Counting My Blessings

Ironically enough, two days before Atch was to take over caring for the boys so I could return to work, Yaya Rose texted me to ask if she could come back. I was puzzled about this new turn of events, but never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I texted back in the affirmative.

With mixed feelings, I contemplated this new twist in the saga of my life as Yaya Mom. I was itching to get free of the household fetters, true, but there was always Woog and Eli think of. Everything came back to them. They were the be-all and end-all of my having taken this extended vacation leave, and because of them, I was actually reluctant to return to work. When one is totally depended upon and practically worshiped by one's nearest and dearest, the sensation is close enough to send one to one's knees. (goddess syndrome, anyone?) In the two weeks I was mom-of-the-house, they practically bloomed before my eyes, something I never saw when they were in the charge of a caregiver. Would I have the heart to leave them back in the care of a nanny now I had discovered the exhilaration of exclusively raising them?


Directly the next day while I was scrubbing the kitchen sink, Yaya Rose arrived: thin, dark and out-of-breath. Apparently, with the enrollment period at the her local district high-school still weeks away, her father had required her to labor in the sugarcane fields under the scorching summer sun to help augment the family income. She earned over 50% more as the boys' nanny, so she argued her way back. Poor Rose. I urged her to have lunch and she ate like it was going out of fashion. Hunger can be a very potent argument too.

Which brought to mind the bitching I succumbed to in my previous post. While I was needlessly complaining about being torn between work and family, hundreds (nay, thousands) of women were scrounging for measly opportunities to make more than than the $1 a day that their families lived on. I am blessed to have been born to this privileged life: a college education, steady employment, more than three meals a day, internet access yet! And in this poor unfortunate benighted land, I am living what is considered the good life.

My husband would have called me the shallowest person alive. And he would be right.

In the midst of my musings, Yaya, between mouthfuls of sotanghon , rice and fried chicken gizzard, informed me that she would stay until her matriculation period, and would willingly train her replacement, should I find one. Her father was allowing her until then. I wondered what kind of a father would be small-minded enough to subject his only daughter to the harsh life of the boondocks, when she could have a better future (not to mention, a bigger income) were she to stay in the city. I voiced my concerns, but Yaya only smiled and shrugged. So much for that.

Woog was matter-of-fact about Yaya's reappearance (how grown-up my baby has become!), while Eli couldn't take his eyes (or arms) away from Yaya Rose. It brought a jealous lump to my throat, and an urge to actually shoo Yaya away. These are my children, mine!

With a sobering thought, I realized that these were indeed MY children, and I would have to double (triple!) my efforts at spending quantity quality time with them. No more complacency about having to leave them completely at the mercy of a nanny.

So it was back to work for me. We did have to keep our kids in the good life after all.