“Hot? Hot?”

I was reading about early childhood development and how by the age of 18 months, children should be able to differentiate “hot” vs. “cold.” But I suppose that’s really only going to be the case if your child is actually exposed to something hot or cold and can compare and contrast the two. Usually, we serve Kaia’s food lukewarm in case it may be too hot for her to handle. But a couple months ago, I thought I would warm it a few extra seconds longer just to have her exposed to warmer foods. It went a little something like this:

I put the slightly warmer food in front of her, and I said, “Kaia, this is hot. Be careful. Wait a bit.”

She touched it and then flinched, realizing it was a higher temperature than she’s used to touching. I said, “Hot! Hot!” a couple more times, and then she realized she had to wait to allow the food to cool before touching and trying to eat it again.

Ever since then, she knows that when we warn her that food is hot, she has to wait to let it cool. Sometimes, she will hesitate to even touch the food when we put it in front of her, first having a quizzical look on her face and asking us, “Hot? Hot?” before she proceeds to dig in. My baby is learning by leaps and bounds.

Daycare/school preparation for little ones: labels, labels, and odd silicone items

A couple years ago, I realized how onerous daycare could be when a few mom friends of mine were posting on their social media about… how literally every single item you bring into the daycare center needs to be labeled, just short of your child. That means every single clothing item (even down to the last sock or shoe) has to be labeled.

So I ordered a bunch of labels with Kaia’s name on them and had them delivered this week. And when putting them on items like her lunch box, water bottle, and clothing, I realized… wait, how do I get these labels to stick on things like her silicone bib or Stasher bags (for her snacks) when the labels explicitly say they are not meant to be put on silicone items?

I tried using a Sharpie and writing Kaia’s name on the back of one of her silicone bibs. After using it twice and washing it by hand both times, the Sharpie ink was already coming off. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do? I immediately texted my friend, who gave me the label company she used to buy her kids’ labels, and she suggested that she could use her label maker and make a few for Kaia to test on the silicone items.

Friends with kids… what would I do without them??

An ode to Ammachy

This past Sunday, we learned that Ammachy, Chris’s maternal grandma, passed away. She was widowed quite early on in her marriage and had three daughters she ended up raising on her own. She worked hard and made sure they had a good childhood, and they all went on to do relatively well in their respective careers and lives. Because she lived in India and never actually moved to Australia, Chris spent less time with her than he did with his paternal grandma. I had seen her on a number of occasions when she’d be in Australia during Christmas time, and Chris and I also went to visit her in the summer of 2018 during our India trip. She was always soft-spoken and thoughtful, and there was never a time when she was not reading a book (always in extra big print because of her vision problem). We were really looking forward to going to India this summer to visit her and finally have her meet Kaia. I really was excited for her to see Kaia, her second great grandchild, and have them interact with each other, but unfortunately, it was not meant to be. Our India trip this summer will now be a bit different than how we had hoped and envisioned.

Although Ammachy has passed, I still think it’s amazing that Chris got to see both his grandmothers live well into his late 30s/early 40s. While it’s sad that she is now gone, it’s comforting to know that she lived a good, full, long life and had many people who loved her and will always remember her.

The puzzling “roles and responsibilities” of doormen in New York City

The building where we live now is the only building where I’ve had doormen. In fact, when I first moved to New York, I never thought I’d ever live in a building with doormen, but alas, here we are. Having doormen seemed like a weird urban luxury, one that is almost like a false security because even with doormen manning your front door, strangers and crazies somehow manage to make their way into all types of buildings. Doormen take breaks, and when those transitions happen, that’s when things slip through the cracks.

But when I did think of doormen when I first moved here, I thought that they handled people coming into and out of units (guests), as well as packages. That’s not actually the case in a lot of buildings, including ours. The security desk and porters in our building handle packages and deliveries. The doormen only handle people coming in the front door – residents and guests. Anyone with a delivery comes through the security entrance and not the front entrance. It’s the way we’re set up. So the “scope” of doormen in our building is less than in other buildings where they also manage packages and deliveries.

It’s also confusing when you move from one doorman building to the next, and the doormen don’t do the same things, so you need to reset your own expectations. For example, I was coordinating a Buy Nothing group pickup on Sunday, and the person I was picking up from told me that although she lived in a doorman building, the doorman “doesn’t like” holding stuff for pickup, so he gives her attitude when she asks. So to prevent this from happening, she just leaves the item with the person’s name on it in a conspicuous place in the lobby, and the person can just pick it up. It’s not necessarily the safest option, as literally anyone could swipe it, but she said she’d never encountered problems with this before.

