Monday, August 12, 2013

Munich Part 3: The Incident Part I

And now...back to the highly anticipated story of...Munich.  This week- The Incident.
This particular part of the story has been very difficult to write and talk about.  I think you'll understand why.

The kids has already expressed their violent tendencies directly and indirectly to me by this point.  I will not detail them all here, but I will give an example to set the context.  The youngest, when I forbade him from climbing an eight foot ladder over the fence, had to be taken by the hand back to his mother.  Obviously pissed, he slapped and scratched my arm to the point where I could see blood.  When we reached his mother, who was conversing with the father of a sweet young girl who had come to play, she brushed me off and pretended not to notice her son's- I'll say it- evil tendencies.  This was obviously a common theme in the house.

Some days later, I was teaching the eight year old daughter piano, and the youngest insisted on hitting his sister and distracting us both.  I put my hand on him, I'll admit it, but not in a violent way in any shape or form.  I merely held him at arms length while the girl finished her song.  Not long after, the mother came upstairs and raged at me in German (so her children understood as well) that I had pushed her son.  She threatened to throw me out of the house if I ever laid hands on any of her children again.  I assured her that I would never do such a thing, it would never be allowed in my house either, and I was honestly frightened.  Maybe this is why the old au pair got thrown out?  Maybe she hit the kids?  Or maybe the youngest lied to his mother like he had just done about me? He knew he could manipulate her into doing whatever he wanted.  This was truly frightening.

After one week of working 47 hours (reminder- the legal limit is 30 per week), I was fed up.  I had talked to the mother before about the importance of keeping a contract, and she simply wasn't respecting it.  It would be different if I felt like a member of the family, if I loved the children, or was treated literally any better, but I wasn't.  I was doing more housework every day than being with the children, and I never did anything good enough.  Literally every day there would be a new criticism.  I decided that I needed to get out of there.  I just didn't know how yet.

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