The past 8 months

School is wrapping up (what actually does it mean that I'll be graduating in 15 days?!), and I've been busy with school and school and school and, oh yeah, a sweet little new munchkin at work to love on. Clara's baby sister is here! Y'all, meet Lulu:


Ignore the exhausted nanny, focus on the tiny baby!

The other thing that's been occupying 99.7% of my brain space over, wow, nearly 8 months now, is a project that Cait and I have been doing. Here's her post on it: The Project. After 8 months, we're damn near close to being finished. Oh, you guys, I can't believe it.

At my school, we can design a class of our own to work one-on-one with a professor or a professional in a field in which we're interested. I was lucky enough to take a photojournalism class with a photographer from The Boston Globe during my junior year, and he changed my life. I really wanted to work with him again, so after Cait and I came up with the idea for the project, and he agreed to be my professor for the project, and the journalism department at my school signed off on it, and a million i's were dotted and t's were crossed, it became an official class of mine, to work on this project, for the spring semester.

Well, the spring semester ends this Wednesday. Which means for the past month, Cait and I have been working overtime on the project. In the past month, I've professed my undying love for iMovie, divorced it, remarried it, cheated on it with PhotoShop and flirted with Final Cut Pro, and gone back to iMovie again (the devil you know, and all). And together Cait and I have culled through thousands of pictures and hundreds of hours of audio. It's been gigantic. And last night, we finished our working draft.

Holy crap.

What's next? Well, two other photojournalists from the Globe are going to critique it and offer suggestions. We're going to be showing it around to others, looking for perspectives and opinions from different people, in the next few months. After that? Well...

Possibly a museum exhibit. Or exhibits. At the very least, a website devoted to it. And...possibly a book. A book. A book with my name on it, and Cait's name on it, and my pictures and her words and our combined blood, sweat, and tears (and let's be honest, our vomit). A book.

We're hoping to get it up online with The Boston Globe soon. I'm reaching for The New York Times' lens blog. After that? Who knows. We want it spread far and wide.

Our project is 12.5 minutes long. It's untitled, still pretty rough around the edges, but it's ours, and it's incredible. I couldn't be more proud.

And if/when it is available online/in museums/IN A BOOK/etc., you know I will be screaming the news here first. FINGERS CROSSED.

Let's all suppaht the mathah, okay?

Big changes here in the life of Ye Olde Online Nannye! But really, really good ones. Really good ones.

Nannying with Clara is going great. I'm beyond excited by how much more communicative she's gotten in the past two months! She went through a time period where her sign language exploded, and now her verbal words are too — it's so cool! (Plus, dude, I'm picking up German vocabulary like it's no big deal. Like, I know that "erbsen" means "pea." NBD, y'all.) My favorite thing is that she totally supports my caffeine addiction. Helping me make coffee is her favorite part of the day. When I walk in each morning, she drags me to the kitchen, stands below the coffee pot, and says "UP!" Then she proceeds to pull the grounds and filter out of the cabinet, and instruct me to fill the carafe with water ("AH! AH!"). Then we watch the coffee drip through together. Pure heaven.

Today Cait and I went to a looooong breastfeeding workshop as a part of our doula certifications. Our instructor was this great RN who had the absolute most stereotypical Boston accent ever. Like, the Pahk Yah Cah In Hahvahd Yahd kind of accent. It took every ounce of control I had not to giggle every time she mentioned "suppahting the mathah."

We had to read Dr. Jack Newman's "The Ultimate Breastfeeding Book of Answers" for the class. For the record, it's only slightly awkward to be reading it (and looking at pictures of BOOBS) on a crowded subway. I had really mixed feelings about the book over all. I mean, it had great advice in it in terms of helping babies latch, medication information, the importance of skin-to-skin contact as soon as possible, etc. But...he came off (in my opinion) a bit too fanatically.

I'm totally pro-breastfeeding, and I hope to nurse my kids until they want to stop, no matter how old they are. But I felt like Dr. Newman was merciless in making mothers feel awful if, for some reason, breastfeeding didn't work out for them (for WHATEVER the reason). I got really frustrated reading the book, and I know Cait did too. I really appreciated the workshop we went to today with an RN, because she's an internationally certified lactation consultant as well, and extremely pro-breastfeeding, but much more realistic about what kind of issues come up and how difficult it could/would be to overcome them.