Another person said she left an item for me in a bag with my name on it with the doorman. When I went to pick it up, the doorman didn’t check anything anywhere and simply stared me in the face and said, “I don’t have anything being held for anyone, no.” I stared back at him, also dead in the eye, and said, “I know there is something here with my name on it in a brown bag. Can you please check?” And I refused to move. He stared me down for a few more seconds, then went to the back room, immediately saw a bag with (gasp) my name on it, and said, “Well, what do you know – here’s a bag with your name on it right here!” And he handed it to me.

Sometimes, I wonder what kind of fake authority people like to assert when in situations like this. Is it so much more fun and fulfilling for them during the day to just sit there and play on their phones instead of actually doing their jobs?

The glory of Buy Nothing groups, and finding the group that “fits”

I was a bit late to the game on social media, as I did not join a “Buy Nothing” group until about two years ago, when we had moved from our old unit into our new unit in the same building, and I was about halfway through my pregnancy. My friends suggested my local Buy Nothing group could be helpful for getting lightly used baby items and clothes, which would not only be good for the environment, but also my bank account given how short of a time most of these items are used for. Given that I live on the border of the Upper West Side and Hell’s Kitchen, it oddly wasn’t that straightforward which Buy Nothing group I belonged to given my street address. Every time I did a search for “Upper West Side” and looked up my street number, I couldn’t find any group. The Hell’s Kitchen group boundaries didn’t include my street. So somehow, I got accepted into the Midtown West group, which actually has a street cut-off slightly south of where I live. So in the end, I did get into a group, just not the one I really belonged to.

I didn’t really like this group very much because I realized that the types of things people were giving away didn’t really fit our needs. Plus, when I did see something that fit, I never, not even once, got lucky with the item. I gave away so, so much stuff through this group, and sometimes, I discovered via strange direct messages on Facebook that these people didn’t even NEED the items; they were just hoarding for a potential need in the future… which may never even come up. And that really bothered me. I am not an advocate of hoarding. So earlier this year, I finally decided to do a more thorough search for my actual group based on my address, and I found out why I couldn’t find it: my specific Upper West Side group does not go by “Upper West Side,” but abbreviates to “UWS.” And apparently, it’s the ONLY Upper West Side BN group that does this, so it really threw me off! But when I finally got accepted and switched groups, I never looked back. Just based on the types of things people were posting, I knew I belonged here.

In just over a month of being in this group, I’ve already gotten lucky and scored a number of useful things: board and puppet books, learning and developmental toys for Kaia, like hot wheels, trucks, a doctor kit, cones/rings, and a fun building gears play set. And though Chris thinks I’ve gone crazy, I even picked up 5 bottles of Bundaberg ginger beer that he likes through the group. And when I posted that my daughter would be starting daycare soon and we’d need an extra silicone bib for school, several generous moms replied and gave me three, two of them brand new (in retrospect, I regret giving away the four extras we were gifted that were brand new, naively thinking we didn’t have need for them, as we already had two in active rotation. I definitely won’t be that quick to give anything else away in the future that is similar!). I’ve also given away similar items in this group: a baby “aquarium” for tummy time, a duplicate baby doctor’s play set, clothes, a baby log book, and herbal tea. It’s nice to feel a semblance of community and belonging via this group.

Music class experience with Pookster

Because of the ex-nanny’s departure, I’ve also been able to take Kaia to the music classes I signed her up for. On Thursday morning, I brought her to Riverside Park for one of the music sessions. Kaia clearly loves music; she clapped and bobbed her head and body along to the music and used her little “instruments” throughout. She also loved attempting to crawl away from the class, and I had to frequently carry her back to the picnic blanket.

The other funny thing to see was what caregivers came to the class. On Thursday, there were seven of us total: three nannies, two mothers, and two grandmas (at least, this is what it looked like to me). And of the strollers, it was a sea of Uppababy Vistas, plus our own Nuna Triv. It’s always comical to me how amongst groups like this, the stroller type is usually quite homogenous and predictable, even down to the accessories on the strollers. The Uppababy Vista is the most popular stroller on the Upper West Side, if not all of New York. It’s ginormous, which is why it’s so popular, but that also makes it nearly impossible to carry up and down stairs or on the subway without at least 2-3 people carrying it. It’s the stroller for you if you are happy with the size, and you never plan to take it outside of your neighborhood without throwing it into a car. It was never the stroller for us, and it always annoyed me to no end when people would give a blanket recommendation for this stroller, even when I explicitly said that I needed something that could travel well and relatively easily on the subway/trains. I occasionally get questions on how we chose our stroller, and I know the question not being asked is, “Why didn’t you get an Uppababy?”

