Today was the beginning of transition, the much-dreaded day when all my anxiety over this mysterious new nanny who captured the twins' mom's heart would hopefully go away.
In short? I love her.
I tried to beat her to the house this morning, but failed; I walked in as she (let's call her Trina) was talking to the kids' dad. About how ridiculous it was that their mother made yet another excel spreadsheet for their care. Oh yes, we are going to get along.
Her daughter, who's a senior at a nearby college, has been with her girlfriend for two years. Naturally, Trina wanted to hear all about my relationship with V, my wedding, the works. She was thrilled. (She also loved the scooter, so more points to her.)
I was on the 80s station in the van, and AC/DC's "Shook Me All Night Long" came on. I muttered, "They don't need to learn this song quite yet," as I changed the station, which got a good laugh out of her. And then she said she needs to take V and I to an 80s/90s dance club the next state over.
She thinks the kids are the cutest things ever. Which they are, though she hasn't seen a tantrum yet. She thinks they're smart, well-mannered, and sweet, and she made it a point to tell me that it's because of me, in large part.
I think I'm going to like her. And it's much easier to leave the kids, knowing I like the hands they're being left in.