Some people view nannying as a simple job. Tasks like feeding children, reading them stories, and putting them to bed seem routine. However, that’s not always true. The people featured in our article shared their experiences caring for other people’s children, and now we wouldn’t dream of calling this profession dull.
I was 13 and was babysitting my neighbors’ kids. It was my first time, so the parents walked me through all the rules about the bathroom, TV, food, bedtime, etc. Just as the parents were taking off for the night, the mom came back in and whispered to me, “Don’t go into the basement.” As a teenager in the 80s, my mind went to all of the scariest movies that had basements. I avoided the door to the basement all night until I had put the kids to bed.
Then I walked slowly to the door and put my ear against it. I heard what sounded like whimpering. And then it sounded like sad laughing. I ran to the couch and started watching TV to get my mind off of it, but then I heard something fall in the basement and knew someone was down there. I really don’t know how I got the courage/stupidity to do it, but I went over and opened the door. The whining instantly got louder.
I went down just 3 or 4 stairs, so I could peek down… and I saw… a goat. Not a ghost. A goat. As soon as the goat saw me, he started bleating loudly. It scared me. I went upstairs, and the goat was still bleating loudly, so much that it woke up the kids.
The oldest girl came out and said, “Did you open the door to the basement?” I said, “Yeah, why?” She said, “When you do that, Carlos thinks you’re going to feed him, and he starts yelling.” Thank god I knew it was a goat first, because if she had said that before I went down, I would’ve thought Carlos was some kidnapped person in the basement who would yell for food.
It was very funny to me. The mom came home and I told her what happened, and she almost died laughing. They were repairing the goat pen and had to keep him in the basement for a few days. I still remember every moment of that night vividly. © Unknown author / RedditIn my early twenties, I would babysit a set of twins on the weekend once in a while. Their mom was super beautiful, and she was always going on dates.
One night, she told me she met a guy and was going on a date with him. She left at 6 and said she’d be back around midnight. Well, pushing 1 a.m., I’m thinking maybe she’s running late. 2 a.m., 3 a.m… I’m calling and calling her and finally her phone just goes to voice mail. I wake up, and it’s 7 a.m. and she still isn’t back.
I finally found the grandparent’s number in an address book. I call her parents, and they don’t even seem phased. They just seem annoyed like this is business as usual but tell me they’ll be over to sit with the twins, so I can leave. I call the non-emergency police number and explain what’s going on and that the grandparents are on their way.
I stick around for another hour, and then she pulls up wearing a men’s t-shirt, and heels, and she’s laughing. She says jokingly, “Oh my god! Call the police!” I never sat for her again. She just ended up staying with the guy all night and turned her phone off so she couldn’t be bothered. She truly thought I’d dismiss it like it was no big deal. © Kikabennet / Reddit
- The dad of the kids I watched liked me on Tinder. Then, when I told his wife, and she didn’t believe me, he convinced her that “his Facebook was hacked.” The kids were almost always wonderful. © marymoon77 / Reddit
- I work as a nanny in the family of a big businessman. At first, I worked several times a week, then I started living in their house. The head of the family works almost round the clock, his wife doesn’t notice anything but clothes, spas, and fitness.
Yesterday, their 5-year-old son stole money from his father’s safe, came to me, and said we should run away together. I returned the money immediately, but how to explain to a child why I love him more than his mother, I don’t know… © Overheard / Ideer - I’m a nanny, and I heard her first word (it was hippo). But the family won’t ever know that. Some secrets are better to keep. © positivityfox / Reddit
- First babysitting job at 13. Four kids. My parents gave me a whole fresh salmon to COOK and serve the kids. I learned that day that salmon has pin bones when I had to pull some out of the 3-year-old’s throat while simultaneously calling my parents down the road because I didn’t know what to do, as he was coughing and gasping for air. He was fine, but I think I lost 10 years of my life that day. © nah2daysun / Reddit
- A lady tried to dump 2 extra kids on me without paying when she realized I was babysitting her neighbor’s kids. Her rationale was that I was already babysitting 2 kids and 2 more wasn’t that much, so I should watch her kids for free and let them eat her neighbor’s food. © CaptDeliciousPants / Reddit
- I’m not a nanny, but I’ve been babysitting a girl on and off from when she was 5 to 7 now.
Her: What is that?
Me: Pineapple
Her: Oh, I’ve never had pineapple.
