My days are pretty predictable; feed Little Guy breakfast, play with him, take him on a walk, put him down for a nap. While he's asleep, accomplish as much housework as I can while he's not underfoot. Eventually Little Guy will wake up, and I'll put him in is playpen for an hour or so while I finish what I was doing. Then, we have lunch, we play some more (and if it's not too gross out, we'll go to the park), run errands, have a snack, and then it's bath time before Little Guy takes another nap. If I still have housework to do, that's when I'll do it, otherwise I have two precious hours to myself. When he wakes up, he plays in the living room while I make his dinner. Eventually I'll strap him in his highchair to start eating, and then at 6pm, his dad comes home.
And then I leave.
I'm not a mother. I'm not a wife. I'm a full-time, 50-hour-a-week nanny on Manhattan's Upper West Side. I arrive at 8am and leave at 6pm, Monday through Friday. "Little Guy" is how I refer to the 17-month-old I take care of, for his privacy and my own.
Why am I starting this blog? It was at the suggestion of Little Guy's dad after a particularly ridiculous incident yesterday. It was one of those times when the truth was stranger than fiction, because I couldn't have made it up if I tried. More on that later, but for now, the basics.
My name is Natalie. I moved to Manhattan from a town in suburban Pennsylvania at the end of August. I aspire to work in theatre, either as a stage manager or as an actor, but that's irrelevant to this blog. This is about my day job and how I spend my days as a cross between Mary Poppins and Fran Fine. There's never a dull moment with this job, that's for sure.
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