Right after I wrote the last blog post about neurotically healing myself and trying to find my way in this world, I got a text from the family I used to nanny for back in 2018.
Their tantruming munchkin, Calvin, was not settling into quarantine well. They asked if I was available to help. OF COURSE I WAS AVAILABLE TO HELP. Thank fuck. Purpose. A task. Something I am incredibly good at. Nannying. Helping kids feel normal and adjusted. I got this. 100%.
I started the next week, and I took care of Calvin until May 1st, 2020, when his daycare opened up and he had an officially available slot.
I see that it’s 100% the right thing for the parents to do, because they will get more work done without him and me around. However, I am emotionally wrecked by that choice. I promise you, that is not what I showed Calvin, or his parents during our surprise last week together.
I just put in a month and a half of work in helping Calvin feel safe, adjusted and working on his tantrums, and getting to the roots of things, and now he’s gone. He doesn’t want to be in daycare. He never has wanted to be in daycare. I get it, I know, kids don’t get to make those choices. But I could totally make myself cheap enough to make it ok for him to stay with me. Fuck, I know better than to let this hurt, but it hurts. It feels like another loss. This feels like getting set up for parenting foster kids. Another solid lesson in grief.
Calvin is special to me. This specific kid… our hearts know how to beat in rhythm with one another.
I get him. He wants to be useful. He wants control of his body. He needs space to move and options to be a different person.
I like Calvin so much. I mean, I love the kid. I am absolutely emotional Auntie for this dude. Now, I have to decide if it’s ok for me to commit to loving him, even though I won’t be able to change things for him. Which isn’t even a real question. The answer, from the beginning, has been yes.
Yes. Absolutely. Even though I won’t be able to do anything, except borrow him maybe once a week, three times a month, and just love the fuck out of him. I feel stupid writing that. Children need to be loved. That is a valuable thing to do.
I also just need to say these things out loud. I am so used to having an emotional sounding board at home, every night, there to tell me how “Love is always the right choice.” But, while I can call her, I don’t actually want to right now.
I need to love people in order to be alive. I need to figure out what and how I can be most beneficial to him. Guys, I am telling you, being a nanny is so much emotional labor.
Talked to my mom about it, because I was totally crying. I have put in so much work teaching him how to emotionally regulate, and it feels like that work is just going to get washed away.
My mother, queen of good advice, said what my heart and body already knew.
“Children benefit from therapy once a week. You can take him once a week and have an impact on his life. You will help him. And you are right to be worried about him. He could actually end up having emotional issues with the level of tantrum you’re describing.” My mom knows how to talk to me so I am ok and so I can make choices that will benefit not only me, but the other person. Or my community of people.
It matters so much to me that the people I love are cared for, both by me, and by their other community members. It matters to me to be of use. I don’t function if I feel inessential. I also find it very important to take care of my own needs, first in regards to doing services for other people. Otherwise, I end up overcommitted and burnt out. I find it better to underpromise and over deliver.
I decided, during the conversation with my mother, to go ahead and just let this be my full week off. Take it off, lounge, play, adapt, see what comes of my feelings, instead of crushing them down and pretending they don’t exist.
I will rest and replenish myself, for the process of stepping into another new roll. Full time Dog Mom, here I come.