My life is an afterschool special

So I get a call the other day from my ex-Nanny-who-was-with-me-for-8-years-and-then-left-saying-she-wanted-to-work-with-the-elderly-but-then-just-went-to-work-with-another-family-but-I-am-not-bitter. The thing is, she wants to "see the children." She left me almost exactly a year ago now. And she hasn't seen them for seven months, but I am not counting. When she left me it was, no joke, like a divorce. There were tears, recriminations, many questions, "Why would she leave, why?"  These were all directed at Big Shot Husband because I was too scared to actually talk to her about it.

You see, she kind of, like, half-raised all four of my children. She started working for me when Perfect Eldest Son (Pes) was one and now he's ten. And Zsa Zsa, Eva, and Gorby mysteriously arrived within a little more than four years after she started working with us. And the children adored her. And for many years Big Shot Husband was busy being a Big Shot and Ex-Nanny was my companion at home.

One time when Eva was less than two, for example, we were at the food court at the mall eating our Haagen Daas when a lovely African-American family sat down next to us and started eating their McDonalds or whatever. So Eva stood up, practically straining something trying to get over the side of the booth and looked at me accusingly, like, "This is my real family. Let me go with them." There were many times before she could talk wherein she would look at my quizzically like, "Who is this strange white woman trying to take care of me?" Ex-Nanny, as you can imagine, was infinitely nicer, more patient, and able to cope with a child who literally screamed for, oh, four years straight.

So she arrives one afternoon recently to take the children out. Eva dresses up specially, wearing a jumper she knows Ex-Nanny loved. Zsa Zsa wears her prettiest silky pink skirt. The boys grunt politely. When it is time to get in the car to go to pizza, ice cream, shopping at Target and Claire's (yes, really), Ava gets shy. She won't get in the car. "Honey," I say, "Come on, Ex-Nanny wants to take you out for a TREAT." Open eyes wide and nod like a pageant mom. Ava shakes her head. My heart sinks, she is feeling betrayed, her other mother left and didn't return for many months.

Ex-Nanny pulls out her favorite trick, "I'm sure Mommy has a treat you can take with you, right?" Looks at me expectantly. I go get the roll of gum in a faux tape dispenser (yes, it exists, yes, it's disgusting), at which point Eva jumps in the car.

I can imagine single mothers feeling all stressed out trying to maintain a civil, friendly relationship with the ex for the sake of the kids. Dealing with the kids' disappointment, betrayal, expectations. The kids get home two hours later full of pizza and ice cream with new jewelry and baseball cards. Ex-Nanny asks me, "Are you OK, you're happy?" I put on a huge smile, "Yes, I am doing GREAT!" Then she leaves and I have to make the kids go to bed. Later that night I look at Big Shot Husband and say, "I am really glad we're not divorced." He says, "That's the nicest thing you've said to me all year."