I had a bad dream last night, the kind where you (allow yourself to?) feel things much more intensely than you ever do in waking life. Ya know, like when you punch your mom in the face or throw temper tantrums in taxi cabs because you are going to miss your flight. No? Okay, anyway. So last night was a nice little nightmare called Losing The Kid You Nanny.
Lost the kid. If you haven’t ever been responsible for someone else’s life before, let me tell you: IT IS THE THING YOU ALWAYS WORRY ABOUT BUT CAN NEVER FULLY CONFRONT BECAUSE IT IS TOO HORRIBLE.
In this dream I was hanging out with a bunch of friends, and the kid. We were on some water ride ifyou must know. Ha! Then one of my myriad of bosses called and I had to run and do something. then a few hours later i was like FUCK I WAS BABYSITTING RIGHT THEN. WHERE’S THE KID? And my friends were like, Oh, I dunno… And his mom was like WHERE IS THE KID and I was trying to stall. Cue very realistic nervous breakdown.
Mid-dream I woke up and pulled my little iphone- I’m not fucking kidding- out from under my pillow and opened the NOTES application- Hah!- and typed this, I swear to god:
you can’t fuck up nannying and leave.
Human quotient and responsibility beyond job.
That’s all. That’s what I wanted to remember. The “human quotient.” Quotient? Doesn’t that mean math problem? Whatever.
I woke up with a fucking level of anxiety I haven’t experience since, well, nannying. x10. And then I realized I WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR SOMEONE ELSE’S KID’S LIFE FOR TWO YEARS IRL. Holy shit!
Anyways I remember, yes, waking up and wanting to remind my future self of that horrible sense of obligation towards people that comes with babysitting.
For instance, the other day after yoga a woman who takes classes there came up to me and said she heard I was a babysitter. “I used to be, yes,” I said. Then she start spurting out weird, awkward shit like, “Oh, well if you aren’t interested you aren’t interested but I just was TOLD you were a babysitter. I just really need someone and I heard you were a nanny and if you have time it would be so wonderful…”
And I felt TERRIBLE. Honestly. And why should I? How many fucking people over 16 want to to run around New York taking care of other peoples’ kids? Why the hell should I feel obligated to do that? BUT I DO. And I worry that I always will. I sort of feel like I am some sort of Nanny Serf now and people will come along and force me to help them live their lives. So I gave her my fucking email because, jesus, I don’t already have two jobs and a million blogs to write, why shouldn’t I watch some stranger’s kid all the time, IF YOU AREN’T INTERESTED YOU AREN’T INTERESTED?! OF COURSE I’M NOT INTERESTED! WHY WOULD I BE? I’m 25 years old and I have a college degree. Babysitting blows! The jig is up!
And so I woke up this morning and promised myself I would never babysit again.
Then I went to freakin yoga, happy as a clam. Kid-free. Bam, boom, drank some coffee, did some handstands, worked the front desk, read mah book, ran into Nikola at the coffeeshop next door, said “DO YOU REMEMBER ME?” when I hugged him, thought, “Dude, you are, right this moment, hugging him, of course he remembers you.” Wondered why in the hell I would ever say that to anyone, etc., etc.
Then! I was on the fucking F train back from yoga and some freaking summer camp of kids got on the train, and I was surrounded by all sides by little 5 year olds all in the same green t-shirt, reaching over me while I fiddled with my phone and balanced my ice coffee on my Marilynne Robinson book, accidentally leaning on my shoulder while they ate their mini Oreos. I started grinning at them and laughing at all of their funny gestures, then almost patted one on the back, just out of habit. They said hi to me and looked at me with big eyes like I was some crazy white girl they got to hang out with on the train, and I started thinking of how it feels to be surrounded by these damn kids who could die at any moment and you’d have to tell their parents and have a nervous breakdown, but how invigorating it is and how I am maybe only completely, utterly myself around kids, making funny voices and little routines that go on and on and on like only they let you do, all shaking their heads and screaming with laughter and begging you to do it again.
And then i was like DAMN YOU, KIDS, YOU HAVE BESTED ME AGAIN.
And that is life.
