for the love of God

"Then, for the love of God, be a makeup girl at Bloomingdale's. Just punch in your time card, look pretty, smile, and get your pay-check." She can't imagine that one would ever wake at three A.M. in a cold sweat, wondering if the shipment of oil-free toner had remembered to put on its Nighttime Pull-Ups,Moncler Outlet Online Store.
"Mom, I enjoy working with kids. Look, it's too hot to argue."
"Just promise me you'll think about it this time before you take a job,Shipping Information. I don't want you graduating on Valium because some woman with more money than she knows what to do with left you her kid while she ran off to Cannes."
And I do think about it, while Josh and I listen to all the messages again trying to find the mother who sounds least likely to do just that.
The following Monday on my way to meet Mrs. X I make a quick stop at my favorite stationery store to stock up on Post-its. Today my Filofax only has two Post-its: a tiny pink one imploring me to "BUY MORE POST-ITS" and a green one reminding me that I have "Coffee, Mrs. X, 11:15,http://www.cheapnorthfacedownjacket.com/." I pull off the pink one and toss it in the trash as I continue heading south to La Patisserie Gout du Mois, our appointed meeting place,Moncler Jackets For Men. As I cut across to Park I begin passing chic women in fall suits, all holding sheets of monogrammed stationery in their bejeweled hands. Each one walks in tandem with a shorter, dark-skinned woman, who nods emphatically back at them.
"Baa-llleeeet? Do-you-un-der-stand!" the woman next to me rudely shouts to her nodding companion as we wait for the light to change. "On Mondays Josephina has Baaaaaa-lleeeeeeet!"
I smile sympathetically at the uniformed woman to show solidarity. No bones about it, training just plain sucks. And it sucks significantly harder, depending on who you're working for.
There are essentially three types of nanny gigs. Type A, I provide "couple time" a few nights a week for people who work all day and parent most nights. Type B, I provide "sanity time" a few afternoons a week to a woman who mothers most days and nights. Type C, I'm brought in as one of a cast of many to collectively provide twenty-four/seven "me time" to a woman who neither works nor mothers. And her days remain a mystery to us all.
"The agency said you can cook. Can you? Cook?" a Pucci-clad mother interrogates on the next corner.
As a working woman herself, the Type A mother will relate to me as a professional and treat me with respect. She knows I've arrived to do my job and, after a thorough tour, will hand me a comprehensive list of emergency numbers and skedaddle. This is the best transition a nanny can hope for. The child sobs for, at most, fifteen minutes, and before you know it we're bonding over Play-Doh.
The Type B mother may not work in an office, but she logs enough hours with her child to recognize it for the job it is and, following an afternoon of hanging around the apartment together, her kids are all mine for the second date.
"Now the dry cleaner's number is on there and the florist and the caterer."
"What about the doctor for the children?" the Mexican woman next to me asks quietly.