The Fancy Help Take Charge

Fancy here is a control freak. Which means the Fancy Help has to literally wrench responsibility from my freakishly tight fists. And right now it’s very necessary. There is a lot going on at the Fancy home. So much so that they have actually started bossing me around.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. There is just too much here for you to do. I just need to make a few calls and I’ll see you in the morning,” said My Wife.

“Oh, goodness, good morning! No you get ready for work, I’ll get the Minis their breakfast. Go go!” said Nanny #1 when she walked in to find me blearily staring at the toaster, half drunk coffee in hand. “And I’m buying you one of those sleep training clocks. Don’t worry. It will work. I’ll teach the girls not to yell until the bunny’s ears pop up! And at the very least the sun will soon start rising a bit later.” (Fucking 4am sunrise)  “By the way, how was last night’s dinner party? Good?” she asked.

“No, you won’t go to the shoppe. I will go to the shoppe. It’s my job,” said my wife. “And by the way, I’ve blocked your calendar out next week for a few hours. We really need to go through your closet. I mean a real gutting.”

Fancy here is a big believer in treating her employees with kindness and respect. I’d like to think that is why they have taken charge in my hour of need. And not just because they actually pity me. Either way, I’ve been overcome with gratitude.

My emotions finally broke yesterday when TC handed me my iPhone and said, “Grandma?” in her sweetest little voice. “She wants to call her Grandma, that’s so sweet,” I wept. My Wife and Nanny #1 just looked at me as I pulled myself off the floor. “I have to go the gym now. Fancy Trainer booked me for a double session today.”

“Really?” snorted Nanny #1. “Do you really think that is a good idea? I was thinking maybe an hour in a flotation tank would be a better one.”

I could sense them rolling their eyes at each other. Seriously. I’m thinking that when your Nanny tells you to go to the spa, it might be a sign that you’ve got too much on your plate. When your new Wife is mouthing words to the Nanny behind your back it is possibly another clue that your control freakish ways are counterproductive. Then there is the self-destructive bit about hosting dinner parties when your children are waking up before the fucking roosters.

Whatever it all means, whatever their motivation, I can’t say how blessed I am to have found these ladies. It truly takes a village to raise a Fancy Family. I smell a half-year bonus coming on. We’ll take it out of the Fancy Therapy fund. Guy had the nerve to go on summer holiday. Can you believe it? And more importantly, even with Fancy Help like this, will I survive 3 weeks without him?