I'm dressed casually, in jeans and a light shirt, hair in a ponytail. I lean into the stroller to push it up the hill. At the top, I stop, bend down to replace the pacifier in the baby's mouth, and adjust the makeshift sun shade I have fashioned from a blanket.

I look like a mom, right?

But I feel like a nanny.

Maybe that's because nannies are the only other adults with children that I see in my neighborhood during the day. They are mostly Latino and Filipino and African; they push double strollers and wear Baby Bjorns and hang at the playground with their little light-skinned, towheaded charges. Sometimes they smile and greet me and we talk about our babies, but more often they just nod hello and continue chatting on their cell phones in their native languages.