Use The Potty, Spud.

About a week ago, my mother and Aunt Bebop came over to see how the Little Spud is doing. He’s now about a year and five months old.  My aunt noted the diaper.  She advised me I stick to the plan of toilet-training him before he turns two, while I’m working from home and can supervise the project.  ”You want him to be like your cousin Taffy?”  I shook my head.

When Cousin Taffy was growing up, he was left in the care of just nannies from morning until night — his dad traveled and his mom, a pharmaceutical exec, came home from work late — and his nannies never bothered potty training him properly.  I don’t know if that’s related to what we discovered when he came to live at my mother’s for a couple of years of high school — his younger siblings seem fine — but until now, in his mid-twenties, we know his laundry often resembled the one Kathy Bates pointed to in a scene from Waterboy.

Potty training at one year and four-plus months, I found, is a bit tricky.  He’s now more curious and prefers whirling around than focusing.  I bought a dozen plain white baby cotton panties for this undertaking and laid down the new rules with I Married A Gangster, the temp nanny.  Little Spud will wear diapers when taking naps and before bedtime; after meals and during playtime before baths, it’s gonna be just cotton undies and Air Spud. 

We’ve had an on and off ritual since December right after we sacked Mata Hareh and throughout his two months with the second nanny, Angles McTangles.  Whoever’s in charge — me, my mother or my mother-in-law — would make him go diaper-less, then we have a small cup or the handheld potty, and we time him from the first go, usually he has ten to fifteen minutes in between wee-wees.  We make shh-shh sounds while standing behind him, bracing his frame.  He had a few hits and a lot of misses — Little Spud keeps wanting to touch the water in the potty.  This now makes me think back to the time my Shenzhen neighbors were urging me to get the Little Spud –while still relatively clueless and passive at that age — split pants, and practice holding him suspended over bushes or garbage bins.  Maybe they were right, only I was debating the sanitary merits of split pants and baby butt touching the floor.  However, their one-year-olds and older seem used to the potty with no problem at all.  

Little Spud knows how to say, “wee-wee” for number one and “poo-poo” or “oh-oh” for number two, but more often than not he says these when he’s in the middle of the doing the deed or has finished.  So I need to work on observing his usual routine, and timing.  I took on number two, a daunting task that even my mother-in-law seems hesitant to tackle.  The first attempt, I coaxed him to sit on the potty; he became anxious and insisted to stand, and so the mess landed on the floor.  I then decided to have him get more familiar with the potty. I also showed him the toilet bowl more often.  ”When Mama needs to go poo-poo, she sits here, see?”  I sit on the throne with my pants on and make slight grunting noises while he watches from his stroller, observing.  I update my mother and aunt.  Mama said with girls it was easier for her, just sit them on the potty for both number one and number two.  She stayed at home with my brother until he was six, and he started potty training when he was younger than one year, so she also didn’t have this problem with his potty training.  My aunt said, “Why don’t you have DSTS demo how to pee for Little Spud?  My boys learned how peeing’s properly done from their Dad at eight to nine months.”  DSTS is in China at the moment.  I’ll have to make do.

I was able to make some progress with number two; while giving him his lunch one day, I noted from a change in his facial expression that he was about to go.  So I asked him, “Go poo-poo, yes?”  He confirmed, “Yes.”  I took off the panties and sat him on the throne, making soft grunting noises while he fidgeted a bit and looked at me, repeating “Poo-poo?  Oh-oh?”  I said, yes, relax and go on with the poo-poo.  He was still for a moment, then resumed fidgeting.  I check, and ta-dah.  Poo-poo’s in the bowl.

I did the dance of joy.  Little Spud was delighted he could make me happy by just dumping.

