Page One Hundred Forty.
I take way too much pity on people sometimes.
This guy who's home I'm painting, Claude, is a prime example. He's 25 and as a chemical engineer is able to afford to purchase his first home. It helps that his parents completely paid for his B.S., so he graduated from college virtually debt free, too. The home is here in Cleveland Heights. It's a pleasant 1920's shingle style, center hall colonial and it's located on a beautiful street. So far so good. Only problem is: Claude. He's so young that he hasn't yet learned how to take care of himself or a home. He owns three bath towels and two, count 'em, two dinner plates. He has curtains on one bedroom window, but not the other. He hasn't got a laundry basket, nor a dresser to put any clean clothes into. (Clothing, clean or dirty, goes onto the floors. The different piles designate used or unused.) He cleans the kitty litter once a week. He's also a slob, but I digress.
Meanwhile he's spending like a drunken sailor on the landscape architect, the interior designer, new furniture and me.
To back up a touch, I've known him almost a year. I met him socially through his interior designer, Dan, who's been a friend of mine for thirty years. Claude is a very nice person, young and stupid, but very pleasant. So, a couple of days ago while painting a wall, I took a break to heat up some leftover beef fried rice from China Gate. I really got sick and tired of having to take one of his two dishes out of the dishwasher and hand clean it so I could microwave my lunch. I decided right then and there to take matters into my own hands. I went to Target and bought him a complete set of dishes (for four) and a set of tumblers and water glasses (for six).
For the record, soon after moving into the house, in August, I gave him a house-warming gift in the form of a Swedish Ivy. With all his post-college moving, it was the first house-warming gift he'd ever received. He was very appreciative. So these dishes and glasses were my sympathy gift (and for me to eat off of while painting.)
If he lived in the same city as his parents, I'm sure his mother would be over to visit regularly and see what he needed. She'd then go out and slowly purchase said household items. However, they're in Pittsburgh, so that leaves me. I'm miles, nay, continents more domestic then any of his other friends. So I'm the person who's most qualified to teach this idiot how to wipe down a kitchen counter and why he should have a one quart saucepan.
Having said all this, he never asked me. But I suspect he's smart enough to realize the advantages of a civilized lifestyle. I'll simply offer myself up as one who can go with him to purchase the essentials of an evolved home: salt & pepper shakers; Kleenex; dish towels, Windex; a Teflon skillet; a kitchen sponge and soap. Lord in heaven.
You cannot believe how many times I've been referred to as the consummate Jewish mother. But I use my powers for good not evil. This is one of those situations.
Showing posts with label Jewish Mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish Mother. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
I Was A Male Nanny!
Page Six.
Boy were they surprised! The Van Myms I mean. When they posted their room available in exchange for child-care I'm sure it didn't occur to them at all that a male would inquire.
When I was very young and then again, during my teen years, my parents rented out spare bedrooms to get extra cash. We lived between two colleges, Case Western Reserve University and John Carroll University so we simply posted at the universities and subsequently had many students living with us. In the spring of 1982 when it was time for me to move out (age 20) I knew to check the colleges for off-campus living, a venue that most young people didn't know about. At Case I saw this posting for free living quarters and food in exchange for weekly Nanny care, once-a-week dinner prep and weekly laundry. I thought, "I can do that." And, I could. Trick was to convince this family in question. So, when she answered the phone and I explained who and what I was she said, "You? You're interested in being our live-in Nanny?"
"Yes'm. Poor Little Ole' Me." As she recuperated from her initial shock and gave me the quick phone interview, she realized that I wasn't a novelty act. I'd been baby-sitting heavily since a young teen, I'd been cooking since age four and I'd been doing my own laundry since age seven. Nobody, but nobody, would make this stuff up. She explained that she and her husband both worked long hours, she was a pediatrician and he was an investment counselor and they had two daughters, ages three and six. The girls had a regular day-care but there were a couple of holes in the household that needed coverage: Friday night baby-sitting, family dinner on Wednesdays and never-ending laundry. The parents' work schedule simply couldn't maneuver around those chasms. "No problemo." I said. "Bring it on."