One thing that made me really worried, though, was that we talked about breast surgeries potentially impairing breastfeeding, and our teacher mentioned biopsies. I had a biopsy done on my left breast a few years ago. Now I'm paranoid that the surgeon potentially cut milk ducts, which can cause a myriad of problems/infections. Hypochondriac? Me? NO!

Anyway. Bottom line, I'm even more excited by the idea of breastfeeding and helping mothers and babies have great breastfeeding relationships. I know that won't always work out, but I want to do everything I can to help people.

Can I be annoying and ask questions? Have any of you breastfed? How was your experience? Did it work out for you, or if it didn't, why not? (NO JUDGMENT ZONE HERE, fyi.)

Technical question

(How do you know when the butter is done?)

(If you get that, YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.)

So I kind of messed up my blog layout EPICALLY. I wanted a new, different look, and even though I *know* I should NEVER EVER play with the layout of my blog, I got all crazy on my birthday and played with the layout of my blog, and now HALP.

The left sidebar and the header need a whitish box behind them. Because now you can't see them. Anybody know how to help me? Please? Bueller?

Also: when Cait and I were recording my birthday video, we had like seven zillion technology fails between our two computers. I won't tell you how many times we had to record that damn video. LIFE FAIL. But we did have fun dancing to Nicki Minaj.

Confession time: Year V (what?!)

How is this year FIVE of these things? I am getting entirely too old for my own good.

In other news, it was my birthday yesterday! I am now 18 YEARS YOUNG! (Slash...I'm 23. But both my mom and my sister were convinced I was turning 22 yesterday, so now I'm just not sure at all.)

(I was born in 1989. That's all I know for sure. Squeaking by as a child of the '80s fo shizzle!)

Here is the embarrassing birthday video that Cait and I made:



Here are the confession time rules:

1. Post an anonymous comment--of a secret, confession, like, dislike...anything you want. It can be happy and light, it can be deep and depressing. WHATEVER you want.
2. There will be NO judging or cruel comments about anybody else's secrets.

(Year I)
(Year II)
(Year III)
(Year IV)

Happy confessing!

Cat help please!

First of all, if you guys have been hearing the squealing that has been coming from my apartment the past few days, here's why.

Second of all, this is Lucy:



OMG the cuteness, right? Who knew she could be a gigantic pain in the ass? Good thing she's cute. It's the only thing preventing us from sending her to the onion farm. That, and she's an awesome snuggler when she actually is still.

We're having one problem with Lucy, though — girlfriend is hit-or-miss with the litter box. She pees in there regularly and (we hope) nowhere else. But pooping? Um. In the bathtub, behind the kitchen trash can, and in Cait's bookshelf are favorite places of hers.

The vet advised us to add another litter box — she shares with Cait's cat Tucker, and while we keep it really clean, maybe Lucy is just picky and wants her own? We don't really have space for a second one, so I thought I'd ask Ye Wise Old Intranets if you had any other solutions. When we're home we pop her in the litter box pretty often (she never goes), but we're gone all day long so can't do that very regularly :(

Hellllllllp! We're nannies — we deal with enough poop at our jobs! We don't want to deal with it from our cat too!

Popping in again

So there have been thousands of posts swirling around in my head (ahem: Lucy-the-cat, Clara-the-nannykid, school project, LIFE) but I've yet to sit down and write them. Cause there's one thing I've been wanting to get out first.

Here it is, yo:

I want to start having children. Soon.

Now, before my mother and father pass out, I don't mean YET. I just mean SOON.

I'm (almost) 23. I graduate from college in May (72 days or so, not that I'm counting). I know what I want to do with my life, and I'm on my way to doing those things. But the thing I want to do most? Is to become a mother.

No, I don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/husband/wife/spouse/"roommate." But I DO have a small community of women in my life who want to be young mothers just like me. We want to have our children and raise our children, together, regardless of whether or not we have spouses.

