The Notion of a Nanny

Ever since my son Hendrick was born I have yearned for a nanny. Most middle-class families like mine cannot afford one, but that did not stop me from dreaming. When Sophie came along three months ago, my desire grew even stronger.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but thoughts of my favorite TV hunk were quickly replaced by visions of a good-natured immigrant who taught my kids another language, fed them home-made soup and cleaned the bathroom.

Some of my friends and relatives made me feel, well, unmotherly for wishing there was someone else who would care for my children while I worked and (gasp!) carved out some free time for myself.

It's not that I am unwilling to raise my own kids. I enjoy spending time with them, making sure Hendrick learns his ABCs and Sophie gets all the cuddles and kisses an infant needs. It's just that my husband made it clear I need to work part-time in order to pay the bills, and I wasn't sure how I was going to do both at the same time. (A day-care center, for us, was not an option.)

It's no easy feat trying to write a story about property taxes when you have a toddler climbing on your lap or grill a public official in a phone interview while a baby is crying in the background.

So, we compromised on the notion of a nanny.

We hired a woman to care for the children in our home while I lock myself in my office for three hours a day. Sometimes I leave the house to cover events or conduct interviews during her shift. But, for the most part, I am only down the hall if the sitter or the kids need me.

The sweetest part of our arrangement is that my other dream, the one where my children speak several foreign languages fluently, is beginning to come true. A former Parisian, Miss Fabienne has agreed to help the children learn French.

So many mothers think that no one can raise their children as well as they can. That may be true, but certainly there are enough capable and loving women who can fill in for a few hours a day while we work to help keep a roof over our heads and pay for piano lessons.

Miss Fabienne, a former ballerina who is also a devoted mother of a teenage girl, is one of those capable and loving women. My family is very grateful to have her.

Now, if I could just get someone to clean that bathroom there would be nothing left to fantasize about but that hunk on TV.

Back to Work

After three restless months, the Diaper Diva is back on the job. I was tempted to blog several times to brag about my sweet little Sophie or vent about my great disappointment in our federal government for allowing companies to sell us baby bottles made with harmful chemicals.

The truth is that I had little time for blogging during my maternity leave. I not only had to care for a newborn and a 2-year-old who didn't exactly welcome his new sister with open arms, but also I had a 64-year-old father whose health has been declining since his stroke last summer.

Diabetes, along with heart disease, can ravage a body. Factor in a stroke that attacks the frontal lobe of the brain -- the part that controls behavior -- and subsequent seizures, and there's not much left of the mind either. My father is now in a nursing home, where is is expected to remain for the rest of his life.

My maternity leave was filled with the joy of having a new baby girl and the sadness of knowing my father's eyesight faded before he could see her beautiful face, with happy moments of watching her first smile and then running to the emergency room because my father's behavior was out of control again.

Some things are best unseen. Hendrick has become accustomed to people without limbs, climbing into wheelchairs in order to give hugs and seeing plastic tubes stretching from Grandpa's veins. A mother can only make so many excuses as to why Grandpa is crying or screaming or cursing or sleeping in the middle of the day.

Sophie was oblivious to all of this. She slept right through most of our visits.I can't help but feel Sophie got shortchanged during this stressful time. My maternity leave was supposed to be all about bonding with my new baby and making my son feel secure in his new role as Big Brother. It was simply impossible, however, for them to get my undivided attention when I had so many other responsibilities.

Sometimes, life doesn't seem very fair, and we don't get the luxury of taking things one at a time.

My kids may be too little to understand the value of the past few months, but I intend to remind them -- if only to relieve a little of the guilt I felt for having to spread myself so thin -- when they get older. When someone in the family gets sick, you don't walk away. You don't say it's too hard to see them that way or, like the woman who just divorced my father, that you wanted more out of life. We all want more out of life, especially for the person who is suffering.

But you take care of family until the end. No matter how hard it gets.