You'll Never Nanny in This Town Again: The True Adventures of a Hollywood Nanny (40 page)

Whitney and I quickly realized this was no ordinary outdoor party: a full-fledged carnival, the event was ringed with stars manning game booths, offering kids the chance to win prizes. I spotted a basketball shoot, a bottle-toss, and a chance to sound a gong if you could wallop a fake sledge hammer hard enough, all administered by high-wattage celebs. Certainly a far cry from Cottage Grove’s annual Bohemia Days, when the carnies’ hands were so greasy I was scared to hand them my ticket because I didn’t want to get dirty.

I eagerly shook hands, starting with Magic Johnson. Then a photo op with Paula Abdul (Wes would be thrilled). The celebrity parade seemed never-ending. Whitney gushed over Luke Perry, her personal favorite, but I was sidetracked by a very short and ordinary-looking Mel Gibson. I couldn’t get over how different
People’s
Sexiest Man Alive (two years running) looked in person.
This
was Mandie’s equivalent to Tom Cruise? If the guy walked into Safeway while I was buying groceries, I don’t know if I’d even notice him. He did graciously have his picture taken with Whitney, and she maintained her composure much better than Mandie had.

Maybe I’d been away for too long, but I had some trouble figuring out who all the stars were. I pointed out Yakov Smirnoff to Rhea, who gently told me that the man in question was not the Russian comedian, it was Ringo Starr. And there was one head who towered over the crowd, but I couldn’t put my finger on his name. I guessed from his build that he was probably a professional basketball player, so I had my picture taken with him. What the heck. Later, I heard all the kids calling him Shaq. Apparently, taping all those Laker games hadn’t made an impression on me.

Then I spotted someone who made my knees weak. I couldn’t take in enough air.

Grandpa Ovitz. Standing by the ice cream stand with Grandma Ovitz—and two children. The girl looked about ten and the little boy about six. I quickly did the math. It couldn’t be … could it? I didn’t see any parents and decided to go for it.

I began waving frantically. “Mrs. Ovitz, Mrs. Ovitz! Over here!” I shrieked, trotting toward them while still waving like crazy. Mrs. Ovitz craned her neck a little in my direction, no doubt trying to discern who this crazy person was. She squinted as I approached.

“I know you,” she said. “Don’t tell me now. Your face looks so familiar. Has it been a long time?”

“It’s me. Suzy,” I said, hoping that would be enough of a clue.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s you. The nanny.” She went on to tell me that Michael and Judy were in New York and had given them their tickets to the event.
Whew
.

Amanda and Brandon stood by, looking patient, just as beautiful as ever. I bent down toward them, breathless and grinning. I felt like a long-lost aunt begging for kisses from her nieces and nephews she hardly ever sees.

“Do you remember me?” I asked Amanda.

Amanda’s face lit up with a smile of her own. “Yes, I do. You were our nanny.”

I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t even five years old when I left.

Standing up, I looked back at Mrs. Ovitz and asked if Carmen and Delma were still there. I was amazed to hear that both my friends had stayed. I don’t know why I was surprised. I should’ve guessed, given their patience and the limited career choices they felt they had.

Oh, Delma’s baby! I asked Mrs. Ovitz, remembering my last conversation with Delma. She looked genuinely sorry when she said that Delma had lost the baby. My heart sank. Amanda chimed in and said she was really sad because the baby had been born too little to live. It seemed as if the children weren’t as spoiled and lacking in compassion as I’d feared.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Ovitz continued, referring to Delma’s loss, “Judy gave her time off. You know how good she’s always been with the girls.” Of
course, I couldn’t help but agree how generous it was of Judy to let her take time off, but I really didn’t agree that women of thirty and forty-five should still be referred to as “girls.”

Throughout the entire conversation, Grandpa Ovitz stood silent. He looked at me pleasantly but with a tinge of coldness that I interpreted as,
Shame on you for leaving my son high and dry
.

“How’s Josh?” I asked while keeping my fingers crossed that early senility had erased the elder Ovitz’s memory of the infamous “butter and stitches” incident.

“He’s fine,” Grandpa said. “He didn’t come with us today because he thought it would be boring.”

Out of the blue, Brandon took my hand and asked me to ride with them on the tram back to the cars. I felt tears well up when I squeezed his hand in mine—the hand of a boy, not a baby. I tried to keep the tears in during the ride, which ended all too quickly. I asked Amanda if I could give her a hug. When she said yes, my heart grew three sizes. Then Brandon threw his arms around me and squeezed me, too.

