And, as always happens when all your friends are jumping off a bridge,I inevitably begin to question my path in life. As those who regularly hang around this neck of the woods know, I gave up a career to stay home with my daughters. And to raise them, too.
But as I watch my mates pop out babies and then head back to work within months, I must admit I feel a twinge of jealousy. I want what she has, dammit! I want to earn that money, wear those clothes, and have an allocated time to exercise while it's still daylight. I want the buzz that comes with doing a great job at my job.
And a nanny who does the laundry, and gets up to the night squalls, and knows what's for dinner wouldn't hurt, either. I could join all my friends for their impromptu girls-only-no-kids coffee dates. Heck, Mr Accident and I could go on dates!
This morning I scolded Peanut for opening the front door. She was letting out the heat, and the cold damp day was washing in around our ankles. If she wanted to watch the rain, she should look out the window! "But Mama, I want to HEAR the rain." So I made a cup of chai tea and grabbed a blanket, and Peanut and I snuggled on the freezing front step, her warming her hands on my mug, as we watched the rain fall into puddles on the path. And I was glad I wasn't at work. And I was glad it was me freezing on that step and not another woman, paid a pittance to love someone else's children. And I wouldn't swap times like that for all the coffee dates in creation.
Nannies are a godsend for some families. But a nanny 'aint right for me.