The talk with Georgia today went incredibly badly. Incredibly badly. Even in my fevered imagination, I had not anticipated as unsuccessful a negotiation as the one we had this afternoon. Joe and I talked about it ad nauseum for days, rehearsed our little script, came home together and all sat down for a little "job review" and to discuss the whole issue of The Raise. I honestly don't know where it all went wrong, or what we could have done to avoid having things turn out the way they did, but at the end of it all, we knew that Georgia would no longer be working for us. There was an unpredictability factor and an inability to be reasoned with that, frankly, scared us, and whatever bad feelings she might have towards at me and Joe I became worried that she would going to redirect towards Cal. At first, I thought I might be acting too neurotic about the whole thing--I mean, she wouldn't do anything to hurt Cal, would she? Would she? But then I talked to my dad, and he pointed out that my worries were real, and that lord, if there was one thing that you deserve to be neurotic about, it's your child. Joe agreed.
Georgia no longer will be working for us.
After we made this decision, the remainder of the evening has been spent frantically scrambling for replacements. Setting up interviews with replacement nannies, temorary babysitters, and letting grandparents near and far knowing that we're in a CODE RED SITUATION here, CODE RED.
This is our doomsday scenario. In some ways, honestly, it's a relief. There have been so many things about Georgia that we have had doubts about over the past few months, so many problems that have gotten pushed under the rug in an effort on our part to Make Things Work, concession upon concession upon concession (I can't call them compromises, that would imply effort on the part of the other party)--that it's just a relief to have things settled, at least in one sense. We're getting a new nanny. We're going to find one. He or she is out there. Yoo hoo! E-mail us!
But for chrissake, we're a two-resident household with an eight month old baby and no stable childcare. We're on the high wire with no net, here. And it's terrifying.
Currently writing: My own obituary, from when I have my inevitable coronary event after all this.