She’s a laid-back native Californian. No hostile set of the jaw, no laser-eyed stare. She’s got a gift for going with it, hanging out, and being cool. Except when it came to Battle Nanny. After I was fully back at work at the end of 2009, I begged her to consider hiring a nanny, but she was having none of it. I knew she was a great mom and was an experienced nanny in her own right, but now we had four kids under the age of six. We could almost have fielded a basketball team. “I am a nanny,” she’d say. “Or I was. And wasn’t that the whole point of my staying home? To take care of our kids?” “We’re in the weeds!” I’d counter. “You’re doing a great job, of course you are, but you’re only one person. All I’m saying is that you could use a little help. We could use a little help. And I just can’t go out into the world to support us feeling as if I’m leaving you stranded.” “As long as I’m organized I’m fine,” she said. We had this argument many times.
