The NY Times Magazine cover article this past weekend was called, “The Other Mothers of Manhattan.” In my opinion, the photos were romanticized and at the same time, bleak, and the essay was trite and superficial. Well, you want to know what I really think, right?
Yet again we read a piece from the points of view of the mothers and the nannies. What always seems to be missing in these articles is the point of view of the children, arguably the most important actors in this story. The grown–up children, I mean–people who were raised with nannies, who by now have some perspective on the experience. Wouldn’t it be interesting and important to hear from them?
Or, I should say, us.
I previously wrote a blog post for Kveller about Vi, the woman who was my family’s “housekeeper.” She took care of me and my siblings from the time I was 1 year old and left our family when I was 18. She arrived six days a week at 8:30 in the morning and left after she made, served, and cleaned up after dinner at 8:30 at night. Saturdays, she left at 2 in the afternoon after the Shabbos lunch. I loved her and kept in touch with her until shortly before her death and she was included in my children’s bar and bat mitzvahs, and was invited to my daughter’s wedding. Of course, she had attended my own.
But this is not about Vi. It’s about me.