Buckle up for a long, bumpy ride; this past week has been quite an eventful and emotional one, to say the least!
The weekend before last, which happened to be my last free weekend, Margaret once again took me under her wing and made sure I had some memories of France that didn’t bring a sick feeling to the pit of my stomach.
Saturday morning, Mom, in her never ending attempts to put me in my place, slept in as I got up early to take Philippine to tutoring. I dropped her off, and went for a run, accidentally discovering a shortcut to the gym via a road I have always seen and wondered, flabbergasted, where the heck it came from and how the heck I could take it. Returning to the car and taking my newfound way, I worked out at the gym, and then headed to the mall; the rest of my allowance was burning a hole in my pocket. Desperately uninspired, I failed to spend a remaining 80 euros, which will now go toward Chinese visa purchases. So, not a total waste of a day.
I then headed to Margaret’s house. I met one of her daughters, an extremely friendly Parisian. She was about 30, and had a great sense of humor. I realized halfway through a long conversation that I had reached that point in my French: fluency. I understood everything she said (very rapidly spoken) and responded back with a good vocabulary, accent, and grammar. I couldn’t believe it! I speak French! Et Voila!
After an easy croc monsieur meal, we piled into the car and drove to downtown Paris. We saw the city at night, which was more romantic, beautiful, and crowded that I ever imagined. The Tour Eiffel is stunning with its lightshow, the Place de San Michael glorious with its enormous fountain illuminating the grand statue of the Saint. The Champs Elysees is alive and crawling with visitors, all of the stores staying open until midnight. Unfortunately, circling the Place des Etoiles (the huge traffic circle wrapping the Arc de Triomphe) the car began to smoke. We pulled over to the side and exited.
Now, Margaret always drives. Her husband, Pierre is a little quirky, likes to drink, and has bad vision (but neglects to wear glasses). He seemed completely clueless on what to do as Margaret began to telephone the insurance. I noted that we should probably open the hood. He shook his head in disagreement. A friendly motorist advised from his car that we should probably open the hood, and Pierre vigorously agreed. He approached the car, and began to promptly yank on the opposite side of the hood, the side bordering the windshield. Completely bewildered, I informed him that, in fact, the hood opens from this direction. After fumbling for a few seconds with the front grill, I took matters into my own hands and opened the hood. He watched, amazed, as I propped it open; I watched, amazed, as a 60-something man examined a car engine, and the black oil marks on his hand, for what seemed to be the first time.
Monday, Antoine informed me that I would be going to the campagne (the grandparents’ mansion in Sologne) with the kids that week. We parted Tuesday morning when a chauffuer appeared at the front door. We spent the next few days playing and eating well and in good company. It was quite enjoyable, though exhausting. Thursday night, the parents arrived, and that’s when everything changed.
Now, this is my theory as to why the Mom has completely abandoned all civilities with me. When I wrote my letter of resignation to the American au pair agency, I outlined all of the things that were wrong with my situation and the family. I noted that the parents did not treat me like an equal, but left their breakfast dished and pots and pans from the night before for me to clean. I described how Mom never said thank you, but found something to criticize no matter how hard I worked. I detailed how the parents spend less than an hour with their kids every day, normally yelling at them for talking or not wearing slippers. I explained how the kids battled incessantly, hitting each other, swearing, and disregarding my every word. I called the situation “dysfunctional,” and said that I was incredibly unhappy. Not a single lie in the letter, nor a single exaggeration. In fact, I thought it was very filtered, saying only what was necessary to justify my cause.
Now, my relationship with the kids has improved immensely; we are very attached. They regard me very highly now and listen to what I say, telling me how much they love me frequently throughout the day. I truly enjoy playing and laughing with them. I almost started crying today knowing I was leaving them with these parents, who don’t want to play with them, spend time with them, or really know them at all. It is such a sad childhood for these three truly special children.
Anyway, the American agency sent the letter to the French agency, who, in an act that completely disregarded all rules of confidentiality and proper conflict resolution, forwarded the letter straight to Mom. We ended up resolving everything, but I thought throughout the vacation that it had been to easy; the letter had stated some very strong things about the family.
