babies

And on the first night of Hanukkah, something amazing happened. Yes, the menorah was lit and would continue to burn for 8 crazy nights. But more importantly -- I got a job! Yes! Yes! Miracle of miracles, someone decided to trust me over a long period of time with their small child! None of us thought this day would ever come! I owe it to the miracle of Hanukkah!

*Note: By giving a shout-out to Hanukkah, I hope that all readers of this blog again recognize the open-mindedness of the writers. Yes, we love and appreciate Hanukkah. Yes, despite the opinions of some, we love and appreciate the neighborhood of Pilsen. Previous entries reveal our love for things like commercials about America, lesbian relationships (see: L word), Oprah Winfrey, art, Matt Thomas our neighbor who is half Indian, Russian women, socially conscious rappers, Nick Krafft, etc, etc. We don't shy away from provocative topics. And we don't plan to change our ways. Just wanted to clarify that point -- and we hope you will continue to join us in supporting the innumerable people and communities that our lives cross -- with a deep respect.


Okay, but seriously, I have now fulfilled the prophecy I spoke of myself, late one night when I was slightly/very/probably the most in my life intoxicated and left a voicemail for Margaret Graber. Basically, the message ended by me yelling "I AIN'T A MOM, I'M JUST A WHITE GIRL NANNY!" True, I was referring to moms at a park mistaking me for another mom, despite the fact that I was wearing cut-off jean shorts, a leather jacket, black tights, ankle boots, and basically looked like the poor hobo that I am. Aka not a mom. But alas, the words have now proved to be truer than ever. I am a white girl nanny.

So for the first time in a long time, I have dreams. I will have an income. I am excited about 2010. My best years are even numbered, discounting the year I was born, which was a good year. Though I was conceived in an even-numbered year, so maybe that should be considered.

I did want to talk a little bit about babies and how much I love them. Babies have become my life. I have three main babies that I baby-sit for, at least I will once I start my part-time nanny job. Let me introduce you to my children:

- Aurora. Aurora is the best baby EVER. We share the same birthday (cinco de mayo), the same hobbies (dancing, singing, reading), the same favorite foods (cheese), the same level of motha-effing adorabliness (well, fine, she beats me at that damn game every day), and the same ability to shake her hips like it is nobody's business -- on command. In the three months I have babysat Aurora, I think she has cried for a collective 10 minutes. Because she is a happy, happy child. She's starting to learn a lot of words, but she mostly just uses like five: "HI HI HI," "more"(always said forcibly), and "GOBO." Okay, that was three. But seriously, kid is obsessed with Fraggle Rock and dipping everything in plain yogurt.

- Cooper. Cooper is going to be the child whose development I nurture and foster as a nanny. I don't know him very well but he seems to like climbing and Wiggleworms. He seems cool. I am honestly more scared about the family dog. Babies? Sure. I used to be one. I never used to be a dog. I don't know what they want. I've never owned a dog. I'm a cat person. A cat and baby person. And apparently, when the dog poops, I have to pick it up with my hands covered by a plastic bag. That is sick. Poop is fertilizer. No one picks up fricking bird poop, or wolf poop. If a human poops outside, no one picks it up. They leave it. So why do I have to pick up the dog poop? Why? Why?


Okay now everyone knows about my life. I'm going to go make some guacamole, which is weird since I was just talking about dog poop.