The good, the not so good and the amazing of being a Nanny

Stories from the Front Lines of Nannying

When my daughter was starting kindergarten, I was a single mother looking for a way to support us. Nannying became that way. It gave me an income I could build a life on, and it brought wonderful families into our lives, people who treated us with generosity and kindness. My daughter is grown now, and when I look back, I can see how much this work made possible for both of us.

I have been a nanny for more than twenty-five years, and people sometimes ask me what the career has been like. I could tell them about the places I have traveled or the children I still think about years later. But if I want to explain how I became the professional I am today, I have to start with a Christmas in 2002.

A Christmas I never forgot

I was still learning how to speak up for myself then. Like many nannies early in their careers, I knew what time to arrive and what I would be paid when I worked, but I had never thought to ask what happened when the family went away. I had no written agreement spelling it out. When my employers told me they were leaving for Hawaii for two weeks over Christmas, I assumed I would continue to be paid.

I found out I wouldn’t be.

I tried to explain what two weeks without pay meant to me. I was raising my daughter on my own. If I didn’t work, I didn’t eat. My employer became frustrated, wrote a check, and threw it on the floor for me to pick up.

I remember how much that hurt, especially because I loved the little girl I cared for. I couldn’t pick up the check as though the way it had been given to me didn’t matter. I left it on the table, said goodbye to the child, and walked out crying.

There was an apology later. We talked, and there was repair, which is part of this story too. But I went home knowing I could never again leave something so important unspoken. I began asking what would happen when a family traveled, what holidays and time off would be paid, and whether I could count on my income for all 52 weeks of the year. I learned to put agreements in writing and to have those conversations before I accepted a job.

I wish someone had told me sooner that asking these questions was part of being a professional. It would not have made me less loving toward a child. It would have made it possible for me to do that loving work with security and peace of mind.

Finding the words for the work

That experience also made me think more deeply about what kind of caregiver I wanted to be. I had instincts, but I wanted to understand children more fully and be able to explain to parents why the small moments of care matter so much. My search brought me to RIE® and Educaring®, and later to the Pikler tradition. I kept studying, became a RIE® Associate, and began teaching nannies and parents myself.

What I learned was never just theory to me. It lives in the pause before picking up a baby, when I tell them what is about to happen. It lives in giving a toddler time to try something while I stay close and observe. It lives in a diaper change that feels like time together instead of a task to rush through. Children notice how we speak to them and whether we make room for them to participate in their own lives.

The education gave me language for conversations with families, too. I could share what I was seeing, explain my approach, and listen to what mattered to the parents. I became more confident in my care and in asking for the conditions I needed to give my best. Years after that Christmas, I worked for families who paid me while they traveled for weeks at a time. The longest stretch was fourteen weeks. By then, we had talked about expectations openly, and they understood the value of the time I had committed to them.

The parts I carry with me

Nannying has taken me from Hawaii and New York to the South of France, Sydney, London, Mexico, Montreal, and places I once could only dream of visiting. Those opportunities were extraordinary, and I am grateful for them. Still, when I think about why I’ve stayed in this profession, I don’t picture the beautiful houses or the trips first.

I think of a baby looking at me with complete trust. I think of the child who wanted the same book again and again, the first steps I was lucky enough to see, the walks and park afternoons, and all those ordinary hours when we were getting to know one another. Some days were joyful; some were exhausting. Together, they became part of a child’s life and part of mine.

This work has taught me to hold two truths close. A nanny can make a meaningful difference in a child’s early years, and a nanny also needs to make a living. Caring deeply for a family does not erase the need for clear hours, dependable pay, time off, and mutual respect. In fact, when those things are understood, there is more room for the relationship to grow.

So if you are a nanny, especially one just starting out, please ask the questions I didn’t know to ask. Talk about pay when the family travels or cancels, paid holidays, sick time, duties, and what happens when plans change. Keep learning about children, and trust that advocating for yourself belongs alongside caring for them.

If you are a parent, an agency owner, or an educator, you can help make those conversations easier. A nanny should be able to ask how the job works without feeling that the question casts doubt on her devotion to a child. We all benefit when expectations are clear and caregivers are treated as the professionals they are.

I entered this profession because I needed to raise my daughter. I stayed because I came to love the work and to understand its reach. After all these years, I still believe that respect for children and respect for the people caring for them must go hand in hand.

I would love to hear your story

If you are a nanny, where do you work, and what has this career made possible for you? What have you had to learn the hard way? Parents, teachers, and agency owners, I would love to hear what you have learned about building good relationships with caregivers, too.

Tell me about the good, the difficult, and the moments you will never forget. Our stories help someone else feel less alone, and they help us imagine a better profession together.