I took a friend for a tram ride to St Kilda Beach a few weeks ago. We didn’t take the usual #16. Instead, we took the #112. This tram goes past a dreamy bayside suburb where I used to work. I worked for this family for three and a half years and two and a half of those years were spent in this suburb.
I was chatting happily to my friend on the tram when it paused at the stop where I used to get off. I noticed that an old lady was trying to get on and kept on talking. To my bad luck, the lady was the nosy neighbour of the family that I worked for. The tram was pretty empty and as she walked to a seat near us, she gave the two of us a long hard stare. I thought that she didn’t recognise me because it has been quite a few years since I have seen her. Unfortunately she did! After sitting down, she turned around to stare at me again and made a face like the way she used to whenever she saw me with the kids. She didn’t say a thing, but I didn’t expect a conversation because to people like her, I am just a lowly nanny. I thank God that she didn’t start ranting at me like the way she used to.
My friend is not a local. She was visiting Melbourne and was very curious to know why we were getting the stares. I explained everything to her after getting off the tram.
So, who is this lady? Why was she so ‘unhappy’ to see me? This old lady lives in a nicely refurbished house across from the family that I used to work for way back in the last century. (1990s) She really wasn’t that old, as I think that when the family first moved into this dreamy suburb, she was probably only in her early to mid 60’s. The funny thing is that I actually recognised her the first time when I saw her sweeping the front of her house. I even told the kids’ mum that this neighbour used to work at Flinders St Station. The kids’ mum was surprised that I already knew this fact. As a teenager I used to use the trains and at times needed directions. This old lady used to work in a booth offering information and maps. She was not even friendly then.
A couple of months after I started working in this suburb, I noticed a pattern. Every time I took Mathilde out for a walk to the beach or the playgrounds, she would be there. At the time, I had only Mathilde to look after as the other two children weren’t born yet. One may think that I was being paranoid. Mathilde’s front yard is walled in. I would take her to the front yard to play while I got the pram ready. She would stand near her little gate, staring at us as we walked past. One may urge me to give the lady a fair go because she probably would have liked to befriend me. Nah! Sorry, No! She never used to open her mouth at first, just plenty of stares. I have met many friendly older people who live close to the people that I have worked for. They either give me eye contact when they speak to me or they would just simply keep to themselves.
Just before Amelia was born, this neighbour took to writing on a note pad every time she saw me. It was beginning to make me feel extremely uncomfortable. I spoke to the mum and she said that I was taking things too seriously. A few weeks after Amelia was born, the old lady began to talk at me. Yes! Talk at me. She would order me not to drop the baby even though the baby was safely sleeping in the pram. She would threaten to tell the mum that the baby had been crying and she would enquire harshly if I had any children of my own, to be looking after other people’s kids. These questions were not meant to be answered. She would just walk away after mouthing them. I kept on working and chose to ignore her.
Up until the birth of Elliot, I was let into the house each day by the mum or the dad. I had the use of the house keys during the day but I was adamant that I did not want to be given keys to take home. Readers who are wary of nannies may agree that one should never trust a nanny to have her own key to the property. Mind you, I have worked for people who gladly have a new set of keys cut just for me. I used to decline them then and still decline them now. Except for when Elliot was born. His mum decided that I must take the key to let myself in. She didn’t like me to wait outside the wall as there is no shelter from the rain or sun. She wanted me to let myself in on some mornings when she had already gone out (e.g. to the doctors) and was not home in time to let me in. I gave in because she was pretty cranky after Elliot’s birth.
