I was a nanny for five years before having my three boys. One of the families I worked for had a dad who was the CEO of a fast-food empire and made millions, but he insisted that his wife work. He had two teens with his first wife and a small child with the wife I knew. The money she made from working went to interior decorators and me. She worked from home, but seldom came out of her office, so she was essentially absent from her daughter all day.
People who came to the house often told me how much my “daughter” (her child) looked like me, and the day she crawled for the first time, Mommy was downstairs on the phone. I told her what had happened, but instead of being delighted, she reprimanded me for telling her. She was hurt she “couldn’t” be there to see her child’s first crawl and tried to guilt-trip me into feeling bad. When the little girl took her first steps, I didn’t say a word, and Mommy didn’t even see her walk for another week because she spent so little time with her. So, I’m the one with the lovely memories of this little girl, who I haven’t seen in years, and her mother isn’t.
I now have three children of my own, and I’m with them every single day so I can experience every milestone and create my own memories with them as they grow up.
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