Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

Mrs. Butters, Grayer's teacher, smiles at me and shakes my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She looks down adoringly. "You are going to love Grayer, he's a very special little boy." She pats her corduroy apron dress, which fits loosely over her puffed-sleeve blouse. With her round,dimpled cheeks andplump, dimpledhandsshelooksmuchlike afour-year-oldherself.

"Hi,Grayer!" I say, smilingdownatthetop of his blondhead.He's wearing a littlewhite oxfordbutton!down Poloshirt, untuckedon oneside, containingthe evidence of a morninghard atwork: finger paint, whatlookslikeglue,andonelonemacaroni. "Howwasschooltoday?"

"Grayer, you remember Nanny? You two are going to have lunch at the playground!" his mother prompts him.

Heslumpsagainsther legandglares atme. "Go away."

"Honey, we can have snack together, but Mommy has an appointment.You two are going to have such a goodtime!Nowhop inyourstroller andNannywill give yousnack."

As we approach the playground he and I both listen attentively to the long list of Grayer's Likes and Dislikes: "He loves the slide, but the monkey bars bore him. Don't let him pick anything up off the ground. elikes todothat.Andpleasekeephimawayfromthedrinkingfountainbytheclock."

"Urn, what should I do if he needs to use the bathroom? Where should he go?" I ask as we pass under thedustywoodenarchesof theSixty-sixth Streetplayground.

"Oh,anywhere."

I'm justabouttoaskfor a littleclarification onthepeeingthingwhenher cellphonerings.

"Okay, Mommy's gotta go," she says, snapping her Startac closed. Her departure is like the suicide drills from gym class. very time she gets just a few feet farther away, Grayer cries and she scurries back, admonishing, "Now, let's be a big boy." Only once Grayer is in complete hysterics does she look ather watchandwith a"NowMommy's goingtobelate" isgone.

We sit on the only empty bench in the shade, while he sniffles, and eat our sandwiches, which have some sortof vegetable spreadin themand, I think,unbologna.As he raises his sleeve towipe his nose I notice for the first time, dangling from beneath his untucked shirttails, what appears to be a business cardpinnedtohis beltloop.

I reachout. "Grayer,what'swith the?

THE NANNY DIARIES

"Hey!" He swats my hand away. "That's my card." It's dirty and bent and has clearly been around the block afew times,butI thinkI canmakeout Mr. X's nameinfadedtype.

"Whosecardis that,Grayer?"

"You know." He pounds his forehead, exasperated by my ignorance. "My card. Jeez. Push me on the

swings!"

By the time we're done eating and I've given him a few pushes it's time for us to walk over to his play

date. I wave as he runs into the apartment. "Okay, bye, Grayer! See you tomorrow!" He screeches to a

halt, turns around, sticks his tongue out at me and then runs off. "Okay, have fun!" I smile at the other

nannyasif tosay"Oh,that?That's justourtonguegame!"

Once I'm on the subway to school I pull out the blue folder, which has my pay envelope paper-clipped

inside.

MRS. X

721PARKAVENUE,APT. 9B

NEWYORK, N.Y., 10021

DearNanny,

Welcome! Theattachedis acopyofGrayer. scheduleofafter-schoolactivities. Caitlinwillshow

you theroutine, but I. sureyou. ebeentomostoftheseplacesbefore! Letmeknowifyouhave

anyquestions.

Thanks,Mrs. X

p.s. ?I. ealsoincludeda listof somepossiblefunactivities

p.p.s. I reallyprefer itif Grayer doesn. nap intheafternoons

I glanceatthescheduleandshe's right.'m aveteran of every activity onthelist. MONDAY 2-2:45: Music lesson, Diller Quaile, 95th Street between Park and Madison (Parents pay an

astronomical sum for this prestigious music school where four'jear'olds usually sit in stone-cold silence astheircaregivers singnurseryrhymes in a circle.) 5-5:45: Mommy & Me,92ndStreetY onLexington (Asthenameimplies,mothersareexpectedtogo.Nevertheless, half of the groupisnannies.)

