DAMN. DAMN, AND DOUBLE DAMN.

I just watched (hooray for DVR) the series finale of Studio 60. This show has, perversely, been getting progressively better since they announced its cancellation, and these last few episodes, run mostly as summer filler, have been some of the finest. This was the show I'd been waiting for all year, knowing that Aaron Sorkin had it in him with these characters.

Damn.

I have few enough shows that I can really enjoy - shows that make me laugh and cry and think. To lose one as it comes into its own breaks my heart, though I'm glad they had the decency to wrap it up happily in the end.

Back to Rescue Me on FX, which is at least intelligent and written for actual adults (provided, of course, that you can swallow Denis Leary's colossal ego - which I can, with a grain of salt), until something new and watchable comes along.

Finally

Slacker that I am, I finally sat down and uploaded the photos for June, into Year of the Nanny. There's only 13 of them, since I was heavily distracted by my own life this month, but it's also missing the ultrasound prints from Babypants' Big Gender Reveal Day (I haven't scanned them, yet).

Now it's off to Dyanna's bridal shower.

In Loco Potty

I have officially decided that Mother Nature's reasoning behind positioning a growing uterus directly atop a urinary bladder is to create future empathy between you and your potty training toddler. At first glance, it might not make sense to place an expanding organ full of future human above a balloon full of pee, and then expect the body possessing these conflicting organs to make it 5 minutes without a potty break. You'd be correct, as it's completely irrational. It does give you a unique perspective on tiny bladders and long shopping trips, though.

I now understand, in a visceral and annoying way, how tough it is to 'go' when you don't have to, and have to when you just can't. I also, despite being an eight year veteran in the in loco parentis business, cannot remember to just "go before we leave, whether you need to or not."

Another brilliant side effect is that I am fast becoming a walking encyclopedia of clean public toilets. I knew a bunch of locations near parks, playgrounds, and in public shopping forums, but I've rediscovered the large chain bookstore as potty, the bar as potty (classy, huh?), and the interstate rest area as potty, even when the interstate wasn't the most practical way to travel from A to B.

In college, I was acquainted with several young men who experimented with adult diapers, beer, and marathon television sessions. I was horrified, disgusted, and of course, secretly impressed with their daring and foulness. I can honestly that despite being secretly impressed, I do not actually want to experiment with such things until nature has taken away my memory at the ripe old age of 99. Now, I may have to rethink my theories on that topic. When faced with a 45 minute commute compounded by a corporate road race closing off access to your car for a few extra minutes, and then a necessary detour into the South End for MassPike access, an adult diaper might be a comforting alternative to soiling the upholstery of your VW...

Does this mean I'm advocating Depends for Expecting Moms as a universal survival tool? Um... Ew. I'm just saying my mind's a little less closed to the concept.

Pearl Strikes Again!

Apparently, on the heels of the Landlord's Viral success, Pearl did another role:



Just made me smile... Ok, belly laugh...

Irritating.

I went to pick the kids up at swim camp yesterday, and ran into one of the B&M School moms in the foyer. Apparently, her daughter is in Miss E's level. I said a bright, "Hi!" hoping that I could talk to her about setting up an after camp playdate for the girls, as they are great friends. These kids keep such serious schedules during the summer, that simply playing with their friends has to be negotiated like a peace treaty. Anyway, this mom, we'll call her Meg to protect her identity, has had lunch with me several times, called my cell phone to arrange pick ups, and chatted with me in the hallways at school all year. When I saw her yesterday, she looked at me with a completely empty expression, and said, "Oh, you're Miss E's babysitter, right?"

Like I'm some college kid who watched the kids while their parents catch a movie.

Then, after I'd shrugged it off, and fruitlessly tried to open a dialogue about a playdate, she says, "I'm sorry, what is your name?"

I smile (politely, I hope), and say, "Cam."
She gestures to her sternum and says, "Meg," like I didn't know.

And I wanted for all the world to say, "Yeah, I know."

Mostly, I just ignore this kind of thing, but I go to the trouble of learning all the parents and nannies of the kids with whom J&E are friends. I think it's polite, as we often are caring for each other's children/charges. It bugs me that Meg couldn't be bothered remembering mine, when she knows J&E's mom's name, and she's only around for special occasions. The same tends to be true throughout the school moms. I feel like if I were an actual parent, I might rate a greeting by name, but I guess since I'm just the person who picks up the carpool, provides the cupcakes, supervises the playdates, and takes them to Wednesday lunches at the bagel store, I'm not worthy.

