Why do I feel like I have to start my pieces with some sort of disclaimer? Does anyone else feel that way when they write? Is there some sort of writer’s union I could join that would give me a card that says “Tracy – Semi-Pro Humorist, Licensed To Joke”. Or even a sticker I could affix to my person that says “Warning – not fair and balanced. Take with salt”
Recently I was browsing around the internet, just sort of wandering around looking for ideas. I started at “TheNestBaby” which has got to be the one of the busiest sites on the internet, and I’m not just talking traffic, here see for yourself. Notice how the posts are squeezed into the highlighted area – if that’s not screaming we are letting you post here in the hopes you’ll buy some of the crap we advertise, I don’t know what is.
So, I’m clicking links and clicking links and find out that not only do some people have nannies, some people are also posh enough to need The Nanny Doctor. What is a Nanny Doctor you ask? This is what the site says:
The Nanny Doctor provides a range of services aimed at improving the quality of the relationship between the child and the nanny from an Attachment Theory perspective. The Nanny Doctor works with families at every stage in their relationship with their nanny. The Nanny Doctor also works between households in cases of divorced or separated parents to ensure consistency across settings and caregivers.
I am sure it is a very valuable service and should not be mocked by the likes of me. And I won’t! I wish everyone had a Nanny Doctor – could you imagine how much better it would have been for Jane and Michael banks if the Nanny Doctor had been there to facilitate open and effective communication between their father and Mary Poppins? And if the Darling family had consulted with her, they never would have hired a dog to look after their children. I say we give the Nanny Doctor her own reality tv show, especially as it appears she has an office in Beverly Hills.
Continuing my link-hopping, I also found that there is such a thing as a Sleep Doula. I’m just going to say it, I hate anyone who has one of these because dammit, I have had to teach my babies to sleep on my own, and I am most assuredly not a better person for it. I think everyone is going to be really surprised in Spring of 2014 when I finally end my sleep deficient and you find that I am actually a very easy going, happy sort of girl.
Digging further, I found this article about hiring a baby sleep consultant. I was nodding my head, going hmmm, this makes sense, I can see how this is a useful service, until I read this:
Vivian Sonnenberg, a veteran baby nurse who has run a sleep consulting business for nearly six years in Marin, Calif., said she was sometimes booked solid weeks in advance. Sonnenberg, who figures she has met with an average of seven families a week over the last three years, said that one family in Montana was so desperate that they flew her to their home in a private jet.
“Desperation” and “flew baby nurse in on a private jet” really don’t belong in the same sentence. They just don’t. Desperation and I’m just about willing to sell the email lists and home phone numbers of all 550 of my board members to get 2 hours sleep in a row, that’s more like it.
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I concur that desperate and private jet don’t quite match. It’s like when Johanna goes all melodramatic because the Dora shirt is dirty and she wants to wear the Dora shirt because it’s her only shirt.
I think I need some sort of indicator to wear to let people know how much sleep I got the night before. So that people can anticipate how long I will stare at them blankly before I process an answer.
I could really use a sleep nanny. No, not to teach my 2 year old how to sleep, but to take her out on a Saturday or Sunday morning at …oh, around 6:30 am so that I can get a couple of hours kip without being interrupted by said two year old shoving a toy carrot up my noise and begging me for breakfast.
Please, nanny! Let me sleep in for once!
Uh, that should be “up my nose”. NOSE. Not noise. Can you tell I didn’t get enough sleep?
Ummm, yeah, I’ll bet Kiki’s a regular.
Did anyone else read the Mary Poppins books? She was very cranky and probably could have used a Nanny Doctor.
Desperation to me was not a private jet, no sir, it was brownies. Alot of them judging by the size my rear was when we were in the midst of the full-blown sleep war.