First Few Days

29^th June 29, 2015

I suppose that for the time being, my need to type on the computer can only be satiated in an internet-free activity. I shall therefore endeavor to begin a blog, a blog describing the exciting events that begin to occur in my life as a nanny (which is what I am now, for the Talec family who reside weekdays in Bordeaux, and weekends in their penthouse in Arcachon, with the exception of the past couple of days till tomorrow).

I shall begin by describing my object of work, the children.

Jack is six years old. He has large blue eyes, a cute little nose and soft blonde curls. He is well groomed, put together, and a little insane. He doesn’t care about much, like any six year old, yet he is surprisingly bossy. He’s obviously easily influenced. He already knows an entire array of swear words, and likes to be encouraged as a ‘sex-God’ (he even has this little stripper dance, where he flips off his little shirt and engages in this weird dance where he points seductively at an imaginary crowd). He also loves religious stringencies-during his parents’ process of conversion, he’s the one who reminds everyone that they forgot to bless this food, or forgot to wash their hands that morning.

Jane is different. She’s less sociopathic, even though she is a year younger than her brother. Unsurprisingly, she craves the same loving as her brother, and is a hopeless romantic (romantic, not sex Goddess). Secretly, I’ve already made up my mind as to who my favorite is… She gets quietly frustrated when things don’t go as planned, unlike her older brother, who throws a tiny tantrum instead. She, like most little girls, is a sucker for desperate femininity-her favorite character in Scooby-Doo is Daphne, and her ‘pajama shoes’ are ‘Frozen’-themed pumps, with rhinestones and little rubber heels. She’s definitely easier than her brother, which I’m relieved about because her brother is off to camp for ten days mid-July.

Now the parents.                                                          

Clearly, money is not a problem with them. Aside from a full-time nanny and a fistful of houses around the area, they have an awful chiuahua (who is quiet, thank God) which they take to dog-care what seems like every day (as the children did not protest or ask questions when Mr. Jordan T took him out in his Louis Vuitton bag this morning) and Mrs. Julianne T paid 461 Euros for my ticket-not including suitcases (which I was strongly unimpressed about). They are both in the process of conversion. They’ve known each other for 15 years now, been married for 7, and have remained best friends since. She used to be a professional dancer, he’s just awkward (I’m sure he has a story, but he makes me feel slightly uncomfortable around him. I shall therefore proceed to ask him in the near future). It is clear who has the upper hand in the relationship. An example of her character as a crazy ballet mum: she gently told her 5 year old off for mismatching her sandals with her dress; “¿Sandalias rosas fucsia con un vestido blanco y azul? Estarás de broma, Salomé…” Also, the child owns more dresses, I think, than I’ve owned in a lifetime. She wears these adorable Chloé and Baby Dior outfits with matching shoes and bows to the beach. It makes me feel a tad self conscious (she asked me why I wore the same shoes two days in a row, to which I had to fight the urge to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at her…)

My day consisted of the following: wake up at 9, breakfast, take the kids to ride their bikes down-town, a bit of TV, lunch, more TV, drop them off at the kid’s club (that means 3 and a half hours to myself!), pick them up at 6, TV and drawing, dinner (which they loved, and I loved that they loved it), TV then bedtime, together with a story. They’re easy kids, in all. We had a bit of a mishap in the shower, where the kids and I went into a frenzy about the claustrophobic bathroom, as the hot water didn’t seem to work in their bathtub, but it all worked out in the end. I know I’ve gained their approval.

However, I am in complete awe of the responsibility Mrs. T has pretty much blindly placed on me. I didn’t bathe them in sunscreen before the kid’s club, nor get them caps (I remembered after, and ran back home to fetch the various missing objects). I gave them chocolate for mid-afternoon snack, which obviously melted all over the place. I showered them and cooked for them and put them to bed. I am shocked at my versatility, but also at their mother. I told my own mother and she told me she was testing the water: how well could I cope? I suppose she’s right. I’m the youngest Mary Poppins she’s had, and it’s a bit of a risk. I hope I’ll be able to cut back my days so I can go to the wedding-by working hard and consistently, I hope to muster up the courage to convince her.

À demain!