The Nanny Diaries

Ok, for those of you who don't know, when I moved to Portland I was lucky enough to have a full time nanny job lined up and waiting for me upon my arrival. As much as I adored the life of an underpaid, overworked, outwardly nice-but inwardly seething, compulsory servant who brought you your cheese enchiladas or nine thousandth refill of strawberry lemonade - I decided to look for work in something other than the restaurant business when I got to Portland, and seeing as I was a part time nanny in Moscow and loved it, I decided to pursue it full time here.

In the two months that I've watched Mason (23 months) and Hannah (13 months) I've fallen victim to more than my fair share of cliche nanny moments - good and bad. Three weeks ago I had a stretch of days so horrific, Kim's cousins who had recently met me handed over the book "The Nanny Diaries" for me to read and commiserate with. I'm sure there will be plenty posts of mine to follow about the horrors and joys of being a nanny, but I thought I'd include one of my favorite parts of the book that completely pegs what it's like to become a new nanny, and some of the absolutely ridiculous baggage that comes with the job.



Now we begin the actual Interview. I awkwardly place my sweating glass of water carefully on a coaster that looks as if it could use a coaster. She [the mother] is clearly reeling with pleasure at my sheer Caucasianness.
"So," she begins brightly," how did you come to the Parent's League?"
This is the only part of the Interview that resembles a professional exchange. We will dance around certain words, such as "nanny" and "child care," because they would be distasteful and we will never, ever, actually acknowledge that we are talking aboy my working for her. This is the Holy Covenant of the Mother/Nanny relationship: this is a pleasure -not a job. We are merely "getting to know each other," much as how I imagine a John and a call girl must make the deal, while trying not to kill the mood.
The closest we get to the possibility that I might actually be doing this for money is the topic of my babysitting experience, which I describe as a passionate hobby, much like raising Seeing Eye dogs for the blind. As the conversation progresses I become a child-development expert - convincing both of us of my desire to fulfill my very soul by raising a child and taking part in all stages of his/her development; a simple trip to the park or museum becoming a precious journey to the hear. I cite amusing anecdotes from past gigs, referring to the children by name- "I still marvel at the cognitive growth of Constance with each hour we spent together in the sandbox." I feel my eyes twinkle and imagine twirling my umbrella a la Mary Poppins....

It is at this point that she begins the Rules. This is a very pleasing portion of the event for any mother because it is a chance to demonstrate how much thought and effort has gone into bringing the child this far. She speaks with a rare mixture of animation, confidence, and awesome conviction - she knows this much is true. I, in turn, adopt my most eager, yet compassionate expression as if to say, "Yes, please tell me more - I'm fascinated" and "How awful it must be for you to have a child allergic to air." So begins the List:

Allergic to dairy.
Allergic to peanuts.
Allergic to strawberries.
Allergic to propane-based shellac.
Some kind of grain.
Won't eat blueberries.
Will only eat blueberries- sliced.
Sandwiches must be cut horizontally and have crusts.
Sandwiches much be cut in quarters and have NO crusts.
Sandwiches must be facing east.
She loves rice milk!


Anyways...the prolouge to this book is hilarious and so dead on that it was obviously written by a nanny. If you ever have any inclination of 1) becoming a nanny 2)dating someone who IS a nanny or 3) being a friend of a nanny --do them the favor of reading the rest of the first chapter so you can begin to understand our daily struggle...

Finally returning...

Thanks for the comments you've posted since I've been in Portland. This week is the first time I've been back to Limited White Space since before my move. Now that I'm finally settling into life here, I'm going to make a concerted effort to write more.

Portland has been both everything I needed it to be - and nothing like I expected it would be. Moving here took a huge leap of faith in myself, and my resolve to start a new life away from the comfort and familiarity of Moscow has been put to the test to an extreme degree.

Life here is profoundly different than life in Moscow. Not just my life - all life. I never dreamed there was a city that was as environmentally friendly/demanding as Portland is. I moved from a place where recycling was an afterthought that very few of my friends even considered. Here, if you do not recycle every possible recyclable commodity, you are single handedly making a declaration of war against the ozone layer and our natural resources. Winco is not the shopping destination of the common man here. Oh no. Trader Joe's, New Seasons, and Natural Foods are where any self/earth/animal/farmer/citizen respecting person goes. Don't get me wrong, I've come to love those three stores - but only because I feel the societal pressure to save our environment one can of soup at a time.

The Portland obsession with organics is only the smallest example of the differences between my two hometowns (old and new) and while it might be irritating at times, I appreciate where my fellow Oregonians are coming from. If more cities across America had the attitude of Portlanders, there might be vague hope of crushing corporate stores like Wal-Mart and saving our ever decreasing natural resources. The most obvious difference between the two towns that I've noticed however, is the vastly differing policies on what is socially acceptable. And this difference - I wholeheartedly accept, love, and support.

The third day I was in Portland I set out from my friend's place with no known destination, no map, armed with very little cash and a desire to meet my new home city. I learned several things that day: 1. Avoid eye contact with the crazies. 2. Maps are very important. 3. I couldn't have made a more perfect choice of a place to live. I got lost for almost 3 hours my first day alone in the city, but as cliche as it sounds, I found what I'd been looking for for the last eight years. As I traced and retraced the steps of million of lost people before me, I could breathe in and feel the tangible differences of Moscow and Portland. I'd found a place to start my life as a clean slate - in a city where literally anything and everyone is accepted. Coming from Moscow where if you don't fit into a certain category you might as well leave - this was a feeling that can only be described as novel and irresistibly welcome.

The demands of my job have kept me from exploring the city as much as I would like, but I'm settling into life here more everyday. No amount of new experiences and friends can take away how much I miss all my friends from Moscow and Boise though - so be sure to give me a call if you're coming through my neck of the woods anytime soon! Write more soon...