Back to number one.  A series of soaked baby panties later, I Married A Gangster was complaining the Little Spud wouldn’t cooperate with the cup.  I think she’s expecting him to act like the grown-up that she is.  I’ve instructed her how things are done but she’s insinuating somewhat that even I couldn’t do the instructions, and maybe the diapers should stay — it’d make her job easier.  I’ve kind of expected this after hearing her comment about a different training she did for all her five kids when I briefed her on day one (her three-year old youngest daughter still wears diapers on days out), and I know it’s rare for people to be patient with things like potty training when they’re dealing with kids not their own.  Still, this annoyed me as, by day, I need to put time into work (I take over evenings), and I really hate it when someone who agreed to do the things we clearly outlined during the interview comes back to me so I’ll do that job I delegated to that person!  Why did I hire her in the first place?  The nanny also balks at my instruction, when the Little Spud goes while still wearing bottoms, to emphasize to the child that clothes would be smelly and wet and icky as a consequence for not verbally alerting a grown-up.  I think the Little Spud gets more anxious when with her because of her way of speaking — kind of fast and high pitched, and she sounds frantic, like hurry-up-hurry-up-hurry-up; he’s not used to this and he struggles more, trying to break free when she tries to hold him in place for wee-wee sessions.  

My mother suggested to try making him pee the moment he wakes up from sleep or a nap; he won’t struggle so much then.  I tried this and it worked, and he’s relaxed a bit during subsequent tries at playtime.  I’ve done this a few times and so has my mother-in-law.  Just to make a point, I then did a demo, showing the result to I Married A Gangster, with Spud tucked in one arm, beaming after I praised him for doing a good job.  I asked if she finds the job so difficult that I would oblige her to to make other arrangements — I really don’t like wasting my time with people who won’t do the work.  The following days, she seemed more patient and managed pretty well with several no-spill pees.  

Eventually we’ll attempt lessening dependence on diapers even more for naps and bedtime. Crossing fingers he takes to it; might need to stock a couple more sheets and an alternate rubber mat.  

Today marks the fourth day in a row I made the Little Spud poo on the toilet and the second day he’s managed to pee in the potty without spilling anything on the floor, and I’m thrilled. Of course I’ll give it’s probably not as good as what our Shenzhen neighbors have shown us with their kids, who are mostly completely potty-trained by two years, split pants and smelly garden bushes notwithstanding.  But I’m happy with the progress.  

I wonder if it’s a good idea to try the Shenzhen style with the second baby. Would that improve our potty stats?

Divine Secrets Of The Yaya

We decided to let Mata Hareh* go.  She was our first adventure in the realm of hiring nannies — I don’t think she’d be the worst; I’ve heard other horror stories… but I only hope things get better as we go.

In the course of the time we knew her, we unearthed quite a lot… like for one, we found out she had a love child not very much older than the Little Spud three months into her employment.  No problem if she has a child; it just means we needed to keep track of the Little Spud’s things.  She insisted that the child was just a nephew she adopted as an ‘investment’ because she’s an unmarried woman of a certain age, which she thought would neatly explain why one day her younger sister, whom Mata said was the child’s neglectful, unmarried and unemployed mother, contacted DSTS so he can tell Mata Hareh to wire them money as they have run out of food for Mata’s son (“Hinde, anak niya pu se Entoy.“).  We asked the neighbors who’ve previously worked with Mata for three years, and they confirm the sister’s version of the truth.  Mata Hareh only responded that the housekeepers of her former employers were jealous of her because she was treated special, being the nanny of the granddaughter, and being the youngest of the staff there.

One Sunday she had her day off and came home two hours later than she said she would.  She wore a spaghetti-strapped tube top and a pair of short shorts, so I don’t think church was on the agenda.  I thought then she just went malling or movie watching with the housekeeper’s helper, as the housekeeper usually spent Sundays when she didn’t go home to her brother’s home in Bulacan.  Two weeks later we found out that Mata persuaded the new helper to help her ask about bus routes, went to Bataan where she’s never been to before — all these just so Mata could meet her boyfriend of several months via the wonders of cell phone text messages.  The eyeball date ended at first sight, with the boyfriend clarifying the end of the ‘relationship’. 

