The Hustle and the Babysitters who made it Possible Pt 1

The “Hustle” started before my son was born. I actually think, upon my arrival to NYC, was when the hustle was started.  Now when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t have a job. As you already know, the cruise ship job I thought I had, had mysteriously vanished, as they had no record of me applying. (if you don't know what I’m talking about, go back and read “How we got here - pt.3) So once I moved out of my apt and was in South Jersey, I got to looking. I mean, the move came with a built in part time job. I would be judging for a dance competition that was in its early phase of existence and teaching at a local dance studio. But I knew that was not enough. So I was looking at every fitness gym, dance studio, maternity clothing, baby furniture and essential store I could find. It was the dead of winter, middle of the season for dance studios, and after the holidays down time for new hires. Most places told me, “Come back around May. We’ll be looking to hire for June.” Problem was I didn’t know where I was going to be in June. I was subletting a house of a woman (friend of a friend of a friend)  who was in Florida for the winter and would be returning the 1st week of June when the weather was nicer. I just smiled and nodded, “okay, will do!” 

I was able to get some guest teaching gigs at a few other studios while down there. That, added to judging dance competitions, teaching master classes, and teaching at the local dance studio, was just enough to pay the little bit of rent she charged me, the lights, a few groceries and the cell phone bills. There were few days a week, I was actually up, dressed, not hungry, not nauseous  and in the mood to teach. Most days sucked as morning sickness was kicking my ass ALL DAY and putting on clothes and moving my body for an hour or two was the LAST thing I wanted to do. But, I made it work, because once again, I was trying to look good on paper because I needed to move… for like the 4th time since moving to NYC. But to where? Stay in South Jersey? Move back to NYC? In South Jersey, I needed a car. Getting rides only worked because we were all heading to the same dance studio or dance competition. And as that was not enough to truly support me I would need more work. Cabs, and this was before Uber and Lyft, were expensive and took planning as you had to give them a 20mins head up that you needed a ride. But I did have 2 jobs there. Moving back up to NYC, I could get around A LOT easier, and I felt like I could get a job quicker there. But none of that mattered if I couldn’t get a damn apartment in either place because of my credit and income level. NYC was the winner, only because I needed to couch surf while still trying to find an apartment and my friends in South Jersey were guys and had multiple dogs. And I had a cat and needed feminine energy. Well the cat actually knocked off about half of my friends, who were either allergic or had dogs. So I ended up staying at my ex-girlfriend's place. This was before we moved in together and spent the next year trying to work it out. This was her apt, where she had a part time roommate (who I introduced her to) that was completely in love with her, while she was trying to get back together with me, while I was just trying NOT to have a nervous breakdown from the complete shitshow my life had become. I applied to every maternity store, baby essential store I could find. Most weren't hiring. Others were a bit skeptical that I wouldn't be able to lift boxes and stock shelves as I got further along in my own pregnancy. They obviously didn't realize I was Wonder Woman, and strong like ox. I ended up getting a job at the YMCA teaching dance to the summer camp kids. I clearly only got the job because they didn't know I was pregnant, which was made very clear when the director saw me mid July and was like, “I didn’t realize you were pregnant when you interviewed in May. You’re sneaky! Just don’t have that baby before summer camp ends, okay? LOL”  Insert Kanye shrug. What I love most about the job was its location. Monday-Friday I got to go to Lincoln Center. It is one of my favorite places in the city. The ambiance of the ballet, opera, orchestra, and the theaters that housed them, the restaurants bustling with patrons toasting wine glasses, silverware clinking against porcelain plates, theater goers and orchestra player’s dressy wooden heels shoes taping on the concrete as they walk, the performing artist backpacks in tow walking in herds with the occasional song or dance outburst, plus its proximity to Central Park, I could go on and on, but I'm sure you get it now. What I loved least was the teaching the children part. I know how that sounds, but it's the truth. My patience for getting asked a million questions about nothing, having to be overly animated to get their attention, and having to repeat the dance steps 72 times to get them to remember it, just for them to forget it in the 3 seconds it took for me to walk over to the stereo to start the music. But I enjoyed my lunch break and after work hours I spent people watching and listening to outdoor concerts, so that I didn't have to go “home.” Anyways I worked that job up until about 6 days before he was born. We made it the whole summer camp. 

Now skip ahead, past the spa job I had to quit after only 2 months, when he was 7months, due to a flaky babysitter and jump right to the middle of my LaDuca sales associate to assistant manager job, where he was hopping from friend to person I slightly knew, to having to be in the stockroom with me, because no one could watch him. I was at this job for a year. So my babysitter situation went from having an awesome babysitter that I met randomly on the train (to this day I still love her) to praying hard that the new person (friend of a friend of a friend) did not harm him, or neglect him. Whew, I’m getting anxiety just thinking about those early days. Let's start with Babysitter A. Who would have thought I would have wholeheartedly trusted a stranger I met on the train with my 9 month old’s life… surely not me.