How having a nanny turned me into a useless mum
THE door shut and a sense of panic took hold; I was on my own. It was only an hour before the boys’ bedtime and I had to pick up where my nanny left off, trying to figure out what they needed, before the howling — theirs out loud, mine internal — began.
It was only when they were finally in bed and I was drowning my sorrows in a glass of red that the sad truth dawned. My children felt like strangers to me.
While I’d been doing my job as a magazine editor, my wonderful, loving, nanny Anna was being the parent I couldn’t be. It was Anna who picked up Eli, then three, and Gabe, then two, from nursery, listened to their stories, played football, put them down for their nap and fed them dinner.
She knew their routine and every new quirk of their character — when Gabe no longer liked pesto pasta, or Eli preferred sleeping on his front.
Hiring a nanny so I could work had been essential. My husband is also an editor i n the publishing industry but we relied on both salaries to maintain our standard of living.
And anyway, I loved my job. I’d taken nine months of maternity leave after each birth, and hiring a nanny appealed more than nursery or a childminder as it meant the boys could stay at home and have focused one-to-one care.
But I hadn’t accounted for the feeling that I was constantly playing catch-up with my children.
EARLIER this year, comedienne Jenny Eclair admitted feeling the same, saying that relying on nannies until her daughter was 12 left her a decade behind in her development as a parent and made her a ‘terribly hysterical, neurotic mother’.
I know what she means — Anna had years of experience as a nanny. She had a calm but stern demeanour that my children needed when they stepped out of line and possessed boundless amounts of energy to tire them out. I, on the other hand, flailed around, feeling insecure and unskilled.
I parented for one or two hours a day, concentrating my efforts on where my true skills lay: running New Woman, a monthly lifestyle magazine, then, after Gabe was born, a magazine for bank customers.
Naturally, it was at weekends when I felt my shortcomings the most. I couldn’t wait to spend quality time with the boys without having to watch the clock, but there was apprehension, too. They tended to be more unruly around me than Anna. It was as if they knew they were in less capable hands, and could take advantage. My stern came out too strict; my fun too forced. I’d misjudge nap time, bring the wrong snacks and when the inevitable tantrums kicked in, I would scream at them with frustration.
It would take me until Sunday evening to finally feel in tune with their mood and routine — and then I had to hand over to Anna on Monday morning and go back to work! It was a destructive cycle and one that slowly eroded my confidence as a parent.
Parenting, I began to realise, was like learning the piano. Neglect to practise and you’re more likely to hit duff notes. I started to feel I had to be there to mop up the tears when they came home from nursery (where they went aged two).
Handing childcare to a nanny, however wonderful she may have been, was holding back my relationship with my children.
So in spring 2011, when Eli was four and Gabe was three, I gave up my job and took a huge risk to go freelance. A letter had just arrived confirming Eli’s place at school that September and I kept reading and re-reading it, panic rising in my chest. My boy was ready to go to school!
I felt this sudden desire to grab time and slow it down, to treasure these fleeting years with my children and — in simple terms — to just be there and look after them. Of course, I know this is not financially viable for many parents and I am lucky to be a journalist where I can earn money from home and still do the school run. But, for me, it worked.
Sad and scary as it was to say goodbye to Anna, I had my children to myself! Whatever they did, ate, played from now on was down to me. It was nerve-racking but empowering, too.
For the first time since I became a mother, I was fully engaged with the daily routine of my boys’ life and it was like learning a new skill; —tricky at first with plenty of mishaps but we soon slipped into a dynamic where I’d go to bed exhausted but proud of how far we’d come. I was still working during school hours and in the evenings, but I finally knew my children and we shared an understanding.
Instead of looking to the nanny for help and answers, Eli and Gabe only had me, and I rose in their estimation as a result. They needed me like never before and I no longer walked on eggshells around them, but tackled issues with confidence.
I learnt something new every day: what colour socks Gabe hated wearing; the name of the boy that teased Eli in the playground and had to be stopped.
Parenting expert Sue Atkins believes the impact of a nanny on parenting abilities depends on your mindset. ‘If you’re a parent with confidence issues in the first place and are stressed and exhausted and feeling guilty as a working mum, then having a capable nanny could set you back further,’ she says.
‘But it’s more about you not being relaxed as a mother than having someone else look after your child. In the past, the notion of extended families with other people caring for your child while you worked was a wonderful thing.’
But children, she admits, do notice when you’re not there. ‘ They don’t necessarily need you around 24/ 7. Weekends and evenings can be enough but you need to give them as much attention as you can,’ she adds. ‘If you talk to your nanny about their routines and see it as a collaboration rather than you versus her, then everyone’s better off.’
It’s been four years since Anna left. Eli is now nine and Gabe seven, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a nanny look after them. If Eli’s in a grump after school, I know he’s hungry, and I have a bag of balls ready for when Gabe’s goes over the fence.
They’re tiny things I have learned, but they make a huge difference to my boys and me.