I can’t start a blog with ‘so’ or ‘ok’

So (evidently I can’t start a blog without the word “so” or “ok.” ) I go down to San Diego because one of my favooooorite clients needs a little face time. “Needs” might be an exageration, but it feels better to type it that way. We have done a ton of events over the years and now her daughter is involved in some sort of horse rescue situation where I think some people are maybe making some glue out of the horses or something terrible. I’m still not sure I understand the event, but that’s ok. I think the glue making will stop if we throw a party. That’s my takeaway anyway and I’m sticking with it.

We finally get to chat, Laura and I, and her sister-in-law (for whom I’ve also “entertained” ) and I think I can learn more about the horse glue, etc but no. What do these ladies want to talk about? Nannygate. Seriously? Nannygate? Nannygate has been my entire last more-than-a-week of drama. I am a professional with 17 years of parties under my belt. I handle A-list celebrities, as we speak might I graciously add, and we are going to talk about the missing laundry detergent and Nannygate?

Evidently.

One last thing on that before I give you what you’re all waiting for (evidently.) I try and provide meaningful content in this blog. Stuff, products, you know, things that are going to benefit you all. And what do I get? Nothing. All you people want to hear about is whether my husband is still spreadsheeting our home paper towel consumption and whether I’ve caught the laundry thief. I give up. Maybe this is an easier blog to maintain anyway. Forget the products.

So here’s the latest and the wrap up.

9 days ago (see blog post from around that time), I was approached my the little general who runs my home. Lord knows I am not running it. She tells me that someone is stealing laundry detergent. I’m typing while she tells me this and am kind of like, oh, ok. Sure. No, she is sure. Turns out she has been conducting a sting operation and on 3 different occasions has “marked” with the hot pink Party Goddess highlighter no less, the container with the laundry detergent. Said perp (perpetrator in case you watch any of the legal shows) waits until the laundry container (clear plastic, Container Store) is nearly full. Once it is, before she leaves at night, she takes approximately 2 inches of soap. (Don’t get me started. “Soap? Soap? If you’re going to steal, that’s what you steal?” I’ve heard it all people, yes, it’s ridiculous.)

Not entirely believing that she’s stolen the soap (this is 3rd shift nanny. Sure, send the hate mail while I’m down. We know I can’t handle my own children and evidently write a thriving blog) I devise my own sting. I mark the soap with a pencil (light marking) and then check for earthquakes and to make sure that the line is still there and measuring the soap properly, approximately 15-30 minutes before I tuck myself in and she leavs for the night. 6:30am the next day, 2 inches of soap – adios. (This is particularly challenging for me because the little angel had just been out to dinner with the entire family eating shrimp cocktail to her heart’s content.)

Sunday, I set the trap again. Mark the soap, check for earthquakes, get in bed, nanny leaves. 6:30am Monday, no soap. So while I’m so excited I can’t stand it to have pulled off this sting operation, now I pause. She was just at the beach with us for dinner Sunday night. Let me get this straight. She goes to the beach with us, has dinner, eats the hot fudge sundae on us, then heads home, kisses my babies and STEALS THE G.D SOAP?

Evidently.

So Monday, I am in tears, pretty much the whole day. I feel all of those trite things you ready and hear about on programs like Jerry Springer – violated, confused, angry. The whole host of grief emotions. But I’m going to be going out of town in a week for work. Do I funk up this apple cart right now or wait until I’m back. I talk to everyone – my Mom, friends, the usual. I decide I can’t wait. I am a burning bastion of negativity. I call in the perp on her scheduled day off (Monday afternoon) to ask the questions.

Judas denied Jesus three times, so I give my perp FOUR opportunities to tell me the truth. (I can just see the headlines now: “Party Planning Blogger Compares Herself to Christ.” No, it’s just for poetic effect here.) Nada. So I tell her that I know she stole soap and here’s how. Now remember, she is about 23, young, sweet as pie (ha!), has a 3 year old, etc. I’ve loaned her money, given her clothes, bought the daughter gifts when I go out of town. Everything. I think we have a good relationship. Stupidly, I actually think she likes me. Just like Sally Field. I’m worried that the nanny likes me.

Finally she admits, yep, she stole the soap. I’m looking for reasons. Is it something I did? How could she do that? She just went to dinner and ate my shrimp and then stole the soap? “Si.” The beach, those fun times at the park, they meant nothing to her. “No.” Stunned, I think maybe she’s not understanding my questions in Spanish. I bring in her “jefa [boss, I think is the translation.]” I ask her to ask her questions, nothing. Pretty much she doesn’t care, the jig is up. Yep, ok. “Que mas?” I guess nothing mas. We’re done. I’m still in tears, remember, violated, confused. She could care less. She tries to muster a chortle, nothing. The next day, I give her her check, she returns the keys (we get the locks changed anyway. Because Mercury is in retrograde this takes 3 full days.) And that’s it. Nothing. I’m left alone with my thoughts. Feelings of abandonment. I’ve been had. I’m victorious, I caught my thief, but I’m empty. I feel like it was all one big one night stand and that she’s got another family that she cares about more somewhere.

That’s it. We’re done. No more soap stealer, no more cute dress purchases for her 3 year old. I meet her potential replacement today at 4. Wish me luck, she’s supposedly very “sweet.”

DISCLAIMER: I am too annoyed to check this for spelling and grammatical errors. I probably typed “so” or “ok” 10 times in one paragraph. Just cut me a little slack until next week – no hate mail please.