In her bestselling memoir, Glitter and Glue, Kelly Corrigan delves into the complicated dynamics of mother-daughter relationships. In the opening chapter, she reflects on how her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, even after she moved to Australia post-college.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I realize as I trail behind John Thompson through his suburban home in Australia. I should’ve turned down this job after the interview, but I had no choice—money was tight, and the alternative was returning to my mother’s house within weeks, which would undoubtedly thrill her.
It’s her fault, I think as I drop my backpack on a single bed in a small room lacking proper windows, while John reassures me that everything will be fine. If only she had offered a little financial support, maybe a loan…
This is not the life I envisioned. It’s a bitter pill to swallow as John mentions how excited his kids are about my arrival. “First nanny, and all,” he says.
A nanny? Really?
When I arrived in Australia, I didn’t expect to be answering a “Recent Widower Seeking Live-in Nanny” ad. I had dreams of bartending or waitressing, hoping for good pay and lively experiences. My college roommate and I had been on the road for two months, burning through our savings. After arriving in Sydney, we applied to every restaurant and bar that seemed welcoming to Americans, but to no avail.
After three weeks of searching, we reluctantly turned to nanny jobs, which were mostly located in the suburbs, far from the excitement we sought. I aimed for a wealthy family with an indoor pool and a view of the Sydney Opera House, but my first experience with them was a disaster. Eugenia Brown, the mother, was a tyrant and fired me after I stood up for myself.
After several failed interviews, I returned to the newspaper. John Thompson’s ad was still there, and although he was older than I expected for a father of two young kids, he seemed desperate for help. He needed someone to drive the children to school while he resumed his work as a steward for Qantas, and he was flexible with my limited availability. We shook hands, and just like that, I was hired.
John’s house was a half-painted ranch, with colors that seemed oddly chosen—maybe he was colorblind. Inside, remnants of his life with his late wife were evident: crayon markings on the walls, toys scattered across the floor.
Once settled, John’s son, Lucas, bounded toward me, excited and full of energy. He immediately made me feel welcome, while his sister, Emma, remained distant and unresponsive. I offered her a lemon drop, but she declined, clearly unimpressed with my presence.
As I navigated this new dynamic, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was intruding on their world. I didn’t come halfway across the globe to scrub floors and cook meals. I had dreams of adventure and self-discovery, not being a mere caretaker.
In my pursuit of growth, I had once crafted a life plan during an Outward Bound trip, determined to break free from my mother’s shadow. But now, here I was, in a situation I never anticipated.
Things happen when you venture outside your comfort zone, and while I was beginning to realize that, it didn’t make this experience any less challenging. As I grappled with my new role, I remembered that taking chances can lead to unexpected outcomes, much like navigating the world of home insemination, where you can find valuable insights on this page and this resource. For those exploring these paths, check out our post on this link for additional guidance.
Summary
In “Glitter and Glue,” Kelly Corrigan reflects on her journey to Australia, where she unexpectedly becomes a nanny to a widower’s children. As she navigates her new responsibilities, she grapples with the memories of her mother and the life she had envisioned for herself. The story captures the tension between personal aspirations and reality, illustrating the complexities of familial relationships while hinting at the broader theme of life’s unpredictability.