My Daughter Plays the "Nanny Card" When She Doesn't Get Her Way
When I was looking for someone to watch my daughter, I prayed over and over again for someone that would be an extension of me. I felt terribly guilty about the prospect of leaving my child with someone that was not related to her by blood for 50 plus hours a week, but I knew that as a single mom working in news, I had no choice. My immediate future certainly held breaking news events that no one could plan for if they tried, 40-hour shifts on election nights (nope, that is not a typo), shoots that happened around someone else’s hectic schedule, and assignments that came up at the last minute and weren’t subject to turning down. I knew I needed someone that would be flexible with my schedule, firm when it came to discipline and warm when it came to missing mommy.
I am going to be really honest here, back in the days before Ellie arrived, along with worrying about finding an excellent childcare provider, I also worried how my daughter would actually know that I was her mom. But I had zero choice in the matter, so I posted an ad on a popular website that matches people that need childcare with people looking for work as childcare providers. I included a VERY detailed description of what I was looking for, and made it very clear I was looking for someone to work WITH me to raise my child, not for me.
After a fairly short run with someone that wasn’t a perfect fit, the heavens parted and they bestowed upon my daughter and I – Jillian, the “Super Nanny”. She has been with my family for over a year now and I honestly wake up every morning and thank god for her. When Ellie hears Jillian open the door in the morning, she runs to the door and said, “Gooooooooooooomoooooorning Jilly!” and runs into her arms and gives her a hug. Jillian is flexible with my work schedule, steadfast to Ellie’s routine and is as warm as she is intelligent.
Well yes…but…lately my daughter has been asking for the nanny anytime I tell her she isn’t allowed to do something.
Usually goes something like this, I say, “Ellie…get down off the arm of the sofa please.”
And she responds, “No…I want Jilly.”
And then I say, “Good try missy, she would tell you to get down too. Get down please.”
But I would be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little. Now the logical part of me knows that I am one of the luckiest people in the world to feel 100% confident in the person that watches my child, a person who tells my daughter she loves her when she kisses her goodbye at the end of the day, and one that who lets me know when my daughter asks for me more than usual in any given day.
But the guilt-ridden working mom part of me really wishes my daughter didn’t play the “nanny-card” when she isn’t getting her way. It makes Mondays that much less desirable.