Flutter at Clark Theater, Lincoln Center

This afternoon, I took Kaia to her very first theater performance: Flutter, a performance designed especially for kids ages 6 to 18 months of age, which follows the narrative of the changing seasons through experiential storytelling, innovative puppetry, innovative dance, and original music (that’s from the official description). I had been keeping my eye out for age-appropriate, low cost activities in the area that Kaia could do, and this definitely stood out as being one of the most interesting ones, so I signed her up over a month ago. And in the end, it was a great experience. Not only did she do exactly what the director had hoped, which was interact inside the circle they created and play with the props, dancers, and other kids, but Kaia really hammed it up in general: before the performance even started, she went around the inside of the circle, crawling to each family and saying hi and waving. She traded and fought over toys with certain kids. At least half a dozen parents came up to me after to express how cute and social my baby was.

If our ex-nanny hadn’t quit, I wouldn’t have taken Kaia to her first theater experience. So in more ways than one, the nanny’s sudden departure has actually benefited our family. I got to see Kaia be extremely social and interact in a fun theater environment, and it made me realize even more how much my baby is blossoming into a precocious, outgoing, intelligent tiny human.

Fees, fees, and more fees

I contacted the pediatrician’s office with some forms that daycare requires the doctor to fill out. Of course, they replied and said that there is a $25 order form filling fee every time there is a new daycare/school form to complete. How lovely. The one note that they shared only after I called them, gave them my credit card number to process, and then I asked about future forms to have filled out: if I ever request that they fill out one of these forms in the future, and it’s within three days of one of Kaia’s doctor appointments, and I bring the form in for them to fill out and sign, then they can do it without charge. How… weird, yet annoying.

Of course, there are registration fees for daycare/school, as well as deposits. And then on top of that, I need to get a partial refund on the spring session of the music class I purchased for Kaia. I wrote out all the classes she’d taken, plus the ones she can still take, and so in the end, she will have taken eight out of a total 13 classes in the spring session. The music company is willing to only refund 50% of the classes she FORFEITS. Ultimately, this means the cost per class she actually took is higher than I originally thought, but it’s still lower than it would be if we paid a la carte. It is what it is.

I also have had to look into daycare specific purposes, like small food storage containers (they won’t allow any glass containers, so my usual glass jars I use to store Kaia’s on-the-go snacks are out), a lunch box (I cannot believe how many iterations there are of these…), daycare labels (this was a total nightmare; I could NOT believe how many options there were online and all the different price points). I did two searches on Google and Amazon for labels, got annoyed, then texted my friend, who has put two of her own kids in daycare, and she simply sent me the one she used and told me to buy the same ones. I trust her judgment, so I just ordered them to simplify my life.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. I keep telling myself that this is all for the best and that all this effort and annoyance will be worth it in the end. Kaia was going to end up in daycare at some point, so pushing it up a few months would not only save us money, but it would also reduce my daily stress of dealing with her ex-nanny’s constant insolence.

When everyone commiserates your loss of childcare

I spoke with several colleagues and friends over the last two days about how our nanny quit with zero notice. It was very clear from the expressions on their faces who have not only experienced this situation before or something similar, but could empathize with how awful it was. When I told one of my colleagues on my team during a 1:1 chat today, her face fell as though I told her that an immediate family member of mine had died. That was how distressed her face looked.

Before I ever had a child and had to navigate childcare, I could academically understand why this would be terrible and extremely inconvenient. I just never realized how emotional the entire experience could be. It was like in one fell swoop — or rather, one long, ranty, angry text message, I was having a massive judgment made on me as a human being and an employer: “You are an awful, demeaning, condescending, slave-driving boss, and I hate you enough to give the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to you by quitting without any advance notice whatsoever because I want you to feel pain.”

And I suppose the reason it hurt so much to see this long text box on my phone was… I tried so, so hard to make sure she felt comfortable here. I constantly asked her if she felt comfortable. I got her all the food and snacks she ever requested, and then some. Once, she told me that the Trader Joe’s version of Cheerios didn’t taste the same as real branded Cheerios. So the next day, I returned the Trader Joe’s version and went to Target to get the real, branded Cheerios. And she said she was shocked, not only that I did it, but that I did it so quickly. She even went home and told her husband. I occasionally bought her lunch. Once, I even sat down at a restaurant with her when she said she never had Turkish before but always was curious (I got so many weird looks from friends when I shared this). I always, always offered her food I made and even occasionally PACKED it for her to eat when she got home. We gave her rare foods that even we had a hard time sourcing, but we knew she liked. I made her ginger tea when she had stomach pains. I double boiled her chai. I made her a full breakfast a number of mornings. I sent her home early many days when she said she either had a headache or when I just became free earlier (which Chris got mad about because he said we were paying for her time, so we need to USE her time). Some days, when she complained of foot pain, I even helped her clean up after Kaia’s dinner (I really, really regret this now). We always brought back gifts from our international travels. We got her lots of thoughtful things she said she liked, plus cash for her birthday earlier this year. I gave her Chinese treats from Chinatown that I thought she’d like. I even got her Easter flowers.

