I have been a nanny for the ultra rich for almost a decade now. Ultra rich is relative, because even within wealth there are levels and then there are levels. My families are not the nine hundred million Silicon Valley titans with nannies making two hundred fifty thousand dollars a year. I am the nanny for the middle class rich, the families with twenty to forty million dollars who outsource large parts of their lives but still remember what it was like to grow up normal.
I say that with love. I truly adore my kids, and most of my bosses have become something like extended family which is strange when you think about it. I live inside their world without ever fully belonging to it. I am in their homes, I know their rhythms, I hear their arguments, I watch their kids first steps and tears. Then at the end of the day I go back to my own much smaller life, eat leftovers, and try not to fall asleep thinking about whether the toddler got enough protein today.
It is intimate. It is strange. It is rewarding. It is lonely. It is amazing. It is exhausting. And it has changed how I see everything from money to parenting to myself.
The Kids: Brilliant, Sheltered, and Sometimes Completely Detached From Reality
People always ask me what ultra rich kids are like.
The truth is they are wonderful. Most of them are smart, affectionate, and curious. They learn fast because they are taught early. Mandarin immersion, violin, math tutoring, swimming, reading every day. Their parents treat education like an Olympic event. And honestly, I am going to do the same for my future kids because the difference it makes is undeniable.
But the downside is perspective.
I will never forget driving past a homeless encampment one winter night. There was a small fire burning to keep people warm and one of my kids said, “Oh they are making smores.” She was not being rude. She genuinely did not understand. I explained that they were homeless and keeping warm because they had nowhere else to go. She stared at me like I was speaking another language.
That is the line I walk every day. Teaching empathy without destroying innocence. Truth without trauma. Reality without cynicism.
Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I wonder if anyone could succeed in a life filled with private jets and ski trips and a nanny who cleans your lunchbox.
Parents: Present in Theory, Absent in Practice
This surprises people, but most of the parents I have worked for love their kids deeply. They kiss them goodnight, they FaceTime from trips, they show up for school plays when they can.
But wealth complicates closeness.
High net worth homes have full staff. Nannies, housekeepers, chefs, assistants, household managers. Kids spend more time with caregivers because the parents lives move fast. Deals, travel, events, obligations. Everything optimized.
The kids usually have healthy relationships with their parents, but the warmth, the unstructured time, the messy parts of family life often live with us, the nannies.
I know their favorite songs, how they like their sandwiches cut, which stuffed animal they need when they are sad. I know what their nightmares are about. I know the cowlick in their hair and the way they mispronounce certain words.
Sometimes the line between nanny and family melts away completely.
Once, my little girl came into my room on vacation and I told her she could not come in because I was not working. She said, “I know. Daddy’s office is off limits when he is working, but after work is family time. You are not working so it is family time.”
My heart. My entire heart.
The Wealth: Yes, It Makes Life Easier, but It Also Warps Things
Flying private for the first time felt like stepping into another universe. No security lines, no crowds, no waiting. Their time is so valuable that the world rearranges itself to avoid inconveniencing them. Even at home their lives are shielded by staff so everything feels effortless.
But extreme wealth creates a certain coldness. Not cruelty, just distance. Efficiency. Structure. Optimization instead of warmth.
I grew up poor. We played with pinecones and mud and invented worlds because we had nothing else. There was so much warmth in that chaos. So much imagination. So much bonding through struggle.
Sometimes, in these perfectly curated homes with white walls and Montessori toys and afternoon tutors, I wonder what these kids would be like with a little more mess. A little more boredom. A little more figuring things out. A little less abundance.
Money does not ruin people, but it insulates them so completely that untouched parts of humanity fade from their world.
The Families: Some Are Amazing, Some Are Terrible
Now that I have experience, I choose my families carefully. Experience buys leverage, and leverage buys boundaries.
But early on, I put up with many things.
One mother yelled at me because her daughter told me to paint her nails instead of asking politely. I set a boundary. The mother screamed, “If my daughter wants something, you do it. That is why you are here.”
I walked out mid trial. Texted the agency. Never looked back.
Another family had bizarre rules. No talking at dinner, not even whispering. Everyone had to wear white. Everything sterile and controlled. It felt dystopian. I left early. My spirit began shrinking in that home within hours.
But the good families treat me with respect. They pay me one hundred fifty thousand dollars, give me time off, insurance, retirement, and match my charity work when I ask. They laugh with me. They trust me. They show up for me.
Some of them feel like siblings I never had.
The Job: Beautiful, Demanding, Exhausting, and Hard to Sustain
People think nannies for the rich are babysitters with nicer pay. That is not true. You become a third parent who is always on call.
Travel anytime they travel. Stay late anytime they need. Wake early anytime they ask. Live their schedule, not your own.
It is not a job that supports a traditional family life. I want to be a mother someday. Adoption specifically. But right now, there is no space for my own life. Every part of my schedule belongs to their life.
But it is the best job I have ever had. I love these kids. I love their quirks. I love watching them grow. I love being the adult who shows up with consistency and softness and structure every day of their childhood.
What I Learned From the Rich About Money
I became financially literate because of this job.
Wealthy people understand two things deeply.
First, money compounds. Money makes more money. Second, use money to buy your life back. Time is the real luxury.
Now I invest in index funds. I max my Roth IRA and four zero one k. I use credit cards strategically for points. I am going to London this year using only credit card points from regular spending.
Wealth stopped feeling magical. It became math.
My Final Truth: There Is a Sweet Spot for Wealth
People assume I walk away wanting to be fabulously rich. Actually, no. I think the perfect amount of wealth is enough to meet your needs comfortably, travel occasionally, save, support your kids, and have time that belongs to you.
Anything more begins to take something away. The intimacy cost. The childhood cost. The marriage cost. The presence cost.
I had very little growing up, but I had warmth. I had parents who were there. That mattered more than any private jet ever could.
One day I will adopt my little girl or girls and give them a cozy home, read with them every night, maybe hire a housekeeper so I can cook with them instead of letting chores steal our time. That is the type of wealth I want. Not extravagance, but freedom.
Freedom to spend my time how I want, raise my children the way I believe in, be generous when I want, and live a life that feels warm and human.