I’m writing in hopes to get closure. Maybe if I get this off my chest, I’ll feel better. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of them or something reminds me of them. I don’t want to think of them anymore. I want to forget all about them.
Last fall I left my management job to become a nanny to three kids. I thought being a nanny would be so fulfilling. I imagined taking them to museums, parks, zoos, out to lunch. I finally got an interview and I fell in love. I loved the parents, I loved the kids. They hired me a few days later. During my interview I made a point to ask if I would be allowed to take the kids on outings. The mom said yes after some trust was gained. Which I understood but in my mind I’m wondering why she would even hire me if she didn’t trust me.
My first week went great. I watched the twins while the oldest was at school.
Soon did I find out that this job was not what I signed up for. My days were full of screaming terror. These kids (almost 3 years old) cried at the drop of a toy. Cried if they couldn’t get their socks on. Cried if I cut their food the wrong way. And by cried, I mean SCREAMED. They fought constantly. Hit each other all the time. I know kids do things like this (I have 4 younger siblings) but it was out of control. When the oldest came home, I dreaded the 45 minutes I had to spend with him. He was the meanest kid I have ever met. He had the look of pure evil in his eyes. As soon as I turned my back, he would hit the twins, pull their hair. And the oldest, let’s call him “P” would scream and cry and throw temper tantrums over the most miniscule thing. One day he came home and was fine. 15 minutes later he’s throwing himself on the ground because he wasn’t allowed to have two popsicles at snack time at school. He was especially rude to me. Not listening when I discipline him, sticking his tongue out at me and my personal “favorite” laughing at me as I disciplined.
That was just the kids. The parent’s would leave at 7 am and not return until 4:30 pm. A lot of the time not until 5 or 5:30. Once it was even 7:30! We had discussed a 4:30 end time in my interview and I was fine with that. But that isn’t my complaint. My complaint is that when it was time for me to go home, the awkwardness never went away. I thought during my first few weeks the weirdness would just fade as time went on. It didn’t. If anything it got worse. There was something about them I just didn’t trust. I felt like they were into weird things. Super-natural things. Their demeanor and the way they were led me to think this way. I don’t want to give too much away but their choice of clothing and their kids names (which were totally weird) didn’t help their case.
I was never allowed to leave the house with the kids. Ever. Our only breath of fresh air came when we were allowed to play in the backyard. And like I said, it was fall so it was getting really cold. They never took the kids out either. The only time they left the house was to go to the doctor. My job quickly became very isolating and lonely. My brain had turned to applesauce. Talking to no one over the age of 7 all day really took its toll. I was depressed all the time, always tired. I DREADED getting up every day. I thought about getting into fender benders just to get out of working. I daydreamed of falling down the stairs with the laundry basket in hopes of breaking my leg.
The parents were so over protective it was nuts! They would wash their clothes every day. It didn’t matter if they were only wearing that shirt for a few hours and there was nothing on it. They wore different socks to bed and when they woke up, they went right into the laundry pile. The dish washer broke one day and one of the kids had diarrhea. They assumed it was from me not washing the dishes properly. I know how to wash dishes, I have never owned a dish washer in my life.
This family had already gone through 3 other nannies and I didn’t want to follow them. I didn’t want to let them down. I still liked them, given how weird and strange they were. But when I started crying because I had to go into work, that was when I’d had enough. I put in my two weeks and that was that. I have nightmares to this day that they have me locked in their house and won’t let me leave. I think about them just about every day and I want this to stop. This job was extremely scarring.
I feel a little better having told my story, whether people read it or not. My apologies that it’s jumbled and choppy. And I know it doesn’t sound as bad as it was. I will never be a nanny again.
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