This key thing was a bad idea. One morning, I received a phone call from the mum telling me that she would be late and I should let myself in with the key. Reluctantly, I did as I was told. Within a minute after gaining entry into the house, the door bell rang and I went outside to have a look. I thought the mum must have parked her 4WD outside and didn’t bother to drive into the driveway (because the gate was faulty at times) and I was required to help her carry either Amelia or Elliot. I peeped through the gap along the side of the side door and to my horror, I saw the old lady from across the road standing on the other side of the door. I opened the door and before I greeted her, she enquired angrily, “What do you think you are doing? How dare you let yourself in? I am going to call the police.” Her left hand was clutching what looked like a cordless home phone (not a mobile phone, unless it was a mighty chunky one). Her husband was standing in front of their gate yelling at her to ask me to explain myself before calling the police. The kerfuffle alerted the attention of a few other neighbours on the street. I was standing there speechless. I didn’t feel any anger until later. The mum and her two tots (Mathilde was at the Kindergarten) came home just in time. She saw me standing in front of the opened side door and people in front of the house. She didn’t look happy. She asked me what the matter was and before I could answer the old lady began to tell the mum of how she saw me break into the house with a key. The mum was also told that she should not have ever trusted someone like me to look after her kids. The mum mumbled and asked, “Do you mind to not talk about her right now? She is standing right over there.” The old lady gave me a frosty look. The mum greeted the other neighbours as they began to go back to their own business. The tots began to cry. I was requested to unbuckle Amelia to take her into the house. On my way in, I overheard the mum telling the old lady that I was given my own key but I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.
I became very angry on the way home that night. I was angry at myself for taking the offer of the key. I was angry because I was accused of breaking in. I began to seriously doubt the family for the first time. Was this a nosy neighbour? Did the family request for her help to spy on me? Was the mum suggesting a chat later when she asked the old lady, “Do you mind to not talk about her right now?” The mum went about the rest of the day without really addressing the incident. At the end of the day, she told me not to take the lady seriously. She did make a comment one day on the importance of having good neighbours for the security of the whole neighbourhood. So, were they all worried about my presence?
In the months after the third child was born, my relationship with the children’s mother crumbled. It was a difficult time to work because I was getting pressure inside as well as outside the house. I will describe what happened in the home in another post later. It took me a while to come to the realisation that I needed a break. I gave them a month’s notice and left soon after they found a nanny. The family offered to re-hire me but I declined each time. In the two years after I left, they called every time when they were in between nannies. She kept telling me that the kids missed me. I enjoy looking after Mathilde and Amelia but sadly, I didn’t get to spend much time with Elliot. He was still a young baby when I left.
Saturday, 9 June 2007
Alexandra loves eating sticks but not lamb
This is not exactly a horrible story. It is actually quite funny. When I first started working for this family in Toorak, the eldest was one year old at the time. By the time I left, there were three girls, with another one on the way. The parents were hoping for a boy.
This story is about beautiful Alexandra. She was by then five years old. That year, Alexandra, who did two years of a 3 year old kindergarten programme, was finally allowed to advance to the four year old kinder programme. She is not delayed or disabled but is just a little more active than other kids. She is one of those children that I refer to as ‘Tricky Kids’. Alexandra can be sweet and kind one minute, and wreak havoc the next.
One day, the kindergarten organized to visit a children’s farm and it was there that she saw her first real life lamb. She told me excitedly how she had cuddled a lamb and a hen. She had a good outing and didn’t get into any trouble at all. I remembered how I had to virtually ‘disinfect’ her once she got home. Her father was absolutely against the idea of her going to such a ‘dirty’ place and called me twice on that day to make sure that she stayed clean.
Before dinner was served, Alexandra played well with her two little sisters. I thought to myself that this outing was good because if she had been all ‘cooped up’ at the kindergarten all day, she would have been horrible to the two little ones. I enjoyed the peace, keeping an eye on them while I quickly steamed vegetables and grilled lamb chops for dinner. Just before I announced that dinner was ready, Alexandra popped her head in the kitchen to ask what’s for dinner. I told her that it was her favourite. She smiled happily and asked, “What is it? What is it?” So, I told her that it was lamb chops and steamed vegetables. She walked away while I continued to set the table and get the highchair ready.
