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But the truth is that I don’t care about her. I wouldn’t talk to her if she wasn’t their mother. She’s just not that compatible with me. It’s nothing personal. She likes Desperate Housewives and reality shows. I like Doctor Who and Monty Python and stupid twelve-year-old boy humor. I won’t pretend to be better than I am. But I just don’t think she and I have a lot in common.
What’s odd is that the kids don’t seem to have much in common with her. They like going with her on shopping trips, at least the girls do. But when they’re with their dad, they prefer to stay in and just…play games and relax. It’s not like they getnoadventures, they do love their road trips with their dad. But that seems to wear them out enough that afterwards, they just want to be left alone in their room most of the time. Or playing games with him and me. Sometimes walking to the park. But only if I make the suggestion. I feel a bit guilty that they like me, because they don’t seem to like her new guy. From the way the kids talk, her new guy is trying to befriend them. But they don’t say very nice things about him.
Maybe they just don’t like him on principle, though. They love their dad. I feel a little sorry for him. I was just the same with my dad’s new girlfriend. Fortunately, she and I are in a lot better place than we used to be.
God, I hated her at first. I was sure she was trying to replace my mom. And I didn’t even like my mom. I was a fifteen-year-old girl, to be fair. I didn’t like anything.
Also, the kids are very odd when their mother is around, at least when I’m there, too. Maybe if she just did something when she was here. But she insists on coming over at least once a week. Only she doesn’t do anything. She just sits on the couch, reapplying her makeup and glancing over at us, and every once in a while, making some suggestion that sounds like a command, “Use more glue.” “Hold the crayons the way I showed you.” She doesn’t even engage them in conversation or ask how they are or what they’ve been doing.
She does reference all the stuff they’re missing out on, which is weird. “I’m going on a boat with James this weekend. I wish you could go, too, but you’re going to be busy with your dad.” My mother often did that kind of thing with me when I chose to spend time with a friend, or my dad, or anyone who wasn’t her. She’d find a way to interrupt me and my friends and talk about some future plans she had with me. Or sometimes with other people. Like, she’d come into my room to tell me how excited she was about going on a boat with so and so. I don’t remember their names.
I understand they’ve only been divorced a few months, and it’s probably hard for her to be away from her kids.But she chose this life. I’m just here to help pick up the pieces and make sure that the kids don’t get neglected the way I did.Please just know that I want the kids to be happy, just like you do. I’d want this for any kid, it’s nothing personal.
Maybe it would be different if I was older, or if I at least looked older.I wish I was older. I wish I looked older, at any rate. I’m tired of women giving me those looks that say, “She’s nothing more than a pretty face.” Or men who think that makes me easy. I’m not as young as I look, and I’m gullible, yes, but I’m not a complete idiot. But when you look seventeen, people think you’re as dumb as a seventeen-year-old. And, yes, I was as dumb as any at seventeen.
Maybe if I was gray haired, she’d stop the stupid little pranks. Like how the first week she lied about the new snack time for their after-school program, so her daughter missed it. She knew, too, because it was the second week for the change in schedule. And this time, she let the oldest know the right time, and the wrong time to him. Then she sent him an expense sheet with two $3 charges for school field trip fees, when he’d already sent the kid with the full amount in cash to pay for said school field trip. And the kid confirmed that he’d given her the money to take to school. Profiting off her children, fine, I’ve heard of parents doing this, usually the primary custodial parent. But to profit for pocket change? Who does that kind of shit?
No, no, stop this. I did this as a kid, and as a teen, and even now. Let myself spiral over things that upset me that I have no control over. I have no control over my own mother. I have no control over theirs. Frankly, I’m probably projecting my own problems with my mother onto them. That’s not fair. Just because I know that not all mother daughter relationships are sweet and wonderful, like stupid toxic positivity teaches, does not mean there’s anything wrong with theirs. Yeah, their mom has a few issues. But who doesn’t?
* * *
January 16, 8:20pm
Another day older,another day wiser. I’m pretty sure that’s a saying. I say it all the time. David and I are sitting around talking about one of the ancient philosophers. I am oddly happy when I’m done with work and he and I are just sitting around and talking. Sometimes his oldest joins in. She loves talking with her dad and me about history and philosophy and why are some adults so weird when it comes to children. We’ll sit around, talking like this, and I’ll forget I’m just the nanny. I’ll feel motherly and couple, and usually she curls up against her papa— but sometimes she curls up near me and giggles at my stupid “mom” jokes.
