I’ve gone through sixteen nannies ...and counting

OVEr 13 years of motherhood, with daughters now aged four, nine and 13, I have got through 16 nannies. I know — I’ve thought it, too: is it . . .me?

Well, quite possibly. But the truth is, all mothers will secretly admit that finding exactly the right help is a task of gargantuan difficulty. Which is why I look around at the current nanny options, and the gaping post-Covid shortage, with even greater trepidation than usual.

until recently, I was the lucky employer of Talia, nanny number 16, and by far the best I’ve ever had.

The only person I’ve ever given Talia’s number to is my best friend, for an evening’s babysitting, and then only because I know for a fact she’s happy being a stay-athome mum and doesn’t need day-care.

My other nannies have varied dramatically in quality and approach over the years, from Tina, who once, to my great alarm, allowed threeyear-old Amelie and her friend, Claire, to empty an entire bookcase and pile up the books into a teetering Tower of Pisa; to the beautiful Swedish blonde Marisa, who was a natural with babies, but sadly only had two hours of availability a day, starting at 8am (ouch).

The best nannies are always on full-time contracts with high-earning power couples.

one of my early recruits sealed her fate when she chose to sit in McDonald’s for an hour with my first baby, Amelie, whose hair and babygrow came back smelling strongly of fries.

Then came Judita, a grade A nanny shared with another parent on my street. Nannypooling is a great way to reduce the cost, but Judita’s brilliance was ruined by her faithful companion — a growling Alsatian that belonged to the other mum.

Almost all my nannies have been non-Brits, which makes me even more anxious about my current quest for nanny number 17, just as Covid and Brexit conspire to make it harder than ever to find one.

The fact is, I’m still in love with Talia — possibly my partner is, too — but now my youngest has started school, I really need a nanny/housekeeper-in-one who will come to our home, cook the kids’ dinner and maybe even tackle the mountain of Barbies invading the lounge.

So ... believe it or not, I’m on the hunt again.

This time, hearing from friends how hard it is to find the usual European or Aussie nannies from agency or online sources, I tried a different tactic and tapped up a teacher at my daughters’ school for ideas.

Now — whisper this, I don’t want everyone to have the same idea — I have three of her friends lined up to interview, all mature, 50-plus British women.

It’s not the first time I’ve gone down the teacher route. Aged two, Amelie started attending half-days in a lovely Montessori nursery, and I seized the opportunity to top up my childcare with their staff, recruiting Cara (a kindfaced, 30-something who clearly adored Amelie) and Katia (a glamorous blonde West Londoner).

I clicked with both immediately and attempted multiple bookings with each, but they soon left the world of nursery care for better paid pursuits.

Next came Maria, a calm, confident but startlingly business-like South African of precisely the kind that are so hard to find now.

She stayed with me for over a year — at the time, my personal best!

But I grew a little nervous when she kept insisting I sign an insurance disclaimer that if anything happened to Amelie, I wasn’t to sue her. I decided it best not to sign.

She quit to leave London and start a family with her husband (and I’ll bet she’s not signing any disclaimers of her own).

While searching for The one again in 2011, after the birth of my second daughter, Fifi, a lawyer friend offered to ‘share’ her fun nanny, Lou, who had a baby son, looked after by her female partner.

Full of energy and life, I thought Lou would be the perfect person, but after a while my friend grumbled her house was full of unwashed dishes and wet swim kit left to fester. and switched to a live-in au pair.

In my mobile I have the numbers of two other nannies — Charlie and Gosia, whom I

I refused to sign a form to say I wouldn’t sue

How am I going to find number 17?

briefly used, but all I can recall is that they were young, pretty, Eastern European and always booked up.

So, I was overjoyed finally to find my Mary Poppins. Talia was a warm, kind, funny, loving, reliable and efficient romanian mother-of-two, who lives right next door.

She was by my side when I brought home my third daughter, Belle, and it was Talia upon whom I relied to keep my domestic life running smoothly while I juggled with work during lockdown.

Now that Talia looks after children in her home and I want her at mine, it’s time to look anew. Wish me luck.