southcitygirl (southcitygirl) wrote,
southcitygirl
southcitygirl

something new for the holidays.

Growing up, my brother and I had live-in nannies. My parents had a basement apartment, that connected to our house via stairs in the kitchen. After my parents divorced, my mom (who worked full-time and sometimes crazy, long hours) decided she needed a little help with my brother and I. We had nannies from all over the globe. Literally. I don't know if my mom sought them out, perhaps to try and culture her kids, or if that's just who she ended up hiring. Most of them were exchange students at Emory who lived in the apartment downstairs in exchange for taking care of the kids. One woman was from China. She spoke very broken English, but loved Eric and I. And she made killer dumplings. My favorite memory had to be the time that Eric slipped in the bathroom and hit his head on the sink. It wasn't that major, but since she couldn't speak English very well, she instructed me at 6 years old to call and inform my mother. My very words were, "Mom, Eric is bleeding and it won't stop!" I guess I was a dramatic child, and after my mom rushed home from work, she found a small cut buried beneath his hair that barely required a stitch. Sorry mom.

We also had a woman from Zimbabwe. She always let us eat junk food. And she drove a Probe. I remember thinking that she was the coolest college kid ever. And she was gorgeous. Everywhere we went, men would hit on her. One time a guy asked her if Eric and I were hers. She replied, "What? Are you stupid?" I don't know if it's because she was young or because she was very black and we were very white. I think it was the latter.

Then there was this other chick. She wasn't foreign, but she was a total bitch. She wasn't a student either, but a budding real estate agent. Her boyfriend always came over. Not to our house, but he would hang out in the apartment. She was mean. Really mean. And she watched a lot of Oprah. And she told me to not eat so much, because I would get fat one day. I was 7. She drove a sporty red car, and had a car phone. I remember thinking, a real car phone! It was one of those bulky things that came in the suitcase and took up half of the passenger side of the car. As much as I really despised her, I couldn't help but be jealous of her humongous car phone. She even let me use it one time. The reception was horrible.

Then. There was the most lovely woman from Germany. Renata. She was, by far, our favorite. My mom's favorite too. She cooked us authentic German meals, and always smiled. She really treated us like we were her own children. She has since moved back to Germany, but my mom has still kept up with her for the last 20 years. At first, it was letters at holidays or to announce special occasions. Thus far, she's gotten married and has had her two of her own kids. And now that my mom is finally using her e-mail more often, they chat a lot more. Renata recently asked my mother if she knew of any family with teenage kids who would be interested in doing an exchange program for a few weeks. One of her son's is now 14, and she wants him to have a chance to stay in the states for a while. Unfortunately, all the "kids" my mom really knows are now the age of my brother and I. That didn't stop my mom. She wrote back, "We'll take him."

For some reason, I wanted to cry when my mom told me. I guess this is her way of giving back, for all the love Renata gave my brother and I, and all that cheesy crap that I hate to love. Not to mention, now she has an in if any of us ever want to travel to Germany...

So, he'll be here sometime within the month, probably around Christmas time. And he speaks very little English. I'm excited! Now I get to do all the touristy stuff that I've forgotten about, since living here my entire life. Dustin and I already called dibs on taking him to the World of Coke. Anyone in? And no, you cannot teach him dirty words.
Tags: daily
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