The need for control

For a nanny, control is a very limited resource. There is not many things over which you have authority over in your life, especially if you live with the family you work for. Even the children know that you do not have the final say and that all it takes is a simple pleading request to the parents to renig your authority. Even though you spend more time with the children than anyone else, you have no power over their schedule, no matter how harry or demanding it is for you or them. You can't keep the offending words (always said at the most inopportune moments) that they have learned from their parents from coming out of their mouths, and you have no choice but to accept the ill placed blame, because to most of the other adults in these childrens' lives, the parents are not much more than a figment of the child's imagination.
Not only is control relinquished on the occupational end, but also on the personal. Your transportation is limited to your own two feet, and you must ask permission to do such simple things as go to the gym or the store if you absolutely must use their 2007 audi s4. There's no control over your privacy, so everything you do in the confines of their house must be something you would be ok doing in front of a crowd of judgmental onlookers. You never know when you will have a moment alone, as they are always coming to your room at any inconvenient hour to discuss work-related issues, or they are finding excuses to go into your room or bathroom. They decided what you eat, when you go, what time you wake up and even which TV shows you watch (you can't change the channel when they're Tivoing something). After 9 months of enduring this, my opressed desire for control over my own life has been slowly eating me from the inside out. What is left is a manic desire to lassoo all the overwhelming complexities that used to be considered insignificant intricacies of daily life and make just one adult decision for myself.

6/19

I knew coming into this week that it would be horrible. It seems as though every time I have a good weekend God strikes out at me in the worst way, making my days hectic, my children cranky and my employers even more demanding. This week has been especially confusing as my employer has decided to read yet another book on child rearing, and decided to commit to yet another set of disciplinary tactics that will fall through the cracks as soon as she gets in a fight with her husband or her inbox fills up. The only way I can keep up with the chameleon like changes in parenting styles is to read the books that she is subscribing to. All of these books contradict one another and none of them are exhaustive. That aside, all of these books have great recommendations that can be used in moderation. The newest book "Beyond Timeout" talks about the emotionally controlled parent, and how many parents tend to discipline in order to punish, speak to their children in anger, and yet give into them once they are "worn down". This is my employer to a tee. Their children have way too much power, and in the heat of the moment they are likely to yell, swear, or slap their kids, depending on how their anger manifests. My boss has started to implement the calm discipline tactics referred to in this book and I have followed suit in order to maintain consistency in the household. Have I noticed any difference? Not a thing. If anything the behavior has gotten worse. The oldest is four and a half and is yet to be pottied trained. I take that back, she is pottied trianed she just purposely wets and soils herself for attention, revenge etc. She also engages in huge battles with her parents and I, ones where she is throwing things, screaming and saying "I hate you" among other awful things. In the past week things have escalated to the point where she is now hitting and scratching me (she hasn't done this before) and she even defecated on the living room carpet (a sure sign of resistance to authority). I handled these episodes as competently as I could, but I started to wonder whether any discipline tactic was ever going to cure this child of her nasty behavior. Now I know it's possible that this could merely be the type of situation where it has to get worse before it gets better, but will it ever? Before I started nannying I worked in various types of childcare and never have I encountered a child who behaved so vilely as this one does. The kids that acted out horribly in daycare were almost always those who had histories of broken homes or abuse. This little girl (we'll call her Tori) has none of those. Aside from the occasional slap from her dad and yelling from her mom, this child has endured nothing traumatic to speak of.

I should mention though that when she's not throwing a temper tantrum she's a little ball of sunshine. However should you tell her something she doesn't want to hear, babysitter beware!!! Previous to this job, I was cocky enough to think I could handle any situation with any child, no matter how obstinate. I'm starting to see how naive I was.

June 12

Nostalgia is a funny thing. It seems to linger long after one's lost touch with the friend's, places and memories that arouse such feelings. Today Mrs W and I took the kids to play in the water fountain on the Princeton campus. The fountain is huge shallow and rectangular, bordered by trees on one side, and buildings on the other. I sat and watched as students with heavy backpacks (even though it's summer) cargo shorts, and flip flops wandered by, listening to their ipods and remembered the day when I too walked through the quad on my way to Spanish conversation or Vocal Diction. I don't really remember having to pay rent, or the professors that dished out unfair assignments, or weird roommates, but I do remember my freedom. I remember being able to go where I pleased, whether it be the Cafeteria, the practice rooms, or the darkest recesses of the library. Nowadays I'm chained to two tiny little specimens who although adorable, are slowly succeeding in sucking every intellectual and social inclination I have out of me.
About halfway through our outing at the fountain, I decide I had better go check the parking meter which was about a block away. Leaving Mrs. W with the kids (gasp), I grab the diaper bag, don my flip flops and head down an inconspicuous tree lined path that led to the street. On my way I passed a laboratory window where one student agonized, head in his hands, over an enormous textbook. Nearby another scrutinized some fascinating creature in a petri dish. At just that moment I passed by a student and a professor, deep in conversation. For those few moments under the arboretum, my diaper bag became a book bag, my soccer-mom speedwalk became a lazy shuffle, and I became a student again.

June 08

I am one of those people that when I have a really bad day, all I want to do is everything that isn't good for me. Every day that goes well is a day where I can easily slip on my running shoes after work, pay my bills online, do my laundry and still find time to talk to my mom. All after a fourteen hour day. Not today. I know that this day is only one of many stressful days I will encounter with my job, and that I shouldn't take it seriously, and I also know that tomorrow the fire spitting baboons that are my charges will be docile little lambs. (Ok maybe not tomorrow) And in spite of the fact that i mutilated my finger on the food processor blade, endured the bilingual tantrum of a four year old whose specialty is glass-shattering screams, and turned out a dinner that looked a lot like what my cat used to leave in potted plants, I remained calm. All until my boss, (we will call her Ms Windsor) came home and even more calmly than I, explained the exact art of washing an un-potty trained four year old's undergarments, and coolly suggested that it be that way henceforth. Then she walked up the basement steps, turned off the light, (I was still cleaning) and slammed the door. That's when I realized I was mad, and I had been since I sliced my finger in a bowl of mushy croquettes. And that's when I decided to forgo the run and the shower, and opt for sweatpants and a jar of peanut butter instead.