We never let these get to us much.  However, we could not ignore her tendency to lie.  But we were thinking as long as the offenses don’t harm anyone.  Personally I don’t have a problem if she wants to have boyfriends — a girl’s entitled to her fun, right?  And as long as she keeps doing her job well.  Unfortunately, in the job department, she’s also not all that.

The deciding point was when she and the Little Spud needed to stay behind at my mother’s Pampanga residence, which had space to spare compared to DSTS’s family’s apartment in Manila.  The Nanshan branch office I was transferred to had to close down last November, and DSTS and I needed to terminate the lease of the apartment.  My mother lost an amount of money that was meant to pay for a transaction.  Mama admitted it was a mistake that she’d been distracted, thinking, while doing several things at once.  I also guess she was used to trustworthy housekeepers; our last two have worked with her for more than ten years without any occurrences of theft.  She didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone.  However, after a few days, Mata Hareh was witnessed by the housekeeper, the helper, and the part-time laundry woman talking to the male helpers (who were hired by Elder Aunt for her air cleaning service and did odd jobs for my mother’s production area in their spare time) about maybe helping her look for a replacement because she was planning to leave without telling us.  This prompted the housekeeper to tell my mother, seeing the sudden desertion would affect the Little Spud, and in my absence, at that.  Mata never got along with her; Mata claimed the housekeeper was also jealous of her charms and the attention she got from the boys.  

All three handmaids also heard Mata Hareh suggest for the men to maybe come see her in Manila after she’s left; she’ll pay for their fare, the food, and the places they will go to.  It wasn’t long ago when my mother called to ask if I’d OK an advance for Mata Hareh because she needed money to wire to the province — I said not to trouble herself, for there were previous advances, and I’ll be there in a week in time for pay day, anyway.  Where did Mata Hareh suddenly get the money to treat three men to what sounds like a right jolly holiday in Manila?  And because she shares the same room with the housekeeper and the helper, they sometimes wake up in the dark hearing sounds of crinkly plastic bags, and they make out her shape packing things in the dead of night.  The Chinese often described this with the old adage, eating pilfered food but not wiping one’s mouth. 

I went home a week after, partly frustrated because my mother was hesitant to act.  I think she’s become soft with age; she used to be so decisive and forceful.  DSTS stayed behind to continue managing the stuff we moved.  We took Mata Hareh and the new helper to the police station for blotter, as they were the ones in the house when the money vanished — the housekeeper was in Bulacan, the men were out of the production compound.  Mata insisted on her version of the story despite the new helper saying otherwise, such as the time she left this scene, or what she was doing when this occurred.  My mother’s other mistake was she didn’t do the blotter herself on the day she lost the money — this is standard procedure that I saw my Aunt Bebop do when I was younger, and even what friends and co-workers advise, trusted helpers or no.  Had my mother done that, maybe we’d get Mata to confess.  This is what the police also told us.  Reports should be done within two days, so they can detain suspects for questioning.

As I expected, we couldn’t find the money on Mata Hareh.  She may have sent the money away already or had one accomplice to hide it for her.  Then that was followed by an outburst of lies when asked why she suddenly needs to leave when just a few days before she said she needed money and she listed things: I was unreasonable — which was probably why she happily partook the ice cream and other comfort food I offered when I relax on Friday evenings watching DVDs, why she enjoyed dinner she liked that I don’t normally get when I’m by myself, and why she could be exempt from laundry duties because I insist everything to be machine-washed when in China to save both of us time for other chores.  Back home, with the mothers’ places each equipped with an old-fashioned laundry area, she needed to hand wash her own things in addition to the baby’s clothes.  She said my mother was unreasonable — my mother who ensured her house help had nine o’ clock and three o’ clock snacks and insisted them sitting on the table with the family during meals.  She also said my mother-in-law was unreasonable — my mother-in-law was the one who wanted to give her a chance and hired her despite her physical handicaps to which DSTS was not entirely comfortable with, with reason.  

