Drinking on duty

Would you? Are you allowed to?

Whilst on holiday with a family.

Slight (?!?) chaos but we won’t go there yet …

First night dinner. With kids and all. We’d arrived quite late and everyone was hungry so out to dinner we went. I was tired. The kids were tired. It was long past their bedtime. I knew I wasn’t about to get paid overtime but hey ho. Anyway .. I was pretty much told what to order .. the cheapest thing on the menu, no less … all of two mouthfuls of food (posh food). I was offered some wine by the boss. I said no. I would rather have been offered more food thanks. I was in charge of 2 over night. I was tired. Wine makes me sleepy. On an empty stomach wine would make me tipsy. I’m not much of a drinker. I very rarely drink. I do like the odd drink though, with a decent amount of food thanks. But, still, I said no.  To the wine. I wouldn’t have said no to the bread basket being passed around though.  It was banned. Apparently it was all the kids would have eaten if allowed (just say no…) so by that it meant sod me and my rumbling stomach. Hey ho.

The next day out and about, I was given a small pocket of time to go and sit down and relax. Armed with some cash off I went to get a drink. To the only place around for quite a distance. There, I met some others known to the family. They called me over to sit with them and offered to buy a drink, recommending what they had – a beer mixed with half juice. I agreed. Not thinking for a minute that it wasn’t a good idea – being a vaguely alcoholic drink. I wasn’t going to be driving, and the typical ratio of children to adults was one to one, although those thoughts never crossed my mind. So I enjoyed it, and a nice relaxed chat with them. No side effects, no tipsyness, no tiredness. Nothing. It was barely alcoholic.

Met back up with the boss and kids. Mentioned the others bought me a drink and what it was. No comment. Maybe a small half laugh like an acknowledgement to the fact I had spoken…

Next day. Lunch. I arrived and drinks were just being served. The others were there with their usual and offered to get me the same.  I said yes .. still not even thinking it was a problem .. not driving, wasn’t even going to be in sole charge of the kids, no chance of getting tipsy .. it is so juiced down that it’s barely alcoholic .. AND I could choose what to eat (stuff face in case of hunger later..)

.. the boss heard me say yes. Oh boy. Was I made to feel yay tall. Like a child. I ended up on water. Again. I’m an adult. A very responsible one. I’m not stupid. I’m not reckless. Yes, I’m a professional, but I’m also an adult. Okay, I do have to respect their thoughts/decisions etc, but is it not double standards that they get the said drink, and more, drink them, and look after children?

Day after .. see I’m confused now. Lunch again. This time I was offered one of those quick shot thingys. I don’t like them and was turning it down when the more easy going boss said, oh I’ll turn a blind eye. Go on have one. Actually, no thanks, I was turning it down because I really don’t like them. Not because you would expect me to say no as I was on duty.

No, it’s not the same as me being a paid professional. That I understand. But alcohol content of the beer drink was so so low. Geez, I turned down the wine, but a watered down beer with a big lunch? How to feel small. Drink water. Be a kid.

I’m obviously not a part of the crowd. I’m definitely not a part of the crowd. An adult I am. Respected as an adult? No. Respected as a nanny skivvy? Hmmm, that’s yet to be seen.

I’m (not allowed to be) bored

I was employed by the current family due to, among the obvious things – experience, references etc ..  my upbringing, where I am from, and the fact that they want their children to grow up the same way I grew up and to become what I became, in a way. The differences between parental income, and the opportunities on offer for these children is so so different to what I experienced. This is where we hit problems.

I grew up with supervision, but not constant supervision. I grew up with a certain type of freedom that the children of today are not really able to experience due to the changing world, and parents being more paranoid. I grew up without expensive holidays, without a playroom bursting with toys … I recall one basket of toys shared between siblings.

Most importantly of all I grew up happy. Are these children happy? Are they truly happy? No. They’re not. I grew up being allowed to be bored – having to find my own entertainment. It made me who I am today. Are these children allowed to be bored? No. Am I allowed to let them find their own entertainment? No.

I want children to be happy. Truly happy. I want them to experience life as I knew it. But how can I do this? With parents constantly on my back. They want this, they want that. They don’t want this, they don’t want that. I was told on taking the job – it’s where you come from. It’s your upbringing. It’s the way the children are where you are from. Their ‘earthliness’, their confidence. We want our children to be like them.

