should i get a nanny?

Go ahead and ask me?  I dare you.  Why is your house such a wreck?  How come you can't manage to "work from home" and keep a tidy home?   What do you do all day long?

Well, for starters, I have two kids. Yes, you remember them.  The loves of my lives.  Mi vida.  Mi cielo.  Love them, but they bring mess everywhere.  Literally dirty oozes from their every pore.  Honestly.

Last night I went out to walk my friend's giant black Bouvier and when i returned home, I realized all the Elmers glue was gone.  So was the devil's dust.  And the borax.  Ten little plastic bags were missing too.  What had they created in my one hour absence?  SLIME.  Homemade squishy and glittery slime.  I'll admit, I was impressed.  Definitely there was a cool factor. Fun factor.  But the remnants of their scientific art project were everywhere.  Spoons full of GOOP.  No, not gwenyth's newsletter.  Real and sticky slimy goop.  What was SHE thinking with that silly name? Or conscious uncoupling?  Let's not digress.

So there were straws strewn about.  The counter tops were messy.  My bare feet stuck to our new hard wood floors.  It was disgusting.  One hour gone and my whole first floor was a disaster.

I didn't freak out, i didn't really care.  I'm used to it by now.  Sometimes i feel i spend my days attempting to clean the place.  Once i tried to count how many times an hour i bent to pick up stuff.  You know, small objects like lego and dried pasta shells.  Paper pieces which cover my floors.  My four year old has an obsessive issue with cutting computer paper.  Recently we found he hoards reams in his dresser!?  I'm used to the slightly white tone of our floors made so by his love of the stuff.

Don't get me started on rainbow loom elastics.  Really, don't get me started.

Everything the kids eat seems to land on the floor.  Or coat the table.  Or coat the table and then drip to those said hardwood floors.  Milk, juice, tomato sauce.  Crumbs from cookies.  Or fish and chips.  Cereal never makes it to their mouth in time.

But they're kids.  And my mom told me the house would out live me one day.  So i try not to care.

Each family member has a shoe problem.  We each possess about 190 pairs.  Running shoes, tennis shoes, sandals, flip flops, hiking boots.  Ice skates.  And then in the winter there are the ski boots.  And the skis.  I went so far as to have custom shoe closets built in our front mudroom.  I also built two coat closets.  We have a coat rack.  Yet every evening I comb the house, picking up used jackets.  Looking for the match to the silver ballet flats.

Yesterday we hit the ultimate in home mess disaster.  My boy had lovingly made the family an organic banana, strawberry, blueberry and raspberry smoothie in our new NINJA blender.  (shameless plug: best blender ever)  He was so proud of his creation and we were all enjoying.  He went upstairs to grab some, um, paper and when he came down he tripped.  And by tripped, I mean down the flight of steps.  Don't worry, he was okay.

What he managed to do next was amazing.  The fall left him unscathed, but I can't say the same for our carpet.  The runners were stained.  This fact i'm okay with as I've been longing to make the change to Missoni for a while now.  The walls were filthy.  He managed to hit the window treatments with extreme precision.  But what amazed me most was the ceiling.  I looked up as he started to cry.  This shake had found its way UP to the top of our hallway ceilings.  Big time.  What to do? Shoot, what to do? Pack up the back packs and head to school.  Well, what would YOU do?

Of course, later that day, I forgot about the state of my house and invited a friend over for lunch.  I roasted fish, cut beets, chopped egg, etc.  We had a lovely time and then went out for coffee.  Later that day, my daughter had a friend over for an ice cream playdate.  And when we left for the kids' haircuts, we left the place in disarray.  Ceilings included.

We returned close to 6 only to have another kid come over for a snack.  Surely no one else feeds their kids sugar.  Maybe that's why I'm so popular with the under ten set?  As a group we headed to gymnastics.  Came home, cooked a second dinner.  This time it was perogis and onions.  Greek salad and pita.

By nine o'clock i was ready to leave the kids and head to NYC.  I was exhausted.  Laundry had seemed to pile up everywhere.  I had loaded the dishwasher just before school pick up, but now the sink was full again.  And the countertops too.

My kids fought me about bed time.  Again.  So i took to my favourite spot to troll Instagram.  When my husband walked in, he was furious.  What had happened?  What did i do all day.  What were all the stuffies doing in the entrance way?  (i had cleared them out in an effort to donate them to the needy.  My mess could be someone's happiness, right?)