It was a round table thing and everyone in the household was there during our discussion; we didn’t know the extent of her gall to distort what the deal was until that day.  The part-time laundry woman was like, “Are you sure about what you’re saying?  We’ve known this family for years, they’re not like that.”  Mata Hareh then claimed the Little Spud was too hyperactive for her, she was having a hard time carrying him around.  This was funny because she and I had an understanding that I do not want the Little Spud to get used to being carried around a lot, so she usually watched him while he played in his crib, or pushed him in his stroller.  My mother said this may have to do with the recent development of the Little Spud independently walking — of course she needed to follow in case he stumbled during scheduled exercises.  ”It’s like you never took care of the [DSTS's] neighbors’ little girl for three years since infancy,” I said.  ”That kid was not as hyper as [Little Spud],” she haughtily retorts.  I’m deducing she lasted as long as she did in that household because both the little girl’s parents were in Taiwan working most days of those years, and she had no supervision putting crimps on her style. 

“What about your invite to the men to go out in Manila,” the two house staff ask.  I pointedly followed up with a question where she will get financing for such a project.  ”It was just a joke!” she protested.  Alas, all knew about the Bataan boy. Mata takes men very seriously.  She swerved and said the only person kind to her was DSTS… and that I was jealous of her as well.  Which… by Glork.  And the household collectively raised their eyebrows in part because my siblings and I have never been the jealous types — this trait was actually one of DSTS’s minor complaints when we were dating.  And she did not know DSTS, who’s managed tooling workers before, and applies more rigid punishments for misbehaviors.  Because DSTS worked in another Shenzhen area, and comes home only three times a week, and she’s lived with me in the apartment every day.  I said my mother talked about an advance on her behalf; I was assuming she needed cash.  ”I shall return to Leyte and just wait for a lucky break,” she said.

We checked her bags and we found an Anna Sui perfume — a little something left by owner of the apartment we rented but she insists was a gift from a relative working in Japan; a box of perhaps 60 pairs of earrings — we don’t know where she got those; sexy black and red lingerie — I don’t want to know; and some of the Little Spud’s things, like baby washes and packs of Johnson’s baby wipes, which she said was not the Little Spud’s but gifts from the same relative in Japan.  I informed her Johnson & Johnson’s was neither the popular nor the more economical brand in Japan, in addition to the fact that the text printed on the stuff was Chinese, not Japanese.  These were the stuff they brought from our apartment.  She only said, “Bahala ka kong ayaw mung manewala.”  At this point?  Um, no.  I took the baby things back.  

DSTS called me and asked to talk to her, and as she grasped the cell phone, her stoic expression promptly burst into tears.  ”I stayed for you,” she cried.  Have you ever?  The laundry woman shook her head.  ”My little boy is sick, I will not go back to Leyte, what, and laze around?  Nothing will happen. I’ll suck it up, stay in Manila, look for another job.”  Wha… what just happened?   She turned to us.  ”I do not tell you all my problems,” she said.  And then she was quiet.  I asked DSTS later what he said that finally shut her up; he replied that he told her he will follow through with taking her to the police station himself if he ever see her in Manila or near Mama’s place again.  We searched her person, then we escorted her to the bus station.  She had been the Little Spud’s yaya for nine months.   

DSTS and I didn’t meddle with the other helpers, as they were technically not under our employment.  But the accomplices turned out just the same; unfortunately for my mother, it’s really too late.  A few days after Mata Hareh left, the male helpers went AWOL.  We don’t know if they met up with Mata who managed to keep the money by sending, or if  they were entrusted the money and then they split — and split the sum, which add up to a good few months’ salary, three ways.  These boys have worked for my mother for just under two years.  There was nothing to do but report the incident.  Vein in my forehead ticking, I had a serious talk with my mother to be stricter with the next people we hire, and to take action immediately if such occurrence happened again — they’re no longer like the folks we worked with years ago.  She sadly agreed.