Returning from the vacation, I believe that she had the letter translated. It was then that she began to hate me for saying those things. Although not 100% certain, I strongly believe this is the cause of the dissipation of our relations and the beginning of the Age of Mind Games and Full-Throttle Bitch Mode.
Back to the weekend, everything was wonderful before the parents arrived. Friday, after returning from a long morning of playing with the kids, everyone (the grandparents, aunts, and uncles) stopped talking as I entered the room. Seeing Mom in the center, I knew what had happened. She had told them about the letter, twisting their vision of me in her favor. The cold stares I received were a just indication of what the weekend would bring.
No one talked to me for the next few days. I received cold looks, critiques on the work I had done (improperly wiped the table, for example, when I really had no obligation at all to clean up after the parents anyway), and tons of extra work from Mom. I had a stomach virus for 2 days, which did not allow me to eat anything, but I was not relieved of any duties, offered any medicine, nor condolences. Upon departure Sunday morning, everyone fawned over the kids beside and behind me. They reached over me through the window, telling the kids how much they would be missed, while glaring at, or ignoring all together, the au pair, parting permanently in a week. When we finally left, I sucked in the tears pooling in my eyelashes in with all of my strength. Although I find humor in many situations, and am able to combat most everything the Mom bring on, it doesn’t change the fact that this has been the most mentally taxing experience of my life.
Arriving home on Sunday, I thought that I might get the day off, as I had not had one off since last Sunday, However, since I was technically not working a full week this week (I leave on Saturday!!!!!), Mom decided to put me to work. After complaining about how dirty the kitchen was as though it were my fault (despite the fact that I hadn’t been there for 5 days, it was I who had cooked meals and not washed the pots, nor loaded the dishwasher, nor taken out the garbage, nor cleaned up my breakfast dishes, which, by the way, were still on the table, stinking of rotting milk, when we arrived), she set me to work. While she and Dad sat around, I was forced to clean (with the kids… but honestly, do kids clean?) their rooms, which looked as if they had been recently struck by a tornado. I organized the library, which had apparently fallen victim as well to said storm, and was forced to vacuum all the floors with the vacuum that doesn’t work. I was then yelled at for a white dot on the floor, which I wasn’t sure was mine… and she had the nerve to shake her finger and tell me to clean up after myself!
I finally got the chance to sit around 9 pm. Oh la la.
Today, I made sure everything was perfect when she arrived. She came in, and her kids surprised her in costume (we had just finished playing). Not listening to their stories of the day, but yelling for them to calm down instead, she examined the kitchen. I watched eagerly to discover what I could have done wrong. Countertops spotless. Cupboards arranged. Sink and dishwasher empty. The kids and I sat down to eat… and then it happened.
She stormed up the steps and demanded to know why I had not turned on the alarm between 5:20 and 5:40 when I went to pick up the kids. I tried to hide a smirk, for she had printed out the hours that the alarm had been set today, in an act of desperation to find something that I didn’t do right. I stated that I thought that leaving the house for 5 minutes made it voluntary (the door is locked, and the property surrounded by a huge wall and gate). She screamed at me in front of her kids about not punching the code. I returned her yells with quiet raised eyebrows and relaxed mouth. I looked at Antoine mid- rant; the incredulous look on his face at his mother’s fanatics had struck a nerve. It took all I had not to laugh at his expression.
And so ends Day 5. You may now un-buckle and descended from the coaster car.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
The Return of the Mad Scientist; Mona Lisa and Chinese Food Have Never Been Better
In lieu of my remaining 2-week sentence here, as well as the rapidly decreasing civility regarding the mom’s treatment of me, I celebrated yesterday. I took a train to the Louvre, and, after searching for a half an hour for the doors, I had a stroke of genius (“The PYRAMIDS! THAT'S the key!”), and went to feed that inspiration with some uber-famous art.
I saw Mona Lisa from afar, among a huge crowd gathered around the roped off area. I saw Venus de Milo, and sculptures by Michelangelo. I saw Egyptian art, and tons of European painters. It was exhausting, but very nice. The Louvre is absolutely enormous, and in two hours I had barely covered a sixth of it. I then commenced to shop. Les Halles is a famous underground shopping area, and had a lot of great stores. I left with a giddy sort of feeling. I just love shopping.