But the hurt and sadness I feel at her leaving is juxtaposed with the anger I feel about all the things she did to assert her nonexistent authority in my house and in raising my child, plus things she flat out went against and openly defied me, and agreed to do but would regularly skip out on and make excuses for. In fact, the thing that I found most puzzling was that her demeanor on her first day onward with us was like a total 180 from when she first did a FaceTime interview with me, when she was warm, sweet, and even had a higher pitched voice (that was manipulative in retrospect), to when she did her trial. On both those occasions, she was generally warm, open, and amenable (her baby log notes were extremely thorough, too). Yet on her very first day, it was like she was a totally different person: she criticized everything from how we set up Kaia’s bassinet and crib to the changing station to how frequently we empty the diaper pail (“all my other mom bosses ask me to do it at the end of every day.” Apparently, asking her to do less work was worth critiquing for her). She constantly compared our methods to her former bosses’ in a disparaging way. She gave me attitude about the level of detail on the white board we set up for her with explicit instructions on what to do (because apparently, an employer being clear with instructions is not wanted by any employee). Every time I added a daily or weekly task for her to do, whether it was to clean Kaia’s baby bath tub, spray down her changing station or play mat, or shake out the cushion under the changing station, she’d give me this look as though I told her to go jump off a cliff. Many weeks, she’d skip a lot of these weekly tasks completely and get angry when I asked her why it wasn’t done. When I recently asked her to use the dust buster to vacuum the stroller seat and under-basket, she flat out didn’t do it at all. When I told her to remember to spray and wipe down the stroller seat/handles when she fed Kaia in it because she still had food remnants speared on the handles she never cleaned (which I had to clean!!), she scowled and reluctantly agreed to clean the stroller after feeding outside.

When we started feeding Kaia solids, I educated her on baby-led weaning by discussing the method with her and sending her several Solid Starts articles and videos. I even suggested she download the Solid Starts app (she refused). She insisted babies needed to eat purees and would choke otherwise, and I had no idea what I was doing (Nanny: “I have been doing this for over 20 years, and you are relying on the Google for help? You first time moms are crazy. You think you know everything but you don’t”). She’d mash Kaia’s food behind my back and I’d catch it when I’d go the kitchen or bathroom between meetings. I confronted her several times, to which she always responded defensively and arrogantly and said she had to ensure Kaia’s safety (because apparently, I wanted my own child to choke and die). But she finally let it go when she realized Kaia hated to be fed, that she wanted to self-feed, that she was more than able to feed herself. Our ex-nanny also got upset when I suggested she practice straw and open cup drinking at about 7-8 months. First she mocked me, laughing and saying, “Ha, she is too young for that. There is no way a child her age can do it.” A few weeks later, after a few tries of the pipette method on the weekends that I showed my baby, Kaia got drinking out of a straw down pat and loved it. The next Monday, I gave our nanny a dead look and said, “Look what Kaia learned over the weekend. She can drink out of a straw (motioning to Kaia drinking milk out of a straw in a cup)… and you doubted her.” She gave me the same mocking, defiant attitude when I suggested the open cup drinking, as well as utensils. It was beyond exhausting to always get her insolent laughs. In the end, she admitted that Kaia was the first baby so young she ever knew of that could drink out of straw, an open cup, use utensils decently, and feed herself food; it was a little astounding to even hear her admit she was wrong (though she still thinks Kaia is an anomaly and that the average baby cannot do any of the above).