TUESDAY 4-5:00: Swimming lesson atAsphalt Green, 90th Street and East EndAvenue (One emaciated woman in aChanelswimsuit andfive nanniesinmuumuus all pleadingwith toddlersto "Getinthewater!")

WEDNESDAY 2-3:00: Physical educationatCATS,ParkAvenueat64thStreet (Deepinthebowels of acold, dankchurchthatsmells likefeet,thoroughly choreographedgamesforthepint-sized athlete.)

5-5:45: Karate,92ndStreetY onLexington

(Kids who quake with fear do fifty push-ups on their knuckles as a warm-up.The one class daddies

attend.)

THURSDAY

2-2:45: Pianolessonathome with Ms. Schrade("Music" tobetorturedby.)

5-6:00: FrenchClass,AllianceFrancaise,60thStreetbetweenMadisonand

Park

(Standardafterschoolactivities conductedinanotherlanguage.)

THE NANNY DIARIESFRIDAY

1-1:40: Ice skating,The Ice Studio, Lexington between 73rd and 74th Street (Coldas fuck. nd damp.

Struggle through a thirty-minute "Changeof Terror," sharp metal blades flying everywhere, sochildren cangetoniceforfortyminutesandcome backouttochangeagain.) I will letyouknowwhenheisscheduledforthe: Optician Orthodontist Orthodicfittings Physical therapist Ayurvedic practitioner Intheeventof a class cancellationthefollowing "nonstructured"outingsare permissible: TheFrick TheMet TheGuggenheimSoho TheMorganLibrary TheFrench CulinaryInstitute TheSwedishConsulate OrchidRoomof theBotanicalGarden NewYork StockExchangeTradingFloor

TheAngelika(PreferablytheGerman Expressionistseries,butanything

with subtitleswill do.)

I shrug and open the envelope, thrilled to discover that despite only working two hours, she's paid me for the whole day. The Envelope is a major perk of being a nanny. Traditionally, we're kept off the books and dealt with strictly in cash, which always keeps me hoping she'll stick in an extra twenty. A girl I knew lived-in with a family whose father slipped a few hundred dollars under her door whenever his wife dranktoomuchand "caused ascene."It's like

waiting tables. oujustnever knowwhenthecustomer mightbeoverwhelmed withappreciation.

"Caitlin? Hi, I'm Nanny,"I say. Mrs. X toldme thatmycolleague is blond andAustralian, which makes her fairlyeasy topick outamid theseaof facesthathavehadworkdoneandthefacesthatare doingthe work.I recognizeherfrom theXes'photosessioninthepark.

She looks up from where she sits on the school steps, sensibly outfitted in an Izod shirt and jeans, a sweatshirt tied round her waist. She's holding Grayer's apple juice in her right hand with the straw alreadyin it. I'm impressed.

Just as she stands to return my greeting, our charge and his classmates are released by his teacher and the courtyard becomes instantly animated. Grayer comes streaking through the crowd toward Caitlin, butscreechesto ahaltwhenheseesme,his enthusiasmvisibly drainingoutthroughhis Keds.

"Grayer, Nanny'11 be coming to the park with us this afternoon. on't that be fun?" I sense from her tone that she isn't quite convinced we're in for a laugh riot. "He's always a bit cranky when school lets out,buthegetsover itfineoncehe's hadhis snack."

"I'm sure."

It is chaos around us aschildren are snackedand play dates are made. I'm impressed by the finessewith whichsheworksGrayer fromsnacktostrollertogood-byes. Hemaintainsscreamingconversationwith three of his classmates while getting a sweater put on, a Baggie opened, homework unpinned from his lapel, and a stroller strapped under him. She's like a puppeteer, keeping the play in motion. I debate takingnotes. "Righthandonstroller handle,lefthandpulldownsweater,twostepsleftandsquat."

We headtoward theparkastheychatter away. Shepropelshim

THE NANNY DIARIES

forward with ease, though he can't be a light load with his sand toys, school stuff, and backup supplies of snack.

"Grayer,who's yourbestfriendatschool?"I ask.

"Shut up, stupidhead," he says, kicking out at my shins. I walk the remainder of the way well outside his fieldof stroller vision.