The past week, the only thing that has kept me sane was the invigorating idea that my departure was visible in the distance. I am able to greet horrendous fights and frequent blackmailing by the children with indifference. I enjoy my solidarity by beginning to pack, however slightly. Most of all, I simply adore observing Mom, and watching eagerly to see what her next move against me will be. This past week was a series of mind games and attempts to mentally push me into the dirt; I once again put on my lab coat and ran a few tests to collect data, with a few laughs mixed in.
Wednesday, Antoine informed me that I was taking the kids on a picnic. Nowadays, I receive all instruction indirectly from the children, with whom the mother still talks. I was also informed that cousins would be joining us, with their fille au pair, Daria. Daria and I get a long very well. She is a nice, Polish girl with many of my same interests. Delighted at the news I would be seeing her that afternoon, my spirits lifted at once.
At the park of Langy, the weather was gorgeous. I watched the kids play for hours, with a few moments in between to talk to Daria. She was watching Mateur, 2, and thus was forced to wander aimlessly around the park following his incessant footsteps.
Now, I knew that since the aunt and uncle were in town, the parents were going to go out to dinner. My current count is 3 dinners out and 1 movie sans invitation. So, knowing that they had to invite me to this one (it was too obvious to the other family not to invite me), my day got even better than it had already been.
Once everyone had arrived at home, Mom turned to me and demanded, “Are you coming or going somewhere?” (in French of course). I looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Hm,” I said, pretending to be at a crossroads. “I think I’ll come,” as if I could honestly turn down Chinese food.
Walking to the car, I groaned at the coming awkwardness of sitting next to her in the front seat. But, to my amusement, she ordered Antoine to sit next to her, and me in the back with the other kids. Now, Antoine was not allowed EVER to sit in the front seat. I was always next to her. Mentally, she was toying with me. A demotion to the back seat strictly indicates that I am, by no means, her equal or her friendly acquaintance. Recognizing the beginning of a long tournament of play, I grinned to myself and looked out the window.
I quickly planned my next move. Walking from the car to the restaurant, Philippine began to talk to me about something. I loving put my arm around her, and responded with enthusiasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom’s head flick to the side, and heard her curt voice call her daughter over. She the proceeded to chat about something, at the same time putting her arm around her in exact imitation of me.
Quickly, as time was of the essence, I targeted the next child in line, Antoine. I asked him, in friendly tones, what his favorite dish in the Chinese restaurant was. He had just begun to tell me all about this pasta dish that he loved when, right on schedule, Mom snapped that we would not be ordering that pasta tonight. She had already discarded Philippine from her grasp.
At the entrance of the restaurant, Arthur presented me with another stimulus. He gave me a big hug, and lingered in my embrace. “Arret, Arthur… Stop” came her voice. Honestly, it took everything I had not to laugh. What kind of game is she playing? And how dull does she think I am that I am oblivious to her blatant intentions?
Later, she refused to order ice cream for the kids, knowing she would have to offer me some. This is the first time in the history of summer that the kids have ever gone with out ice cream with their parents. In the car ride on the way home, I chose to sit in the back with the kids, though the front seat was vacant. The kids and I talked in low tones, and I laughed whole-heartedly at their silly selves. This chumminess was apparently prohibited; the command from the front seat told us to stop and be quiet.
All in all, all of the tests that I ran came out positive (depending on how you look at it). Mom wants nothing more than to make me feel unwanted and inferior, and wants the kinds to know who is the boss. However, one needs to keep in mind that, though you might drive the car, you are not necessarily in the front seat.
Unfortunately for her, I already called shotgun.
I saw Mona Lisa from afar, among a huge crowd gathered around the roped off area. I saw Venus de Milo, and sculptures by Michelangelo. I saw Egyptian art, and tons of European painters. It was exhausting, but very nice. The Louvre is absolutely enormous, and in two hours I had barely covered a sixth of it. I then commenced to shop. Les Halles is a famous underground shopping area, and had a lot of great stores. I left with a giddy sort of feeling. I just love shopping.