I don't have big, high-shooting, lofty career goals. I want to catch babies, teach breastfeeding classes, and offer support in any way I can to new moms of every age. I'm on my way to becoming doula certified, and am making preparations to become a certified lactation consultant. A midwifery program will, eventually, follow that.

But in the meantime, I want to start my family. I want to raise my children in a warm, loving, nurturing environment with my grown friends and their own children. It takes a village to raise a child — well, I want to be a part of a village. I want a village of mamas and daddies and children everywhere. With plenty of love to go around, no matter who you are.

My children will not lack for strong parental figures in their lives. Cait, my best friend, will be like my kids' second mom and someone who I know will love my children as her own. My sister is an amazing, amazing girl — my kids will have the best aunt in the world. My parents are incredible, and I honestly can't wait to see them as grandparents. If I don't ever get married, that's fine by me.

The thing is? We can do this. We can do this, and soon. I'll be able to work as a doula and an LC while staying home with my kids. All of us want to work in women's health/childbirth — if one of us needs to leave for a birth, other mamas and daddies would be there to stand in. We'll all work together and support each other.

It takes a village to raise a child, and I want to raise my children in a village. Sooner, rather than later.

Happy birthday Cait!

Disclaimer: Cait totally thought I was going to edit a lot out of this video.

Surprise: I'M NOT EDITING ANYTHING!

Happy birthday Cait! And welcome to the family, Lucy-goosey :)

My best friend

So.

A few years ago, my best friend, Cait, was diagnosed with manic depression (also known as bipolar disorder). Prior to knowing her, I didn’t know much about manic depression. I assumed (incorrectly) that it meant that a person was just hyper-depressed. Or just mentally unstable. Which, in my mind, was a polite way of saying they were just kind of crazy.

I was really, really wrong.

People who are manic depressive experience periods of mania, during which they are flying high, productive, creative, unstoppable…followed by equally severe periods of all-consuming, all-encompassing, paralyzing, debilitating depression. With medication and therapy, these episodes can be lessened, but they’ll never truly go away.

Cait's really been struggling lately with her bipolar disorder. Her moods have been fluctuating wildly and unpredictably, and she (and her doctors) are trying to find the right medicine combinations to better get them under control.

But it's been hard.

I can walk into a room and feel if Cait's crushed with depression. Similarly, I can tell just by looking at her if she's hypomanic. Depending on her moods, I tiptoe carefully around her, or curl up next to her. Once, during an incredibly awful period back in November, I had to physically lift her out of bed — she couldn't get out on her own. And one night, she took a really long shower, and when I went to check on her, I found her curled on the bottom of the bathtub, water raining over her. She couldn't get out. She just couldn't. I pulled the curtain aside, hooked my arms under hers, and pulled her up.

There are also times where she's flying so high she can't stop talking. She talks at lightning speed, jumping from one topic to another. Sometimes she can't sit still, she has to get out of wherever she is — like tonight. Sometimes she has the urge to do potentially harmful and dangerous things. Most of the time, she resists. Sometimes she doesn't.

My best friend has manic depression. But that doesn’t mean she’s crazy. Yes, she goes through period of mania (which is a word with enormously weighted negative associations). Yes, she goes through periods of depression. But she’s also empathetic, loyal, intelligent, and a brilliant writer and photographer. And she produces incredible work because of, and not in spite of, her manic depression.

Sometimes being best friends with Cait feels like I'm on a roller coaster. She goes so high, and I try to fly with her, and then she crashes, and I sink too. It's hard. But it's a part of who she is. Just like I have complete anxiety-ridden breakdowns from time to time (okay, let's be honest, pretty frequently). That, and my own depression, are part of me. And Cait loves me and takes care of me regardless.

That's what we do. We take care of each other, no matter what. My best friend has manic depression, and she's struggling. It's been really hard. But I'd never for one second consider not being by her side.

(FYI — I asked Cait before I posted this. She graciously was completely supportive of my need to just write this out.)

I now can say "ball" in German!

(For the record, it's pronounced "ball," with a little "eh" at the end. I have no idea how to spell it in German, but I can say it!)

So: I am 1.5 weeks into nannying for Clara, and I've got to say, it's been a really cool experience. She babbles mostly in German, but she's picking up words in English here and there, and it's so amazing to me that she's learning them FROM me! We still communicate a lot via sign language, and I'm using that as much as I can while speaking to her solely in English. (Though yes, I have picked up a few basic German words as well!)