Next, I heard all three girls crying. The two younger girls were huddling together in one corner crying while staring at Alexandra, who was also crying on the couch. I enquired about what was wrong, and she began to call me names and announced that she was not having dinner. This went on for at least 15 minutes. I am sure that the younger girls didn’t even know why they were crying. Eventually, Millie walked over to her dinner and I carried Olivia to the highchair. As the two girls began to eat, I turned the attention to Alexandra. She just kept saying that she was not eating. While she has been known to be a little cheeky at times, Alexandra had hardly ever caused trouble during meal times. Not knowing that I was adding fuel to fire, I kept asking her to join us for some yummy lamb chops and broccoli (there were other vegetables but broccoli was a favourite).
Alexandra didn’t eat dinner that evening. The girls gathered in the living room to wait for their mum’s arrival. I was reminded by Alexandra all that time that I was in big trouble. When they heard their mum’s car on the driveway, the two younger girls started to walk excitedly towards the front door but Alexandra shoved them and put on a dramatic show, crying loudly. Olivia fell over and started to cry. Seeing that the others were crying, Millie began to sob too. Their mum arrived to see all three girls in tears. As usual, Alexandra was addressed first and then Olivia was given a cuddle. Millie? Who is Millie? LOL. She was always addressed last.
Mum was dragged to the kitchen to scrutinize the dinner I made. Pointing to the lamb chops, Alexandra asked mum to name it. Mum said, “Lamb chops, dear.” Alexandra shouted, “No! That is not a lamb. I don’t eat lamb.” Mum tried to change the topic of conversation because she would like me to be out of the house. She was tired after a day of ‘running around’ and would like to go about putting the girls to bed before their dad’s arrival. She said she will try to give Alexandra some dinner and I left.
Next day, the girls’ dad was still at home when I turned up. He is a ‘busy man’ who spends little time with the girls. I used to talk to him on the phone to give him ‘updates’. In front of the girls, I was told in a stern voice that I served ‘sticks’ for dinner last night, not lamb chops. As he turned around, he gave me a wink. Alexandra then said to me, “See, I told you those were sticks, not lamb chops.” I stood there wondering what the big deal was. Alexandra knew that those were lamb chops. She loved eating them. As I went about getting the two younger girls ready for the day, I thought that she must have come to full realisation during the excursion that lamb chops actually came from real lambs. Her parents chose to play along with her rather than to explain that people eat food from both plants and animals.
For peace, I was requested to play along as well. For a couple of months after the incident Alexandra would wave her lamb chop at me every week when that was on the menu, reminding me that I had made a mistake when I called it a lamb chop.
It didn’t end there. By the time I left the household for the job that I now have, Alexandra had managed to change the names of quite a few foods. Couscous = yellow rice. Rice = pebbles. Chicken = sticks (also). Pork remains to be pork and beef remains beef. I forced myself not to explain that pork is actually a meat product from a pig just so everyone could have peace. Her kindergarten teacher asked me if I served sticks and pebbles for dinner once. The funny thing is that the teacher seemed rather serious at the time. Sadly, the younger girls picked up the new vocabulary and used it in their conversation. The parents used to fear a great deal that Alexandra may be bullied at the ‘big school’ (primary school) the following year but with a vocabulary like this, she could well be singled out.
Is it really so painful for a child to learn that the meat products they eat are from animals? Is it absolutely necessary to play along with them rather than to tell them the truth?
This story is about beautiful Alexandra. She was by then five years old. That year, Alexandra, who did two years of a 3 year old kindergarten programme, was finally allowed to advance to the four year old kinder programme. She is not delayed or disabled but is just a little more active than other kids. She is one of those children that I refer to as ‘Tricky Kids’. Alexandra can be sweet and kind one minute, and wreak havoc the next.
