Home away from home...

When I first moved to New York, I was broke (still am, just not as broke).  To make matters worse, I was making less money than I had been in KC for twice the cost of living.  In order to finance my life living in my dream city, I sought out some part-time jobs to supplement my suffering fashion salary.

I was able to secure a two-night a week tutoring job and a one-night a week babysitting job, totaling 10 additional hours outside of my full-time job at RL and $200 cash.  It was mentally, physically, and socially sacrificing, but I knew it was temporary and also necessary if I wanted to have any sort of social life on the weekends.

After a year of working three jobs, I finally got a promotion and was feeling quite worn-out keeping up with my work schedule.  Something to understand about these jobs, is that while financially the two families I worked for were similar, they could not have been more different in every other facet.  One family lived in the hippy West Village and the other lived in the family-oriented Upper West Side; one family had all girls and the other had all boys; and most obviously: one treated me like the help and the other treated me like a member of their own family.

After starting in on my second year with both families, a trip home and a conversation with my father changed things.  He couldn't stand me working for the family that treated me like the help.  "You're a smart, college-educated, beautiful, driven woman!" he said.  "Nobody treats my baby girl that way."  ("Nobody puts Baby in a corner!" much??)  He finally convinced me that I could do with only the one job and quit the other as soon as I returned to New York.

So that's what I did.   And I have never looked back after leaving the West Village family that asked me once how it was, exactly, I got home to Kansas City (was there an airport there?  Umm yes, as a matter of fact there is an airport...and guess what else, lady?  You're from Jersey, so get off your high horse...).

My UWS family was another matter, however.  Besides meeting Sam, meeting the *Curtis family is the best thing to happen to me in New York.  I am currently at the tail end of my third school year with Henry, who is now in 6th grade.  Every Wednesday after work, I go over there for two hours and help him with his homework.  It's not quite "tutoring" like it might sound to non-NYC people, but more a chance to give his mom, Connie, a break and a chance to get dinner ready for her family while I make sure Henry focuses on his school work.

What started as a job, has now become the most fulfilling and enjoyable part of my week.  I walk into their apartment without knocking, kick off my shoes, and go down the hall to the kitchen and open the fridge to help myself to a drink and maybe a snack.  I often spend several minutes chatting with Connie before Henry and I start on his work.

My time with Henry is work for sure (who remembers how to find the area of a triangle or the geography of Ancient Egypt?), but it has also evolved into something else that I'm still trying to put my finger on, something much more meaningful.   He's kind of like the little brother I never had, only we don't fight.  He keeps me young.  He shows me the latest video games and gadgets that are popular with kids his age, and the You Tube videos of the moment (after homework, of course ;)  ).  In the midst of all of this is the non-stop task of trying to shoe away older brother Nick from shooting Nerf balls at us (and I am definitely the big sister Nick never wanted!).

After homework is done, Hen and I mosey down to the kitchen where Connie is making customized pizzas for both the boys and husband, Jim.  Connie gives me a slice to snack on while Jim and I watch Jeopardy together.  I hang out with the family another 20-30 minutes and just catch up before heading back to my humble life.

And at the end of the night, I get paid for this?!  Yes!  But you know what?  I would do it for free at this point.  The Curtises are the most down-to-earth, midwestern-like family I have met here and they take away my stress and home-sickness.  Connie and Jim remind me so much of my parents, and I talk with them about the same things I talk to my own parents about.

Wednesday of the work week can be tough, and usually the last thing I want to do after a crazy day is have another obligation that involves anything less than holding a glass of wine in my hand, but I leave the Curtises home feeling refreshed and reminded of the things that matter most in life, which makes that long day worth every minute.

*Last name changed.