Picture a clean freak’s hell, kids screaming at you the minute you walk into the door while they lock their arms around your legs threatening to not let go. The smell of a second grade classroom that hasn’t been cleaned since three months ago hits you - good luck climbing over the pile of mixed matched shoes laying just inside the door. You do your best to listen to the parents rushing out the door while Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is blaring over them. The house becomes a circus and you’re the ringmaster. Toys fly across the arena and toddlers scale the rails on the stairs - triggering a slight heart attack-  while the dog is sitting on the grandstand watching the show. The sink is still full of last night’s fettuccine alfredo and the dining room table holds today’s frech toast with goopy maple syrup. Their sticky hands reach for your arm without hesitation and the syrup stays there for your hair to get stuck in later. Count four children one minute, the next minute you will only have half that amount. You feel as if you are walking on a tightrope about to fall down into the circus ring. The whole operation becomes a Flea Bag of a show.  

Just wait for lunch time, that’s when the real fun begins. “I’m not hungry yet!” “Mom said I could eat ice cream for lunch if I didn’t fight with anyone today.” They can try their best, but it won’t work on me. Our daily routine consists of fighting over what we will eat for lunch. One wants the good old classic Mac and Cheese, the oldest claims mac and cheese is for little kids and she can't eat like a little kid, the middle child agrees and tries to sneak a pop tart from the pantry without me looking, all while the youngest is on the floor playing My Little Ponies, oblivious to the situation unfolding. The only way you can get them to all decide on something is to threaten their treasured dessert. Lollipops, ice cream, lemonade icicles, you name it. Take away their dessert, California will be able to hear their temper tantrum. Our daily walks to the park in the afternoon help alleviate their sugar highs. Nannies alike know the park is the place to be if you want to tire the kids out, that is until one of the kids falls down and scrapes their knee - which let me tell you, it happens every single time. You can wrap that one kid in bubble wrap and they will still find a way to draw blood. By that time, we make our way home to relax with a movie before the parents come rescue me. The little rugrats sit there, sipping on their sippy cups with wide eyes locked on the screen until they hear the garage door opening and scream “MOMMY IS HOME!”- deafening my ears one last time for the day. I leave their house everyday with a sigh of relief, forgetting I have to go back again some other day. I reflect back on the day on the long car ride home. Time, piggy back rides, sweet treats, and walks to the park is what I give to those kids, their life lessons is what I keep for myself. They taught me it’s okay to get a little messy, life would be boring without mischievous behavior, and most importantly, they taught me to live in the moment. They never once worried about the future or what they would be doing tomorrow, kids always make the best of what they have in the present even if they are being brats while doing it.