As I evaluate my role as a strong, positive role model in Johannah’s life, I am particularly cognizant of the image of myself that I share with her, that I unconsciously project into the world. I may be found, at times, in front of a full length mirror scrutinizing the lumps and bumps of my body, rough patches of skin, the crookedness of my front teeth.
I don’t have any kids of my own, but I have been a full time nanny for children ranging from newborn to 15 years old throughout the years. My friends have just started having children of their own, and the pleas for advice on Facebook seem endless. I feel that I have a lot of experience dealing with many common situations that arise during parenting but I am not actually a parent — so does that make me unqualified to give any advice?
Any kind of grief is incredibly difficult to write about — putting words to paper makes everything that much more real. My wife and I recently “lost” two little girls — they’re still very much alive, but we’re no longer part of their lives. Victoria, my wife, was their nanny.
It’s true. I am not really a parent. I hear it all the time as I walk by and push my stroller with the two 19-month-olds in tow. We go to play dates and lunches, do crafts and sing songs. Most of all? We enjoy our days together as I work hard to create good little humans that will hopefully become good big humans.