Nannies

We live in sunny San Diego here. A and I went to the Zoo with one of our mom friends this morning, and I have to address the nanny issue.

I first noticed this when we went to the La Jolla library. La Jolla is a swanky place, beautiful beaches, lots of money, mansions everywhere. I was hanging out in the library with A and overheard a conversation. Two women were sitting with two kids reading books to them. The kids were maybe three or four(?). I can't tell until A's been that age and then I still can't tell.

Anyway, these two women were hired caretakers, one was an au pair and one was a nanny. They had a lovely cheerful chat about where they spend time with the kids and where the kids live.

So then I started wondering how many other nanny pairs I'm strolling by with A in my stroller. Now that I've started looking, I think it's more than I originally thought in my altruistic, pluralist way. I'm keen on adoption, blended families, biracial blends, and all the other wonderful manifestations of society. But the woman at the zoo pushing a toddler I saw today--they weren't related. No way. And I hate making the judgment because I'm making it on appearance (skin color and disparity of consumer goods). No mom who's pushing a kid dressed in Juicy Couture in a Bugaboo Chameleon would be seen in Walmart sweats with knock-off Keds sneakers.

I know; maybe it's Grandma. Maybe.

Changing after swim class one day, one of my least favorite moms had a wailing infant. Sobbing, yelling, tears. Sound really reverberates off the damn tile in there. If you don't have kids and are wondering if parenting inoculates you to the sound of babies crying, wonder no more: it doesn't. If the parent's working on it, then I feel more empathy since I've been there, done that, but if the parent is blithely letting the child cry, then I'm ready to jump down their throat and say, "Why have the child if you weren't going to help him?"

There's a swim class for older ladies at the same time as our class, so there's an older woman sitting next to me. She says to me, "I hate hearing babies cry," and I nod as agreeably as I can while getting dressed. She goes over and talks to the mom.

This mom is one of my least favorite moms. (Said it once before but it bears repeating.) This older woman tried to coo to the baby to get him to stop and this mom basically said can it, Grandma, he doesn't like strangers. Lady, he doesn't look like he likes you. (I have never seen this child not screaming.) One of the other moms suggested that maybe he was hungry. Oh yes, she says, he is. He's on a new feeding schedule and he has to wait another two hours to eat, plus a new nap schedule so he has to stay awake.

This might make sense, you formula-feeding parents out there are saying. No, he's breastfed, and they eat when they want to. Also, swim class is like my bankable nap of the week. If I had to bet all the money in my pockets to say when during the week A would be taking a nap, I'd tell you right after swim class, after he eats. This new schedule sounds like the road to insanity.

The older woman sits down next to me and tells me again how much she doesn't like to hear babies crying. I agree. She looks over at A, who is his sweet darling observant self, and she says how beautiful he is, how sweet. I thank her.

She tells me she never let her babies cry. I tell her I try not to let mine cry like that. I ask her how many children she has. She explains that she raised five children, all grown now. She wasn't their mother, but she raised them. She did a good job; they are all sweet, smart, and still remember her.

I tell her that's wonderful, but I'm thinking how sad, they still remember you and that's the marker of a good job? She tells me that she has no children now and she wants to have new children to look after, that she likes having nice children to look after.

And I think, oh, have I been conducting a job interview for a nanny without knowing it?

So I try to not-too-obviously state that looking after children is quite a job and I consider myself so lucky to be looking after my own son. And she agrees and leaves.

I don't know why I didn't expect to see that many nannies; I just didn't expect to see them in the locker room. Or the zoo.