A Letter to the Kids I Nanny for,

Oh sweet little ones, there have been a lot of you. Another little hand I have held pops into my head each line I write. You are so special. You are a handful. You are sticky and you have ruined me for life.

I would be lying if I did not admit that there have been days so long, you had me swearing I never want children. Those days do not last though because you are cute. Which I am convinced is God's way of protecting you from being kicked out of your home because you can be really annoying. I would not crawl behind couches and under beds searching endlessly for your special, cannot sleep without 'gway ell-fent' that actually turned out to be a brown hippo if you were not so cute. You guys are grueling and exhausting, so count your cute little blessing that you have big brown puppy dog eyes.

You little tornados should be passed out in High Schools everywhere. Keeping you alive should be a prerequisite for passing any sex ed course. You have certainly given me a crash course for life with little humans.Through you I have learned a great deal about life, love and how to get spit up out of just about anything.

I could write a book on the lessons you teach and ruthlessly test on with no warning. In fact, just the other night I learned that "Can I sleep with you, Emmy?" translates directly to "Can I sleep in the middle of your bed, kick you all night and wake you up at 5:50 am to tell you I'm bored but I'm cute so you will always say yes"Again, your cuteness saves you. 

The first lesson I learned after living under the same roof of little children; peeing without an audience is a luxury. Locking the door will not stop you. Asking politely for you to wait might as well be spoken in Spanish. I have learned that I will save us all a lot of trouble and crying if I just open the fruit snacks, tie your shoes and then resume peeing.

You are gross, just so you know. You stink and stick you hands in your underwear and refuse to bathe. You have covered me with poop, you have spit up in my hair but I forgave you because your eyes melts me and you hugs change me. You taught me that all of the hugs, cuddles and giggles make up ten fold for the poop, slobber and tears.

You have shown me how fast time flies and that the mopping and the dishes and the crumbs can wait. I am learning that when given the choice always choose to dance in the kitchen, to read another story and cuddle in bed over mopping, cleaning and sweeping. Motherhood is mostly finding socks between couch cushions and washing spoons, anyway. There will always be dishes to do but there will not always be little boys who want to play Ninja Turtles. You grow up fast. You will not remember the sticky counters or finger prints on the fridge. You will remember the music and the silly dancing through the halls. You will remember that extra story and the cuddles that fill you with comfort until mommy returns.

You have taught me that kids will always ruin my plans and have no care for your preparation. No matter how ready I am the moment you arise WWIII will break out. No matter what I do the 20 minutes before leaving the house will always be the most chaotic of the day. Someone will always lose their backpack, have to pee or suddenly stop believing in shoes and absolutely refuse to put them on.

You proved to me that there is something in this earth that I would give up precious sleep for. There is something that will get me out of bed on my day off, and that something is your sweet hugs and little voice saying "I missed you!" I would give up sleep to hold you when you're feverish and scared and just out of mommy's reach. I have woken up early to secretly slip a special note into your lunch. I have stayed up late praying your adoption goes through. I love sleep but your little voices, hugs and kisses are sweet enough for me to give it up. But if you wake up before 5 am, please watch TV quietly while I finish my coffee.

Speaking of giving up things I never thought I would. Food. All you had to say was, "can I hab a wittle?" and I gave you my entire bowl of ice cream. Little one, if you were about two feet taller you would lose those little fingers you keep reaching onto my plate with but again, your cuteness has pulled you through. You have taught me that cookies taste better when you share them with those big brown begging eyes. Except sometimes they don't and sometimes I shove cookies into my mouth in the pantry when you are not looking.

You have shown me the nuances of taking care of little kids and I have come out alive, with plenty of stories. But above all, I am utterly amazed at how much a little tiny body can have me completely wrapped around their little fingers. I never knew how much love my heart could hold. You have taught me about love and patience but most importantly you have taught me that the tiniest hands in the world can hold my entire heart in them. Keep shining, continue being goofy and keep those adults in your life on your toes.

You are so special. You are a handful. You have changed me, molded me and stretched me. You are sticky and you have ruined me for life. 

Thank you, sweet little one.