Me: Do you want to try it?
She does this about everything, too. I asked her mom if she had ever had pineapple, and she was like of course, she has! Then I realized she was just trying to eat my food. © Kacidillaa / Reddit - I nannied for a wealthy couple, and the husband had a study in the house that the wife joked about never being allowed in. Now, I’m nosy, and I was curious about why you wouldn’t let someone in a study, especially since it looked like a fairly normal room: big desk, walls covered in bookshelves, books of architecture everywhere.
So one day I just roamed around in there. I didn’t find anything, and I was kinda disappointed, but then I grabbed a book off one of the shelves. The thing had money pressed between its pages — about $500 if I had to guess. Picked up another book, and found the same thing.
I think I checked like ten different books, and every single one had money hidden in it. Still not sure if the dude was just paranoid about banks or if he was intentionally hiding money from his wife. © Unknown author / Reddit - I babysat two neighbor kids one time. I had a lot of experience babysitting, but it was my first time with this particular family. The little boy was about 5, and the little girl was maybe 7. Their parents left very specific instructions for bedtime, and they were kept on a very strict schedule. I thankfully had my best friend with me at the time, we were probably 15.
Bedtime came around, and after several warnings, we told them it was time to get upstairs, get into PJs, and carry on with their bedtime routine. They went ballistic. The little boy started tearing the cushions off their leather couch, tossing them everywhere, and biting a hole in the arm of the couch. While I was trying to deal with him, my best friend was trying to get the little girl upstairs when she ran into the kitchen, dumped their entire mop bucket of dirty water on the floor, and started sliding around in it. As soon as the couch-chewer saw the fun his sister was having, he joined in.
I ended up calling my mom for reinforcement, and never babysat for that family again. © soxxyrocks / Reddit
- So the father of the kid works for a major athletic apparel company, and every year they need to test the upcoming year’s potential pieces. To do that, the company sends one of every potential piece to all female employees and female spouses.
Well, the mother is pregnant right now and can’t fit into any of the items, so the father made me a cup of tea and asked me to sit down in the living room (what he does whenever he wants to talk to me about something) and says, “I know we’re not paying you to do this, but would you be willing to test all of the sample pieces my company sent me? You can keep them afterward.”
Yes! Y’all, no kidding, he just handed me 6 boxes of athletic clothing that have to total thousands of dollars. © pineappleprincesspie / Reddit - I was in the living room, watching Sister, Sister,when all of a sudden I heard a man say, “Hello.” I check the front door and look out the window at the driveway, the parents aren’t home. Go upstairs and check the kids, they’re both still in bed.
Go back downstairs, and hear it again, from the darkened dining room, “Hello, I am Armando.” They had a parrot. © Unknown author / Reddit - I only babysat once, and it was nothing horrible. These people had a huge rich house, and everything looked great, but when it was time for the kids’ bed, I figured I’d read them a bedtime story. I searched through that magnificent house and couldn’t find a single solitary book. © TRIGMILLION / Reddit
- So, it is that time of the month for me. I go into the bathroom, and while unwrapping a feminine hygiene product, the kid yells from outside the door, “I can hear you eating candy in there!” It made my day and made me wish that I was eating candy. © HalleysComet5 / Reddit
- I was working as a nanny, and the children’s mother once told me, “My husband doesn’t think we should pay you for when the girls are sleeping…” They were 4 months and 2 years old.
I was a junior in high school and responded, “Okay, so should I duck out once I tuck them in?” I wouldn’t have done that, but I think at that point she realized how ridiculous her request was. © reckate / Reddit - I had a phone interview with a mom that went well, so we met in person for a second interview with her husband and 4 children. It went well until she explained her nanny was fired for having an affair with her husband and how their new nanny needed better morals and to limit her interaction with her husband (who was sitting there the whole time with us).
I’ve never felt more awkward in my whole life as she told me that I’m pretty but thankfully not his type as he just nodded his head. I just find it irritating how it’s the nanny’s fault when her husband also had the affair, and how the nanny needs morals when her husband doesn’t. So yeah, definitely not accepting this job! © thisisdevon- / Reddit
Working as a regular nanny is challenging enough, so imagine being a nanny for a royal family. There are strict rules to follow, such as being allowed to wear only specific types of jewelry.