One day, the kindergarten organized to visit a children’s farm and it was there that she saw her first real life lamb. She told me excitedly how she had cuddled a lamb and a hen. She had a good outing and didn’t get into any trouble at all. I remembered how I had to virtually ‘disinfect’ her once she got home. Her father was absolutely against the idea of her going to such a ‘dirty’ place and called me twice on that day to make sure that she stayed clean.
Before dinner was served, Alexandra played well with her two little sisters. I thought to myself that this outing was good because if she had been all ‘cooped up’ at the kindergarten all day, she would have been horrible to the two little ones. I enjoyed the peace, keeping an eye on them while I quickly steamed vegetables and grilled lamb chops for dinner. Just before I announced that dinner was ready, Alexandra popped her head in the kitchen to ask what’s for dinner. I told her that it was her favourite. She smiled happily and asked, “What is it? What is it?” So, I told her that it was lamb chops and steamed vegetables. She walked away while I continued to set the table and get the highchair ready.
Next, I heard all three girls crying. The two younger girls were huddling together in one corner crying while staring at Alexandra, who was also crying on the couch. I enquired about what was wrong, and she began to call me names and announced that she was not having dinner. This went on for at least 15 minutes. I am sure that the younger girls didn’t even know why they were crying. Eventually, Millie walked over to her dinner and I carried Olivia to the highchair. As the two girls began to eat, I turned the attention to Alexandra. She just kept saying that she was not eating. While she has been known to be a little cheeky at times, Alexandra had hardly ever caused trouble during meal times. Not knowing that I was adding fuel to fire, I kept asking her to join us for some yummy lamb chops and broccoli (there were other vegetables but broccoli was a favourite).
Alexandra didn’t eat dinner that evening. The girls gathered in the living room to wait for their mum’s arrival. I was reminded by Alexandra all that time that I was in big trouble. When they heard their mum’s car on the driveway, the two younger girls started to walk excitedly towards the front door but Alexandra shoved them and put on a dramatic show, crying loudly. Olivia fell over and started to cry. Seeing that the others were crying, Millie began to sob too. Their mum arrived to see all three girls in tears. As usual, Alexandra was addressed first and then Olivia was given a cuddle. Millie? Who is Millie? LOL. She was always addressed last.
Mum was dragged to the kitchen to scrutinize the dinner I made. Pointing to the lamb chops, Alexandra asked mum to name it. Mum said, “Lamb chops, dear.” Alexandra shouted, “No! That is not a lamb. I don’t eat lamb.” Mum tried to change the topic of conversation because she would like me to be out of the house. She was tired after a day of ‘running around’ and would like to go about putting the girls to bed before their dad’s arrival. She said she will try to give Alexandra some dinner and I left.
Next day, the girls’ dad was still at home when I turned up. He is a ‘busy man’ who spends little time with the girls. I used to talk to him on the phone to give him ‘updates’. In front of the girls, I was told in a stern voice that I served ‘sticks’ for dinner last night, not lamb chops. As he turned around, he gave me a wink. Alexandra then said to me, “See, I told you those were sticks, not lamb chops.” I stood there wondering what the big deal was. Alexandra knew that those were lamb chops. She loved eating them. As I went about getting the two younger girls ready for the day, I thought that she must have come to full realisation during the excursion that lamb chops actually came from real lambs. Her parents chose to play along with her rather than to explain that people eat food from both plants and animals.
For peace, I was requested to play along as well. For a couple of months after the incident Alexandra would wave her lamb chop at me every week when that was on the menu, reminding me that I had made a mistake when I called it a lamb chop.
It didn’t end there. By the time I left the household for the job that I now have, Alexandra had managed to change the names of quite a few foods. Couscous = yellow rice. Rice = pebbles. Chicken = sticks (also). Pork remains to be pork and beef remains beef. I forced myself not to explain that pork is actually a meat product from a pig just so everyone could have peace. Her kindergarten teacher asked me if I served sticks and pebbles for dinner once. The funny thing is that the teacher seemed rather serious at the time. Sadly, the younger girls picked up the new vocabulary and used it in their conversation. The parents used to fear a great deal that Alexandra may be bullied at the ‘big school’ (primary school) the following year but with a vocabulary like this, she could well be singled out.