When I went to meet them some days later after they'd all gotten over their initial trepidation, she realized what a Jewish Mother I am. (She'd tell me that many months later.) Though the household was ultra-ULTRA-UUUUUULTRAAAAAA Protestant they knew the value of Jewish mothering. She also very quickly realized the value of non-traditional role models. (She'd tell me that many months later also.) So I moved in.
About a month after moving in they took away my eating rights because they realized that my appetite would force them each to ask for raises. (Ahhhh... the Golden Days of my appetite. But that's a separate story.) At about the same time though, they let me start using their spare car on Saturday nights. So it was an even trade I thought. The situation would ultimately end up being mostly wonderful. It lasted until late summer of 1983 when they moved. When daughter #2 found out that I wouldn't be moving with them she cried and carried on. Also, a few times over the year and a half of my stay, daughters occasionally called me Daddy. That concerned the parents but they told me they preferred that response from their kids as opposed to the opposite. ("I don't have to listen to you. You're not my Daddy! I don't even like you!!!")
Sadly, I haven't stayed in touch with them over the years. But Cleveland is a small town. I hear things. They'd eventually get divorced and Dad's now remarried with another child. Both daughters are well I think and Mom knows how to take care of herself. In fact, Mom is considered one of Cleveland's finest Pediatricians according to our local press. I'm incredibly grateful for the experience of being their live-in Nanny. It set me on a fantastic path.
Boy were they surprised! The Van Myms I mean. When they posted their room available in exchange for child-care I'm sure it didn't occur to them at all that a male would inquire.
When I was very young and then again, during my teen years, my parents rented out spare bedrooms to get extra cash. We lived between two colleges, Case Western Reserve University and John Carroll University so we simply posted at the universities and subsequently had many students living with us. In the spring of 1982 when it was time for me to move out (age 20) I knew to check the colleges for off-campus living, a venue that most young people didn't know about. At Case I saw this posting for free living quarters and food in exchange for weekly Nanny care, once-a-week dinner prep and weekly laundry. I thought, "I can do that." And, I could. Trick was to convince this family in question. So, when she answered the phone and I explained who and what I was she said, "You? You're interested in being our live-in Nanny?"
"Yes'm. Poor Little Ole' Me." As she recuperated from her initial shock and gave me the quick phone interview, she realized that I wasn't a novelty act. I'd been baby-sitting heavily since a young teen, I'd been cooking since age four and I'd been doing my own laundry since age seven. Nobody, but nobody, would make this stuff up. She explained that she and her husband both worked long hours, she was a pediatrician and he was an investment counselor and they had two daughters, ages three and six. The girls had a regular day-care but there were a couple of holes in the household that needed coverage: Friday night baby-sitting, family dinner on Wednesdays and never-ending laundry. The parents' work schedule simply couldn't maneuver around those chasms. "No problemo." I said. "Bring it on."
When I went to meet them some days later after they'd all gotten over their initial trepidation, she realized what a Jewish Mother I am. (She'd tell me that many months later.) Though the household was ultra-ULTRA-UUUUUULTRAAAAAA Protestant they knew the value of Jewish mothering. She also very quickly realized the value of non-traditional role models. (She'd tell me that many months later also.) So I moved in.
About a month after moving in they took away my eating rights because they realized that my appetite would force them each to ask for raises. (Ahhhh... the Golden Days of my appetite. But that's a separate story.) At about the same time though, they let me start using their spare car on Saturday nights. So it was an even trade I thought. The situation would ultimately end up being mostly wonderful. It lasted until late summer of 1983 when they moved. When daughter #2 found out that I wouldn't be moving with them she cried and carried on. Also, a few times over the year and a half of my stay, daughters occasionally called me Daddy. That concerned the parents but they told me they preferred that response from their kids as opposed to the opposite. ("I don't have to listen to you. You're not my Daddy! I don't even like you!!!")
Sadly, I haven't stayed in touch with them over the years. But Cleveland is a small town. I hear things. They'd eventually get divorced and Dad's now remarried with another child. Both daughters are well I think and Mom knows how to take care of herself. In fact, Mom is considered one of Cleveland's finest Pediatricians according to our local press. I'm incredibly grateful for the experience of being their live-in Nanny. It set me on a fantastic path.
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