How can I do this when I have no freedom to? If you want your children to grow as I did then let me instil the values I learnt into them. I can’t when I am blocked at every corner. Let me get on with it. Let me do as I know best. Let me bring your children out of their shells. Let me teach them to find their own entertainment. Let me leave them to get bored. Let me give them the ‘freedom’ all children need. Your kids will be different kids. Happier kids. More confident kids. Fun loving kids. If only you will let me get on with what I was employed to get on with.

In the meantime we carry on going round in circles, and I become more and more frustrated as the days go on.

Inspired by this article ..

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-21895704

Proxy Parenting

Proxy parenting I don’t mind doing. Because sometimes it means my working life runs easier. The kids are typically far better behaved sans their parents. Which child hasn’t figured out that mummy and/or daddy are there to run rings around, get what they want etc etc. Some of my longer term jobs I’ve had children who are well behaved regardless. These are jobs I have started when the child is too young to know better. They were trained up well.

Jobs you go into when the children are older are harder work. They have it sussed by the time you start. Was it the previous nanny’s fault? I don’t think so. Although if the previous nanny was a longer term nanny then I maybe can partially say it may have been, but which nanny has tried and failed to take on a parent when the parent thinks they know best. You can’t take on a parent and hope to win. Unless that parent is desperate and begging for help, and willing to receive it.

But I digress. Proxy parenting. Pays extra. Or does it? I would’ve assumed it does. I work a 60+ hour week. It’s a very long week. With very long days. Throw in a bit of babysitting and the days are longer. Especially when you have to do bedtime with children who still haven’t learnt the art of listening, co-operation, compromise and so on. And you’re in charge of the dogs. Does dog sitting pay extra? Oh, and it’s just as easy to go put a load of washing on, take a load of washing out, empty the dishwasher, etc. once the kiddies are in bed because goodness only knows when you will be able to manage to do that in the morning .. argh, the night has gone. It’s bedtime. There ain’t no time for ‘me time’.

Proxy parenting is additional hours. Those scary night time hours when the house makes noises you’ve never heard, the dogs bark at their own shadows, the monitor makes ghostly sounds, the wind picks up outside, the rain lashes at the window, and you don’t sleep anywhere near as good as you should. Proxy parenting is hours over and beyond nanny hours and babysitting hours. It should be paid extra. It’s a huge responsibility. You are in charge. In complete charge. Their most precious objects need you.

Although it’s funny how more attention is paid, by the parents, to you knowing how to lock doors, set alarms, call dogs in, than to their children. Who knew how many books need reading, cuddly things need retrieving .. Don’t worry, the kids told me. In their ways. One sweetly, one foot stampingly, one just got out of bed and got it …!

I asked. How much do you pay? Nothing. Nothing extra I was told. Ah ha. That’s not what was agreed. Let’s have words. Did I get anywhere? Oh bah humbug. No, I didn’t. I asked the agency. They knew very well they had told me it was extra. I asked them what the going rate was so I could add it to the ‘please pay me back list’. They knew very well that my hours were agreed on accepting the job, and proxy parenting played no part in that agreement. So, what happened?

I got a long, drawn out reply from the agency as to what had been told to them by the employer. Before I accepted the job. Before I had even gotten in touch with the agency. That proxy parenting is included in the weekly wage. Oh, they promise it won’t be more than 2 nights. But then they will only start paying if it is more than 3 or 4 nights.

I love to give to charity. I always give to charity. I feel like I am now the charity. Yes, I’m here. I’m asleep in your house. Doesn’t mean I can and should work every hour under the sun and moon for nothing. I’m not happy. I’m pissed off. Yes, I am earning a decent wage but by goodness do I work my butt off for it? I should be allowed to sleep peacefully at night. And if I can’t then please have the decency to pay me for the broken sleep, the extra (huge) responsibility, the weight on my shoulders, the round the clock care etc etc.

Oh, the agency I am very unimpressed with. The employers I am losing respect for. The career I’ve loved for so long hangs in there on an ever decreasing thread.

Nursery Rhymes

Am I the only one who, when singing nursery rhymes to calm a baby to sleep, sings them over and over and often forgets the lyrics? Or just sings them over and over because you have forgotten the lyrics?

I end up having to make the lyrics up.

Bye Baby Bunting .. I never remember what daddy’s gone a hunting for. It comes out as all sorts of things.

Rock-a-by Baby .. I try to avoid saying the baby will fall. Paranoia reigns .. what if the parents only hear that last bit? They’ll burst on in and grab the baby away from the threatening nanny.