The past week, the only thing that has kept me sane was the invigorating idea that my departure was visible in the distance. I am able to greet horrendous fights and frequent blackmailing by the children with indifference. I enjoy my solidarity by beginning to pack, however slightly. Most of all, I simply adore observing Mom, and watching eagerly to see what her next move against me will be. This past week was a series of mind games and attempts to mentally push me into the dirt; I once again put on my lab coat and ran a few tests to collect data, with a few laughs mixed in.
Wednesday, Antoine informed me that I was taking the kids on a picnic. Nowadays, I receive all instruction indirectly from the children, with whom the mother still talks. I was also informed that cousins would be joining us, with their fille au pair, Daria. Daria and I get a long very well. She is a nice, Polish girl with many of my same interests. Delighted at the news I would be seeing her that afternoon, my spirits lifted at once.
At the park of Langy, the weather was gorgeous. I watched the kids play for hours, with a few moments in between to talk to Daria. She was watching Mateur, 2, and thus was forced to wander aimlessly around the park following his incessant footsteps.
Now, I knew that since the aunt and uncle were in town, the parents were going to go out to dinner. My current count is 3 dinners out and 1 movie sans invitation. So, knowing that they had to invite me to this one (it was too obvious to the other family not to invite me), my day got even better than it had already been.
Once everyone had arrived at home, Mom turned to me and demanded, “Are you coming or going somewhere?” (in French of course). I looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Hm,” I said, pretending to be at a crossroads. “I think I’ll come,” as if I could honestly turn down Chinese food.
Walking to the car, I groaned at the coming awkwardness of sitting next to her in the front seat. But, to my amusement, she ordered Antoine to sit next to her, and me in the back with the other kids. Now, Antoine was not allowed EVER to sit in the front seat. I was always next to her. Mentally, she was toying with me. A demotion to the back seat strictly indicates that I am, by no means, her equal or her friendly acquaintance. Recognizing the beginning of a long tournament of play, I grinned to myself and looked out the window.
I quickly planned my next move. Walking from the car to the restaurant, Philippine began to talk to me about something. I loving put my arm around her, and responded with enthusiasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom’s head flick to the side, and heard her curt voice call her daughter over. She the proceeded to chat about something, at the same time putting her arm around her in exact imitation of me.
Quickly, as time was of the essence, I targeted the next child in line, Antoine. I asked him, in friendly tones, what his favorite dish in the Chinese restaurant was. He had just begun to tell me all about this pasta dish that he loved when, right on schedule, Mom snapped that we would not be ordering that pasta tonight. She had already discarded Philippine from her grasp.
At the entrance of the restaurant, Arthur presented me with another stimulus. He gave me a big hug, and lingered in my embrace. “Arret, Arthur… Stop” came her voice. Honestly, it took everything I had not to laugh. What kind of game is she playing? And how dull does she think I am that I am oblivious to her blatant intentions?
Later, she refused to order ice cream for the kids, knowing she would have to offer me some. This is the first time in the history of summer that the kids have ever gone with out ice cream with their parents. In the car ride on the way home, I chose to sit in the back with the kids, though the front seat was vacant. The kids and I talked in low tones, and I laughed whole-heartedly at their silly selves. This chumminess was apparently prohibited; the command from the front seat told us to stop and be quiet.
All in all, all of the tests that I ran came out positive (depending on how you look at it). Mom wants nothing more than to make me feel unwanted and inferior, and wants the kinds to know who is the boss. However, one needs to keep in mind that, though you might drive the car, you are not necessarily in the front seat.
Unfortunately for her, I already called shotgun.
Monday, August 4, 2008
And the "Best Weekend Ever" award goes to...
This weekend was, by far, the best weekend I have had yet in France.
Friday night, although all I wanted to do was sleep away the frustration that had built up all week, I forced myself out of the house to go to a BBQ held by Margaret. It was Switzerland’s (her home country) national holiday, and she had invited over a few friends. Gwen and Laure were there with their family, which made me feel very happy. We ate and talked until 1am. It was really nice!
