You guys,
The new nanny isn’t working out.
It’s not like Lisa’s a bad person or terrible at her job, but Sam and I haven’t felt great about her from the very beginning. Instead of trusting our guts, we kept saying, “Let’s give it another week.”
It’s now been two months and every time I catch her on her phone while she’s with George I want to smack it out of her hands, scoop up George and tell her to leave.
Even though we told her in our very first meeting how important it was to not be on her phone as much as possible when with George, I still somehow felt bad reminding her of this. The voice of self-doubt spoke to me: “Is it that big of a deal for Lisa to be on her phone? Am I too controlling? Am I micromanaging her? Do I need to let go of my grip?”
But when Sam and I spoke that night we agreed that the answers to those questions didn’t matter. It just wasn’t a good fit. And even though I felt relief - a sure sign it was the right decision - I still dreaded the hard conversation of actually firing her.
There’s a whole slew of things I feel in these moments: I don’t want Lisa to feel bad. I don’t want her to dislike us. I worry we’re too overbearing. I don’t want to go through the process of finding someone new.
But at the end of it my discomfort doesn’t matter. All that matters is what’s best for George.
For most of my life I’ve avoided tough situations because it felt safer and easier. I never quit a restaurant job I was unhappy in. I either moved or the restaurant closed (okay, fine, one time I got fired for drinking on the job). I stayed in a relationship for eight years because I didn’t want to deal with the discomfort of figuring life out on my own. I don’t speak to my mom for months at a time because I fear her judgment when I tell her… anything.
In hindsight, none of these decisions make my life easier or better. They make me anxious and distracted.
Now that I’m a parent I have no choice but to face discomfort head on. Sometimes it’s a small thing, like how I used to ease my way ever so slowly into a cold pool but now if my son is in there crying I plop myself in up to my neck and go straight to him. And sometimes it’s a bigger thing. Like firing a caretaker.
So we will fire Lisa.
Sam will lead the conversation but I swear I’ll be right there next to him.
Essay of the Week
Every time someone tells my son, “You’re a faker,” or “You’re fine,” when he cries, my blood boils.
When babies cry they are not faking it. And they are not fine.
In this week’s essay I wrote about how we should talk to kids in the same way we'd want someone to talk to us.
We Won!
My field hockey team was losing 7-0 when we were awarded a penalty corner with less than a minute to play.
Lyla inserted the ball to Jamie at the top of the circle. Jamie stopped the ball and made a perfect flat pass to Vicky on the right. In one swing, Vicky one-timed the ball hard to the back of the cage.
As I heard the ball bang against the backboard, chills ran through my entire body.
We scored. With one second on the clock. And it was a beautiful goal.
The refs blew the whistle and my girls cheered and celebrated as if we had just won the game.
I did, too.
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Until next week,
Charlie