One Night Love Affair

Shit, it wasn't L.O.V.E. Her current reference tanked --- big time. As in they come home every night to her latest disaster --- poop running down the side of the diaper genie, milk all over the bottom of the frig, muddy footprints all over the white rug. Master disaster.

Let me compare shopping for a nanny with dating:

-Everyone looks great on-line; check!
-Everyone is polished and on best behavior on date one; check!
-References don't pan out; ah ha!

I think I have the secret to dating! Request a reference list and check it twice. I cannot tell you how many years of pointless dating this could have saved me...

Back to the drawing board.

Could This Be L.O.V.E.?

I think it may be. And not some dumb crush or a one night love affair --- I think this may be the real deal.

We met at Starbucks yesterday after a series of e-mails back and forth. When I walked in, our eyes met across the coffee shop. I thought to myself --- this could be My Nanny.

Her name is Rosa. She is 31-years old, beat me to Starbucks (and I was 5 minutes early), was immaculately dressed, and she had a fat binder of every certificate she has ever earned (infant CPR, 0-3 program, and a Bachelor's in child development). A Binder. Be still my heart. She is bilingual. She knows and uses sign language. OMG.

I feared that she was out of my league. A career woman, looking for $20/hour and on her way to starring in next season's Supernanny. But no, she is willing to be flexible and she might be in my league after all.

I still need to check her references. We still need to discuss vacations, the definition of 'light housekeeping', and her view on watching sick babies --- but I'm cautiously optimistic.

I was tempted to have her name tatooed on my bicep today inside a heart shaped bottle, but I'm holding off. Don't rush it.

The Road Not Taken

I met with the head of pediatrics today to tell him my story in hopes that he can help divert any problems we might encounter at the hospital after delivery. You know, the, "Hold on a minute, you're a single woman claiming that this baby coming out of another woman's body is yours?" type of problems. The usual.

I spent a few minutes in the waiting room before my appointment, dodging germs and watching the other parents with their children. As I watched them play, argue, and wrestle grimy toys away from their kids, I realized that I had a smile plastered across my face. This is really happening! Plan B has morphed into almost-reality!

After my meeting I floated over to the elevators and landed next to a couple with their 6-week old baby sleeping in his snugride. The couple looked ... rumpled. And disgruntled. They looked like they had been sleeping in their clothes, like they hadn't brushed their respective heads of hair in several days, and as though they weren't speaking to each other or their baby. It wasn't a warm, fuzzy feeling but more like a 'get me the hell out of here and don't stand too close to me' feeling.

I glanced down at them from my cloud and then took a double take at the guy. And then a triple take. Could it be???? Yes. It was Gary. They guy I dated during a 3-month holiday session from November 2003-February 2004. This guy was the recipient of my famous yoga-pilates, karma-sutra pull-up move that threw his lower back out, forcing me to massage icy-hot into his hairy ass muscle for 24 hours. Oh Gary, we laughed, and you cried. And then we broke up.

Gary was a nice guy. But truth be told, he was kind of a load. And seeing him standing there with his equally loadish wife, looking miserable, looking as though having icy-hot rubbed into his ass muscle would be the highlight of his year, I suddenly contemplated the road not taken. 'Yes, I'm doing it alone' suddenly became 'YES, I'm doing it ALONE!!!'.

Don't get me wrong --- I fully admit that this is Plan B. And it's not Plan Forever. But it also ain't Plan Icy Hot and Miserable. And for that I am eternally grateful.

I quietly backed away from the Happy Couple at the elevator and bolted down the stairs.