Saturday, it rained. I was planning to go to Paris to see the Louvre, but I refuse to go when it’s raining. So instead, I hit the mall to do some shopping. I bought a really cute sweater, a couple shirts, 3 DVDs (The Prestige, Little Miss Sunshine, and Rocky I), a CD, and lunch. It was a lot of fun to let loose and spend some of that money I have earned. I also had a cause to celebrate; August 2nd marked my 3-week ticket to freedom.
That night, I ate dinner with Margaret, and then drove to meet Gwen and Laure. We arrived in Paris around 10:30, and were lucky enough to find a parking spot. It was my first night out in Paris. Although seemingly impossible, the city is more beautiful by night. We loitered by the Seine among crowds of people, young and old. The Eiffel tower was visible in the distance, and we caught the end of the terrific light show.
We then headed to a small bar, when we had a drink and talked. I got home to Margaret's house around 3:30am; she had invited me to spend the night there. I tucked in to a magnificent bed and slept until noon.
When I woke up, I headed down to say good morning. What a good morning it was! She had prepared Swiss brioche, which is a delicious type of bread. We ate some with homemade confiture, or jam. After this delicious meal, I chatted a little with her husband, and then we ate lunch. After the stew, we tasted several different cheeses, a sweet white wine, and completed the meal with yogurt as dessert. I returned home around 5pm.
Exhausted, I said hello of the kids and was curtly greeted my Geraldine. I don’t know why she was mad at me this time, but I’ve stopped caring. Then, after watching a film, Antoine informed me that the family was going out for a little, and would return around 10pm. Now, as this was right around dinnertime, I assumed they were going out to dinner, and didn’t invite me. After cleverly interrogating the kids this morning, I discovered that they went to see Wall-E, and went to a sushi restaurant as well. Whatever, I thought. I have stopped caring.
On another note, I receive my contract for teaching in China today! I’ll be starting the 15th of October, and will be finished by the end of February. I am very excited! Filled with renewed spirit, the banal tasks and psychotic children seemed less of a threat to my sanity than usual today.
Friday night, although all I wanted to do was sleep away the frustration that had built up all week, I forced myself out of the house to go to a BBQ held by Margaret. It was Switzerland’s (her home country) national holiday, and she had invited over a few friends. Gwen and Laure were there with their family, which made me feel very happy. We ate and talked until 1am. It was really nice!
Saturday, it rained. I was planning to go to Paris to see the Louvre, but I refuse to go when it’s raining. So instead, I hit the mall to do some shopping. I bought a really cute sweater, a couple shirts, 3 DVDs (The Prestige, Little Miss Sunshine, and Rocky I), a CD, and lunch. It was a lot of fun to let loose and spend some of that money I have earned. I also had a cause to celebrate; August 2nd marked my 3-week ticket to freedom.
That night, I ate dinner with Margaret, and then drove to meet Gwen and Laure. We arrived in Paris around 10:30, and were lucky enough to find a parking spot. It was my first night out in Paris. Although seemingly impossible, the city is more beautiful by night. We loitered by the Seine among crowds of people, young and old. The Eiffel tower was visible in the distance, and we caught the end of the terrific light show.
When I woke up, I headed down to say good morning. What a good morning it was! She had prepared Swiss brioche, which is a delicious type of bread. We ate some with homemade confiture, or jam. After this delicious meal, I chatted a little with her husband, and then we ate lunch. After the stew, we tasted several different cheeses, a sweet white wine, and completed the meal with yogurt as dessert. I returned home around 5pm.
Exhausted, I said hello of the kids and was curtly greeted my Geraldine. I don’t know why she was mad at me this time, but I’ve stopped caring. Then, after watching a film, Antoine informed me that the family was going out for a little, and would return around 10pm. Now, as this was right around dinnertime, I assumed they were going out to dinner, and didn’t invite me. After cleverly interrogating the kids this morning, I discovered that they went to see Wall-E, and went to a sushi restaurant as well. Whatever, I thought. I have stopped caring.
On another note, I receive my contract for teaching in China today! I’ll be starting the 15th of October, and will be finished by the end of February. I am very excited! Filled with renewed spirit, the banal tasks and psychotic children seemed less of a threat to my sanity than usual today.
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