I swear, kids are great ego boosts. Once the youngest daughter demanded a joke from me. She’s a twin, but she is the youngest. So, I think I did the “why did the chicken cross the road” bit, because honestly, I’m so bad at telling jokes. I will never, ever be a standup comedian. I don’t have the attention to detail and often razor-sharp memory that you need to be a great comic. But I swear, the kid rolled about actually laughing out loud, as if I’d told the funniest anecdote in the world.
Anyway, so it’s her dad and me and the oldest daughter. Lying about in front of the fireplace in the living room, talking about history. And it feels, okay, I know, crazy, but it feels like we’re family.
I feel so natural and at home — and it’s weirding me out. I didn’t feel this comfortable in myownhome. And most of my friends either outright despise their parents or have a rather cool relationship with them. I just thought that was normal. Maybe it is.
I don’t think the kids are used to adults like me. I’m more playful than most, I actually play the games with them, rather than tell them to “entertain themselves.” Fine, maybe I’m just immature, but I have fun, so whatever. They seem to like it, too. The oldest says I’m “kind of an adult, but kind of a kid.” And she says it in a way that I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment. She says I’m like a friend. I think her sister is a bit jealous, in fact. Her sister tells me that “you and I are besties, but you and my sister aresuperbesties.” I think this is more because, even at ten, I don’t think the oldest has been one to have a lot of friends. She only ever talks about one friend. Her little sister and brother, on the other hand, have tons of friends and the brother has a “girlfriend.” Uh huh, sure you do, kid.
I know this is mostly in my head. Five months, it’s only been five months. Maybe the kids don’t really even see me as much of a friend as I think they do. Maybe this is just as hopeful thinking on my part. But when we’re all together, I don’t know. It feelswarm. Like, maybe this could be normal, too. A nice, happy family? Not that I am their family. Obviously. But it just feels that way, that’s all.
When I have my own family, I think I’d like to have this feeling with them. Where I feel comfortable and happy and like I’ve got this under control.
I’m not saying there are no problems. Yeah, the kids aren’t super great with chores, but probably that’s true of any kid. No, I don’t literally mean I control them.You try telling a kid they want something they don’t want. Taking candy from a baby? Hah. You ever tried taking a kid’s sweets away from them. Good luck.
Also, it’s not like I ask much of them. I mean, I am paid to take care of the house, so I do it. I only ask them to help pick up after themselves. And they do dishes with their dad at night. And wipe down their bathroom that they share. That’s probably good enough.
But, overall, it’s just pretty calm and easygoing. I’m not making this up, why would I? I wonder why his ex-wife made the decision to leave. Her new guy is supposedly this really rich dude. But surely there was more to it than that?
* * *
January 21, 2:45am
I like beingall domestic and feeling like a good mommy and all. Some kind of maternal instinct, I suppose. I’ve always been comfortable around kids. But I think perhaps I need a change of pace after work. So, I sign up for a burlesque class.
I don’t know anyone in the class, but I can meet people. I meet people everywhere. I popped out one evening and stumbled into a concert. When I got pizza, I started talking to this girl who introduced me to her friends…and then they invited me to cocktail nights at their house…and then when this French foreign exchange girl needed a room, she became my roommate for a period (my place in Chicago has two bedrooms. Not that I minded sharing a room with her. Spoilers)
But I’m not worried about meeting people at this class. Maybe I’ll meet my future wife? Even if I don’t get a girlfriend out of the deal, I’ll be picking up a new talent. It’s fun to shake my ass and chest. I like the spinning bits, too. I try to practice my moves in front of David. I’m pretty sure he’s suppressing laughter every time, but I ignore it
Last night, the instructor invites us to a burlesque show at a local bar. I meet a woman at the bar. See, I told myself, you’ll definitely meet someone through dancing. I try to ask her out, awkwardly, but then I find out she has a very young daughter with my name. Ah, well. Too bad it wasn’t her cat. A lot of people have cats with my name. I don’t care that she has kids, but I don’t think she wants to date a woman with her daughter’s name. And I certainly don’t want to date her. Too awkward.
Some things just aren’t meant to be.
* * *
