No nannys in this childhood.

Against my better judgment, I watched "The Nanny Diaries" after my brother and "sister" retired for the night.

I thought it was so good!

And it made me really thankful to have the parents I did ... and do.

Our parents worked their asses off when we were kids in the horrid restaurant business. They pulled many 16-plus hour days - almost every day - whereas when I have to do one I piss and moan about it or act like I found a cure for feline AIDS or something. Plus. I don't come home to a kid who needs help with homework or a feeding.

The best thing I learned from this movie was that while Laura Linney's Park Ave princess ccouldn't see or be a mother to her kid because of her oodles of "obligations," my own mother - who had a hard job that has taken its toll on her health over the years - was there for absolutely everything for my brother and I. She worked so many Mother's Days and holidays but never once do I ever recall either of us saying "I wish Mom was here."

Because she was. Always.

An ode to my stuffed rabbit Freddy.

When I was 3, I did something I wasn't supposed to when we lived on the "city" side of Dallas, Pa. (we moved to the "country" side when I was 6).

I took off up our street - Powderhorn - on my tricycle. Knowing I could be spanked for it because Mommalah gave many a warning against ever leaving our yard, but the open road beckoned, so off I went, wearing only my terrycloth bathrobe - truly attire ripe for a pedophile, and sure enough, I wasn't to the edge of our lawn when a car turned down Powderhorn and eventually stopped right by me.

The car door opened and just as I was about to let loose the Banshee howl Mom taught, I recognized the woman as my mom's friend and coworker.

She handed me a tissue-wrapped package and said "Happy Birthday!" before getting back in the car and pulling it into our driveway.

Naturally, you know by now that I am obsessed with my birthday so I immediately opened the package and inside was a fabulous stuffed rabbit. He had long ears, even longer legs that were ensconced in his Velcro-ended hands, a felt nose and brown marble eyes. A tag on his hip had "Frederick" emblazoned on it.

He became known to everyone as "Freddy" and I've slept with him ever since.

He's been on every vacation I've ever been on, to such exotic locales as Long Beach Island, N.J.; Cape Cod; Ocean City, Md.; Tucson, Az., Orlando and St. Petersburg, Fla.; New Orleans; Beaumont, Tx.; Corona, Rancho Cucumonga and San Francisco, Ca., and Niagara Falls and Thousand Islands, Canada.

Being that I just turned 32, I've had my bedmate on the left side of my bed for 29 years now.
The felt nose and Velcro have long since worn off, the tag disintegrated long ago and those eyes are all scratched, but he's still beautiful to me.

Here is a tanka dedicated to him:

Freddy, sweet Freddy
we're bedmates 29 years.
Your nose is long gone,
your fuzz well-worn, your eyes scratched,
you are my childhood beauty.

Fin.