#nannylife

Brace yourselves. This is the story of how I made a slow descent into madness. 

I met the Maline* family the third day I arrived in France. I had already skyped the mother twice the week prior and had fallen in love with her vivacious spirit. Marie*, we will call her. She was warm and sunny. She had long auburn curls and an infectious smile. I could just tell she was the most popular mom in the neighborhood. She already had two babysitters, but she was looking for a live-in english tutor. She assured me that my  *sole* responsibility was to help them with their english homework and babysit them every now again. Weekends were completely mine and I received weekly pay on top of free housing, a phone, and money for transportation. Who would turn down a deal like that? 

The Warm Welcome

Three months ago, Marie picked up my mother and me from our hotel promptly at noon. Her energy was through the roof. She was excited to meet us and my energy quickly matched hers. Their home was something of Martha Stewart perfection. Every room was immaculate, carefully constructed to allude the perfect balance between elegance and modesty. 

Hugging the entire back of the house were 5 shuttered French doors, which on this first visit were completely open to allow in the sun’s natural light. In the backyard were two little boys, ages 6 and 9, bonding over soccer with their father. In the living room was the eldest daughter, age 12, intensely focused, practicing the drums for an upcoming recital. 

What I loved most about my surroundings were the decorative artifacts in every corner of the house. Congolese masks in the office, Russian dolls in the den, Japanese art above the oven. They were trying to make a statement, for sure. “Not only are we well traveled, but we fully embrace other cultures within our home!” Honestly I dug it.  It was a nice touch to an otherwise vanilla home. 

After having a 5 course meal complete with red wine AND Champagne, Marie asked me when I was planning to move home. HOME. Whether this was a result of broken english or not, I took this as a sign that she already saw me as one of the family. I looked over to my mother & had an Orphan Annie moment. 

I moved in a couple days later, believing fully that this was the best gift I could have received in my move.

I was wrong. 

The Red Flags 

The first couple weeks were great. I was adjusting well to my teaching job. The kids were well behaved (for the most part). Marie and I got into the habit of having late night talks after dinner before her husband came come (which was often super late). We would watch TV, laugh, discuss cultural differences & sometimes even share a glass of wine. It was a very relaxed environment. She even encouraged that I go out more.

“You’re young!”, she said. “Paris is a beautiful city. See it every chance you get. Make friends! Meet boys”.

(Looking back on it, these late night talks are what ultimately hurt us. At the end of the day, Marie was my employer. And sharing a glass of wine every night with your employer blurs quite a few lines of professionalism.) 

One day, Marie fired one of the babysitters and needed me to drive her kids to and from activities on Mondays and Thursdays. I would have been happy to do so…had the family had automatic vehicles. I had never driven a manual car in my life and I certainly didn’t want to put her kids in potential danger. Because I wanted so badly for this situation to work out, I decided to take driving lessons. I thought it would only take a couple classes…but it didn’t. STICK SHIFT IS HARD. I had to learn how to drive an automatic car, in french, in a country with completely different driving rules. And Those lessons were not only stressful but they were costly (about $90 per class), and the Malines didn’t help me with any of it. 

What’s worse is Marie came to the conclusion not to pay me the first couple of weeks until I had gotten my driving together. She somehow convinced me that this was okay. 

During a late night heart to heart she admitted that her last au pair quit after only two weeks. When I asked why, she said, “she told me my kids were horrible” and started to tear up. I hugged her and said “I can’t believe someone would say something like that!” But I should have known then. 

She was very particular about how I kept my room, which I thought was odd. She asked me to deep clean my room AND my bathroom every Saturday morning (sweep, vaccum, mop, dust, wash and iron my bedsheets etc). Sometimes I even came home to my things put in different places without my permission…

Toussaints Break finally came and Marie insisted I go on a trip somewhere. I decided to go to Barcelona & London with a friend. When I left, a smiling family of five was waving me a bon voyage. When I returned, a monster was at the front door. 

Where Everything Went Left

I got back on a Saturday evening from an amazing trip. I couldn’t wait to tell the kids of my adventures. When I rang the doorbell, Marie opened the door with contempt in her eyes. “I need to speak with you”, she spat. 

She led me into the kitchen and told. me. off. 

“Who do you think you are?!! This is not a hotel!! You can’t just come and go whenever you please!! The room wasn’t clean enough before you left!!! You told me you were coming back in the morning?? THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. THIS IS A FAMILY, WE HAVE STRUCTURE AND YOU MUST ABIDE BY OUR RULES”

Let me first explain myself. Yes, I did return earlier than I had anticipated. BUT I had informed her of this change THREE days prior on the phone, which in my opinion is ample time. As far as my room not being “clean enough”…I call BS, because I spent a good 2.5 hours making sure that room was spotless. 

