Friday, June 11, 2010

My Life With Babies: A Short Personal History, Part Two


So began my my late teens and early twenties. I moved to New York City for school and entered the insanity that is Upper West Side Nanny Life. It was during these years that I began to learn how I did NOT want to raise my children. My mom once said to me that it is always easier to raise children with little money than too much money, because when you have little money, the answer is always, "No." However, as the many families I came to work for over the next 4 years proved, when there are 3 nannies, 2 personal assistants, a chef, a housekeeper and a driver, it becomes a little harder to say "no" to a child's request for a new Pokemon card. Here is the stuff that values are made of. And as much as I loved the children I sat for over the years, I always felt a little sad when they easily referred to me as, "Mom." Now, it must be said that I have nothing but the DEEPEST respect for parents who balance work and parenting (my parents included). However, when I am faced with a mother who stays at home, has 9 personal staff members and a 5 year old boy who wants her to read to him, and she looks at me with pleading and exhausted eyes and says," Katy-please! I CANNOT handle this right now!" and slouches back to bed, where she remains for the rest of the day, I make a mental note to myself promising never to be her.

Other adventures in nannying included 3 months spent in New Zealand for a young family, who had their third child under 4 after I had been there 3 days. A week after the baby came home from the hospital, I got hit with the flu within a twenty minute span and, not wanting to burden the family, went to sleep that night, convinced that I had contracted meningitis and would probably die in my sleep. Miraculously, I survived, only to be told by the new mother the next morning, that she could not possibly take care of a sick au pair, in addition to three children, and if I didn't immediately recover, I would be out on the street. Needless to say, I felt better.

Several years later, there was the 5 year old boy who always wanted to play cops and robbers with me and he was infuriated with me when I told him that I didn't like to play with guns. When he reported this to his father, his father patted him on the head and said, "Its okay, Nick. Katy doesn't understand, she voted for Gore."

While learning the ways in which I did, and did not, want to raise my future children, I still engaged in shirt stuffing behavior, but had evolved past the amateur practice of using a pillow. I acted in a good friend of mine's senior thesis film, in which the main character was a pregnant Zamboni driver and I played her arch nemesis, a champion figure skater (fantastic body double). At the wrap party my friend gave me, as thank you gift, the pregnancy belly form (compete with a belly button!) used in the film, because she knew that I, above all others, would want it. To describe my excitement at having this in my possession would be fruitless. OBVIOUSLY, I began wearing it frequently, whenever I could justify it. It began with a series of pictures (of which I
wish I could find), of me and two of my best friends, Meredith and Margaret, taking turns wearing the belly under white wife beaters and drinking 40s. Disturbing, I know. I also convinced Meredith that I had to do a social experiment where I wore the belly to the movies with her, to see how people treated me differently. Sadly, they did not treat me like the queen I was hoping for, but that's New Yorkers for you. I also dressed up as a pregnant prom queen for Halloween that year only to have people look at me with disgust as I drunkenly rode home on the subway at 3am. What can I say, the belly was convincing! I once came out of my bedroom wearing it, when my 80 year old grandmother was visiting and she nearly had a heart attack because she thought it was my back door way of letting her know I was pregnant out of wedlock. I eventually retired the belly from active duty and went back to wearing it only on occasion, such as the time I played a pregnant conjoined triplet for a Medicine Show in Alaska (see picture above).

Soon after this, I entered the period in which I began the long and extensive pre-planning for pregnancy and parenthood, known as "Aha, There You Are! You're Perfect For The Job. Let's Get This Party Started."

My Life With Babies: A Short Personal History, Part One


Ask ANYONE who knows me well and they will tell you that I have been baby crazy for, as long as anyone, including myself, can remember. When I was two years, I went up to a one one year old, bent down (like two inches) and said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Why helloooo, little baby!" That baby probably thought to herself, "Jesus, how patronizing!" As a child, I preferred to wash and bathe my rocking horse rather than ride it. And dolls, well that was a whole other level. To say that I liked to play with dolls does not truly describe the dedication I had to parenting my extensive brood. When I was 7, I got twin Cabbage Patch Dolls for Christmas and promptly called a Family Meeting with my other children to gently explain that just because there were new babies in the house, did not mean that I loved them all any less, and that I had firm expectations that they behave and treat their new baby brothers well.

At age 10 and a half, I enrolled in a Red Cross certified babysitting course, because in the state of Ohio, you can start babysitting when you turn 11. Although slightly alarmed when the legs of the cpr dummy I was giving mouth to mouth to flew off from the force of my breath, I, armed with my shiny new certification card, a pink corduroy Kid Kit- that I had hand sewn with a variety of zippers, buttons and ties on the outside for children to practice their developmental milestones, and a long list of babysitting tips gleaned from my extensive collection of Babysitter Club books, set out to conquer the world of all things baby.

Fast forward three years, I'm 13 years old and still playing with dolls. I know, sad, but true. But at this point its reached a new level of insanity. I became obsessed with having "real" baby accessories, not toy baby accessories, which I bought (a Green parent from the start) from local thrift stores. I carried a doll with me in public often (except for school, thank God), usually in a bucket car seat. My obsession was that others mistake my doll for a REAL baby, and think, "Oh, how darling, look at that 13 year old awkward child carrying a baby in a Snugli.." Its not that I wanted people to think it was my baby, but perhaps my baby sister or brother (Reason # 1,289 why my parents should have had more than one child).) By the way, the picture posted here is sadly, not me, but it should have been.

I soon transitioned (much to the relief of Mom and Dad) away from dolls and toward cats, papering my walls with centerfolds from Cat Fancy. I got a little annoyed when my cats wouldn't let me carry them in the Snugli or the car seat. I made a ten foot banner on PrintShop that read "Cats Rule and Dogs Drool." But babies were not far from my mind...

I continued babysitting in all my free time, which proved over the next 17 years or so, to serve as an excellent anecdote to having my own children. However, it did not keep me from, privately, throughout my teen years, stuffing my t-shirts with pillows and imaging what I would look like 'with child'. It was also around this time that I started hoarding maternity clothes (I will return to this gem later). Of course my habit of stuffing my shirt did mot begin to make public appearances until I was in college, when it was, much, much more appropriate.

***Vital Disclaimer**** My intense desire to have a baby NEVER meant that I actually wanted to be a pregnant teenager, nor did any of my teenage "behavior" support this. The way I described it then, and throughout my early twenties, is that I never wanted anything so much in my life, while simultaneously not wanting it right then. It was, as it remains to be, extremely important to me that when I did have a baby that it be with a committed life partner who I had vigorously vetted to be excellent father material (More on this later, as well).