Perspectives: born in the U.S. v. born south of the border

Both Geralda and Carolina bring age and experience to the child caregiver position. Acting as advisers or maybe more like friendly helpful aunties, both women in their sixties counsel other Latina women. They have the same perspective, yet Carolina was born and raised in California, while Geralda hails from Central America. Carolina’s parents were Mexicans living and working in the Imperial Valley. Her native tongue is English, but she learned Spanish in order to connect with other immigrant nannies in the park. First and foremost she asks her employer to respect her. A former aerospace industry employee, she lets her employer know she does not work for the money. Carolina suffered injury on the job and now receives disability. Rather than sit and home, watch tv, and collect her money, she wants to work. She asks that the employers respect her and not treat her like a nanny. She actually prefers to be “treated like family.” Carolina looked on the internet and found this nanny position on Craig’s List.

Her job history prepared her well to negotiate up front for the same kinds of benefits she received at her aerospace job. As a result, she gets a salary, not an hourly wage, paid sick days, and paid vacation when it is convenient for her, a distinct departure from most who only get vacation when their employers leave town. Carolina’s employer also pays taxes and Social Security. Carolina displays candor and confidence in negotiating. The mother had a new baby and revealed that she wanted to quit her job and stay home. “I said, ‘Go ahead. I don’t need this job. I just do it ‘cause I want to.’” The mother reconsidered because she gets better insurance benefits than her husband.

Most importantly, nannies need back-up, Carolina advises. She lives alone and sets a fine example of self-sufficiency and planning for the future with other income, retirement, and disability pay.

In contrast, Geralda, 58 years old, was born a twin and raised by her grandmother in a rural Central American village. Another nanny moaned about her employer, a teacher, who did not want to pay for childcare over the summer. Geralda sympathized and encouraged her to ask for help with paying taxes. "It’s important when you try to get your papers. Shows you are contributing to this country even though you are undocumented. Pay taxes for your own records and history, not for the employer’s benefit. It’s about respect for yourself and for this country. And you need something for the future."

If there were such a thing as a job review, Eloisa nailed it

Most employers don’t give nannies six-month reviews for their job performance, and few receive regular pay raises commensurate with amount of time employed or cost of living increases. For example, during this study bus fare increased from $3.00 per day to $5.00 in July 2007. Not a single interviewee paid or received a raise.

Paid private childcare has a job requirement usually reserved for motherhood or other intimate family relationships. It is emotional labor, difficult to measure, evaluate, and compensate for. Like eldercare, childcare eludes standardization and regulation, but when it’s done well, it’s easy to spot. Eloisa’s 14-month-old client child had trouble connecting with children and adults. His former babysitter seemed to delay his social development by driving him around in her car for hours until he fell asleep. One of three children of full-time working parents, he didn’t come to the park until Eloisa got the job. When I met her she had been with this family for only four months and knew very few park nannies. The boy cried frequently, struggled with sharing and taking turns, and rarely talked or laughed.

Within two months, he had a best friend, smiled easily, and, “He doesn’t cry anymore,” reported Eloisa proudly. I watched him venture off to explore the playground with confidence. His family had gone on a weeklong vacation giving the parents a chance to spend lots of time with him. The change had become evident. When they returned his mother related to Eloisa how pleased and happy she was with his progress. With relief and gratitude she revealed, “We didn’t know what to do.” Curious about how Eloisa had achieved this transformation in her son, she came along with them to the park a few days ago. Eloisa’s park labor network had benefited him greatly. She had used her social ease and connections to promote change in the boy. Eloisa had grown close to Maritza and Carria and their client children had become fast friends.

Mommy has OCD

A nanny overheard our lively discussions one morning and her curiosity was piqued. I explained my study analyzing relations between mothers and nannies, and when I showed her my student ID card, she opened up. Julia had two jobs, both Monday through Friday. One was every morning and the other was every afternoon. She first spoke of the disabled little boy who was very dear to her. She had been with this family for many years. Next she told me about her morning job. The blond haired client baby about two years old looked at me quizzically from his stroller. Julia calmly began, his mother is very strict, organized, everything has to be perfect. The first year was very hard because she had to learn many things, or do them over repeatedly until she got them right. The mother, an attorney, wanted things done exactly a certain way. Then Julia told me about the handwashing. The mother instructed her to wash her hands three times each time for a certain number of minutes. Without a trace of disrespect she told me that the mother opens doors in her own house without touching the doorknob directly, using her shirt or something else. It must be difficult to work for her, I sympathized. “She is very aware of bacteria, hates bacteria, and doesn’t want to get any on her hands.” I wonder how this mother could have sex, have a baby, or change a diaper under these conditions. Life is messy. The nanny addresses my concern saying, “She knows she has a problem, she takes medicine for it.” This mother had found a patient, remarkable employee and I hoped they appreciate each other. We said goodbye and she pushed the stroller towards home.

Nadia and the big boo boo

Nothing upsets a nanny more than an injury. An injury may cost her the job. She will tail a toddler all over the park for hours just to catch him when he falls. She may freeze in fear as blood runs down the face of a three year old who was attacked by a shovel-wielding playmate. Nadia had been with the two boys she babysat for at least two years. The oldest boy was 3. He came over to say hello and show me the big cut on his knee. Nadia helped by pulling down his jeans so I could see the very large colorful bandaid. He demonstrated how it happened—he slipped on the wet sidewalk by the water fountain. I asked Nadia what it was like to tell his mother. She said it was ok, they’re good about that, but she had to write it down in the notebook like she does each day. Both parents work long hours. Three nannies share the childcare duties, two during the week and one on the weekend. Nadia leaves in the afternoon when the other nanny’s shift begins, and before the parents get home, so she must write the events of the day in a spiral notebook. In the best English possible, she scrawls what happened, what they ate for breakfast and lunch, where they went, and who got injured. “I don’t mind,” she confided, “because I get to work on my writing English so I learn.” Two months later, Nadia was replaced. The boy brought his new nanny over to meet me.

