The Replacement

I'm trying to write an email to my potential replacement, and I'm having a bit of writer's block!  Not only am I unsure of how to break down my job (because it's been so much more to me than a job), but I simply don't want to face the reality of the fact that I'm actually leaving. 

 This job has been such a huge part of my life for so long, I'm having a bit of trouble handing off the reins to someone else.  Jack and Molly feel like my own children, so in deciding to move, I'm actually choosing to leave them behind.  While they have been told that we're leaving, I don't think they truly understand, or will understand until it's happened.

 Knowing what a major role I've had in their lives, only makes me more nervous to leave - I'm the third parent, I spend more time with them than anyone, I'm the constant.  I just want to be able to trust that "the replacement" will love them and appreciate them the way I do.  Which, I realize, is somewhat unlikely.  I'm guessing that anyone who comes into this job will look at it as just that, a job.  A busy week, a paycheck, a place to live, and nothing more.  Granted, I'd probably still be nervous is Mary Poppins herself floated in here with that magic umbrella, but it doesn't take away from the fact that I feel a certain level of responsibility for what happens to these kids, even after I leave.

I recognize the fact that I'm the exception, rather than the rule.  The average shelf life of a nanny is 1.5 years.  I'll be just over 4 years by the time I leave - that's crazy!  How do you not become attached in that time?  Now, I just have to wrap my head around the fact that there will be an inevitable revolving door of childcare providers over the next several years.  No constancy, no long-term commitment, no me.

I suppose the good news is that I'm not dropping off the face of the earth.  At least I don't have to worry about being forgotten, though I expect that many of the things that I have the kids "trained" to do will soon be (taking dishes to the sink, asking to be excused from a meal, putting clothes in the hamper, etc.).  There are so many things that only I did with the kids - going out for ice cream, bowling, movies at the theater - it's sad to think that they might not do those things once I'm gone.

I know that this is an imperfect situation - I should embrace the upcoming changes with enthusiasm, a sense of adventure, and as many munchkin hugs as I can squeeze in before my big exit!