The Hunt Intensifies
We are looking for a nanny. Many of the fibres which constitute the fibrous being that is me, which is to say, my cellular level, my phloem and xylem, damn it are railing against this eventuality which is, perversely, something which I wish to occur. I say "We cannot find a suitable candidate in the known universe," or "This is fucking expensive. I'm not MetroDad!"* We have advertised on Craigslist and employ an agency. The statement regarding suitability may not in fact be true. Based on the candidates we have encountered thus far, however, it feels too close to being true. Some of the resumes are, hmm, shitty. It is as if I were to apply for a job as a vascular surgeon. (Umm, I have veins... I know how to hold a knife... I love veins, they are, like, really great.)
As ever, as on any subject of import, I wish to suck and blow. (Google that!) So, I have to gut it up and stop being a pussy. I must allow some stranger to have exclusive and very personal care of the kids for a portion of each day. I will have to speak with this person and not alienate her with my innumerable anxieties. I must permit her and the kids to relate to one another. This person will work in my house. I will have to pay this person.
If you are out there in interwebland reading blogs, looking for a nanny gig (what is wrong with you?) you should know I do not want just any nanny. Our nanny has to have training and experience. Experience with kids the age of our kids and training in a field that is relevant to child care. Experience sitting your boyfriend's kids while he out does not count as nanny experience. Nor does living at your cousin's house, the cousin with kids, and a nanny. As for training, a background in auto mechanics is commendable but irrelevant. So is the electrical engineering degree you obtained in Lithuania.
To lay plain my outrageous needs, nanny applicant, I say you must have training, experience, and underpants. Yes! Underpants, that you shall wear to her interview and which may be visible when you crouch to interface with one of my offspring. It's not going to be enough to win me over with your considerable assets, commando nannies of the world, you still need to deal with my wife. Yes, you will need nanny skills, and nunchuk skills, underpants and enough sense to avoid making racial slurs during your interview. I may be a member of the oppressive male hegemony but I know when you make me uncomfortable. Also, you must not refer to me as a member of the said hegemony. Once you get to know me you will find I am amazingly weak.
I believe I am now describing my ideal nanny. O rapture, o heaven, oh nanny of my dreams: I lie in reverie of you with your experience and training, your ninja abilities, your reasonable underpants, your bility to conceal your inner ugliness, your pulse. You should have a pulse. You will also require some language skills. It is insufficient to tell me "I are having a pulse and I are also rilly gud with kidz too." That will not earn my trust.
Am I asking too much, oh nanny aplicants of the world? I think I are not.
* Do not misunderstand. It is a privilege for us to be in this type of situation. Very Victorian. We should also hire a wet nurse and purchase some hot ankle porn.