She took little care for our belongings; anytime something got lost or broken, she never even once apologized or took ownership for what happened. Instead, she would lash out at ME for even asking about the item. In her time here, she lost at least three pacifiers, two of Kaia’s toys, and one stroller rain cover worth over $50. Every time something like this happened, she said she didn’t think it was a big deal and that we could always buy another one (with OUR money of course, because money just grows on trees for us). She broke Kaia’s teether pop, one of our ceramic ramekins, and even a picture frame (and the picture frame was the worst because she didn’t even proactively tell me about it and tried to hide it. I realized it was broken, confronted her, and while she owned up it, she never even apologized!). With all of the above except the rain cover, she never openly told me the items got lost or broken; I had to ask her where they were. And each time this happened, she would respond defensively and arrogantly, saying that Chris and I were causing her stress, making her feel worried every day she left that she lost something when all she was here for was to ensure Kaia’s safety and happiness. “I take care of your pride and joy every single day and return her to you in one piece. Is that not enough?? And Chris just obsesses over a stupid pacifier?!”

She repeatedly shared horror stories of her previous mom bosses to me. It should have been a red flag to me; if she rants so openly about previous bosses, there’s no doubt in my mind that she will do the same to me and of course, twist the narrative to make her seem like the victim and me the villain. She mostly complained about their white privilege, how they supposedly were verbally abusive to her and thought they “owned” her and her time. She distorted the meanings of likely innocent old Christmas cards they wrote and cried about them for days, saying they didn’t see her as human. She frequently ranted about white people and how entitled they were; she constantly brought up how awful Trump and the Republican Party are until one day, I finally just told her to stop ranting about this to me. She clearly hates white people even though they are the only people other than us she’s ever worked for. But she masks it so well because all her references gave her such glowing reviews. They have no idea that the sweet, loving nanny that they see is actually a dragon who would blow fire on them behind their backs.

Everything above is just a fraction of alI I had to deal with. I put up with it all because I was never ready to put Kaia in daycare when she was younger. I also knew I would miss my sweet Pookie a lot if I couldn’t see her throughout the day… even if I couldn’t hear the happy sound of her hands slapping the floor when she crawls. Plus, with nannies and personal caregivers, there’s no such thing as “perfect.” So I turned a blind eye to a lot of things and let them go because I knew at the end of the day, yes, Kaia was safe and happy with this nanny. I’m just so tired. Although the last two days have been a lot, I’m so relieved I don’t have to deal with her insolence any longer. I don’t want to have to convince my employee every single fucking day that she NEEDS TO FOLLOW THE RESPONSIBILITIES AS OUTLINED IN HER EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT, that no, that doesn’t make ME an evil, awful employer. I can already hear the false narrative she will tell her nanny friends, her future employers, her family when she “took a chance” on working with an Asian family — us: we repeatedly made her feel like a slave. We were inhuman. We worked her like a dog. We constantly demeaned her and criticized her. We treated her like a slave or child. We never respected her or gave her anything. But well, I will always know the truth of what happened. And I just have to ignore her falsehoods. Because apparently to her, working for a white family, as a black woman, is just so, so much better.

I wish her well. But most of all, I wish her inner peace that she so clearly lacks, and I hope she is able to find help or therapy for herself to manage her emotional instability and past traumas, which clearly continue to play a huge role in her life and she has unfortunately chosen to take out on my family. As Chris said, it’s a new era for all of us.

Nanny quit at 10pm last night

Well, that was fun. Our nanny sent a long, nasty text message, letting me know that telling her that the baby log wasn’t complete was “demeaning” and “you treated me like a child,” and she’s tired and can’t handle adult stress, so her time with us has come to an end. She used to say that she wasn’t used to being in a workplace where she felt so open and free to say what she thinks and feels. She would say that we treated her really well and we were good people, and that she was really happy she took this job. She had never worked with a non-White family before, so in her eyes, she was “taking a chance.” She had shared all the negative stereotypes she once held of Asian people. While all that was not fun to hear and perhaps sharing TOO much information, I thought she was trying to tell me that she realized that they were unfair stereotypes, and that we proved them wrong for her. I suppose she was just being two-faced all along. I guess I should have expected it since she shared so much nasty information about her previous mom bosses, but I thought it may have been different with us. I was wrong.

So, I guess Kaia is starting daycare earlier than we thought. To be honest, this is probably for the best for all parties. I didn’t think our nanny was keeping up with Kaia’s learning and development, especially after we came back from Australia. Plus, it was exhausting to have to manage her inability to accept even the most benign feedback. I was tired of constantly cleaning up after her when I was paying her money to clean up after my baby. I was also exhausted listening to her bring up bad experiences with her last employers. I was like an unpaid therapist for her, listening to her complain about past grievances and how they affected her emotionally. It was like I was being forced to deal with her past traumas, which were all bubbling up in my own home.

I’m sure daycare will present its own set of challenges, but after dealing with the emotional instability and outbursts from our nanny over common sense tasks, I think I am welcoming daycare as our next step.