Carria goes all out

Some people have a gift for connecting with children. The nanny I call Carria embodied the intimacy of emotional care, the emotional investment she was making each day. She was young, but most of the time she showed good judgment and the kind of energy working parents often cannot muster. She had lived-in with her client child and his single working mother since he first came home as a newborn. Eddie was adopted. The mother worked very long hours, so they formed a close bond. One day I saw her rolling in the grass with Eddie and another boy. Later a nanny put her child on Carria’s back and they played peek-a-boo with Eddie. Another time she entertained Eddie and his friends with a sand toy. She picked up a small plastic rake and silently raked imaginary sand off her shoulders, arms, and legs, very Charlie Chaplinesque. Then she handed it to Eddie to do the same. One day she playfully sat Eddie’s friend in a child’s toy stroller meant for dolls and pushed him across the grass. Eddie took the handles and pushed the little boy a few steps. Suddenly an English-speaker, possibly a mother, came over and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to take this.” Someone took the child out and the mother whisked the stroller away and placed it on top of a table where no children could reach. Carria had a rueful smile on her face as I walked over. She dismissed the mother’s concerns saying, “It was fun for them. If it broke I’d just buy a new one. It’s not real or expensive.” It was an awkward moment because Carria had missed a few cues. The stroller posed a danger because it was not built for real children. It belonged to another child and she had not asked to borrow it. Carria and the other nanny displayed a sense of entitlement I had not seen before.

A mother's conflicted emotions

Shawna expressed a sentiment many mothers face—fear of turning your child over to someone you don’t know and possibly can’t understand. She really wants the free time a nanny could provide, but she struggles and asks herself, how could I let a stranger do this job? “My sister had a lot of success with her Filipina nanny so I found a lady a few weeks ago, and I should have hired her, but I didn’t. I’m overthinking this, but…” On the other hand, Shawna feels her sister is missing out on years and experiences she will never have again. It’s caused a rift between them. “I was kind of amazed really. I mean, weren’t we raised in the same house, under the same roof?” Shawna brings many conflicting views into consideration. Here at the park she notices a toddler crying for about the third time in twenty minutes. He is here with his Latina nanny. Shawna says, “She should take him home, go for a walk or something, but she stays so she can talk to friends.” She adds, “And they’re illegal. They don’t get paid very well, and have no benefits. No wonder they don’t do a good job.” A few days earlier I’d seen her with a temporary babysitter. Shawna pushed the baby in one stroller while a Latin American woman pushed the older child in another. How are you, I asked. “Good today, I have help,” Shawna answered. I encouraged her to meet more parents and nannies and keep talking in order to resolve her frustration. Privately I hoped she would come to appreciate the value of Latina nannies’ labor. Later I ask the crying child’s nanny what happened. His communication skills are underdeveloped and he really benefits from time in the park with other children and adults. The nanny explained that he cried because another boy refused to share candy.

Paulina wants something more for her own

The park is sunny this Tuesday morning. Paulina is dwarfed by the plump baby she carries. She is less than five feet tall while the five-month old boy in her arms is big for his age. Her cell phone rings and she takes it. Her husband, a soldier stationed in Bakersfield, can only make calls at this hour. He moves from state to state while she works two jobs and leaves their 3-year-old daughter in the care of her mother. I ask her what her job is like. “It’s difficult!” The baby is heavy, her back hurts, and she misses her daughter. The baby’s older sister often questions Paulina’s authority when she wants to do something potentially dangerous. Paulina says “no” and the girl says, “Mommy says ‘yes.’” But Paulina has a good response: When you’re with me, I can’t let you do that. Her employer supports this declaring, “We work as a team.” Paulina wants her daughter to go to school and college so she will not have a job like this “with pain.” She showed me a photo of a disabled child she cared for many years until the family moved. They still stay in touch, send holidays cards and pictures. “She couldn’t move anything, or talk, and lived in a wheelchair. I learned a lot from that, about patience, caring.”

A nanny can make a big difference

One morning Eloisa fed her 14-month-old client child strapped into his stroller. I considered her one of the most well-qualified nannies because she exhibited both warmth and intelligence. She spoke good English and had taught herself a few words in several other languages: Japanese, Arabic, and was currently reading the Bible in Hebrew. Raised a Catholic, she now practiced Judaism. She had also sampled the Church of Latter Day Saints upon arriving in the US. I asked how she prepared for this job? To my surprise Eloisa had never been a caregiver for children as young as the three boys in this family. She had three children of her own, ages 25, 23, and 12, and simply applied her good judgment. When she first started working for the boy's family, he did not talk at all. The previous babysitter never took him to the park, and instead induced sleep by driving him around in a carseat for hours. She neglected to teach him how to talk or repeat words with him, Eloisa explained. She felt his full-time working mother did not talk or teach him either. When the mother spoke, she gave commands as opposed to making conversation, or teaching through gentle repetition. "I teach him to speak [by repeating,]" she says. English or Spanish I ask. "Both." During my year of research in the park, the boy blossomed from quiet and unsociable to confident and relaxed, and Eloisa got a raise. Her self-instruction indicates that Eloisa aspires to much more than babysitting. But in the end fulfillment came from the boy's progress. Nannies and mothers share similar goals.