the bartending nanny

well, I’ve been fired from bamboo 52. the news came as a shock and actually happened a couple of weeks ago. the fact that i’m just now getting around to writing about it should tip you off to how much has been weighing on my head and heart.

i was told i wasn’t “a good fit”, and i don’t completely disagree. sure, i believe i can get along with anybody and find comfort in any environment; however, a sushi bar and restaurant does not exactly slide on like a glove as the best working venue for me.

i’m a good bartender. i can turn frowns upside down. i know a bit about a myriad of subjects, allowing me to stay afloat in any conversation. coworkers and regulars from former jobs still keep in touch with me. i will find something.

of course, i’d rather not have simply “something”. i am thankful for work and am not haughty about employment, but my prayer is for the right place. i’d like to stay somewhere for quite a while, and that will work better if i’m enjoying myself at least part of the time. i believe, but i need help for my unbelief.

i’ll close this entry with some nanny news, especially since i rarely write about that.

today, i took the saint to the children’s museum of manhattan (cmom). it was a lot of fun. he had a blast in both the “wizard of oz” and “diego” (of “dora the explorer” fame) exhibits, but seemed to enjoy himself the most at the “little west side” exhibit. there, he dressed as a firefighter, manned a fire truck, drove a city bus, threw a soft block that hit another child in the temple, and stepped on a baby’s bare foot. worth the price of admission, wouldn’t you say?

my sister (in-law) is a great wife and mother. she loves her family without looking for recognition or gratitude. she bought a membership for the saint so that he could be taken to any of the children’s museums in new york or the other participants across the country. we’re gonna have some fun.

i usually feel like a pretty bad nanny, but today i met the high expectations i place on myself. the reward came on the way home when the saint stretched out in the subway seat, placed his head in my lap, and fell asleep somewhere around 125th street and broadway.

i didn’t think about finding a job then. not even for a second.

thanks for reading.