NANNY PANKY
Manic Monday started with an early morning exercise, a mere 10 minutes of sweat from one corner leading to the City Hall zone. I was brisk-walking my way back to my prized privilege, so to speak, otherwise known as Single Parent Leave. Such benefit requires a special certification / ID purposely issued to qualified individuals on solo parenthood. Mine just expired and I needed to have it renewed and ready for any kind of emergency or need.
Out of the
ID’s I kept, this one had the best photo in it. I made sure of that. I had set
a schedule for a photo shoot at a reputable portrait studio, laboured over hair
and makeup for about 30 minutes before I flashed my sweetest smile. The photo
had to give justice to my ID which bore the trademark SINGLE PARENT printed
right above it, in bold characters.
It was almost time for me to report to work, so I decided to just
pick up whatever paper I had to complete from the Social Welfare and
Development Office, and come back for the assessment some other time.
A guy handed me the files I needed.
Name --- same. Religion – same. Age --- 28. Height --- Is it possible that I’ve grown any taller? Weight --- I don’t check anymore. Civil Status --- I’m technically committed to be married. Should I just write TBA?
What lies beneath the checklist and other personal facts is the
essay part where you detail out the problems you encounter as a single parent. “Kulang ang space ninyo,” was my first
reaction 3 years ago. I had the urge to ask for extra papers to enumerate the
tales of all Yayas past, hoping my revelations would get the officer to approve
my request for renewal. After all, one
of the prevailing reasons I needed a buffer in my leave credits is because of
Yaya Woes.
Good help is so difficult to find nowadays. I consider it a
wishful thinking to find a candidate and keep one who is close to a Mary
Poppins persona. I can’t help but worry each day how long we’ll have Yaya with
us. I only had a few good ones before --- few meaning with not more than 5 to
count. Some of the rest I was more than happy to be rid of, except that I tried
to delay it as much as I could. Problem is, as I spent more years growing up in
Manila , I don’t
have any close relative in town who’s always available and who I can rely on to
play substitute nanny.
Try as I might, I extend my understanding and patience with these
individuals who take my place at home while I fulfilled my responsibility as
bread winner. I give space for their sensitivities and material desires. I am
sometimes at fault of taking a significant share of tasks from the Yaya, just
to make her feel more at ease. Some of them know how “in demand” nannies are in
the society, and they would even use (and abuse) this as reasoning to gain more
in cash and do less with chores. Of course, left with no choice, I have bended
my own limitations for a number of instances. Time and again, I’d mentally call
positivity back to my exhausted soul, and pray for sanity from the heavens
above. I would even pray for Yaya’s enlightenment and health, incorporated to my
personal intentions at Mass.
I may not have bragging rights to say I am a perfect employer, but give it my best try. In general, there is not much to do at home except to focus on my daughter’s needs, plus a bit of household tasks. We eat the same food and she has comfortable place to sleep in. I make it a point to show my appreciation, give complements and respect, and as much as I can. I entrust the welfare of my daughter to them and, in turn, I treat them fairly and, at times, close to being one with the family. On top of the reasonable salary, I also provide them with toiletries, vitamins / medications, medical check-up’s, personal essentials, e-load, transportation allowance on Sundays (just so they can’t use lack of money as an excuse not to get back home on time), plus a bit of premium such as shoes, clothing, and bags. Still, these do not win their loyalty, especially when a boyfriend becomes a factor in her decision making.
Our misadventures with nannies over the past 5 years saw a few
sad goodbye’s and incalculable agonies. We had one who stepped into the role of
a deceitful character. Around me, she was quiet and obedient. As soon as I
stepped out of the door, Jekyll would turn into Hyde. She got physical with my
daughter simply over TV shows and turns on the DVD. She threatened to spank the
little one should she fail to keep her silence. This, unfortunately, I found
out only a week after I fired her on the grounds of stealing. A pang of guilt
hit me, wishing I could just work from home, as my daughter shared distressing
accounts of Yaya’s cruelty. She even taught me Yaya’s mechanics in stealing, breaking
through security locks on my closet. The innocent one became a witness to malicious
deeds, and she was able to demonstrate how Yaya screwed out the hinges of my
closet door to gain access to my clothes, accessories, and underwear. The kid
didn’t have any clue she was being brainwashed to think that Yaya also has her
own valuables hidden in my closet. No wonder my daughter got confused when she
saw me putting on Olay cream, pointing out “Mom,
you should not use that because it’s Yaya’s.”
We also had a nanny who had the best qualities of a loving older
sister. But her caress and affection also extended to a good number of men. I’d
joke aside and advise her to think and act wisely. I pointed out my own ordeals
as a single parent, hoping it’ll empower her will so as not to be misled by
admirers. My words went to waste as she got pregnant by one who promised to
marry her. She asked to be dismissed from her duties so she can prepare for her
wedding and childbirth. 4 weeks after, she nonchalantly shared news of her
miscarriage, segue to her wedding plans with someone else. Wow, ang haba ng hair ni Ate! Ang daming marriage proposals.Buti ka pa.
This one we have with us right now is more than ok. However, she
felt it was necessary to look after her grandchildren, too, when they enter
school in June. This she confided to my daughter weeks ago, and I’m guessing
she’ll be making her big announcement to me soon.
Sometimes I’d try to compare yaya-serviced months to yaya-less
weeks, weighing the pros and cons. When will the search and ordeal end? Is
there really any assurance things will fall into place? Will I ever win a
chance at finding help who’ll last as long as needed?
I still have this motherly-guilt eating me once in a while. If only I could cut myself in half to
function both as full time mommy and bread winner.
To all single parents out there, I raise my glass to you for
doing a kick ass job in raising your kids. I’m sure we share the same
sentiments. I hope for peace of mind for all of us.
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Story published on my Metro Mom column in Edge Davao newspaper
Page 15, A1 of section INdulge, Volume 5 Issue 36, 25 April 2012
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Story published on my Metro Mom column in Edge Davao newspaper
Page 15, A1 of section INdulge, Volume 5 Issue 36, 25 April 2012