Dare to Au Pair in Ireland

Like all good things do, my gallivanting came to a halt once I left Morocco. I spent the next week sweating bullets while I waited to meet the people who were crazy enough to take me into their home. When the day finally came for me to make the trip from England to Ireland, I was relieved to find that the host family I found on the Internet weren't planning on kidnapping me and throwing my remains into the harbour. Turns out that James and Sarah were just two people trying to make sense of a life with kids. I just wish I knew then what I know now...no world with chaotic children will ever be booger, puke, or poop free!

As described on the family's ad, there were two very well behaved children. One 3-month old princess named Julia, and then a strapping 4 year old boy named Pearse. The baby slept 8 hours every night, never cried, and was as easy going and mellow as they come. Pearse was enrolled in montessori and loved to play outside, paint, and do jigsaw puzzles. He was well mannered and an all around happy child... One of the most important lessons I learned from replying to an ad on the internet was that it's easy to lie to a computer screen.

Pearse was loud, rambunctious, and completely out of control. He ran the ship his own way, kicking and screaming his way into things. And good lord, getting this boy to eat something other than processed ham and scrambled eggs was like asking Jesus Christ to suddenly descend from the heavens and rid humanity of all evil. Julia on the other hand was just as adorable as described, but a lot less prone to the above mentioned sleep pattern.

The first week with the family was no cake walk. Rather than coast into the fast lane, I was thrown head first into the lion's den. Sarah fell ill to a breast infection not two days after I joined the family, an illness that kept her bedridden for the majority of my work term. But it wasn't just this mysterious ailment that demonstrated its presence in the household. A series of flus, food poisoning, and colds were in constant circulation, leaving myself as the only unscathed survivor.

One afternoon, Sarah ran out to do some errands. I took Julia upstairs to change her clothes and came bolting down the stairs when I heard Pearse's horrific screams from below. With Julia half naked in one arm, I skipped the last stair and slid to a halt infront of Mr. Trouble Maker. As hard as I tried I could not contain the giggles that the scene before me had stirred. After having grown tired of waiting for me in the bathroom to help him clean up, Pearse got up off the "throne", waddled with his pants around his ankles to the stairwell, and wedged his knee between two of the banisters. One cup of butter and twenty minutes later the Little Rascal was free.

The next 2 months continued on the same note. The days consisted of 12 hours of dirty nappies that needed changing, dinners that needed cooking, clothes that needed washing and ironing, and children that needed entertaining. I walked around constantly smelling like a tube of vaseline, rotten dairy products, and my personal favorite, moldy breast milk. I chased and was chased, I yelled and was yelled at, gave hugs and was given them. No matter how each day went, I collapsed onto my bed every night thinking life can't get any harder. I wanted to quit it all right then and there. But then I got to thinking, what if tomorrow's a good day? What if Pearse helps me bake cookies and doesn't drop the dough on the floor? What if, for once, Julia's teething mouth gives us all a break and lets that gummy smile spread across her face?

Au pairing wasn't my first choice of employment. I didn't know how uncomfortable and awkward joining a family's life could be. I didn't know there were such things as European Union Au Pair Laws, which states the maximum hours an au pair should work each week; 45. I was working 60+. I didn't know the inner strength one must have to administer patience with a child. I didn't know how to stand up for myself when I was being overworked. There was a lot I didn't know when I signed up for this experience.

But what I did take from all the harships and rough times is strength. I learned to perservere and strive for something. I learned not to give up just because things weren't going my way. I struggled and complained, bitched and moaned, and then stuck with it because that's what my gut was telling me to do. Those two months broke me down, piece by piece, and here I am, still standing.