So he tried picking up stray shoes.  And loose change.  He started hanging a few spring jackets.  He was furious.

Thankfully it was too dark to notice the smoothie.  This morning's going to be a treat...no doubt.

and what have you done this am?

So far today I've boiled a dozen eggs, cut and prepared carrots, grapes, cucumbers, celery sticks, blueberries and other various fresh produce to make snacking simple.  I've done one load of laundry.  And put it away.  Two beds have been made.  Elaborate and earth friendly lunches have been completed and stored in appropriate book bags.  Ice packs included.  A chicken that i had roasted earlier has been pulled apart to a shred of itself.  Mint and lemon ice tea has been freshly brewed and bottled.  Coffee has been complete.  Two birthday gifts for this weekend's festivities have been wrapped.  Well.  I've forged my kids' signatures on homemade cards.   All of my daughter's musical dreams have been posted to her Youtube page.  I've updated Facebook.  And Twitter.  My fruit and veggie work has been uploaded to Instagram.  Of course.  I'm showered.  My hair is pretty.  Nearly dressed am I in my uniform.   Leggings and a tunic top be thy name.

It's 7am.

The joys of not sleeping past 6 in the springtime...

an unwritten rule...

Ugly people breed ugly children.  Mean people breed mean kids.  Dumb people definitely create dumb offspring.  This is a fact.  A serious and sad fact.  Just ask Malcom Gladwell.  He's already done all the research.  It's compelling.  I highly recommend the read.

What must it be like to walk through life unattractive?  How must it feel to never see at head turn at your perfectly blown out hair or your pouty soft pink lips.  Must be crushing to never hear the whistle or the catcall of a buff and tan construction worker on the avenue.  How did it feel not to get asked to the prom? Or the 8th grade dance.  Were you a wall flower as a kid too?  I'm going to go with "yes".

Are you so ugly that clocks stand still when you face them?  Or do you just not really try to be all that you can be?  Once again, I'm not going to judge.  That is, until I have to.

So today, I have to.  Seriously, I'm going there.

You were actually at school drop off today ladies.  I wonder if you had some last minute party prepping to chat about?  Or did your nannies call in sick?  Perhaps they headed home for a much needed vacation from your bratty family.  Yes you were there in the shiny, screaming yoga pants.  You were wearing ballet flats, so I knew you were headed for coffee.  Never to the gym.  Be honest.

You were toting that huge bag on your slumped shoulder.  Your little friend has a similar bag.  I assume you bought it online.  Some cool and hip online store you think you've just discovered.  You're wrong.

Your hair was ratty.  In need of a shower or a comb.  And perhaps a good dye job.  You barely looked my way.  You were too busy looking for a friend.  Feels kind of weird to go to the school play ground, now doesn't it?  You're not familiar with the rules, the guidelines, the other mothers.  You hardly know from which door your son will run.  I'm smiling from ear to ear.  You look like a fish out of water.

I give you a smile and a glare and hope that your insides are burning.  Burning with the crazy, filthy bile that i know runs through  you.

You don't look my way.  Why would you.  I'm pretty sure you're not sure who I am.  And i love this.

So, why the anger? Why the rage?  Why the judgement?

I'll give you the reason.  You broke the UNWRITTEN RULE.  Clearly this is your first child.  Obviously you haven't talked to too many moms, or you would have known better.  Maybe you didn't have many friends growing up.  Pretty confident about that one...

So you understand, I sent all 29 kids in my 4 years old's class a sweet and cute birthday invite last week.  My boy will be 4.5 next month and i thought it would be great fun to celebrate.

Within minutes, we received 12 rejections?! Twelve kids actually had no interest in coming to the party of the year?  How could that be? Impossible.

So I waited.  Tried to make sense of the situation.  Suddenly, all the girls in the class replied that they'd be thrilled to join us.  Not one boy.  Then two moms of boy babes stepped forward and agreed to party with us.  But that was it.  Just two.  Out of a huge class of monsters.

When I received a 14th "no", I emailed that mom right back.  What was the "conflict" to which all these moms were referring?  Could it be?

Yup.  There was a JOINT birthday party being held at the same date, same time.  Seriously?  And my boy had been ostracized.

That bugged me, but the fact that those lame boys have been taunting my son is horrific.  Egregious.  They keep telling him that he can't come to THEIR party!  I have zero interest in this party, but i find it hard to believe that these two moms made the conscious decision to leave my son off the party list. Seriously, ladies?