For My Birthday, My Husband Gave Me a Scale – A Year Later, I Gave Him the Ultimate Revenge Gift
For my 35th birthday, my husband handed me a beautifully wrapped box and a smug grin. Inside was a gift that shattered my confidence and lit a fire in me. A year later, I delivered a surprise of my own, one that left him begging for forgiveness.
The house buzzed with laughter and chatter. Balloons in soft pastels floated near the ceiling, and a “Happy Birthday” banner stretched across the living room. Plates of snacks and cake slices sat on every table.
A table set for a formal dinner | Source: Pexels
My kids ran around, giggling, their faces sticky with frosting. Friends and family filled the room, glasses clinking in celebration.
“Okay, okay! Everyone quiet!” my husband, Greg, called out, raising his phone. He grinned as he started recording. “The birthday girl is about to open her gift!”
I smiled nervously, my heart pounding. Greg wasn’t usually one for surprises, so this had to be something special.
A woman smiling during her birthday dinner | Source: Midjourney
He handed me a box wrapped in glittery paper. “Go on, babe,” he said, giving me an encouraging nod.
“What is it?” I asked, holding the box carefully. It wasn’t very heavy, but it had some weight to it.
“Open it and find out!” Greg said, still filming.
I tore at the paper, revealing a sleek black box. I opened it, my smile freezing as I stared inside. A digital bathroom scale gleamed up at me.
A bathroom scale | Source: Pexels
“Wow,” I said, forcing a laugh. “A weighing scale?”
“Yes!” Greg exclaimed, laughing loudly. “No more ‘big-boned’ excuses, babe. Just figures!”
The room went quiet, save for a few nervous chuckles. My cheeks burned. I glanced around at the guests, who avoided eye contact. I did put on a lot of weight while carrying our third baby and didn’t have any time to lose it while breastfeeding and managing the house.
A sad woman at a formal dinner table | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “This is… thoughtful.”
Greg clapped his hands. “I knew you’d love it!” he said, oblivious to my discomfort.
That night, after the guests left, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as my husband snored beside me, oblivious.
I thought back to his laughter and the way everyone had looked at me. The shame was unbearable.
A sleepless woman in bed | Source: Midjourney
But then another feeling rose—anger.
“This isn’t how it ends,” I said aloud, wiping my tears. “I’ll show him. He’ll regret this.”
The next morning, I laced up my old sneakers. “Just a walk,” I told myself. “One mile. You can manage that.”
A woman in athletic wear | Source: Freepik
The air was crisp as I stepped outside. My muscles ached from lack of use, and my feet protested with every step. As I trudged along the sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window. My heart sank.
“This is pointless,” I thought, slowing down. “What difference can one walk make?”
A woman standing on a street | Source: Midjourney
But then, I remembered Greg’s laugh and those cruel words. My hands clenched into fists. “One walk is a start,” I told myself firmly. “Just keep going.”
I came home sweaty and exhausted, but a tiny spark of pride warmed me. The next day, I did it again. And the day after that.
A woman exercising by the water | Source: Freepik
I began swapping my sugary morning coffee for green tea. At first, it tasted like warm grass, but I stuck with it. Instead of chips, I snacked on apple slices. It wasn’t easy. The kids’ snacks called to me from the pantry, and the temptation to quit nagged at me.
One night, as I stared at the chocolate bar Greg had left on the counter, I whispered, “No. This isn’t who I want to be anymore.” I grabbed a handful of almonds instead.
A woman stretching her hand out to grab a chocolate bar | Source: Midjourney
Two months in, I was walking two miles a day. My pace quickened, and my breath no longer came in ragged gasps. My scale showed that I’d lost seven pounds. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
I decided to try yoga. A YouTube video promised “gentle stretches for beginners,” but 10 minutes in, I was sweating buckets and cursing the instructor’s calm voice. Still, I kept at it, laughing at myself when I toppled over during tree pose.
A woman in a yoga class | Source: Freepik
“Mom, you look funny!” my youngest giggled, pointing at me.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said with a grin. “I feel funny, too.”
As the weeks passed, my body grew stronger. I noticed my clothes fitting better. A friend I hadn’t seen in months stopped me at the grocery store.
“Wow, you look amazing!” she said, her eyes wide. “What’s your secret?”
“Just taking care of myself,” I replied, feeling a glow of pride.
