Imaginary letter to the V family

If I were to give a letter to the family I work for tonight, it would look something like this:

Damn, she gets to cook, carry, and wear a starched hat!

To Jan: I appreciate you offering to hold Alice for half an hour, to give me a break in my 13 hour day today. However, asking me to then make you coffee, make Alice milk, and then reheat your lunch because "those are things you can't do while holding the baby" doesn't really make it much of a break, and how the #@$& do you think I manage to get both kids up, bathed, dressed and fed real home-cooked meals while you and your wife are still in bed? Magic fairies that come and hold the baby for me? If all modern fathers are as useless as you, then I'm totally going to raise my own kids with another woman.

Also, when your son starts saying at 6.30pm that he's tired, send him to bed early. At the very least, adhere to his 8pm bedtime rather than having him stay up an hour late to write. I don't care that you think it's important he works on learning the alphabet with you everyday, if it's that important, maybe you could have emerged from your office before 8pm on a Sunday. And yes, I made it clear I was pissed off about it, but I knew I'd be minding a tired and exceptionally grumpy kid today (although I did not expect his teacher to complain that he had been tired and disruptive all day, and I did not expect him to keep up his tantrum for a whole 15 minutes). And yes, I'm now even more pissed off seeing as its 9.30pm and you've only just arrived home with him from working on one of your properties. Bring on dealing with Arin tomorrow...

To Arin: I know that you're tired. I know that it's not fair your parents are too lazy busy to come pick you up and therefore you have to walk home with me, and I agree that sucks when you're only five, you didn't get enough sleep last night and its a 2km walk. But dude, you're five. You're too old to throw tantrums on the ground kicking the baby's pram. And for all that I'm sympathetic, you should have learnt by now that crying will not make me give in to you. It just makes you more tired. Great.

I realise that you weren't put to bed tonight until 10.30pm, two hours after you should have been tucked in, and therefore you're really overtired and having trouble sleeping, but buddy please please please stay in bed until you fall asleep rather than getting up every five minutes to complain, because you're damn well keeping me awake too, and you know we don't have fun when both of us are tired and grumpy tomorrow morning.

To Koi: I realise that you come from a country where you had a personal assistant, full-time nanny for Arin, a cook, and cleaning ladies that were on-call 24/7, but welcome to the western world, where nannies do not appreciate being "asked" at 1pm if they could work the entire day, that same day that is already half over, because you have appointments that you've known about for weeks. That's not cool. Nor is you arriving home to find the baby fed, clean and ready for bed, and the entire house clean (which was never in the job description but it's easier to clean rather than chase the baby around all day taking away the random shit and dead flies that she's picked up off you're filthy floor before she puts them in her mouth) your washing done and me tired after working since I woke up this morning, and not saying thanks. I realise that you've never tried to cook, clean and watch children all in the same day, but let me assure you that it does deserve a thank you when your nanny does it outside of her job description.

Can I also say, I guess a lifetime of paid staff bringing meals to your table means that cooking is not your strongpoint, but really, cold pizza and ice cream for a five-year old's dinner on a regular day? And giving him five slices of cucumber with whatever rice/meat dish he happens to be eating each night may be better, but is not the same as 'five a day'. "Oh, your five year old has already had to have more than half his teeth pulled out, really, what a surprize." And starting to cook him dinner at 9.30pm because you 'forgot' that he'd need to eat while with you this evening, not exactly stellar parenting.

And finally, I don't think coming from a developing country is an excuse for not teaching your son to wash his hands after he goes to the toilet. Why is my bathroom the only one in the house that has soap in it? Am I the only one in the house the actually washes my hands? That is gross. Please invest in an economy pack of Imperial Leather and some of those Horoia Ō Ringaringa signs that are stuck to every public bathroom mirror in NZ.

Keep that up and I'm coming after ya!

To Alice: I love you. You are the cutest thing on two legs and the adoring look you give me when I kiss your tummy is the about only thing keeping me around here and stopping this nanny experience from putting me off procreating one day. But for the love of all that is good in the world, please stop crying every time I put you down. You are damn heavy, and while I can make milk, coffee and reheat food with one hand, I cannot peel vegetables for your dinner while holding you. Just sit at my feet and play happily with your toys, because screaming like you are dying a slow death from a very painful disease is not going to make me suddenly grow another set of arms and agree to carry you around for the rest of your life.

To the frogs that live in our pond: SHUT THE @*$# UP! I've averaged five hours sleep a night for the last two weeks because of you. I get that its that time of year, and you're up all night partying 'coz you just wana get laid, but go take a cold shower otherwise I am coming after you with some heavy-duty rat poison.


Be warned, it is getting near the time I had a change of scenery.

Kind regards, your dedicated nanny Claire