Is it really so painful for a child to learn that the meat products they eat are from animals? Is it absolutely necessary to play along with them rather than to tell them the truth?
Horrible True Stories
Horrible True Stories is a section on this blog where I post about some of the nasty experiences that I have encountered in my work as a nanny. I will try not to judge the adults/parents. They probably make mistakes because they were ill-informed. Who doesn’t make mistakes? I certainly do! Sometimes, depending on the angle, the mistakes seem quite cruel. People may ask as to why I never step in to rectify a problem but when I do try what I can do is pretty limited. I will explain this more fully in another post soon.
The names of people in these stories have been changed to give everyone privacy.
The names of people in these stories have been changed to give everyone privacy.
Friday, 8 June 2007
Timothy Hay is available at Highpoint
It is extremely hard to find Timothy Hay in Melbourne, Victoria. I found them the first time at the Pets Paradise store at Melbourne Central. My guinea pig loves Timothy Hay but after that first time, I encountered great difficulty buying another pack. The shop gave me a few different stories as to why it is no longer stocked. They promised a couple of times that the hay will be in stock again and was told to come back but annoyingly, the hay was never there each time. I rang a few pet shops asking for it and most do not even know what I am talking about. Just when I was about to give up on finding any, I found them at the Pets Paradise store at Highpoint last year. The supply is not constant. There was a period of time when they didn’t have any. I was there just yesterday and they have some again.
I give my guinea pig a handful or two of Timothy hay every second day. It is very good for his digestion.
I give my guinea pig a handful or two of Timothy hay every second day. It is very good for his digestion.
Highpoint is a friendly place to shop
I don’t live anywhere near Highpoint but I do go up there at least 2-3 times a year. I love shopping there and I find the service friendlier than other shopping centres. I have friends who wouldn’t be seen dead at Highpoint simply because it is located in the ‘Western Suburbs’. As for people that I work for, I think most wouldn’t have a clue that it exists. LOL.
Highpoint has all the shops that I want to look into. I love it how the employees in many of the shops are happy to serve me. In comparison to other shopping centres, the employees in many shops are happy to serve me. And, I am not even comparing Highpoint to other top end shopping centres. If some people think that Highpoint is for the ‘working class’ (which I don’t), I have been to other shopping centres (deemed by some to be) servicing the ‘working class’ that have lousy service.
The truth is that regardless of where I shop, the variety of products available in Melbourne/Australia are pretty much the same. I went to Highpoint about a month ago and on the very day that I was there, iPods were on sale at the Target store there. I thought the discount was pretty good and bought one. Yes, even an old fashion nanny like me is getting an iPod. The ladies who served me were genuinely friendly. They made the shopping experience all the more enjoyable. I could have bought it from the Target store in Melbourne CBD or some other shops that sell this gadget but I am sure I wouldn’t have been given friendly service. The Target store in Melbourne CBD is one of the most unfriendly shop I ever step foot in.
I was there at Highpoint again today. I popped in on my way to my friend’s home. Yes, I do have a friend who lives in Kensington. Not everyone can afford to live in the CBD or some other eastern or bayside suburbs. The service at Pumpkin Patch was brilliant. I bought a gift for my friend’s newborn.
I think I will continue to shop at Highpoint for a long time. I won’t be there again for a while. This poor nanny has to save some money. Come November, I will definitely be there again for the annual Christmas shopping.
Highpoint has all the shops that I want to look into. I love it how the employees in many of the shops are happy to serve me. In comparison to other shopping centres, the employees in many shops are happy to serve me. And, I am not even comparing Highpoint to other top end shopping centres. If some people think that Highpoint is for the ‘working class’ (which I don’t), I have been to other shopping centres (deemed by some to be) servicing the ‘working class’ that have lousy service.