Oh, the complaining. I know. I do. But it just bugs me, y'know?

One of the Guys

One of my favorite things about being the nanny during periods of renovation here at Lime Street is that I get to be one of the guys. The contractors, who tend to be somewhat deferential and aloof with the client (ie: the money), are much more friendly and gossipy with me - because, like them, I'm the help!

For instance, I know that the lead carpenter is a new grandpa, and that his new grandson, Mason, was born 6 pounds, 9 ounces. I know that the painter, who has the most amazing tattoos on his arms (serious art!), is a single dad, with full custody of his three year old son, and is just starting to date again (Fibby, he's kind of hot and super sweet...). He told me yesterday that he was nervous about an upcoming date because he hadn't been out there in a few years.

I told him to get the kid thing out there if it wasn't already, and then relax and have fun. Having been on the receiving end of the "I have kids" conversation, I firmly believe it should happen before the third date, along with the news that one is still married to their mother... technically. But that's another story for another time.

I know that they all agree with me that the housekeeper is crazy, and that the project manager is a total dink.

I also love that O is one of the guys, too. They all take the time to talk to him, and make him part of the action. The abovementioned carpenter even gave him a toy toolbox, so he could "work" with them.

Speaking of O being one of the guys, this morning, he got to operate the crane that was lifting a new air conditioner condenser onto a neighbor's roof. It was awesome, and he was so thrilled... And the crane operator was such a nice guy to let him up there.

Maybe it's that I spend a lot of time with contractors (and that I married one...), but it pains me to see the way that some people treat these guys. In this neighborhood, laborers are considered second class citizens, like nannies and housekeepers... and it's not fair. That being said, I work for a rare and refreshing exception to the rule, and it's only when other people treat me like that, that I am reminded how much it sucks.

I know, too, that for all of these great guys, there are the crooks, the sleezes, and the slackers, but it stinks that those guys create the standard.

EEEEW!

What train wreck would actually put this on their kid? I mean, even if it's true.... Isn't having your baby wearing it a little icky?

(oh, and two posts in one day, how d'you like that?)

Buttercup is Marry Humperdinck in Little Less Than Half an Hour

OK, Blogketeers, I know I've been kind of an absentee diarist lately, but I have nothing to say on my own defense, save that I just wasn't feeling like it.

Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

My Dad's been in the hospital a few times over the last six weeks. Apparently, he had a heart attack sometime last year and didn't know it... Only my dad... So, he had angioplasty (had an angioplasty? I'm not a cardiologist, I don't know) to put stents into six arteries, and there was a balloon pump helping his heart recover, and while they tell me he was fine, and that after he recovers from the procedure he'll feel better than he has in a long while, it was, and is, still scary.

My brother cut his hand badly enough to have to be airlifted to Baltimore for emergency surgery to insure that he didn't lose a few fingers. My Mom's been down to Maryland several times to help out with Rylee while Jamie and Dy are working and in school.

I've been knitting like a fiend, and spending way too much time online researching baby stuff. In fact, I discovered the Britax Vigour and Companion combination online, and afer much online research, decided it might just be the stroller and infant seat for me. Well, then I realized that no one keeps a floor model of half the strollers on the market, including this one.

Well, I finally found a floor model - in Berlin, Connecticut (yes, it's outside of Hartford...), so, on Saturday, I shanghaied my Mom, and we went to check it out. So begins the baby-stuff lust.

My photo blog has suffered a similar fate of late, since carrying camera just ceased to be something on my radar for a while there. I do have some backlog to upload. And one of these days I might actually do it.

The kids are doing great. O is being evaluated by a team of speech therpists, so hopefully a solution (or at least a game plan) is on the horizon. J&E are now on their way to the third and first grades, which reminds me that I'm coming up on 8 years of nannying (yes, with interruptions, but still, eight years!).

So, there's what I can think of from the last two weeksish... I hope I haven't alienated my four readers for good... Though that probably wouldn't stop me from posting. Even if a few weeks go by between posts.

New Blog Add(ition, that is...)

Check out my cousin's blog - he's a student in northern Michigan and an artist to boot:

Tim Kaminski - Illustrator

It's A Boy!

If he's anything like they say his dad was, we're in trouble!