For medical reasons as well as to spend time with DSTS while he’s home, the little Spud and I have been staying in Manila.  My mother paid us a call this morning, and introduced a woman applying for the position of nanny.  She was recommended by one of the trusted former housekeepers.  The replacement seems like a nice lady, 40 years old, no husband and children.  We’ll see… Mata Hareh said the same thing when we hired her — see, she’s spoiled me for other hirees now.  The replacement’s patience keeping a one-year-old in check and her language skills also seem better, though it’s too early to say for sure.  The Little Spud took to her after a few minutes.  I don’t know about her childcare skills yet.  For his own personal reasons, however, DSTS would like to keep looking for a better candidate.  My mother persuaded him to keep the replacement, who told us she’s been looking for work for months, for the time being — my brother T2jim, who’s a doting Papa to a six-month-old little girl, could always take over if we decide to hire another helper.  As it happens, another FedEx package is on the way, and the Little Spud will need someone else to carry him around more often.  

2008 was not so good… at work, at home, or on health.  Hope this year we have better luck.  :)

* Mata Hareh is one Analisa Sabodogo (b. February 9, 1976).  A native of Leyte, she is petite, with bleached dark skin, and just slightly hunchbacked.  Distinguishing features of the face are a prominent overbite and one lazy eye (left) afflicted with cataract.  Should anyone happen to be presented with or consider this person for household employment, I’d be happy to provide a fair reference, shortly outlining background (we have copies of her records), skills, and disadvantages.

Or you can save both of us the trouble and just look for somebody else who needs and really wants to work.

The Book Matched The Cover

A book titled Iago’s Brain In Igor’s Body Through The Eyes Of Edvard Munch.

Did I mention Mata Hareh probably looks like Mighty Man’s sidekick Yukk inside his doghouse minus the heft and lovableness and decent eyesight and loyalty and inferiority complex?  Well she does. 

In a nutshell, my mother went soft and Mata Hareh pulled a fast one and then we played cops.  I’m still pissed off, generally at everybody involved in the mess.

What have I learned?  I hate lecturing my mother (and my mother hates being lectured by me). I hate employing people (boy, that’s a new way to look at the Big Heads, huh).  I’ll probably ixnay the next personal reference by DSTS’s neighbors.  And we’ll never hire another esthetically-challenged nanny for our kids again.  Hey, if most of them are going to be rotten inside, might as well do the corporate thing and get one who represents well.

It’s Animal Farm, and I’ve just turned Farmer.  Happy holidays.

Of Epols, Behbehs, and Kets.

My husband, DSTS, came back from Manila and brought with him a few DVDs for our son, Little Spud.  I was kind of excited, especially when I found a few of the discs features Sesame Street characters.  This excitement probably means I’m really getting old.  To my relief there was no Barney or Teletubbies.  I understand these programs are very effective on babies up until they’re toddlers — actually watched the “I love you” song work on DSTS’s then-uncontrollable young nephew a couple of years ago — but they’re… not what I was used to, I guess.  Barney’s just so purple.  I don’t know if that made sense.  :)  The teeth of Barney’s smiley children friends usually match his in alignment, whiteness and glare.  Eight-year-olds with perfect veneers?  Creepy.  Or maybe they’re very short sixteen-year-old toothpaste models.  Meanwhile, that chortling baby sun that frames every Tinky Winky and Co. adventure kind of freaks me out. 

It turns out the Sesame Street features were ‘specials’ — Big Bird In China, and Big Bird In Japan (um… dirty?  And dirty.).  I think these will appeal more to older kids.  What I would give to bring back the days of ‘a loaf of bread, a carton of milk, and a stick of butter’.  And the noo-nee-noo typewriter.  And Maria and David and Mr. Hooper (I was kind of rooting for David and Maria and was a bit ‘huh?’ when she married Luis, only later when I became aware of racial differences did I go, okay, that’s why the writers had them end up together and this was the 80s — or was that the 70s, I watched rerun in the Philippines — after all…). 

Little Spud went for Blue’s Clues and the Baby Einstein specials.  

Now when I’m not around, Little Spud is in the care of Mata Hareh the slightly shifty nanny.  She hails from the Visayan islands, she is fond of seafood, and most of the time resembles a fish from the deep the way she creeps up on you or eat.  An angler fish comes to mind.  But never let her appearance fool you because she believes herself irresistible to men.  