‘Mary, Mary quite contrary’ could often be about a few little madams girls I have looked after …  but when singing .. not about any particular little madam girl, I often end up going straight into ‘Row, row, row your boat’.  I think a CD is to blame for that. I can’t help myself. It used to run into each song from the previous. Now I find myself doing the same.

‘Pretty maids all in a row, row row your boat.’ 

When we go past Banbury Cross I break into song .. every time. Out comes the rhyme. Embarrassingly enough, even when there are no children in the car.

Ring-a-ring-a rosies .. the deathly plague.

Who says nursery rhymes are harmless. Not embarrassing at all?

How sweet and innocent is childhood.

You just gotta love what kids come out with

 

The youngest one in the car the other day:

‘It’s not fair, he was allowed to stay in his pyjamas.’

(It’s not fair’ being a commonly used phrase around here … yes, I’m working on it).

 

Me:

‘He got dressed, never you worry.’

 

Youngest one:

‘But he doesn’t wear dresses. He’s a boy.’

 

Lol. You’ve gotta love the way their mind works.

It wasn’t me

I got the blame. It wasn’t me. I said so. The housekeeper backed me up. Some very expensive items of clothing have been shrunk. I’d never seen one of them. One I had seen and had washed but this was purely to try and soften the pretty much stuffed wool of the jumper. Trying to rescue it didn’t work, but the ruining of it wasn’t down to me. Another I had hand washed. It should have been dry cleaned but I’ve always gotten away with hand washing nearly all ‘dry clean’ only clothes. It looked tiny when I washed it and came out looking exactly the same. Fabric not ruined at all. Size unchanged from what it was when I first laid eyes on it, but definitely way smaller than it should have been. Somebody had obviously shrunk it. That somebody wasn’t me.

The housekeeper stuck up for me. She’d watched a previous nanny haul some of them out of the washing machine. Tut tut. And could safely say she’d seen her hand wash, and probably shrink, another one.

It’s not nice being hauled up for something you didn’t do. I was gutted when told I had shrunk and ruined them. Absolutely gutted. Once I checked which ones were being spoken about I felt better. I knew it wasn’t me. But I still feel crap that this was even mentioned. It wasn’t me. Someone else should have owned up to it to save me getting the full on blame, and the ‘I’m really disappointed’ line. I also think they should have thought about who else may have washed the items, not just me.

Ah well, onwards and upwards.

First days

First job. Find the house. Second. Meet the boss. Third. Meet the children. Fourth. To bed. It’s an early start in the morning.

The day got off good. It was the last day of school for the eldest so out the door in a panic we had to go. The middle one was off to nursery school too. In the opposite direction! We were late. We’ll work on the being on time thing. Co-operation from the children would be a good start. The nursery school didn’t seem that bothered that we were late. I wonder if it’s a regular thing? Older kids despatched. Home again to keep going.

It’s a busy job. There isn’t much down time. Actually to be truthful, there is none at all. Washing needs doing. Ironing needs doing. Clothes need mending. Beds need making. Bedrooms need tidying. Meals need cooking. Kitchen needs tidying. Playroom needs a good sorting out and cleaning. Dogs need walking. Kids need entertaining. And so on.

It’s been tough on the poor feet. I go to bed with feet aching. Socks on all day isn’t great. Outdoor shoes are outdoor shoes. I’ve ordered some for indoors. Slippers just don’t do it. They aren’t professional. Although some employers don’t seem to mind. Others do.

The kids have had a bit of a run on temp nannies so they are having a few ‘moments’. Unsettled. Badly behaved. Rude. Insolent. Call it as you may but I won’t put up with rudeness. It’s getting nipped in the bud. The non screeching, non shouting way. We just go backwards and forwards to the ‘thinking spot’. It takes a while. We usually get to being nice again. Eventually.

I’m calm. They are usually anything but. I’m quiet, and talking normally. They’re anything but. Screeching, shouting, crying … Things take 10 time longer to do. It’s wearing. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. Mum knows too. It’s just hard to have to listen to it. To have to deal with it. But we will get there. Nothing like being positive. I’m taking it a little easy and not being as ‘strict’ as I maybe can be. You can’t go in like a raging bull. The kids would be traumatised. I’m going for the outright should know better rudeness. Anything else gets let go. For now. If not we might as well just all sleep, eat and be merry together on the ‘thinking spot’.

Nah, it’s not that bad but it certainly feels tough at times. Positivity reigns. We will get there. They will be sweet. Happy. Lovely. Cheerful. Non-argumentative. Non whiny… etc etc. One day. One hopes.

