Life in Ink and Footsteps

The new aupair arrived. He was a young man from Sweden – I think, I might be wrong though, and he was about to be the last aupair the family had. They had hosted them for over two decades, since the birth of their eldest child. I picked him up with the father of the family on Friday morning, and he spent the rest of the day with me. It was peculiar to speak to him. He was exactly in the same spot I was a year ago, and it felt kind of surreal to see the change and difference in myself through this perspective. He had just finished his training week and was excited and worried, it was his first time in the US, and he was so full of dreams and plans for his upcoming year. It was wonderful to witness. And it also made me feel kind of bittersweet. And hella important, like a senior showing the newbies around.

Needless to say, after a few days of having him on my tail all the time, I started getting slightly annoyed. I spent the year alone, and it was damn weird to have someone around me all the time. And I might have been slightly jealous. Those who read the early posts know we had a difficult time connecting with the youngest child, the boy I was primarily responsible for. It took us no less than four months to start having a friendly relationship, not only respectful and obligatory. But the two connected like nothing was bothering them. Playing games, sports, all jokes and laughs. It felt unfair and made me a bit sad, I am not going to lie. I did feel a little better when he came to talk to me one night and told me he would miss me when I leave, and that the new aupair is nice and fine but a little weird. Yes, I was slightly petty back then. What? I’m just a human.

With the arrival of the new aupair, I was officially off duty. Most of my days, I spent with friends and family, just kind of observing everything and having a good time. I was still helping with the kids and supporting the new boy, but mostly it was his time to get into a routine and find his footing. He had it easier than me. When I started the year before, the previous nanny was already gone, and I had to figure it all out on my own. But mostly, I just chilled with the mum. Rosh Hashanah was coming, and we had a lot to do. We prepared the menus, invited all the people, and made a battle plan. You might think I am overreacting, but trust me, I am not. For four nights, we were hosting dinner for friends, colleagues, and family. That required a lot of preparation and planning. You can’t just whip a full-on Jewish holiday dinner for 15-25 people every night without some strategy. And because the mum had to work and the kids went to school, I offered to take care of everything I could. I did all the grocery shopping for every night, helped clean and set the table, prepared the place for the company, and, of course, cooked the food. It was exhausting! I would not be a Trad Wife even if you paid me. But the evenings were wonderful and magical. It felt like the circle was closing. Why? Because Rosh Hashanah was my first Jewish holiday, right after I arrived (for those of you who don’t know it, this is a celebration of a Jewish New Year). I felt like an alien back then, even though everyone was extremely friendly and welcoming. But I was there barely a few days, didn’t know anyone besides the immediate family, had no idea about Jewish traditions and holidays, not to mention the food was kind of weird. Like for real, what on earth was gefilte fish? So I kind of hovered in the background, too shy to just jump in and join the merriment. Tried not to take too much space and be too loud, or have a weird accent and poor grammar.

But this year was different. I knew everyone. All the aunties, grandmas, and grandpas. I knew some friends and colleagues. I loved the prayers and the lighting of candles. I knew the recipes and enjoyed a lot of dishes. Soup with matzo balls, potato latkes, brisket, chocolate babka, and challah bread are some of my favorites that I can still think of from the top of my head – still not a fan of the gefilte fish. Although it was quite hard to prepare everything – I did have help from the family once they got home from work or school, I was not slaving alone in the kitchen, don’t worry – I loved the fact that Rosh Hashanah was my last holiday. This way, I had a wonderful chance to say goodbye to everyone. I wouldn’t be seeing them again, I had barely a week left before my flight home. On one of the nights, my Nordic friend joined us. She was invited by the mum of the family because she knew I would miss her after my departure and so she wanted us to spend as much time together as we could. How sweet is she?

The family was nowhere near orthodox, and often the holidays were more of social meet-ups than religious celebrations, and I was okay with that. Not only okay with it, but it was necessary for me, I wouldn’t be able to stay in an orthodox family. Not to mention, they would not want me as an aupair, understandably, of course. So this chance to see Jewish traditions and still not to push the religious aspect too far, was the best of both worlds, in my humble opinion at least. And I have to admit that by the last night, which was family only, I was quite emotional and grateful for this amazing experience.

So let’s keep it simple and beautiful tonight.
Ludovico Einaudi – Una Mattina