Yesterday I ventured into a hair salon. A young man approached me and said bonjour. I quickly replied, "parlez vous l'anglais?" A doubtful look came over his face and he said "a little". I showed him a picture and he shook his head and said he could do it. Maybe at the point that he said that he spoke only a little bit of English I should have been fearful and ran away--not willing to get my hair cut by a man that spoke only a little bit of English. I was feeling brave though & had made up my mind that I would have my hair cut. I knew if I ran now I would never do it. So, I laid my head back and let him wash my hair. Having your hair washed by someone else is really a relaxing thing. I have been wandering why I see so many hair salons here advertise just a wash and a brush and now I know...its a good way to unwind. Not only do they wash and pull at your hair, they massage your scalp and your neck. Back to the event at hand though. After having my wash done I was sent to another chair where I was offered a French magazine and a cup of coffee. These things I declined as I wanted to be fully aware of what was going on with my hair cut. The first little man disappeared and out came a much bigger man in his place. He had a slicked back pony tail, a black button up shirt, and was wearing prayer beads around his wrist.. He tried speaking French at me. I smiled back and said "english?" A look ran over his face that I have seen run over countless faces in the last two months--part sadness, part fear. We shared a few words of English as he looked at the picture I had brought and exclaimed, "new woman!" I nodded...I wanted to tell him that I had been growing my hair out for the last three years and that this was a big deal for me, I wanted him to console me and tell me I would look great with the new doo! All this was lost for a lack of communication though. I started to feel better though as most of the people in the shop gathered round and were smiling at me and talking very excitedly in French and I could pick out a few words that were positive. More and more of my hair began to appear on the floor. Panic mode took over as I began to question what I was doing...but as he began to style it I began to realize that I loved it. He asked, "you like?" I nodded and said, "I love!" Now a large majority of my hair is gone and I feel better than I have felt about it in awhile. This isen't a great picture, but it will have to do for now.
This past weekend I had a friend from Pittsburgh (she is a nanny in Switzerland) come and visit. As she shared the space in my apartment with me I felt for the first time that it really was my space. As I showed her around the house and she met the family it became more real to me that this is indeed where I live and this is what I do. It was nice to have a friend from home visit so that we could talk about the life that was previously mine. On Sunday I took my first visit out of Brussels and went to the town of Bruges which is a lovely little medival town. As I looked at canals and bulidings built in the 1600's I remembered that I am in Europe. So easily distracted by routine, it is easy to forget to enjoy every moment and to stop and take in the scenery. This is true of whereever you are though--you don't have to be in Europe to enjoy the view.
I am beginning to think that working with a two year old is making me dumber. He almost has me convinced that six does really come after three. Sometimes I forget that h's and l's exist. Tank you, pease, mik... Every creature that lives in the water is a fish and every creature that flies is a bee; there is no distinction. Yep, I am osing my mind. So muc for five years of colege.
I haven’t written much lately about my experience of being a nanny and how life with the kids and the family in general is going. Usually the way in which I feel and act is always changing and my emotions and feelings towards the family and the job are changing too. It is not an easy job. I think there is a reason that not many people chose this as their life career. Taking care of children can be very rewarding, but there will always be something lost when you are not an actual part of the family.
Annabel, the oldest at 8, likes me most of the time. She says that I am very nice during play time and bath time but that I am “naughty” when it comes time to eat. This is because she is constantly stealing food off of her brother which of course upsets him so I of course have to tell her no. She does not like to be told no and in most cases there is not a reason to tell her no. It is evident she is the oldest though as seen when a fight ensues over any toy—then the toy becomes “her” toy because she was the first owner of it. She is a very smart girl. She speaks the best English of the children (maybe even of the family) and is my translator as needed. She excels at school and stresses if she doesn’t get her homework done. She was taking an extra curricular Italian class at school. Almost everyday she has some new comment to make about my nose piercing and how ugly and disgusting it is. That’s fun.
Daphne is the middle child and is six years old. She is difficult to really explain. She seems to fluctuate between extreme quietness, extreme loudness, and heavy crying. Any emotion she is feeling at the time is overpowering. If she is in a mood where she doesn’t want to be touched and you touch her (which you have no way of knowing if she is in such a mood) a torrential downpour of emotion will appear which I am told to ignore. She is an artist drawing intricate drawings (including a naked woman next to a lion that was hung on the fridge) and she struggles with school a lot more than Annabel does as she does not have the patience for it. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” has become her motto as she is learning to play it on guitar and it consumes her every moment. She has taught both her parents and her grandma how to pick this little tune out on guitar and she beams with pride when someone new comes to listen to her play. Playing guitar together has been the first real way for Daphne and I to bond because she doesn’t speak that good of English and it has been difficult to bond in other ways.
Clarence is the youngest at two. He is the one that I spend the most time with. I get him up in the morning (if he doesn’t get me up first), I play with him, feed him lunch, put him down for his nap, play with him some more, give him his bath, and finally read him a book and put him to bed. For the most part he is a good child, usually he smiles and laughs at everything. When he does get upset or do something he shouldn’t I just have to tell him no or give him a time out. He learns well though and doesn’t seem to repeat mistakes. I have taught him to say please and thank you and he appears to love the word fish.
