Now Showing: Nanny McPheeME!

The day I've been dreading all my mommy-life finally happened.

Gym Girl: "Hi! Are they yours or are you just watching them?"

McMe: "Oh, they're all mine. Oona, don't climb that machine, it's too high for you! Joshim, you too, DOWN!!!"

GG: "(Still smiling) I wasn't sure if you were their nanny or their mom. They're so cute!"

WHOA-ah-AWWCH! Not the slightest sign of remorse or even a hint of embarrassment on GG. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to mistake a kids' mom for their nanny.

I knew I had to face it sooner or later. The truth of the matter is, I don't look any like my children. I've been in denial of the fact from day one. Who doesn't want their kids to look like them, right? Even the fugliest person on the planet would still secretly wish their kids would look like them, even if it was only one eyebrow that they can pass on to the next generation. In my case, I have passed on the following body parts to my offspring: Sol - dimples and lips. Oona - squat nose and pudgy feet. Joshim - chubby cheeks. Those, sadly, don't make for any resemblance factor. At all.

My kids all look more like their Dad, darn those ultra-strong Middle Eastern genes - and I, thanks to the declaration of Gym Girl, look like their Asian nanny. I KNOW. Like it's not bad enough that they don't look like me. I have to look like their @#@$%-ing nanny, too! No big deal, you say? North Americans have been baby-sitting since they were in their teens, you comment? See now, I grew up in the other side of the world where being a nanny was so not cool. "Borgeous! Middle-class-wanna-be Borgeous!" you scream? Yup. That's how it was, that's how we were raised and I will not apologize for it anymore. We had maids and nannies and drivers, not because we were filthy rich but simply because it was dirt cheap. My beloved Philippines is still after all a third world country. Tear.

I guess it's Karma. Karma for that time when I burnt my nanny with a ladel when I was 7. Karma for when I broke my nanny's leg when I pushed her down two flights of stairs when I was 10. Karma for when I slit my nanny's throat when I was. KIDDING. I didn't really do any of those. Although I can attest to the fact that I am related to one who actually did the first thing. Maybe, by close proximity, I am paying the debt for his crime. (Rands, bro, that sucks. lol. Does that mean all the cats I meet will scratch out my eyes for your bebe/pellet gun toting years?) With my present situation, it seems like I did all of the above and now have to pay for my sins. Wait, I did torment my nannies and maids by being prickly and prissy and biatchy all those years. Do those count as major offenses?

Flashback: Inside Goony Gym Girl's brain: "Oh look at those adorable kids with their squat-nosed, pudgy-footed, bedimpled Asian nanny...how cute!"

I think the answer to my question would be a resounding Uh-HUH. Oh well, at least I can proudly say that I am nanny to the cutest, most adorable looking kids in our building. Sigh.

I think I need to get a new nose or something. That'll fix things, alright. Then people can mistake me for their nanny who had the nose job.




My munchsterloves of my life





Oh, this old thing? I had to redeem my flailing, bruised ego somehow. Somebody, tell me it isn't that bad...pleeeeeease!
Nanny McMe on GoodHousekeeping Magazine Feature with Baby #1, Sol at six weeks. December, 800BC.

On a happier, insecurity-free note, THANKS AND BIGLOVE to BFG Marjorie and Edmund for chowing down some fine Chinese and AI with us last night. Looking forward to Part 2, guys! There are more very interesting "long stories" to tell. ;-)




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peace
love
joy
~iKat
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