The nanny is leaving. I've known this for weeks - after all, I was the one who gave her notice. I was the one who made the decision to work from home, to manage childcare and the school run around work, and to let our very own super-nanny know that there wouldn't be a job for her any more.
My guilt was somewhat alleviated by the news that the nanny had found a new position and would be starting almost right away, but it was instantly replaced by something just as uncomfortable. The more I heard about her new employers, with their live-in housekeeper, their heated swimming pool and the four-wheel-drive accompanying the job, the more jealous I became.
Oh I know I was the one to finish it, but however well relationships end you still secretly want the other party to wish they were still with you, don't you? However relieved you are to tell that doe-eyed student boyfriend of yours that it's over, you still want him to spend the rest of his life wondering what life would have been like if you'd stayed together. You want to be the best he ever had.
I feel like the sallow school girl who enjoys an innocent but happy romance with the boy next door, only to be tossed aside in favour of Suzie Harris from the Upper Sixth, who has a proper bosom and the keys to a Fiat Panda. Far from hankering after the simple pleasures of his former relationship, Colin jumps head first into all that his new romance has to offer (including the proper bosom) and now mildly embarrassed about the lanky girl he used to date. Colin has moved on. Now I must too.
I wish my nanny well in her new position, and hope that the heated swimming pool, enhanced salary and doubtless beautifully behaved children live up to her expectations. It does sound rather wonderful. I only wish I'd seen the advert first - I think I might have applied.