Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Which reminds me…
I push off the covers, dragging myself out of bed to toss my iPad into my “moving to the Hendersons” suitcase before I forget. I have a program on there that makes it easy to learn the different chords.
Luckily, I don’t have to pack all my stuff yet—Beatrice isn’t planning to rent my room out again, and she and Blue won’t need it for the baby for several months. Charlie will sleep in a bassinet in their room to start—but I’ve done my best to get things ready to move or store, anyway. I don’t have that much, and I haven’t had much to do lately. Once it became clear that I couldn’t get around the diner as well as I used to, my hours kept getting cut until, by the end, there was almost nothing left, and a girl can’t live on one or two lunch shifts a week.
This nanny opportunity came along at the perfect time. I’m so grateful that Charlotte, Beatrice’s sister-in-law, thought of me when she heard a local agency was looking for nannies. I’m so grateful that Tasha, my new boss, didn’t blink an eye at the fact that I don’t have any recent childcare experience since I left my daycare gig in Missouri.
I am grateful. I am.
Frustrated and horny and crankier about it than usual, but grateful.
After rubbing some tiger balm into my leg—it always aches in the morning—I head out to tidy the apartment. I want the place spotless when Beatrice and Blue walk through the door with newborn Charlie. There’s still no update from them on my cell, but hopefully everything went smoothly, and they simply forgot to text before they passed out with exhaustion.
Or I guess Beatrice could still be in labor…
I don’t have firsthand experience with birth, but I know it can go on for a long time in some cases.
Sending up a silent wish for Beatrice to be resting comfortably by now, not suffering and cursing Blue’s giant-baby-creating DNA, I go to fetch coffee. Once I’m properly caffeinated and full of day-old French toast, I start to work in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters, emptying the dish rack, and wiping down the coffee maker I’ve been abusing lately. But hell, caffeine is my friend, and I swear it makes the pain better.
Outside the window, the snow from last night has started to melt, and the street glistens under a gray sky.
I reach for my phone to take a picture, when a text from Blue pops up as I’m opening the app—Hey! Sorry, I forgot to text earlier. Things got crazy at the end, but Charlie is here, and she’s perfect. Beatrice is, too. She’s feeling great, had a nap, then a big breakfast before she went back to sleep a few minutes ago.
I grin and shoot back, Yay! Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! Congrats, Dad! Tell Beatrice congrats, too, when she wakes up. I need pictures!
Gotcha, he replies, followed by a smiling emoji. Beatrice has some good ones. I’ll have her send them. It looks like they’re planning to discharge us tomorrow afternoon. The hospital likes to keep moms for forty-eight hours, so, we won’t be home until after you leave for your first day at the new job. Good luck, okay? We’re rooting for you.
Touched, I send over a heart and prayer hands. Aw, thank you. I’m rooting for you guys, too. And I’ll leave the house spic-and-span. You won’t have to worry about anything but getting settled in with the baby.
Blue sends a thumbs-up emoji. Thanks. We’ll miss you. Be sure to check in and let us know how everything is going.
I promise I will, congratulate him again, and get back to cleaning.
Once I’m done, I shower, diffuse my curls, and change into jeans and loose, black turtleneck—boring clothing, I hope says “I’m tidy, but not afraid to get dirty with your kiddo at the park.” Then, I grab a cheese stick and munch it on my way to the bus stop, deciding it qualifies as lunch and will free me to have a second coffee and dessert at the café with the Hendersons.
It’s my first time meeting my new bosses in person, but surprisingly, I’m not nervous. We’ve chatted on Zoom several times during their cross-country move to New Orleans, including once with their son, Gus.
I had him in giggles five minutes in, and I know we’re going to be great friends. He’s a precious pumpkin with big brown eyes and a bowl cut, who loves drumming, blocks, and singing as loud as he can. And he can’t wait to learn more about music with his real-life “Rock Star Nanny.”
I’m not a rock star, not even close, but I’d be lying if I said Gus didn’t win me over with the nickname. He’s a cool little dude.