For kindergarten, we have rules.  Play nice.  Share.  Smile.  Have fun.  Don't talk with your mouth full.  And when hosting a party, invite either the whole class, all the boys, or all the girls.  For a very special party, just invite a select few.

Anyway, we're not going to fight this issue.  We don't actually care.  One of the boys in question looks like a pug dog.  And not a cute pug dog.  They're not the sharpest tools in the shed.  The mom is a social climber.  I don't know her name.  I don't care to.

All i know is that there are going to be three very happy and popular boys partying with a class full of adorable little girls next week!  And, our pony and our ice cream trucks are booked for sunday!  Party on ladies... Party on.

come ON ladies...

I'm not sure when this started happening.  I didn't really notice at first.  I guess maybe i didn't actually care.  And then I did notice, and now I seem to care.  A lot.

So it appears the other mothers at school pick up seem to be looking kind of tired. Not the tired from staying up all night with newborns.  Not the sleepy from "I've been nursing a 4 week old all night".  Not the "my 11 week old refuses to be Ferberized" kind of tired.  Rather, this is the "I've resigned myself to frumpy and i don't care" variety.   Safe to say, this is the worst kind of exhausted there is.

 These ladies are not new moms. At all.   Some of their youngest are 5 or 6.  5 or 6!  That means that the last time they were pregnant was 60 months ago! Yes, 60. I did the math.  In my head.

Ok, I understand that not all kindergarten kids sleep through the night.  Some have bad dreams.  Others wake up for water.  Or to pee.  Or because they drank so much water they peed in their beds.  All over their sheets.  And pillow cases.  And duvet covers...

But i also know that there is ample time in the morning to take a shower.  Or spray that dry shampoo on your greasy roots.  Or just to comb your hair.  Maybe change out of those shiny and sort of sad yoga pants.  I know you didn't do yoga today.  I also know that you don't plan on going to yoga this afternoon.  Or tomorrow.  I'm willing to bet my lunch that you've not done yoga this year.  Or perhaps ever.  But I digress.

So, as I stand in the play yard,  waiting for  my kids to come flopping out of their public school, I look through my dark (and very fancy) sunglasses at the moms waiting around.  Now, to be clear, there are not actually that many mothers at school to pick up their offspring.  Sure, some of the moms are at work, but most of the nannies I know work for stay at home moms.  This means that the moms stay AT home while their nanny picks up their kids.  From school.  School runs from 9-3:30, but still there are moms without jobs who don't pick up their little ones after the day is out.  But I don't judge.  Much.  Anymore.  Some of these moms are my close friends.  And they're happy.  Skinny.  Happy.  And always with great hair.

Anyway, where was I going with this?  Mothers at school?  After deciding that the majority of these  ladies looked tired, I wondered why?  Sure, they were over 35, but what was keeping them up? What was keeping them from looking fresh? Happy?

Their kids were perfectly dressed and rested.  An adorable pink denim dress.  The perfect tiny white jean jacket from Joe Fresh.  And these moms were still in their yoga gear.  Not a studio or mat in sight.

Perhaps part of the problem stems from the fact that they can't seem to look up.  They're so busy staring into their iPhones that they don't have the need to make eye contact.  Certainly they don't have to smile.  Or wear make up.  Or moisturize.    Funny enough, these moms have iPhone 4s.  Not the shiny new 5s.  Not that it matters, but sometimes i wonder.

But then there's the other set of ladies at the school.  The nannies.  Not only are these women smiling and chatting, they also seem happy.  Happy with themselves.  Happy with their packs of female friends.  Happy to be picking up the kids, regardless of the weather.  Sure, they have cell phones (usually the more expensive type) but they can multitask.  They can shoot a picture and still hug the 6 year old as tightly as possible.

And these ladies are young.  They're younger than the other mothers.  They're younger than I am.  Most of them have not yet tormented their bodies with child birth, so their figures remain intact.  A lot of these dedicated and hard working ladies have earned enough money to afford name brand jeans, sweaters, Hunter boots and Canada Goose winter coats.  Their hair is longer than ours.  Most definitely it is straighter than ours.  And their smiles.  Their smiles warm up the school from  December through April.

I'm not really trying to say that these woman are taking over at the school playgrounds.  I guess i'm just taking notice.  They have time to look after our kids.  With grace and pleasure.  And still these females have found the time to shower, brush their silky hair, and even change out of their Lululemon pants.

All I'm saying is that if I notice, perhaps others are noticing too?  Maybe it's time to step it up moms?

Namaste.