Where's My Cape?

The Talk

Well, it had to be done. I had The Talk with the nanny.

It started one lovely morning when Girl came downstairs looking especially put together in a dress and tights.

Nanny: Wow! [Girl] is SEXY!

*awkward pause*

Of course, the Husband was not around to assist in my emergency language intervention, conveniently.

I took a deep breath.

Me: I think you mean pretty or beautiful. Sexy is more of an adult-word.

Nanny: You are sexy. You have a nice body! Not fat!

Me: *stammers*

I went on to try to suggest some of the adult-like connotations of "sexy" complete with hourglass hand motions - yes, I actually did that with my hands- but all to no avail. She still insisted that I was sexy. I think largely because I was not fat. I'm not entirely sure.

I did think I was successful in convincing her it was not a term used for children. I guess we'll see about that.

On a non-sexy-related nanny issue, our nanny just gave me a pack of sports socks out of the blue. What does this tell me about my old socks? Believe me, it's not like they get a lot of athletic action these days, but I can only imagine what she thinks of my existing socks to use her own money to purchase some new ones for me. I need to do some serious sock re-examination.

The Guilt

Ah, I spoke too soon.

You know how I smugly shared that Girl transitioned to full-time school with nary a tear? *fake laugh* Yes, well, that was last week.

This week, I've entered the world that many working mothers (and fathers) have lived in: the child care guilt factor. Dropping your child off at daycare or school so you can go to work, and have a pair of saline-brimming eyes looking at you while the rest of the facial muscles morph into a sour landscape. In. Slow. Motion. Breaking. Into. Sad, Sad. About. To. Cry. Face.

Because you are leaving them in this place that's not their home and may might as well be a cage in the zoo occupied by a few pissed off beasts.

That guilt.

You know, at least you hope, that once you leave, they'll be just fine. Playing in a few minutes. Off to enjoy a day of fun-filled activities and social learning.

But, it's that parting feeling that sticks around like a traveling rain cloud above your head all day. The Deserter.

Yesterday, when I went to pick up Girl at school (and this her first time where I alone did the dropping off/picking up routine now that my parents have returned home), I walked into her school room excitedly. "Girl" I called out, moments before our eyes met. The look on her eyes was surprise, and then, complete melt-down crying. Screaming. Running to me. Clinging. Sobbing.

They said, as I frantically soothed her, this was normal, a difficult transition at the end of the day, and being a little overcome with emotion.

I thought, did she think I had abandoned her here? That I wasn't coming back for her?

I held her close, rubbed her back. Showered her with kisses.

My poor Girl.

Guilt is not a new emotion for me. I feel guilty that I like being at work - not only because I love what I do, but for the mental break of it all. It's a break, work.

The Guilt and The Face made me call the school a few hours later to check to make sure she was okay. Fine they said. Didn't even actually cry. Taking a nap now. No need to worry.

But, all I could see was The Face.

Does the guilt ever go away?