The Corner of a Nanny's Grin (Pam)

Click.  Whirrr.

Commercials.  I don't see why I continue watching television when I can't stand these stupid commercials.  Yea, like I'm really going to believe a cheeseburger from the right joint will make me thin, desirable, and satisfied.  No, I'll be miserably fat, despondent because I'm fat and undesirable, and utterly dissatisfied because I'm fat, despondent and undesirable.  Whoa Pam.  Calm down.

Great.  Now I want a burger.  What time is it?

"Hello, hello."

"Oh, hey Sis.  You're right on time, please convince me that I don't want a burger."

"Pam, you're a vegetarian.  You hate burgers.  Besides, I'm going to make enchiladas mamacita!"

Uh oh.  Another one of Sicily's attempts at cooking.  Now I really want a burger.

"Yum!  Sounds great Sis, thanks.  I knew you'd talk me out of that burger."

Burger.  Burger.  Burger.  Burger.  Burger.

"Why crave a burger when you can have a cozy, toasty, zesty, sexy enchilada, right?"

She may not make the best mexican dishes, but her ambition is worth a taste.  Burger.  Shut up!  I know her intentions mean well.  She looks so happy.  No.  Determined.

"So, how was your day?"

Crap.  Did I turn in my math?

"It was ok.  The kids were acting...."

Did I turn in my math?

"Sorry, the kids were what?"

"Huh? Oh.  Yea.  The kids were just acting bratty.  You know how it is.  I'm just glad to be home."

Dang it.  That was bad.

"Sorry Sis, I am paying attention, sorry.  I just suddenly remembered I have an important paper to turn in, and I forgot if I actually submitted it or not.  Sorry."

"No, you're fine.  I understand.  I remember the stress of papers and all that.  No worries."

Important-ish.  I hate school.

The Corner of a Nanny's Grin (Sicily)

In my dreams I didn't want to wake up, but staying unconscious wasn't exactly ideal either.
I felt the bottom of my foot against my calf, like an ice pack thawing a sensitive black eye.  I knew I had time to spare, but time always seemed to sneak behind my back when I stopped thinking about it, so I clung to my anxieties.

My eyes felt raw, especially the right eye.  It kept shut like a stubborn lid of a jar, and I let it have it's way.  After all it's way was my way.  I needed the distraction from the anxieties that began bobbing their ugly heads all around my quiet morning.

'How much time do I have?'
'What should I wear today?'
'Will I be as cold as last time?'
'What should I have for breakfast?'
'What if I get hungry at work, should I pack a snack?'
'What if I get tired?'
'What if I stop thinking about the time, and I end up late?'
'What's that smell?'
'Do I need to do laundry?'
'Should I call my mother?'
'What should I do after work?'
'Should I go out?'
'Should I make dinner or buy it?'
'When did I last go to the dentist?'
'I need to get dressed now.'

And as if Time knew she'd slip past me like a sly thief, I was rushing out the door with the same outfit from yesterday, no snack, and feigning for a strong cup of hot, black coffee.

---

I never know what to say the moment I walk through that door.  Greetings are always somewhat awkward for me; only because it feels too short to be sincere or too bothersome if drawn out past a certain point.  I tend to stick with the sudden obligation find something as an escape route to avoid either situation, but that usually turns out even more awkward than anything since my so-called obligations are normally assigned to having to use the restroom, texting someone (since I can't get my phone to magically ring), or picking up an article and having a sudden interest in it.  Thankfully, so far as nannies go, my job requires minimal time and proximity with the employing adults.

The Corner of a Nanny's Grin

             Oh the scent of sweetly toasted warm coffee on a morning filled with chilly whispers.  Here they were, Pam and Sicily, two young things from opposite atmospheres to the one they now found themselves in.  Nashville. 

“Mind if I turn the heater on?”  Sicily asked a sleepy Pam.

“Sure.”  Pam responded only half aware of how cold it actually was and more concerned with not being able to get more adequate rest.

“I’ll turn it off in a few minutes since the heat usually lingers a while”, both girls were acutely aware of the significance of such an action. 

“Do you work today?”  Sicily always asked.

“Well, I work later around 3, but I wanted to get some homework done before that.  Don’t know if I’ll actually get around to it, but that’s the plan.”  Pam rummaged through the fridge hoping to find something that wasn’t there before.  A hearty meal.

“What are your plans for the day?” she asked still searching hopelessly as reality and the lack of culinary ambition became more apparent to her now awakening eyes.

Sicily stood leaning against the wall of their small kitchen, holding her oversized mug of hot earl grey tea and sighing rather loudly against her ego.

