Half a year in review

Sing to the tune of happy birthday, avec un accent français:

Joyeuse anniversaire (à moi)
Joyeuse anniversaire
Joyeuse anniversaire (à moi)
Joyeuse anniversaire.

I’m still a smidgeon less than 6 months away from turning the big 2-3, and technically the tune Joyeuse anniversaire is to be sung on your date de naissance. However on this occasion, I feel it is equally appropriate (especially for us Anglophones, gotta love those false cognates) to sing to myself on my 6 month anniversary of being an au pair.

6 months ago on a steamy august day, I packed up my life, hopped aboard a British Airways 747, had too much to drink and too many Ambien, and embarked upon my life à Genève. Looking back today, I’m slightly amazed that things have turned out as well as they did. This especially considering the first thing Michelle ever said to me (and now a constantly running joke between the two of us) was, “Have you been drinking?” She later admitted she was concerned I was an alcoholic, yet had failed to mention it in my au pair ad and previous communications to her.

Arriving at my new “home” for the first time felt like the twilight zone. I came in, took a nap, and woke up several hours later to a throng of people buzzing about in the kitchen and dining room. I met Marc’s business partner, and nearly missed making a complete ass of myself going in the wrong way to faire la bise. But hey, what employer doesn’t want an au pair who is willing to make out with their friends the first time they meet?

The first meal, cooked and served by Flora (another first, I had not yet encountered the delicate tap dance that is modern day servitude) was stir-fried veggies with tofu and rice, something I salivate over and highly anticipate now, but that first night could barely even stomach one grain.

The first weekend, where I was awoken early for a trip up to Chamonix, where they would be looking at chalets to possibly buy, was riddled with folly. I dressed for august, in a skirt and t-shirt, yet the French Alps seemed to disagree, insisting it was November. My bare legs and arms froze through a cold drizzle, trying to negotiate steep hills and sliding rocks in flip-flops while I awkwardly held Benji’s hand, trying to pretend like we were already best friends, secretly wanting to cry for my mommy.

The whole first month of august, being with the kids 12, 13 sometimes 14 hrs a day, often struggling to keep my eyes open as we colored on the hardwood playroom floor, and struggling even more to find ways to keep them entertained and the time passing at a decent clip. Talking amongst a group of au pairs about what we do when stuck alone with the children for extended periods of time, I divulged my own dirty little secret: during that never ending august where I was constantly with the kids, I took to hand washing every single pot, pan, dish, plate, fork, spoon or knife that had been even slightly used, in a sad attempt to eek out every minutiae of time I could possibly find for myself, before being slung back into the trenches of all consuming child entertainment.

August turned to September, and with that came the God given blessing of La Rentrée Scolaire (the fancy French name for back-to-school time.) This year, I finally understood that Staples commercial where the parents dance up and down the aisles, carelessly and joyfully slinging notebooks, binders and highlighters into their carts, while “It’s the Most Wonderul Time of the Year” blares in the background. I hope I never feel that way about my own kids, and feel very strongly that the adults in this commercial are actually au pairs, not parents. La Rentrée brought other au pair acquaintances and baptism into the vast au pair network that encompasses Geneva and its surrounding areaa. September brought me into contact with my peers, something I desperately needed after 30+ days of solitary child confinement.

September also brought me Julie, who lived 2 blocks away in Ann Arbor, yet never crossed my path until we both found ourselves au pairs in Switzerland, feeling isolated and desperately seeking outside human contact. I’ll never forget my scream of joy when I realized she was a fellow wolverine grad, someone who shared not only the au pair connection, but also a love of Michigan and all things Maize and Blue. Since then our friendship has grown; she is someone I feel like I can talk to about anything in the whole wide world. We read each others’ emails, and I feel I know her family and boyfriend (Hi Ann and David and Nate!), and that she knows mine. Her friendship is quite possibly the most cherished and precious thing I will “take back” with me after my year en Suisse has come to an end, and is someone who I am sure I will stay close with for the rest of my life (Je t’aime, mon amie!).

Into the groove of living abroad, my weeks revolve around taking care of the kids, running, relaxing and talking to friends and family at night. The weekends are for traveling, partying, and (fingers crossed for more snow!) snowboarding. The rhythm of work and play has set a good tune, one I’m hoping to be able to move to until the end of July. Now that 6 months and lots of uncertainty have passed, I’m hoping that it will be “all downhill from here.” I have lots to look forward to: Istanbul in February, snowboarding and a trip somewhere in March, Spain, Portugal and le Marathon de Paris in April, my dear friend Nicole visiting for a week in May for Eurotrip round 2 (possibly Croatia and Barcelona), and potentially Singapore with the family in July.

Reading this list back in my head get me incredibly pumped for the next 6 months of my life. Surely the porridge-making, bath giving, butt-wiping weeks may drag from time to time, but the weekend gems, nights with friends, and breath taking sights will make in all worth it.

Sitting at my computer with Julie, looking up tram schedules for her to get home, Michelle walks into my room to chat. Mid sentence, I realized I had forgot to tell her, as I have every 4th of the month like clockwork, “happy anniversary!” But for this special occasion, I leaped from my chair, made my way towards her, and engulfed her semi-shocked self in a bear hug. “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY,” I exclaimed. “For what?” she replied as she always does. Grinning like a fool, I looked at her and waited to see if she would remember and catch on.

“Meggie, are you DRUNK?” She questioned, straining to keep a straight face.

Of course she remembered. I can already tell the next 6 months are gonna fly.