She's a really sweet girl. She has trouble when I first get there in the mornings, because she knows her mom is going to leave. But after initial tears, she LOVES to snuggle up and read books, go for walks, play with her puppies (two white curly dogs that I honestly can't tell apart even after 1.5 weeks), and color.

She seems to understand about 1/4 of what I'm saying when I direct her to do something. I gotta say, though, girlfriend knows how to clean up, and she does it well! After we're done playing, I'll sign and say, "time to clean up, Clara!" and then I'll sing the Barney clean up song (I apologize if that song is now in your head. It's been in mine for the past week in a half.) And she helps pick up -- it's great.

In addition to nannying for Clara, I have a new standing babysitting job on Saturday nights. It's one little girl who just turned two, and who is trilingual. TRILINGUAL. As in, she speaks damn fluently in THREE LANGUAGES.

I'll pause for a minute while all the rest of us non-trilingual people feel bad about ourselves.

But yeah. This little girl speaks German with her dad, Swedish with her mom, and English with her daycare and me. She's able to switch back and forth completely easily depending on who she's talking to. It's incredible, and I'm picking up words from her too...the only problem is I don't know whether they're in German or in Swedish!

I have to say, this is an entirely new experience for me -- working with foreign-born families. It means different cultures, different interpretations, different routines. But I'm really enjoying it so far :)

[EXHALE.]

One question I have for any of you in the greater Boston area -- do any of you attend classes at Isis? Clara does once a week, and I wanted to hear what others thought of it.

My hormone levels are back to normal!

That sigh of relief you hear? That's me. I NO LONGER FEEL LIKE I HAVE BUBBLES OF ESTROGEN PING-PONGING AROUND INSIDE MY BRAIN! THANK YOU JEEBUS (AND MY THERAPIST!).

So.

Last Tuesday was...rough. Really rough. But as you guys said, the next day would be better. And it was — a lot. And Friday's therapy session kicked ass and took names and reminded me why I need to name my firstborn daughter after my psychologist. People like the name Nicole, right?

(Just kidding. You guys know I've had my baby names picked out for, like, a trillion years. And I'm not budging on them. Baby daddy ain't got no say, y'all.)

So since I left this completely unresolved, I thought I'd update on my job situation! Yahoo! JOBS! Or lack thereof! Please don't remind my roommate I owe her a large rent check in a week that I will be unable to pay!

AKA...yeah, I left my sweet Pius :( You guys, I'm so sad. His mom has texted me a few pictures of him since then and each one makes me about cry. I miss my little guy. I miss his chubby cheeks, his loooong legs (when I wore him in the Moby his feet came down to my knees), and his big smile. I miss how he fell asleep heavy in my arms and just completely sunk into me. I know it was no longer a good work environment...but I'm having a hard time moving on from this one.

I've been looking for jobs for a few weeks now, but haven't really been able to find anything that feels "right" and fits with my class hours/pays enough. I've taken a job for a 17-month-old girl named Clara, who is German and doesn't speak a word of English, but who is really sweet. I start with them on Monday, and I really don't know how I feel about it. I just know I need to be able to pay rent this month.

This whole being an adult thing is hard sometimes, yeah?

(Please know I use the term "adult" very, VERY loosely.)

But, because my Prozac seems to be helping tonight, here are good things in my life:
1) I have a job.
2) I have my best friend living upstairs. She's my sanity. I should name my daughter after HER. (Oh wait! I kind of am!)
3) There's a sweet funny boy named Andy who's been hanging around my life lately.
4) I have a great therapist.
5) I'm warm, safe, dry, full, and so loved and supported.

See? There are good things. And those good things help balance out the crazy hormone-driven breakdowns and the anxiety resulting from having to take a really low-paying job out of desperation. Because despite those breakdowns and that anxiety, I still have each of those five things listed above. And that's more than enough.

(I don't want to give the impression that I'm dreading this job I've taken. Clara is lovely, and I adore her parents. It's just the pay is low and the language barriers between all of us can be tricky. Anybody want to teach me German?)