She’s the first informal nanny we hired — not the best there is, but we needed one with references on short notice the time we hired her; she was vouched for by DSTS’s neighbors, who employed Mata Hareh for three years.  We did find strong points taking care of Little Spud, like she’s more efficient rocking him to sleep.   I’m not a fan of some inconsistencies that are hard to ignore, though.  For example, we’d see red marks around Little Spud’s mouth.  We’d tell her the cause of that is moisture, more specifically the drool, especially these days when the baby’s teething and he keeps gnawing on his fingers also wet with drool, fingernails also scraping on the skin of his cheeks.  We simply asked her to keep dabbing at the moisture gently with dry flannel or lampin, so the irritation won’t get more inflamed.  She complies to shut me up, but I doubt she keeps at it when we’re away, because the redness appears on and off.  As I can be quite abrasive when annoyed, DSTS reminds me to balance my scolding.  We try to check on them every hour, and on the side we check Little Spud for changes just to reassure ourselves.  At least no big problem so far.  

Some colleagues advised me to hire a local Chinese nanny — learning better Mandarin would sure be good for the Little Spud — but they couldn’t give me a personally recommended one (their parents helped with their kids, not nannies), and DSTS and I kept thinking about the differences in child care we’re used to, and the norm in China.  Like even in Nanshan, I see babies wearing split pants and I don’t know if we can be comfortable with that.  In China, we’re thinking folks use split pants to expedite their method of potty training… and also some old folks stand by the belief that wetness in a baby’s sensitive areas are not good packed tight in a diaper.  Other folks say diapers are unnecessary cost.  So there’s a lot of reasons we gathered for babies’ split pants.  

Likewise, we do not know if the local nanny would be equally comfortable should we ask her to use nappies and Little Spud pants that have the crotch parts intact.  Another alternative was to hire the nannies who are specially trained, can speak both Mandarin and English (or some other language), and are used to taking care of foreign kids, nappies, non-Chinese prescribed diet and all.  However, this option is not within our budget.  In addition to those, what if these nannies also have a bit of personality quirks like Mata Hareh’s?  Maybe they’re likely to hold mahjongg sessions when you’re out of the apartment???  Before the Little Spud, I never realized hiring nannies could occupy your thoughts a lot.  Until the nannies have earned your trust and prove that they’ll properly take care of your child, you’ll always have doubt that your kid is all right while you’re out, working.  It’s not a happy feeling, but that’s the deal.  

Baby monitors.  Huh?  Long distance baby monitors.

Mata Hareh has an aversion to literary things.  She’d accept tradition if it’s pamahiin, or native superstition.  Sometimes this exasperates me like when Little Spud cried during sleep; I asked her if he’s properly burped after meal.  She’ll tell me that has nothing to do with waking up in the middle of slumber, someone’s probably thinking about him someplace else which caused him to cry (and like… why don’t I know this, it’s common pamahiin, duh).  

However, she’s street-smart.  She thinks and acts fast on emergencies.  She can also manage to grasp concepts when she chooses to put her mind to them.  So when it comes to the Little Spud’s initial mental development, we had to take a lead.  To ensure he gets his daily dose of learning, I take time to talk, sing, and recite to him during mornings, then point and name sessions in the garden or in front of the apartment’s big window after work.  Mata Hareh acquiesces with Bahay Kubo, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, and Sampung Mga Daliri, but she hates Eensy Weensy Spider and my ritual for This Little Piggy, which the Little Spud likes.  But she really prefers Itaktak Mo, and alas the Little Spud does show some appreciation for it.  No problem here, but I prefer he doesn’t limit himself to classics from Eat Bulaga! and Wowowee.  I try to persuade her to see the sense in variety, which I will continue to do until she gets it or we find a better nanny, whichever comes first.  On that matter, DSTS agrees that on his second year, we’ll might have to get someone who has better language-developing skills for the benefit of his learning.  

