A Woman's Work is Never Done

by Esther Shackleton (Australia)

A leap into the unknown Australia

I woke up in the hotel bed that I had not paid for. ‘What am I doing? What am I doing?’ I thought, again and again. I had just arrived in the tiny city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, which I didn’t even know existed until one week ago, to meet a family in need of a Nanny that I had met once over Skype. My friend had suggested I get in contacted with them, as she had worked with them the year earlier as they went on their annual North American Holiday. This year, they needed a Nanny, and bad. They were struggling to find someone to step in and their holiday was coming up fast. Cue, me. I was halfway through a degree in Sociology, two months away from a semester abroad in Montreal. The agreement happened quickly and smoothly. I would take care of their three beautiful children, cook (mostly) vegan and gluten-free family dinners and ensure the smooth running of the household, and they would pay me a wage, as well as provide me with food and housing. If only I knew how to cook vegan food, or any food for that matter, but that wasn’t my concern for now. As I booked my flight, I had no idea how much the next few weeks would change my worldview, push me out of my comfort zone and make me want to text my mum apologising for ever underestimating her role as head of the household. Halifax was the first leg of the trip, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The morning of the family’s arrival, I opened the door to a lively 5-year-old running toward me and his siblings following not far behind. We made our way out of the city and into the land of the lobster fisheries. A tiny tugboat pulled up to our very own private island. I noticed the grey granite, which looked so soft against the bright blues and greens of the water and seaweed. The land was mostly covered in Pine, and the house was full of greys and blues and other colours that make all your problems float away. During the day the family would go about exploring the island, and I would stay back and prepare the food. I didn’t have a sim card and there was no Wi-Fi, so my plan of googling recipes went out the window. The oven was Fahrenheit, and I had no way of converting to Celsius. The family politely ate my undercooked vegetables for the next few days until I decided to take things up a notch. ‘Tacos.’ I decided aloud. Super easy, and usually a crowd pleaser. I turned on the oven I had such a complex relationship with already and put in the taco shells, and finally began to relax. The mother walks in ‘Do you smell gas?’ ‘No?’ I replied. And as she walked over and opened the oven, flaming tacos burst out. The next few minutes were a blur, but they ended with the flames extinguished, me in tears and the kids excited cheers. Over the next few weeks that I spend as a full-time au pair, I learned just how hard being a primary caretaker is. In our society, this responsibility usually falls on women, and their work is seen as inherent to their gender, as something that comes naturally, as opposed to painstakingly difficult and all consuming. I feel ashamed to say that I didn’t realise just how much work my own mother does in raising four children of her own. I went through burnt taco shells, early mornings, homework and car trips with a wage and I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. It’s hard enough looking after yourself, let alone others who don’t know how to tie their shoes yet or who are still wetting the bed. Most women go through this without wage or recognition, and many go through this plus full-time work. Women’s hard work is only invisible because we don’t consider it important. It’s time to look at what our primary care takers are really doing and start valuing it at what it’s worth.