If I was to be truly honest with myself, I couldn’t say with conviction that he remembered me. After all, Brandon was less than two years old when I left.

Maybe time has given the memory a warm and fuzzy glow, or maybe I made it what I wanted it to be. But for a brief moment it felt like we were kindred spirits. I could swear that within his hug I felt him saying, “Thank you, Suzy, for loving me.”

I should have known. It all started in Hollywood, and here in Hollywood, it would finally end. I now truly felt ready to move on, to my own life, my own home. And hopefully, someday to children I would never have to hug good-bye. My own.

I always enjoy reading the acknowledgments page of other books. I flip back and forth between the notes of gratitude and the author’s picture—this way, I can accurately make up a story about what I think the author’s life is
really
like. If you are anything like me, you might be wondering about my everyday life. I will give you a sneak preview. Most days I don’t actually look like my author picture. In fact, I usually show up at my children’s school with a baseball cap, no makeup, and sweatpants that could double as pajama bottoms.

Now that the book is complete, I promise my family that I will not embarrass them anymore by leaving the house in my “writing attire,” that I will actually put on lipstick, style my hair, and wear something that matches. I will spend more time outside my office than in and, yes, start cooking dinner again—Well, I guess I didn’t really cook that much before. But I will start now.

I am extremely blessed with family and friends who have been very patient during this writing process. As I send this off to the publisher, I am happy to report to my loved ones that they will no longer have to hear me say, “I can’t talk right now; I’m working on the book.”

I extend my heartfelt appreciation to each and every one of you who have lent your patience and support in order to make this book possible.

First and foremost …

 … I want to give a special acknowledgment to the professional nannies who have dedicated their lives to the well-being of children. Thank you for sharing your personal stories with me. May all the families you work for appreciate and recognize the important, loving contributions you make to their children’s lives.

Thank you to my publishing support team …

 … Sharlene Martin, Julie McCarron, and Suzanne Wickham-Beaird, thank you for passionately believing in the importance of my story being told.

 … Shana Drehs, my unbelievable editor at Crown Publishers. The hours you spent, your dedication, and your commitment to make this book the best it could be were phenomenal. I am so grateful you are on this journey with me.

Thank you to my supportive friends …

 … Amy, Christine, Kristi, Missy, and Danette, my forever girlfriends, I love you all very much.

 … Jason, my life would not be the same without your friendship. Thank you for all you give to me and for being my expert on redneck trivia.

 … My Goddess Girls, thank you for all the love and laughs.

 … Dianna Matlock, thank you for all the joy you have brought to our family for so many years. We all love you very much.

 … Nicole, I pray that you will never have to work for a first-time author again. Your endless patience in keeping me, my family, and my life organized was a true gift.

 … Sohi, I am grateful to have your guidance in my life.

 … Ryan Craig, Cindy and I so appreciate your commitment to our project. With your film and my story, Cottage Grove will be sure to get on the map now.

Thank you to my family …

 … My sister Cindy, who should have the title of producer of this book. It would not exist without you and Mark’s dedication. Kisses to my sweet little Chance and Ariel.

 … My sister Traci, for helping me to laugh at all the things that I take
so
seriously. You are one of my dearest friends.

 … Heath, my mini-me. I thank you for all the fun, love, and laughs you share with us. You are my sun.

 … My parents, for your neverending love and encouragement. Thank you for always believing in me and my dreams.

 … Cassie and Yuki, my bonus sisters, I am so glad to have you as part of my family.

 … Diana and Mandie Ludlam, my life has been greatly enriched by both of you being a part of it.

And most important …

 … Jadyn and Parker. I am thankful every single day that I was chosen to be blessed with your little souls. I love you more than I can ever express. I am honored to be your Mommy.

 … My husband, Wes, for believing in me and in this huge book project with your whole heart. You are the greatest gift in my life. I don’t have big enough words to describe how grateful I am to have you. Of course you are now thinking, “Well, you could
show
me how great you think I am by letting me go play eighteen with Carl, Jay, and Russell …” Okay, go get your clubs and get out the door before I change my mind!

Suzanne Hansen
received her Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Linfield College after spending time as a nanny in Southern California. She has been a high-risk labor and delivery nurse, lactation consultant, and childbirth educator. She is now a “stay-at-home-and-work” mom. She lives with her husband and two children in Portland, Oregon. The author’s website can be seen at www.hollywoodnanny.com.