'I loved nannying for a super-rich Sydney family. Then one revelation made me quit for good.'

Like most girls of the '80s, I grew up wanting the white picket fence, a husband and kids. But in my early 20s, this dream abruptly ended.  

When I finished school, I studied to be a teacher. To get me one step closer to my picket fence dream, I skipped renting and became a live-in nanny for a family with two primary-aged kids.  

Hot tip: being a live-in nanny is a superb way to save money and earn income without leaving "home". The catch is that you will become immersed in your employer's dirty laundry. Quite literally, sometimes. 

Watch: Storytime nannying for a high-profile, wealthy family. Post continues below.

As my degree came to an end, I had two choices: enter the workforce or take up a new nanny job offer living right next to the beach.  

I chose the beach. My career could wait. The house had a (blue!) picket fence. I was hooked. Behind the multi-storey mansion was a semi-detached granny-flat, custom built for a live-in nanny.  

And just one week into my luxury life, as the carer of twin two-year-olds, I was feeling pretty smug about my life choices. I felt like I was in a Hollywood movie, and Prince Charming was going to waltz along any time now and sweep me off my feet to the mansion down the road. 

And, of course, that's when everything came crashing down. Quite literally.  

For my entire first week on the job, I was waking up to two typically-toddler-ish-two-year-olds making a lot of noise, asking for a lot of food, and saying a lot of nonsensical but adorable things.  

Then one morning, I woke to men's shirts being thrown from a third-storey balcony and landing onto my patio. This was not the sort of male company I was anticipating.  

There was screaming, there was door slamming and there were no babbling two-year-olds because it wasn't yet dawn. It seemed that the dispute had started in the night. 

I started tip-toeing my way to the toddler's quarters (yes, they had their own quarters) to check they hadn't woken to the commotion when the mum caught me. Sensing that this was her opportunity to name and shame her husband, she let it rip. 

"DID YOU KNOW?" she bellowed. I had no idea what she was talking about. And then, realising she was yelling at me instead of her husband, she apologised and asked again, this time, between apologies. I explained that I did not know, and pat her on the back.

It still felt like a Hollywood movie but … not the kind I wanted to be in. I had hoped for Father of the Bride vibes, not Troop Beverley Hills tones (my fellow 80s girls will get this reference. To others – know that this was one of the earliest Hollywood films to portray divorce with children). 

This is about the moment where my childhood dreams went from "aspirational stay-at-home mum of three" to "not this".  

Between sobs and lots of incredibly fancy coffee (it was the early 2000s and they had a barista-style machine – I was impressed!) … the mum told me the story: 

After a wild night of baby-making for their third child, the couple (married ten years) had some pillow talk. In what the mum described as "euphoric post-coital conversation", her husband had said … 

"I need to tell you something." 

And he followed this with:  

"I slept with Sarah." 

The plot twist? Sarah was their former nanny.  

Now, you may be wondering at this point: did I know? No. At our handover, Sarah had failed to mention this. 

At this point, the husband walked past sheepishly. He was off, on his wife's orders, to live in their "other residence". And within hours, she was packing also. It wasn't clear what she was packing and I assumed it was more of his designer clothes. 

As she was half-packing, half-losing it, I took the toddlers for a pram-nap and she kissed and coddled them before we left. 

When we came back, she was gone.  

She'd left a note. In it, she said she'd organised for her mother — who lived in the UK — to fly over the next day. And she was off to a boutique wellness recovery centre for a week. She apologised and explained, in scribble, that she was prioritising her wellbeing for the sake of her children. 

I'm not going to lie — it didn't feel that way. It felt like abandonment.  

But I tell you what, the kids were fine, the husband didn't come back and she returned in a week excited for her next adventure. So, 20K well spent if you've got it!  

I remember thinking, 'Well, if you're going to get a divorce, this is the way to do it.' It seemed so swift. So easy! And if it had gone down like that, perhaps my dreams would not have been shattered. 

But. That was just the first week.  

What followed was weeks of dramatic arguments. They got back together, they broke up. It was now more like the lyrics to a 90s banger than the Hollywood dream. And it took its toll, on all of us.  

Skip ahead a few months and the lawyers had finally been called in to settle things without the late-night sobbing. So. Much. Sobbing. It was excruciating for her to have been on the precipice of a third baby … and now this. It wasn't just my dreams that were being shattered, it was her entire life.  

And it was through these sob-fests that I realised I could never commit to a man. I couldn't trust that this wouldn't be me. Because, the husband … well, he was the IDEAL dad. The IDEAL husband. Until he wasn't.  

This wasn't a case of a woman who had missed the red flags.  

Then one day, while the divorce was still playing out, I came home to suitcases neatly packed in the hallway. It was a nice change from the previous times I'd seen her "pack".  

In a moment of remorse, the husband had said that his soon-to-be-ex-wife could leave the country, return to her hometown in the UK, and take the kids. She knew she had to leave immediately, before he changed his mind.  

And that was it.

I decided that living too close to other people's laundry can lead to collateral damage. I never nannied again. And I never (successfully) dated after this. Instead, I became a solo mum (by choice!) about a decade into my career as a primary teacher. 

Yes, I did get the picket fence after all. But in my beautiful little family there has only ever been and will only ever be: me, my daughter, and our two cats. 

My nanny experience taught me valuable lessons about marriages (and what happens when they end …) without me needing to get hitched myself. It saved me thousands!  

Feature: Getty.