Category: nannying

  • Burned Nipples

    Burned Nipples

    “Do you smell something?” my employer wrinkled his nose and looked around the house suspiciously as he set down his briefcase. He was a doctor, as was his wife. I was the nanny. It was the summer of 1987. Whitney Houston wanted to dance with somebody, a gallon of gas cost $.89, the FDA approved…

  • My Year as a Nanny: Tending Mary Jane

    “Looks like they had a good time last night,” I thought to myself, pushing the pipe, bag of buds, and lighter behind a lamp in an effort to conceal them from the children’s view. The last thing I needed in my job as a nanny was the task of explaining to my charges, “When Mommy…