out of the centipede, while looking for something long enough to kill it with, preferably something that I could use from another room (or even another state). The Swiffer turned out to be a godsend (hello, product placement!).

Where were the cats during this episode? Cheerfully observing. Thanks, guys. You're sure earning your keep.

Get a job.