The truth is that regardless of where I shop, the variety of products available in Melbourne/Australia are pretty much the same. I went to Highpoint about a month ago and on the very day that I was there, iPods were on sale at the Target store there. I thought the discount was pretty good and bought one. Yes, even an old fashion nanny like me is getting an iPod. The ladies who served me were genuinely friendly. They made the shopping experience all the more enjoyable. I could have bought it from the Target store in Melbourne CBD or some other shops that sell this gadget but I am sure I wouldn’t have been given friendly service. The Target store in Melbourne CBD is one of the most unfriendly shop I ever step foot in.
I was there at Highpoint again today. I popped in on my way to my friend’s home. Yes, I do have a friend who lives in Kensington. Not everyone can afford to live in the CBD or some other eastern or bayside suburbs. The service at Pumpkin Patch was brilliant. I bought a gift for my friend’s newborn.
I think I will continue to shop at Highpoint for a long time. I won’t be there again for a while. This poor nanny has to save some money. Come November, I will definitely be there again for the annual Christmas shopping.
My Favourite Things
My Favourite Things is a section in this blog where I post about products, services and places that I like. I am not paid to do so. I do it to share information with everyone who reads this blog. Please be aware that any opinions I have of a product, service or place come from my own personal experiences.
About being paid to post, I am actually thinking about setting one of those things up. I have read blogs where people are paid to post on various ‘topics’ (which are actually ads). I think that will be a neat way for me to make some $$$. Perhaps I should find out more before diving into it. If I do sign up, I will make it obvious which posts are paid posts.
About being paid to post, I am actually thinking about setting one of those things up. I have read blogs where people are paid to post on various ‘topics’ (which are actually ads). I think that will be a neat way for me to make some $$$. Perhaps I should find out more before diving into it. If I do sign up, I will make it obvious which posts are paid posts.
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
Banana Split in Winter
I look after Stella on Wednesdays and Thursdays. When I turned up at her Kindergarten just after noon, her teacher told me that Stella would like to make me a Banana Split for lunch. I thought how wonderful that this child is thinking of me when she has just been spending a great morning with her peers and teachers.
Throughout the whole journey home, Stella was telling me the steps to making the banana split snack. This is what I taught her before Christmas and she has been having it and serving it to friends throughout Summer. I think she reminded me at least 3 times that she will be in charge of slicing up the banana. Stella is not very confident in splitting the banana into two, lengthwise. So, in her version of the Banana Split Ice-cream dessert, the banana is actually sliced. If the Ice-cream is not too hard, she is quite capable of serving up the whole thing by herself. She doen't know how to use an ice-cream scooper yet. So instead, she uses the standard dinner spoon. Of course it doesn't look professional like its from a proper ice-cream shop but she is only 4 years and 2 months old.
The funny thing is that I wasn't offered my ice-cream when we got home. She was almost asleep. So I let her have the nap first. This turn out to be great because I got the chance to thaw the ice-cream a little before she went about making me a big banana split with chocolate topping.
Throughout the whole journey home, Stella was telling me the steps to making the banana split snack. This is what I taught her before Christmas and she has been having it and serving it to friends throughout Summer. I think she reminded me at least 3 times that she will be in charge of slicing up the banana. Stella is not very confident in splitting the banana into two, lengthwise. So, in her version of the Banana Split Ice-cream dessert, the banana is actually sliced. If the Ice-cream is not too hard, she is quite capable of serving up the whole thing by herself. She doen't know how to use an ice-cream scooper yet. So instead, she uses the standard dinner spoon. Of course it doesn't look professional like its from a proper ice-cream shop but she is only 4 years and 2 months old.
The funny thing is that I wasn't offered my ice-cream when we got home. She was almost asleep. So I let her have the nap first. This turn out to be great because I got the chance to thaw the ice-cream a little before she went about making me a big banana split with chocolate topping.
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