Mommy and me.

As a nanny, I am a part of the sometimes difficult but most often beautiful intimate life of a family. There are no adequate words for my role, only stigmatized words-- nanny, babysitter-- that have their own contexts attached. I don't mind these words because I tend to pick the sort of families who disregard their stigmas, or are actively aware of them. While power dynamics are unavoidable, I've learned enough about them by now to navigate comfortably and chose families who are aware of how unique my position is in their personal lives.

The intimate experiences I have in these families' personal lives are not only driven by relationship with the child, but also with the mother (and inevitably the father). With most families, the mother is the primary caretaker; my boss of sorts. My relationship with her is one of mentorship that I haven't found anywhere else in my life. Sure, for many nannies, the mother-nanny relationship can be volatile and difficult. Mine just haven't been - partly because of the families I find, partly because of my work ethic.

From the first time I work in their homes, I come into the house as a virtual tool for the mother/father (the primary caretaker).  I listen to what they want, follow their guidelines, and act as one piece of their support system. For a couple of them, leaving for work has been a site of mommy guilt that I try my best to mediate. These are not my children, nor do I want children anytime soon. But it is my job to make sure these mothers and fathers feel as comfortable and content as they could possibly be to leave their child with another person. I am the surrogate family while they're away and, in the process, I become an odd piece of their family unit. We still haven't figured out what to call my place in the family. It's more than a sitter, more than a nanny, but not real family -- a strange in between.

My relationship with the mother, though, has given me an understanding of motherhood that I couldn't have gotten elsewhere. I work so closely with her that I can anticipate her parenting-style and transfer it to my work while watching her child. This closeness comes from the respect I feel for her and the constant respect and gratitude that she expresses to me for caring for her children and for my hard work. This mutual respect translates itself in other parts of life - I am overwhelmingly happy for her family when something goes right and equally devastated when I experience them in sadness and grief. It's not only the child that makes my job complex and beautiful, it's the opportunity to view individual motherhood this intimately.