“I’m going to spend the day not thinking about what I should be doing and actually do what I know I came out here to do.  Write.”

She took another sip of her tea and withheld another dramatic sigh.  Pam reached for a bowl and spoon for the inevitable routine breakfast.  The two girls went about their mornings quietly and thoughtfully, one occupied with the immediate attention of homework and work, the other conflicted by her freedom and mental prison of a staunch lack of prioritizing her legless ambitions. 

6:18pm

Sicily had made it past 3 hours at a quiet café downtown; 3 postcards, 18 text messages with her mother and Pam, one with a boy she barely knew but kissed, one larger than life cup of cell-torturing coffee that took about 2 hours to consume, and several apathetic stares at her fellow constituents later, she was headed back for the apartment.  3 postcards.  That’s better than nothing.

It felt daunting, her inability to utilize her time the way she envisioned herself too when she was too busy with work to actually do so.  It was a dynamic combination of nutrition, social interaction, and pure self-centeredness that inhibited her feeble ambitions from avoiding atrophy in their legs.  She sighed again.  So much sighing.  All day sighing.  It made for a better alternative to staring or despairing.  The insignificance of her troubles brought about a silver lining, a small but honest chuckle to herself.  Tomorrow is another day, I can start tomorrow.  No more dilly dallying.  Did I just say dilly dallying?  Another honest chuckle.

“Hi Sis.”  Pam said softly as she fumbled through the door, relief to be home very much apparent on her countenance.

“Hello.  How was work.”  An automatic reply.

“Oh, it was ok.  The kids were weird today.  I don’t know, maybe they were just cooped up for too long, but Liam was not listening to me and Rachel had a weird attitude all day.  Bailey, oh gosh, he just has these mood swings.  He kept kicking the door because the other two were playing a game without him.”  Pam imitated an angry six year old pouting and kicking the door, nailing it with her facial expression of ferocity and discontent at the hardships of being six.

“I know, Jakey was being a butt to me the other day when he spilled his chocolate milk all over the table and I told him to clean it up.  The look of shock and disgust!  He wanted me to clean up his mess, and I told him I’d put him in a time out if he didn’t clean his mess up right away.  Of course when he consented he just grabbed a paper towel and half-heartedly dabbed at his mess doing little to soak up the mess, and when I asked him to wipe it more thoroughly he said ‘What?  You’re making me clean it up twice?!’  I told him, ‘Jake I’ll make you clean it up 8 times if that’s what it takes’ and I tried to sound firm.  He still gave me a hard time, but I let it go.”

“Kids.”  The girls made empathetic eye contact with one another followed by a sarcastic grin.

“Well, Carol said she might start going to kids counseling for Bailey, his anger issues are getting out of hand, and she thinks it’s got something to do with herself as a mother.”  Pam held a look of disbelief.  She knew Carol was a great mother, and it was just another layer of stress to heap such self-deprecation on the poor woman. 

“Look at us,” Sicily stated, “What?” Pam asked curiously.

“We were once those bratty kids, telling our parents to shove off in our own mischievous ways and thinking we were being short handed in life.  Now looking back it’s like a fog has lifted and we see just how unfair mothers really have it.  Carol shouldn’t beat herself up for what every kid is bound to go through.” 

Pam nodded in agreement.  “I don’t know, I mean it’s normal but maybe counseling could help.  It doesn’t hurt to try.  Bailey does have a real bad handle on his anger, Carol’s tried making him do laps around the house in order to help him get it all out, but still, she’ll find him a few minutes later kicking the door to the garage like a mad man.  Then Liam, I mean he’s three now so he shouldn’t still be using a pacifier or biting people, so she started telling him that she will bite off the tips of his pacifiers whenever he bites someone.  She’s already cut 4 of his pacifiers up telling him that she bit them off in order to show him how it feels to be the victim of biting.” 

The girls both smiled at the clever maneuver.  Carol was a great mom, she was just a mom of three kids born without much need for anything, and that usually meant they were bound to find their outlets of desire through absurdities like kicking doors and biting people.

“I’m starving.”  Pam was once again unable to pinpoint what exactly it was that she was hungry for.

“I’ll make us a nice hearty kale and lentil stew, tomorrow.”  Sicily chimed, a bit afraid of the commitment that came with such an offer.  She knew she needed to make stew.  She needed the practice, and she needed to feed Pam, it was a gesture from a part of her that she wanted to exercise more; goodness.  It was a grasp she often found slippery and cruel despite her good intentions.