We found a something that we decided to use to advantage, though.  Mata Hareh likes to impress DSTS.  Not me — I possess two X chromosomes.  So we channel this force and it kind of works; she found time to learn new songs and rhymes.  In time we added Row Your Boat, the Toes, Knees, Shoulders and Head song (though she stops at the third stanza) and Barney’s deathless song to love and friendship.  I was like, great, we have achieved development.  One of the projects that she was particularly taken with was the alphabet.  She knew the ABC song, had some patience with the flash cards, and we gave her a pointer for the TV to use with the Baby Einstein alphabet program.  

One day, I returned home and Little Spud’s crib was a few feet away from the TV.  At around ten months, he was standing, fists resting on the crib’s enclosure, eyes staring intently at the alphabets moving on the screen, and Mata Hareh was pointing and reciting along with the voiceover with such gusto.  This is good, I thought.  Then a segment on vowels came in, and the voiceover started on differences between short and long sounds.  So the first few goes; I watched as Mata Hareh observed what unfolds onscreen.  

“The short A sound,” said the voiceover.  ”Ah…” A picture of an apple.  ”Apple!”  Then, “Ah… Ant!” and ”Ah… Aardvark!” 

For the long A, we saw and heard “A… Acorn”, “A… Ape” and “A… Angel”.  Then Mata Hareh decided to join the voiceover for the short E sounds and positioned herself beside the TV again.

“Eh…” started the voiceover.  A picture of an egg appeared; Little Spud looked at her expectantly and she triumphantly proclaims…

“Eht-loog!”  

…

So close.

Back To China

Talking about work, I’m under a different department now.  The company thinks it can manage without a sales and marketing department as seen that I’m the last woman standing since Big Daddy then Muffy left at the end of 2007.  My new boss, Darry’s Bro, is yet another different personality at the workplace.  He’s brilliant with persuasion, places emphasis on bling-bling presentations, and unlike Big Daddy, he has no qualms about spending… that is, I found after a week working for him, unless he’s tagged to finance the project (hee).  I do know I’m still in the company because he thought I’m OK with blinged documents, presentations and other marketing materials, and agreed to absorb me into the department.  However, this department is not familiar with how creatives work – sometimes they hand me tasks like calculating quantities to put into pallet containers! – and me vice versa — the engineers mostly sit and talk about the Beijing Olympics opening ceremonies or how they can lobby for a larger allowance from the company.  Even before, other departments have discussed that advancement in this department’s ranks depends on getting along with the top guns and accompanying them to bars and extolling their bursts of genius, so I’m not expecting much.  I’m not sure how much longer this arrangement will hold, anyway.  

A month and a half into the deal and I want to officially state my job sucks — but I can’t.  This year’s outlook isn’t looking too good, companies are not hiring, and we want to save all income we can manage.  I chat with Big Daddy and Muffy sometimes to see how they’re doing.  Jean-Luc Picard has been hired by Darry’s Bro for part-time stuff.  DSTS suggest we focus on supporting plans not dependent on employment.

The only perk these days for us seem to be the boon of an apartment DSTS found near my office, and that we get to spend after work hours with our son.  Again, we know this is a temporary arrangement — China is now way going to give out prolonged visas to Philippine nationals, among others — but it’s a comfort to see the Little Spud every day, waiting at home.  However, not every thing’s peachy here either.  

We have the visa woes. 

For reasons personal and after asking Mainland friends for advice, we decided to bring the Little Spud’s nanny to China instead of hiring a local one.  It’s not the issue of wages; if you count fees for processing passports, plane tickets and visas, money spent is more or less the same.  It’s actually less hassle to hire a Mainland Chinese nanny, and that’s the Chinese government’s intention all along — they have more than enough manpower qualified for this kind of work, after all.  But we wanted someone used to the way of child-rearing we were used to; the China way is something we don’t want to deal with for now, being first-time parents.  

