For nearly four years, the spare bedroom in our house had a revolving door. Tapped out of daycare options and living a day’s drive from the nearest relative, we chose to have a live-in nanny look after our two young sons. But what seemed convenient at first was ultimately too stressful. At the end of this past summer, we finally said goodbye to the last of the five nannies that lived with us.
We offered to help our last nanny find a new family before she left, and the parents in our Facebook group all asked the same questions: “Does she drive?” “Is she good at cooking?” and the classic “Is she Mary Poppins?”
This told us two things — people’s expectations for caregivers are very high, and apparently we were apparently setting the bar too low. No, our nannies were not Mary Poppins. While they were helpful, this is a chapter of my life I’m glad to be closing.
Choosing a live-in nanny meant we didn’t have to race to daycares around town, the kids were looked after at home, and we had a built-in babysitter should we ever need it. Having a live-in nanny seemed ideal until … we had a live-in nanny.