I have a job

Woohoo. The family decided they would check their own references, as they should anyway, as they said waiting for the agency to, might mean losing me. Yes, it would’ve. One of my lovely employers from last year, whom I worked my butt off (and more) for, gave a glowing reference. The job was mine. Finally.

Bit late for the contract to be sorted but honestly, if I really didn’t like the job once I started all it would take would be 1 week’s notice. Temp it is, as well. I can handle temporary positions, even if I hate getting out of bed for them (if they are really that bad), as I know there is an end date.

Hours agreed. Going on holiday agreed. Duties, the usual, discussed. Pay agreed. Contract to be sorted out soon. Finish date unsure of. Hmm. Start date sorted.

I’m looking forward to it. Although I am a bit nervous as I have never met them so don’t know 100% what they are like. Or the kids. Or the house. Or the pets. Or the other staff.

It’s a tricky one taking on a job when you don’t completely know or understand the set up. I think it takes some guts to go into. Usually you have to land running. To keep the kids routine going, food on the table, clothes washed, kids entertained, parents happy. It takes some doing. Temp jobs never seem to give you a settling in time. This can be hard. With experience it is easier. Being flexible and not stuck in your ways makes it even easier. Being able to absorb and watch yet at the same time doing takes a bit of doing. I’m a ‘mucker inner’. If the dogs need letting out. Out they go. If the clothes in the washing machine need hanging, even if they are nothing to do with my duties, yet I need the washing machine, then hung they will be. And so on.

I’m looking forward to it. There seems to be enough kids, dogs, and built in entertainment to keep me busy, happy, and entertained. Here’s hoping.

Playing God

I’ve often believed that agencies can play God with us nannies. ‘Oh, I didn’t think the job was for you.’ ‘You won’t ‘fit’ their family.’ ‘You aren’t what they are looking for.’ ‘The job has gone.’ (When it’s still on their website … and … 2 weeks later, still on their website.) ‘We have no jobs that fit your requirements’, and so on. Often, because I am not stupid, I find these excuses not to be the case.

So, why do they say these things? Do they think they know me better than I know myself? I know which jobs I can do and which I won’t do. So why can’t they put me forward for them? Maybe it’s an age thing? The family want an older, younger, less experienced, naive, fitter, skinnier, prettier, foreign, speaker of other language nanny, or … the agency just fancies playing God.

Only last week I was told, by one agency I got in touch with again, ‘we have nothing that fits your requirements.’ Funny thing was on their website they had the job that I had skyped interviewed for. The job I was offered through another agency (and then un-offered as they didn’t have a clue hadn’t checked all my references when they had said they had.)

But why would I be told they had no suitable jobs then? I have no idea. It wasn’t like I changed my wants or needs for a job from one agency to the next. I never did say anything to them. Just shrugged my shoulders and thought ‘oh well, your loss.’ I know who I won’t go to next time round.

The job I skyped interviewed for was listed with about 5 agencies. The job description was pretty similar, give or take a few extra nights of babysitting, or having the monitor overnight. One agency had them down as high profile. Who? … Exactly. Another had them offering up to a certain amount for exceptional candidates. When I questioned the agency who had put me forward for the job about this, I got a ‘never will they pay that amount’ and to be honest I never would expect a family to pay that amount.

It makes me wonder what’s the truth and what’s not. It should be black and white. I have often resorted to looking on Gumtree as often jobs listed with agencies are put on there by the families too. And in this day and age the difference between getting the job and not may be due to the fact there are no agency fees to pay.

Problem is we need a job. Agents already have one. How much are we willing to put up with before we turn our backs on them?

Nit free .. hopefully

Eugh. Have you ever brushed your hair with a fine tooth comb and seen lice come out? It is very gross. Even grosser when one starts crawling over the tissue. No, I wasn’t nit/louse/egg free. Shame. I thought it was too good to be true. It wasn’t too itchy – more so at nights – and on 2 different occasions while itching I managed to get a louse on the end of my finger. I know. Gross. But at least I knew for sure I had some getting rid of eeky things to do.

I pity the people who have to constantly deal with this. It’s kind of pre-historic in a way. All these creepy crawly things living off us. Ugh.

The good news is that I have managed not to pass it on to anyone (that I know!) I wear my hair up at work which helps. It looks neater and is out of the way!

I’m now fascinated by the life cycle of a louse. I wanted to know how long I would/could be host to each, and all that. 33-35 days apparently. Eugh. Too long.

I found this short but concise website. It’s very informative. Have a gander.

http://www.headlice.co.uk/about/life-cycle.aspx