But she wasn’t yelling at me for those reasons. I knew it. She knew it. I saw through her. She was mad I went on vacation instead of there to help with the kids. Thats it. Just passive aggressive BS. 

It was clear she had been planning this speech for days. I stood there awkwardly, confused and upset, trying not to tear up in front of this woman and her whole entire family (including her in-laws who were visiting for the weekend). I haven’t been yelled at like that by another adult since I was probably 12. And thats exactly how I felt in that moment - like a child. No longer was I another adult in that house. And no longer did Marie treat me as such. 

After that awkwardness, they all went out for a celebratory dinner with the grandparents. Since the in-laws were staying in my room, I was sent to sleep in the attic. I wish I was kidding. 

This Woman Crazy 

From that moment on, our relationship was strained. I tried to have several conversations to make amends because I wanted it all to work out. And I can tell she was visibly trying too. But that one conversation ruined everything. She continued to just give me more chores that were not discussed when I interviewed. I did their grocery shopping, their laundry, I cooked. I woke the kids up in the morning, helped them get dressed, did their homework. In short, I became the Help. And from that point on everything I did was wrong. EVERY night, she would come home and have something to say about something. Some times they were valid, most times they were straight up petty and contradictory. 

“ Why did you wake the boys at 7:18, they must be up at 7:15! I don’t like the way you load the dishwasher. The french doors should be closed before 6pm. You forgot to set the dessert spoons on the table.Lara’s english is still terrible, you must not be doing a good job. You forgot to mop behind the dresser.My children don’t eat meat at night. Why did the children not eat the chicken I prepared for dinner? Can you make a tuna tart for lunch? What do you mean you don’t know how…I thought you said you could cook? Did you lie about everything? Whats wrong with you? ”

Also, being an au-pair just all around sucks. You are not a glorified babysitter…you are their substitute mother. A typical day went like this:

• 6:30am wake up, get dressed. Open all the french doors for some reason this was always such a task. Make breakfast and set the table.
  
• 7:15 wake up the boys and help them get dressed. (When said kids are 6 and 9 years old this is easily the most exhausting part of your day.)
  
• 8:15take them to school 
  
• 9:30am - 3:00pm Go to my own school because I’m a teacher, remember?
  
• 4:30 pick the boys up from school
  
• 5:00 snack time
  
• 5:15 help them with homework
  
• 5:45 start the laundry/ play games with the kids
  
• 6:30 start cooking/ make sure the kids take their shower
  
• 7:15dinner
  
• 7:45 send them to bed, and read a bedtime story
  
• 8:15 finish laundry, fold clothes 
  
• 9:00 the time Marie would come home and have a long list of things she felt I did terribly and I would pretend to listen and/or care
  
• 9:30pm …..
  

I had to get out of there, ya’ll. I wasn’t sleeping well. I was resentful and mean. I was living with an emotional terrorist. I felt constantly uncomfortable and uneasy. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable where you lay your head at night. I wasn’t enjoying my abroad experience that way. On top of that, the kids were super rude and disrespectful. I got hit, spit on, and slapped too many times to count. But what do you expect from children who have had 8 nannies and barely see their parents during the week?

In late November, I told Marie that I was unhappy with the job and wanted to leave. She seemed just as enthusiastic at the proposition as I was. She begged me to stay until Winter Break however, because she couldn’t find a replacement. Being the overly nice person I am, I agreed. A couple days later she texted me, TEXTED me, to be out of the house by the end of the week. 

Thus began my mad, mad dash to find housing…which I will blog about at a later date. But just know that was the most stressful situation of my life and I didn’t actually find a place to live until one week after I had moved out of the Maline household and only one day before I left for the US for Christmas. 

Conclusion

I would never recommend au-pairing to anyone. I agree that I unfortunately got stuck with a bad family situation. But even so, au-pairing is exploitation. These families are taking in young girls typically ages 18-25 that don’t speak their language very well and are paying them terribly. If you’re 18-25 you should spend your time abroad…having fun! Not being someone’s play-mother. Like Marie ironically once told me, “You’re young! Paris is a beautiful city. See it every chance you get. Make friends! Meet boys”.

So I’m gonna do just that. 

Hey dudes! Hope your Tuesday has been great, mine has been pretty good. ✨I went and saw Broods last night at the Neptune Theater and they were amazing but I am an early to bed type of person so it was a little to late for me to be out on a Monday night! #grannyforlife I still somehow managed to drag my butt out of bed and run though! ‍♀️ I got in 3 slow miles, 28 minutes, 9:20 per mile. My goal was 8:00 a mile but I was so freaking tired so I took it easy on myself and was honestly just stoked I made it out there this morning! As for the rest of my day it involved 2 different park visits, picking flowers, chatting up the ducks, and riding bikes! Now I’m about to check out some used ski gear which I’m super excited about!!