A woman in a grocery store | Source: Pexels
By the time my youngest started daycare, I was ready for the next step. I joined a gym and signed up for a personal trainer. The first session was brutal. I felt out of place among the sleek, fit women lifting weights with ease. But my trainer, a kind woman named Emma, encouraged me.
“Everyone starts somewhere,” she said. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”
A fitness class | Source: Pexels
Six months in, my transformation was undeniable. The scale showed I’d lost 30 pounds, but the real victory was how I felt. I could chase my kids around without gasping for air. My arms, once soft and weak, were now strong and toned.
One afternoon, while shopping for new clothes, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. For the first time in years, I smiled at my reflection. “You did this,” I whispered. “You’re incredible.”
A woman smiling at her reflection | Source: Pexels
Strangers began complimenting me. A barista at my favorite café said, “You have such a glow about you!” My confidence soared.
That’s when I decided to take it further. I enrolled in a fitness trainer certification course. It was tough juggling classes, workouts, and motherhood, but I was determined. I wanted to help other women feel as empowered as I did.
A woman working out | Source: Pexels
The day I passed my final exam, I celebrated with my kids. “Mom’s a trainer now!” I announced, pulling them into a hug.
“You’re the strongest mom ever,” my oldest said, beaming up at me.
“No,” I said, smiling. “I’m just the happiest.”
A woman hugging her son | Source: Pexels
As I hung my certificate on the wall, I thought back to where it all began. The scale Greg had given me still sat in the bathroom, but it no longer held power over me. It was just a tool, not a measure of my worth.
My journey wasn’t over, but I had become stronger.
A laughing woman | Source: Pexels
Greg didn’t notice me at first. For months, he came home late, barely glancing in my direction as he settled into his usual spot on the couch. But then, after I lost nearly 40 pounds and started wearing clothes that hugged my toned figure, something shifted.
One evening, as I served dinner, he looked up from his phone. “You’re really looking great these days, babe,” he said, a sly grin spreading across his face.
A man working in his living room | Source: Pexels
“Thanks,” I replied curtly, not bothering to meet his eyes.
Over the next few weeks, his compliments came frequently. “I always knew you had it in you,” he said one morning, watching me prepare a smoothie. “Guess my little push worked, huh?”
I froze, the blender’s hum momentarily drowning out his words. A “push”? That gift—his thoughtless, humiliating scale—wasn’t a push. It was a shove into pain and shame. I kept my face neutral and sipped my drink, but inside, I simmered.
A woman with a blender | Source: Pexels
Soon, Greg began inviting me out to dinner. “Let’s reconnect,” he suggested. He bragged about my transformation to his friends, saying, “She couldn’t have done it without me.” His words turned my stomach.
I realized his sudden attention was about control. He saw me as his accomplishment, his trophy. But I wasn’t anyone’s trophy. Not anymore.
An angry woman in a green sweater | Source: Pexels
As Greg’s birthday approached, I knew exactly what I would give him. I bought a box the same size as the one he had handed me a year ago. I even used the same glittery wrapping paper.
His birthday party was a small gathering at home, just a few friends and relatives. I set the wrapped box on the table and smiled sweetly. “Here’s your gift, Greg. I hope you like it.”
A man receiving a gift box | Source: Pexels
His face lit up as he tore into the wrapping paper. When he lifted the lid and saw the crisp stack of divorce papers, his smile vanished.
“What…what is this?” he stammered, his hands trembling.
“Figures, babe,” I said calmly. “No more ‘married excuses.’ I filed for divorce.”
The room fell silent. Greg’s face turned pale, and then bright red. He stood, knocking his chair back. “You’re joking, right? This is a joke!”
A shocked man in a red polo | Source: Pexels
“No joke,” I replied, standing tall. “You made me feel small, Greg. You didn’t believe in me, but I believed in myself. And now, I’m done.”
He dropped to his knees, his voice pleading. “Please, don’t do this! I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was all a misunderstanding. You’re amazing now—all thanks to me!”
I shook my head, my voice steady. “No, Greg. It’s thanks to me. I’m stronger than you ever gave me credit for.”
An angry woman with her hands crossed | Source: Freepik
I grabbed my gym bag, my heart lighter than it had been in years. I walked past the stunned faces of the guests, out the door, and into the crisp evening air.
That week, I moved into my new apartment, filled with light and warmth.
For the first time in years, I felt free. And that was the greatest gift of all.
A smiling woman in an orchard | Source: Pexels
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