A beautiful day for a walk.

While my job boasts no health benefits, has an annual salary that won't even qualify me for a Macy's credit card and reduces my wardrobe to those items that can be wiped clean with a damp cloth, there are perks to being a nanny.

First of all, when the sky is blue and the sun is shining and there's a light breeze, I get paid to go walking around outside. While you cubicle drones (I have legitimate hopes to be one of you one day) are working on your spreadsheets (checking Facebook) and sitting in your business meetings (playing Words With Friends on your smart phone) and smelling the popcorn someone burned in the workroom 4 days ago (it was you), I get to slather on some SPF bajillion, pop a kid (or three) in a stroller and just walk.

Four out of five doctors agree that this is awesome.

Top five things that have happened on these walks:

1. While still chilly outside, Wes left the house with two socks on and returned with only one. All I can assume is that he kicked it off in a fit of joy. Why is this memorable? Have you ever seen a sad baby sock by the side of the road and had terrible images from 'Baby's Day Out' or war-torn Russia flash across your mind? Well I have, and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief in knowing that it wasn't a case of an overly ambitious toddler, just a ill-fitting sock.
2. The triplets always attract attention, but it still surprises me how people think they're due permission to gawk and make whatever comments manage to make the journey from their brain to their mouth. One time in particular, an older gentleman drove by slowly as we were walking down the street and stopped his car completely when he was just past us. He rolled down his window and said, "I had to make sure they were real and not dolls!" like he was brilliant for checking my cargo before making an assumption that I was just playing house. I was able to shrug my shoulders and make a noise that amounted to a combination of "well yeah" and "it happens" before he rolled up his window and drove on. Note to self: when off-duty, start pushing dolls around in a stroller.
3. The other day, a woman in a bike helmet trimming bushes by the side of the path said, "Good morning, Carol!" The stroller/child didn't pay an important roll in this interaction, except as a shield from this bicycling landscaper.
4. On another outing with the triplets, we came across an older Indian woman sitting on the wall that lines the walking path. When she saw me coming, she got down and peered in the stroller. After taking in the triplets, she looked to me and just said, "Can I give you a hug?" Taken aback, and never one to turn down a free hug, I took her up on her offer. After our impromptu hug, she looked at me and said, "You're a great mother." She asked the kids names, and I told her, and she said they look beautiful and healthy and then just hopped back on that wall and we continued our walk. Usually, I'll correct someone and tell them I'm not the mom, just the nanny, but strangers don't usually lead with a hug. (In hindsight, I probably shouldn't be hugging strangers.) Later, I relayed the compliments, and the hug, to the REAL mother, telling her she must be doing something right.
5. I have developed a wicked awesome shorts/sock tan. Like, my thighs don't even know it's summer.

The second point I'd like to make on my 'Perks of Being a Nanny' check list is that I never have to take work home with me...because that's kidnapping...and that's frowned upon.

The third point on my list is a little sentimental. Have you ever been around a toddler when they are belly laughing at their hand? Or giggling at a pinwheel? Or smiling when you come in the room? It's a good feeling.

Also, when someone at my job falls asleep on my shoulder, it's adorable. When someone at your job falls asleep on your shoulder, there's reason to be alarmed or concerned.

So, there you have it. At the end of the day, theses are the things I tell myself to keep from clutching my college degree and sobbing.

The Other Odyssey

There are two things in life that I will never under-appreciate: my birthday and a haircut.

A birthday is not just a day to celebrate your aging, oh no...it's a day that is meant to celebrate YOU. You get birthday cards from your grandparents with checks for $14, strangers wishing you a happy day and forgetting just as quickly, and at least one free meal (even if it's a hot dog your dad buys you from Costco because "it's just too good a deal not to"). I don't think I'll ever get sick of January 29*. (No, Oprah...not because of you. You either, Kansas.)

The other overlooked ritual I love is a haircut. I believe that guys are obligated to get one often enough (so the world doesn't look like the fourth Harry Potter movie) that they have lost the joy that comes with it. Ladies, you know what I mean. When you get to have your hair washed by someone with uneven bangs, who cut them that way to be 'original', but you secretly hope they understand that you're fine being 'mainstream' when it comes to the angles of your tresses.

And then they ask you what you want to do with your hair...and this is where it gets tricky. What you say in the next 1-3 minutes can alter your life for the next 3-6 months. Usually, I play it safe and say that I want a trim, some layers and maybe a dramatic side-bang. But this time, I was feeling the winds of time shift ever so slightly, in order to make room for a vital moment in a young woman's life: the grown-up haircut.

No, not the mom haircut. Not the senior citizen haircut where you get it 'set' every week and then never touch it again. Just a haircut that is short enough to say, "My days of long hair are behind me." (Note: Every woman has the right to take back that statement as their hair grows out and they feel the need to reenact the first 90 minutes of the incredible Disney movie, "Tangled".)

I told Cheyenne (whose bangs were quite even and hair was a color typically found on human beings) what I wanted, and she went at it. It's quite freeing to see your new style develop before your eyes, and have it be exactly what you want (all the while being complemented on the beautiful color of your hair and being told for the umpteenth time how most people would kill for red hair).

By the end of my hairy journey, Ulysses himself would have been satisfied with the progress made. I now have a haircut that SCREAMS "I'm not in college anymore".

You want a picture? I'd be happy to oblige.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, THIS is one of those posts where you ask yourself, "Why did I just read about her trip to Beauty Brands?" Because I tricked you. You're welcome.

*I reserve the right to alter this argument once I hit ages that begin with '3'.

Childminder...Babysitter...Nanny

I wear many hats as a college graduate-the beret of butchering Martha Stewart recipes, the baseball cap of pointless movie trivia, the fez of proper semicolon usage-but the most flattering has got to be the Revolutionary War bonnet of child care provider.

Sure, it's a rough job, but someone's got to do it, and who's more capable than a woman in her early twenties with a Bachelor of Journalism of her very own? Thanks to my ill-named BJ, I have the power to claim more experience than the tweens starting their very own Babysitter's Club, and therefore get to charge $1.50 more per hour for my wisdom.

(Sidenote: Why didn't the original BC (not that little sister crap) ever cash in on their tsunami of business knowledge? They could have franchises sweeping the nation by now. Note to past self: jump on this.)

As a nanny, I have two consistent 'clients'. There's the 11-month-old, Wes, who I've been with for almost nine months now, and the 9-month-old triplets, Addison, Victoria and Cooper, who I've been with for four months. It's been an adorable, boring, fun, exhausting, disgusting whirlwind of birth control that I would love to share with you.

Along with my tales from the nanny files, I'll also be sharing some of my successful cooking endeavors. My most recent accomplishment was Snickerdoodle Cupcakes, and booyah (is that still a thing?) they were good!

I'll also slip in some of my observations about life...just because I can. You won't know until you read it and you'll be like, "Crap. Why did I just acknowledge her inane thought processes?" Because I tricked you...that's why.

So come with me on this journey of mediocrity in the midwest, as I lay out the ten things to do with a journalism degree.