And so the nanny.  She’s a reference from DSTS’s neighbors on a short notice and has been working for us for us a month after the Little Spud was born.  Being from the province, she had a bit of a problem with her papers (wrong birth date, birth not determined if legitimate or no, missing school records — these turned out to be a big deal because she also didn’t bother getting valid IDs before).  We sorted this out by writing letters to her municipality and school.  At one point, I said maybe we should look for another nanny; DSTS thought to stick with this nanny, because at least she had a character reference, three years’ service under the employer before us, and we got hold of her complete records.

We knew what we were getting into, but we decided to try anyway.  We registered at the area’s police bureau to apply for residency visas.  We were accompanied by Pixie Chick, who handled our visa requirements (Little Spud decided to like her on the spot and granted her a rare first-meeting smile).  Then we went to customs.  It was a bit of a long wait; Pixie Chick said these days are even more difficult to swing officers because of the upcoming Beijing Olympics (incoming people and resource control; no extended stays).  

We got held up with lunch period, and we retired to a noodle house with a friendly but little bit creepy proprietess — she looks like Blanche DuBois with black Shirley Temple ringlets and a red flower tucked in one ear — who insisted Little Spud eat a mantou.  He nibbled on a bit just to be polite, then when the lady had to mind the cash register, he promptly spit the mantou bits out.

To know more about her as well as test her aptitude for factual consistency, I’ve been engaging the nanny in casual conversations about things not necessarily related to her tasks.  Among some tidbits, I found back home they ate a lot of vegetables and fish.  I haven’t noticed before because I’m not in charge of the kitchen when we’re staying with my mother or my mother-in-law, but I now know she refuses to eat much when I cook just veggies.  And today, the nanny insists on having chicken for lunch.  She eyes the noodles many people in the shop ordered.  And rice, she adds.  We noticed she insists on a lot of things, like she claims, when she was still with her old employer, she’s more one of the gang than a hired nanny, and that they went out to go to the mall every weekend.  I told her I have priorities, and mall outings aren’t one of them.  What I know is her employers were husband and wife working in Taiwan, and they sent their daughter to live with her Taimah, and was in this nanny’s charge for three years.  DSTS knows the little girl’s aunts, and they said they don’t go out with the child and the nanny very often.

We order curry chicken and rice for her.  I had mapo tofu mien, and Pixie Chick orders chicken noodles.  The waitress serves the nanny and hands her a pair of chopsticks.  She eyes them warily.  I ask for a spoon, and the waitress obliges.  Little Spud had a couple of Gerber’s vegetable beef stuff.  He’s popular with waitresses and the people who passed by to pay their bills (touch cheek here, ruffled hair there), but he didn’t like the mantou woman because when she asked to carry him, he kept pushing at her shoulders.  Maybe her makeup or perfume put him off.  He likes Pixie Chick a lot and by now babbles conversational gibberish her way.

Back at the customs office, we wait some more — at least there’s air conditioning — and the Little Spud downs a bottle of milk and gets nappy-changed.  The nanny is nervous about probably needing to answerinterview questions in English.  So our turn finally comes. There were three male customs officers and one female manning the booths; Pixie Chick hoped we’d get the lady, maybe she’d be a bit more sympathetic to a mother’s plight.  Yay, we get the lady.  The Little Spud doesn’t have problem, because I, his mother, hold a working visa.  Then we launch the script we rehearsed about the nanny.  We showed the letter that Cross-stitching Lindseyphile helped check translations for us.  The lady became quite scary with a final “Bu xing!” They’re not cutting the nanny any slack.  Well, Pixie Chick did say not to hope too much.  They did say that if I’m to get “direct relatives” — that means just parents, kids and spouse — they’d get the same visa validity that I have, like the Little Spud did.  Unfortunately my mother can’t stay long in China; she has her things to run at her place.  

Thus we were deflated. So after two months the nanny needs to exit.  We could look into exiting, getting another visa at the Shekou border then stay the duration.  Then we may need to alternate visits from my mother-in-law, or my mother.  Or we may need to get adjusted and hire a local nanny by then.   

Meanwhile, Little Spud waved his legs in the stroller and his shoes, the pair Pixie Chick gave him even before he was born, kept falling off.  He was very happy with this outing.